#human trafficking awareness month

[humanrightsconnected]

January is Human Trafficking Awareness Month! Discover from AFESIP Cambodia, Agape International Missions (AIM), Alliance 8.7, The Exodus Road, Global Alliance Against Traffic in Women (GAATW), Love Justice International, and Walk Free how you can help eradicate modern slavery!  

[spokanefavs]

#HumanTrafficking Often Misunderstood, Unrecognized, Says Task Force. #Spokane Event Aimed to Address That Through Education, Awareness.

“This event is important because the topic of human trafficking is often misunderstood and unrecognized,” said Abigail Dougherty, chair of the Task Force and a crime victim advocate with LCSNW. “It provides an opportunity for the community to learn more about what trafficking looks like in their area as well as how it is being addressed.”…

See more

[makethatelevenrings]

Torture and Trust // S. Riley x f!reader

warnings: waterboarding, reader is physically hit and tortured, reader is threatened with sexual assault in one (1) line, canon-typical violence, swearing

A part two to this but also doesn't need to be read before this. I'm kind of making a little universe in my head but idk. We vibin'.

It was the shock of cold water smashing against your face that woke you up. To be honest, you weren’t really asleep. You had been drifting between the space between consciousness and sleep, lured there from a few nasty hits to the head and exhaustion.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission before the rest of the team came in to aid the retrieval of an asset. It was a warehouse tucked away in the streets of Tokyo that was apparently the hub of a human trafficking ring. MI5 had tasked the military to dispatch a SpecOps team since British citizens were targeted, something that had you grumbling under your breath because it shouldn’t take someone’s fucking citizenship to determine if they needed help. Explosives would be a bad idea considering how metropolitan the area was, even if it wasn’t very busy in this area. So you and Lieutenant Riley were tasked with figuring out a solid entry point and a tally of guards.

Simon had agreed to split up so he could canvass the west side of the building and see how many guards were stationed while you took the east side. It just so happened that the second-in-command to shithead in charge himself spotted the flash of your rifle scope and the next thing you know, you were strapped to a chair in the middle of the warehouse.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath and you let out a small laugh as you regarded the two men in front of you. Being in the SAS, you were no secret to torture. Everyone knew that one step of the training was to go through seventy-two hours of pure hell and sleep deprivation to see who broke and who didn’t. This was child’s play compared to that.

“Your swing is getting better,” you said through bloodied teeth. “But that follow through is what we need to work on.”

A hand fisted in the back of your head and shoved your forward, directly into the trough of water they had placed in front of you. Waterboarding was always an interesting exercise. You knew it was coming and had inhaled sharply, focusing your attention on anything but the air slowly leaking from your lungs as he held you in there for maybe a minute. Your thoughts drifted to other things, like the ramen you and Simon split in the safehouse the night before. It had been a few months since he grew comfortable enough with taking the mask off in front of you so now you savored the few moments you saw of his face. He seemed almost tentative without his mask, as though he was aware of how beastly his scars made him look.

You pondered over if he knew just how beautiful he was.

They yanked you back out of the water and you didn’t know what time it was. It was certainly darker than it had been when you were first nabbed from your lookout point. Certainly long enough that Simon was aware of your predicament. So that meant you were running out of time. Two in front of you, three guards behind. Your hands strained against the rope and duct tape mixture that bound your wrists and ankles to the sides of the chairs.

“Who do you work for?” the boss hissed. You blinked up at him innocently through the water that clung to your lashes and shrugged.

“Can’t a girl just chill around here? God forbid women do anything.” You braced yourself for a hit that never came. Instead, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your teeth to clack together with a sharp jolt and a bite to your tongue, adding more blood to mix with the cuts already present from the lackluster punches delivered earlier.

“Not with that level of weaponry. Try again.”

“You got me. I’m one of Santa’s elves and he wanted to make sure you were being a good boy this year. I’d hate to let him know that-” Your words were cut off as you were shoved back into the water. Ramen. How many meals had you two shared at this point? He had even started bringing you dinner to your office since he could take his mask off there rather than in the chow hall. You wouldn’t lie, you were starting to get tired. Your lungs burned from the fight to breathe and inhale the water, but you tried to shut off the small part of your brain that sent up signals of panic.

You didn’t need to worry, you reminded yourself. Just hold on a little longer.

“If you don’t start giving me real answers, maybe I’ll let some of our clients get it out of you. They’d love that,” the boss snarled when you were let up for air. Your gut tugged uncomfortably at the implication. It was always something that you had to keep in the back of your mind. Being a woman, military or not, always meant that it was a threat held over your head, simply for existing. It was why you were so eager to destroy their whole operation.

“How about you go fuck yourself?” Gathering up the blood and spit in your mouth, you forced your tongue back and then spat the putrid mix all over his face and the pristine white collar of his shirt. Rage flickered across his face and he stood up straight.

“Get me the pliers. If she won’t talk, we’ll make sure she screams.”

Well, you mused, what was a few less nails and teeth except less maintenance?

As his little goon walked off to whatever evil lair table of doom they had set up, your ears tuned into the silence around you. The typical sounds of the city met your ears, along with…there.

“I’m afraid, boys, that you’re out of time,” you said softly. A smile tugged painfully at your swollen and cut lips but you pushed past the pain. “This has been fun, truly, but I can’t lie and say I’ll miss you.”

The boss’ hand was heavy on the back of your neck as he held you down into the water. Even through the distorted splashes and fuzziness in your mind, you could hear five audible pops. You knew what they saw in their last moments. You knew that the Ghost emerged from the shadows, steps silent despite the fact that he was more muscle than man, and you knew that these men felt fear seconds before a bullet silenced their cruel minds.

He tugged you up out of the water and you inhaled deeply, the sound harsh and grating on your sensitive ears. Blinking the water out of your eyes, you came face to face with a mask that most said elicited a bone deep terror in them.

But not you.

“Right on time,” you panted. He said nothing as he cut the bindings holding you down and inspected the way that they had rubbed some of your skin away, leaving it tender and bleeding. Simon turned to look at the leader of all of this and you realized that he didn’t kill him. The man was dragging himself towards his discarded gun on the ground, blood oozing from his ruined kneecap. Ghost stalked towards him and lifted him up and away from his weapon. He regarded the little weasel coolly and then glanced back at you. You tried to push yourself up and out of the chair but your legs shook under you and instead, you collapsed back against the metal.

“Warehouse is clear,” Soap announced as he, Gaz, and Price entered. “Christ, bonnie, you look like shite.”

“You charmer,” you muttered. Gaz rushed to your side to help you up and you were grateful for your team. Your friends.

“This him?” Price asked as he joined Simon.

“Yeah.” It was the first time he’d spoken since he entered the building. “Keep him alive. I want to be the one to interrogate him.”

If it were anyone else, Price would agree. But seeing the slight tremor in Simon’s hands where he gripped the man’s suit jacket and then looking over to where Gaz was supporting your half-conscious form, he knew that putting Simon alone in a room with the man would result in a very messy clean up.

“We’ll worry about that when we get them back to base,” Price said. “We need to get her to medical.”

Four days into your medical leave and you were growing antsy. Soap and Gaz tried to keep you entertained and Price offered you an opportunity to yell at some cadets, but you were bored. You missed moving your body more than just the walk from your room to your office to the chow hall and back. But the doctor had threatened to strap you to a bed for a week while you let your body get back to normal after, and her words were, “you got your shit rocked. I know you SpecOps bastards think you’re invincible but anyone would need to take a fucking break after being tortured.” So, here you were, sitting in your office and writing up a mission plan for another team because Price knew you were getting twitchy without anything to do.

Two knocks, sharp and perfunctory, caught your attention. You called for whoever it was to enter, but you already knew who it would be. How many times had he laid that same knock upon your door? You once said that he might as well move into your office and he had regarded it for a moment thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely considering it.

“Four days of silence from you. Thought I did something wrong,” you commented lightly as Ghost entered and shut the door behind him. He didn’t take his usual seat, the plush wheelie chair you invested in when you joined the team and realized that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Simon dropped a tray onto your desk and then stalked away, his shoulders tense and bristling like a scared cat.

A quick glance at the time confirmed that your trap had worked. He always noticed if you missed a meal, usually because you were invested in something you were working on. Everyone had their own quirk or vice and that was yours.

He brought you beef stew over rice, a quintessential British meal that was surprisingly appetizing despite the cook’s minimal care. A shiny red apple sat beside it and, as if he read your thoughts, Simon whirled around and yanked it off of the tray. He extracted a knife from his pocket and started to carve the apple into slices that he dropped onto the tray and then turned around and began to stare at the wall once more. You simply grabbed one of the slices and chewed on it while waiting for him to speak.

“That was stupid,” his rough voice broke the silence. You scoffed and stopped chewing.

“What, getting captured? I didn’t fucking plan on it.”

“No. For not trying to escape.”

A dry, startled laugh escaped you and you scrubbed the heel of your hand over your forehead. “Five men with guns and me with nothing, tied to a chair. Yeah, fair chance of running without a bullet in the back.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t have to. I knew you were coming.”

He turned to glare at you from behind that infamous mask and you cocked your head to the side. “That doesn’t scare me, Simon, and you know it. Take the mask off.”

He hesitated and then reached up and yanked it off, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the scars around his mouth, and those freckles that speckled across his nose and cheeks. You could see him better and, therefore, read him better. His eyes told you he was angry. His tight jaw told you he was scared.

“You can’t just sit there and fucking die because you’re waiting for me, you can’t do that.”

“Why? You’re my teammate. I trust that you would come for me.”

“What if I hadn’t?” You shook your head at his question, at the absurdity of it. Was he hearing himself? Was he that consumed by whatever foolish notion that had somehow worked its way into his head? You pushed away from your desk and stood up so you could cross the floor to stand toe to toe with him. 

“What if what if what if, fuck the what ifs, Simon. You. Wouldn’t. Leave. Me. Behind.” Each word was punctuated with a jab to his chest.

“And what if I had been injured, yeah? What then?” God, he was insufferable.

“You really mean to tell me that you wouldn’t crawl through broken glass to get to one of us.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Would you have this conversation with Soap or Gaz or Price? Then why are you so insistent about it with me? I was doing my job. Are you saying I can’t trust you? Trust my team? Because I can. I do. Don’t start telling me I shouldn’t.”

“You can. For fuck’s sake, you can.”

“You said it yourself, Simon, this job is dangerous and I knew the risks going in so I don’t know why you’re so insistent on thi-“

He tasted like nicotine and mint gum with maybe a hint of gunpowder, something so uniquely him. His lips pressed against yours with surprising gentleness and he cradled your face between his hands like you were the most precious glass figure he’d ever held. You fisted your hands in the lapels of his uniform jacket and sank into his touch. His fingers traced the skin of your cheeks, careful to not irritate the cuts you sustained days prior, and down to cup the back of your neck to draw you closer. A soft whimper escaped you at the sensation of his strong body pressing against yours.

You could easily hold your own in a fight, but the knowledge that this Adonis of a man was by your side through the hell of war was a comfort.

You needed to breathe but it wasn’t the painful reminder like it was when being tortured. His hands slid from your neck to cradling your jaw as you pulled away, settling back down on your heels.

“Don’t make me bury you,” he whispered, his forehead still pressed against yours.

You nodded, too dazed to say anything noteworthy. His thumbs stroked over your jaw and you blinked up at him.

“Was that a one time thing to shut me up or…”

“Fuckin’ insufferable, you are,” he grunted but leaned down to kiss you sweetly. There wasn’t much you could associate with Simon Riley and being sweet, but the tenderness in his touch made you want to hold him and keep him away from the world that had hurt him.

You felt his fingers brush against a nasty bruise on your jaw from a well aimed hit and saw his eyes darken.

“Did you question him already?”

“We’ve got a list of buyers that MI6 and Laswell are confirming right now,” he affirmed. Good. The mission was a success then.

“And how did you get this information?” you asked.

You met the gaze of the Ghost and didn’t flinch. He chuckled low and deep in his chest and tilted your chin up so he could see one of the cuts better.

“I did everything he did to you,” he said fiercely. "But I made sure it was permanent."

You moved your hand up to tangle with the short hair at the base of his neck and pressed your lips against his. Pulling back so just a small gap separated you, you murmured out a single sentence.

"I trusted you would."

[edgepunk]

Wanted to revisit an older Spider-Man AU idea I've had a couple of months back + redesigned Peter's suit and yes that's Sombra's pose

copy-pasting the text from the og post:

AU where Peter is nudged more into the gray area where he isn't a villain nor a hero, but works for himself as a hacker/information broker. He also might or might not be going for a huge database chock-full of information on New York's most powerful people that he could either sell for a huge amount of money, use for blackmail or straight up start a war between all the criminal overlords, y'know "information is power" and all that.

He is just known as The Spider, but a lot of people think he's an urban legend, because he likes to work very discreetly and makes sure to cover up his tracks. it's mostly those shady people/criminals that are aware of him who hire him to get information. Sometimes he helps to track down missing people, or hunts down human traffickers. Honestly, he doesn't care as long as he gets paid (yes lore-unfriendly Peter Parker who has money)

He actually tried being a hero when he got his powers as a teenager, but in this AU, all that slander and people hating him got to him, so he gave up. During his college years he was completely broke and on the brink of being evicted from his apartment, he found his old suit and decided to use his tech skills for his own selfish reasons.

He lies to his friends and family that he works as a cybersecurity guy for a company.

[celestiarambles]

Hi this may divert from my usual content, but as someone with a platform like this I need to speak up about this.

The Philippines-China maritime dispute has been going on for years now, but lately the tensions had been getting more and more worse to the point it’s super concerning now.

Here’s a bit of a history lesson: China claims that the West Philippine Sea is theirs because of the nine-dash line, but the Permanent Court of Arbitration in the Hague ruled in 2016 that that had no basis under international law. Other than that, the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) said that China’s historic rights on the territory no longer exists. So basically, the West Philippine Sea belongs to the Philippines.

However, China rejects that decision. They have harassed, intimidated, and even used armed conflict on our vessels. China Coast Guard (CCG) vessels had even used a water cannon against our ships TWICE, in which one incident resulted to getting seven Navy personnel wounded.

Worse, there are also allegations of a spy being planted here. Alice Guo, one of the mayors in Tarlac (a city in the Philippines) had mysteriously risen to power despite having no prior experience or connections whatsoever. Literally no one even knew her in her town. She just claims to live in a simple farm. However, she owns a luxury sports car and a helicopter. And somehow, everything regarding her past is inconsistent; she doesn’t know what her mother’s name was, who she grew up with, no school documents, hell she didn’t even have a birth certificate up until she was 17 years old. This was all brought up because she was involved in the criminal activities (like human trafficking, scams, etc.) of the Philippine Offshore Gaming Operator (POGO) which also has the Chinese involved.

The US has also been taking advantage of the situation by deploying 9 EDCA sites (military bases) for a supposed military pact, but former US Marine Intelligence Officer Scott Ritter has admitted to using the Philippines as a tool to gain leverage over the Chinese.

What has our government done regarding this dispute? They’re too busy infighting to focus on the bigger picture and on how to settle on an agreement with China.

I just want to take the time to speak up and make people more aware about the ongoing dispute. I know that this has been going on for several years now, but my memory and knowledge about the topic may be a bit wonky so I apologize in advance if I had said anything wrong. You can add more information regarding this or correct the information that I've given if I phrased things wrong.

Regardless, I do know one thing: the West Philippine Sea is ours.

Sources:

https://www.reuters.com/world/asia-pacific/south-china-sea-why-are-china-philippines-tensions-heating-up-2024-04-11/

https://www.youtube.com/live/aOrmFJXyAVI?si=P9rPJkJM6BF0NIbW (check 1:57:00)

[downtherabbitholewithauntieblegh]

Linkin Park/Emily Armstrong Controversy

Y'all paying way too much attention to this Linkin Park business. Move on. Rock and metal are suffering from drama. We're forgetting the music and why we pack into venues and festivals. We're forgetting that band members have families they're away from for months at a time. We're forgetting that suicide, depression, mental illness and addiction are rampant in our business because of the stress. STFU about Linkin Park and let those people move forward. Go to a show, buy a t-shirt, hit the pit and tell all your friends about it.

#inuswetrust always. Peace.

~ AJ Channer (Lead Singer of Fire From the Gods)

So, let's talk about Linkin Park, Emily Armstrong and this controversy. Almost a week ago, Linkin Park premiered a new song along with their new co-singer, Emily Armstrong. Emily is the front woman of the band Dead Sara. The controversy was almost immediate with a huge amount of backlash.

The first round came from Cedric Bixler-Zavala (The Mars Volta) and his wife, Chrissie Carnell-Bixler. The husband-and-wife duo did not hold back with their disdain for Armstrong, her ties to Scientology and her alleged support of convicted rapist, actor Danny Masterson. According to one article, Carnell was a victim of Masterson. Bixler and Carnell are former Scientologists themselves and left years ago.

Armstrong has since come out and apologized for her actions in supporting Masterson, explaining that she went to one court appearance and supported him as an observer to later realize her mistake. Some people, including Bixler and Carnell, say that the apology isn't enough.

Bixler and Carnell released a statement after Armstrong's apology and did not accept it, stating, "If you're not going to speak out against the human and child trafficking cult in which you are a part of and in which you enable by remaining silent on crimes you know about then you have no right to fill the shoes of Chester Bennington, a true advocate."

Mike Shinoda, original founding member, as well as Joe Hahn, have both released statements. Both stated that they support Armstrong and know that having her a part of their band would be a "hard pill to swallow" for most people.

"To say it as clearly as possible, I do not condone abuse or violence against women, and I empathize with the victims of these crimes," Shinoda said as a part of his statement.

That wasn't good enough for Chester's son, Jaime Bennington. Bennington released a scathing statement, denouncing Shinoda and the other original members that are still in the band. Bennington released his statement via Instagram on September 9th. Ever since Bennington made his feelings known, he has been getting death threats from Linkin Park fans.

Some folks are even questioning him and whether he truly understands what his dad would want if Chester were alive today. Bennington highlighted the hypocritical comments, saying if they really understood how his father died, they would realize that their comments are inappropriate and crass.

Bennington was very outspoken with his disdain and blasting Shinoda for betraying their fans by choosing Armstrong as their new singer, especially during International Suicide Awareness month. Bennington addressed Armstrong's alleged ties to Scientology and support for Masterson.

Bixler-Zavala resurfaced some messages, one that showed Armstrong did indeed attend the 2020 preliminary hearing of Masterson. That did hit fans hard, as Chester had openly discussed surviving sexual abuse in the past. Chester passed away back in 2017.

With the drama weighing heavily on everyone involved, Shinoda, Hahn and the others are sticking by Armstrong and their decision to have her as their singer. We cannot take away the noticeable missing original drummer, Rob Bourdon. Bourdon made the choice to not reunite with the band for this new venture.

It just came out that original lead guitarist, Brad Delson, will not be touring with the band moving forward. In a statement by Shinoda, Delson has made the choice to just record with them in the studio and not take part in live performances in the future. Colin Brittain has replaced Bourdon on the drums. Brittain is known for playing with Oh No Fiasco.

Alex Feder has been announced as Delson's replacement for the upcoming tour to support their new album, From Zero.

With all this information provided, people are still divided on whether Linkin Park making a comeback, 2.0 as some people have called it, is a good thing. What people are failing to realize is how hurtful their comments are. Shinoda has stated that they will not be getting rid of Armstrong.

Some fans are saying they should change their name. Something a lot of people agree with. Some are saying they should just not continue on with Linkin Park without Chester. At this point, everyone just needs to take AJ Channer of Fire from the Gods advice. We are forgetting the music. We are forgetting that these musicians have families at home. We are forgetting that suicide, depression, mental illness and addiction run rampant in the music industry.

We are forgetting that they are people like we are. No one is perfect. We all make mistakes. If you want to listen to Linkin Park, by all means, listen to Linkin Park. If you don't want to support them, don't. That's the end of that story. How do expect people to heal and move forward when people constantly bring up the past, negative or not?

Everyone's feelings in this situation are real and valid. Don't negate someone's feelings if they don't align with yours. We as a society, we must do better. In the end, it does really matter....

[videogamelover99]

I've been having a lot of reverse!skk thoughts lately.

Setting up some context: Oda never died during the Mimic arc. Dazai still unravelled Mori's plan and now there's a huge rift between them. Dazai never trusted Mori completely, and now he barely does. Their dynamic had turned into a power play between them.

Oda's kids still died. Oda lives having survived his suicidal massacre but the weight of his loss and the blood on his hands weighs on him. He is no longer a pacifist. His dream for writing a novel is gone. Dazai has tried to help him, but he can barely help himself so he's kinda bad at it.

Ango's hanging out with the government now! No one trusts him :/

Chuuya leaves a few months after the Mimic incident. He comes across a set of documents proving Mori's involvement with the Arahabaki project as well as his personal tied with the military doctor that is Chuuya's real father. After failing to kill Mori for his betrayal, Chuuya is now a traitor. No one knows why he tried to suddenly kill the Boss, but the incident itself is whispered throughout the entirety of the Mafia. People point to Chuuya's origins in the Sheep as proof that he was a traitor all along, bidding his time.

Dazai doesn't know why. Its driving him crazy.

Chuuya thinks Dazai knew the entire time. They're a mess of zero communication.

Chuuya spends his time hiding out in different parts of the world (he's got friends in the UK so there's that!) He looks for his parents and finds them, only to leave them behind like he's done in canon. He's aware the Mafia is keeping tabs on them, but that's not the only reason why he left.

He gets a little reckless, beats up some bad guys. He doesn't know exactly what to do with his life, so he's kind of mess.

His little vigilante spree reaches Chief Taneda, who sends Ango to keep tabs on him and offer him a job. Can't have a former military experiment of infinite power running around without supervision.

Chuuya, uh, does not take the offer well (poor Ango).

Chief Taneda finally confronts him in person, says if he wants a job Taneda knows a guy who is not affiliated with the government and whom Chuuya might like (received almost as badly, but Chuuya considers it).

While Chuuya's mulling over this weird offer, he runs into a human trafficking organization that was in conflict with the Sheep back in the day. He's got an excuse to beat up more bad guys. Guess who he ends up running into (yes it's the Agency).

More specifically, it's Ranpo! They squabble, they team up, the works. Ranpo is like "Do you want a job" and Chuuya is like "That's sus but I'll think about it" (he does in fact want it)

Chuuya ends up meeting the other Agency members before he agrees (Ranpo 100% has nothing to do with that. Totally.) He likes them. He thinks they're all insane. He misses having people around who aren't there to double cross him. He takes the job.

Enterance Exam! I'm so sorry Kunikida.

Chuuya avoids the PM like the plague.

And then he meets Atsushi.

[quietlyinlife]

The Marquis’s Obsession

summary; You are a victim to a crazy love

---

warnings; death, gore, stalking, obsession, murder, abduction, horror, violent themes, unhealthy behaviour, obsessive Vincent

word count; 6,253

***

You sighed in frustration as you typed away on the laptop. The company you are currently in has always been serious and busy as usual and it makes you wonder how much energy your new colleagues have while dealing with this new exchange program.

Following your CEO's alliance with another from Paris, he announced that there would be an exchange program between the companies.

The chosen employees will work in the CEO's company (the man your boss is allied with), while the CEO's employees will work in your boss's company. Each person is given a certain month on when you could leave to go back to the previous company you were in before.

And unfortunately for you, after 7 months, that is when you could leave. You had traveled to Paris from your home place because of this exchange program. You never liked this at all.

And what's even worse, many months ago? Somewhere in the middle of the month, you don't remember that, when you were adjusting to the new environment. You started to receive many gifts and romantic letters, which had a lot of French endearments. Of course, because you're currently living in France.

After hours in the office, it was finally time to go home. You quickly packed your things up and joined your friends outside the building. At least you weren't alone in this stupid exchange program you never wanted to be part of.

You spend your afternoon outside with your friends, strolling through the streets and visiting shops and other places. Chatting and buying snacks; you enjoy moments like this, forgetting all about your problems, including the whole secret admirer thing and just having a good time.

And when it was finally time to go home, due to how dark it was getting outside. You started to wait for your bus stop while scrolling through social media on your phone. A bit farther from the bus stop, you saw a familiar expensive SUV parked to the side. Your heart started to pound rapidly against your chest in fear as you felt your hands become sweaty and clammy. This is the same car you started to notice recently, either outside your house, at the workplace, or anywhere you go.

You start to wonder if you're the next target for human trafficking. You opened the messaging app and started to text one of your friends again like you always have about the car stalking you for these past few weeks. Just in case you disappear without a trace.

Finally, the bus arrives and you and the few people enter inside as you take your seat. Your troubled mind still rapidly thought about the car but it made you wonder why the person is not kidnapping you yet or maybe he is preparing to.

And what makes you even more sick is that you are aware you can't do anything about it. You're not sure if the police are willing to do anything and you can't just quit the job you worked hard for as well. Especially when it pays you well. You doubt that your boss even cares about you, considering how strict he is when it comes to business and working hard.

The bus stops and everyone including you leaves. You ran straight into the building and into the elevator. Pressing the elevator button, leading up to the 6th floor as you stood there inside. Catching your breath, it was only a matter of time before you were taken and silenced.

The door slides open and you stroll through the empty hallway. The sound of your heels echoes until you stop in front of your door to pull out your keys from your bag and unlock the door. Right before you were about to enter, your shoes collided with the objects on the floor; causing you to stumble for a bit but you still got inside the apartment you shared with your friend.

Nia who is also your roommate. She too had to come along to France with you. Such a shame she leaves earlier, around March or May.

Looking down, there were those expensive gifts all wrapped up inside a big white box with a pretty bow on top of it and roses next to them. You knew they were from that rich secret admirer as you gently shoved them inside with your hand before quickly shutting the door and locking it. 

Lifting the heavy elegant box and roses into your arms, you placed them on the dining table.

You were tired of these gifts, you don't know who sent them except the woman behind the receptionist’s desk. Who refused to tell you who it is and you noticed how scared she is whenever you confronted her about it, you're not sure if it's of you or the secret admirer. You didn't do anything to her so it's the creepy secret admirer.

Your room and the living room were littered with those expensive gifts that consisted of sparkly party dresses, high heels, high-quality makeup, and jewelry that looked so otherworldly due to how elegant and beautiful it was, and that probably cost billions of dollars. You didn't want too much so you gave half away to Nia who happily accepted them.

All tucked away inside their boxes. Romantic letters declare the admirer's love and that you will always be protected. You unwrap the box and discover many expensive rings, outfits, and hair care products. And a folded note too.

Your hand reaches to the note first, unfolding it.

To the most beautiful woman,

Mon amour, how are you? Do you like the gifts that I sent you?

Forgive me if this is too much for your liking but I can't help myself. I can't describe how much I love you with just simple little words, so I resorted to sending you many gifts that represent the love I have for you. And soon you'll feel the same for me one day. After I finished preparing for your arrival.

Your heart stopped beating as your eyes widened in shock, you continued to read the next line with a bad gut feeling.

Do be aware that you are not leaving me at all, watching over you through my men won't be enough to satisfy me. I will need to have you by my side physically, I have been patient for many months for you and now I will take what's mine. I do plan to marry you as well, I hope to get your opinions on how should our marriage be after you come home of course-

You didn't allow yourself to finish reading, you crumbled the paper and threw it inside the garbage. Sweat started to coat your skin as you struggled to maintain your heavy breathing; you glanced down at your shaky hands and clenched your fist to at least in some way stop shaking but it was hopeless. In an attempt to distract yourself, You started the process of wrapping the box back to the way it was before taking it in your arms again.

This is crazy, you thought as you set the box inside your room, in the corner. You sat down on your bed and started to email your boss through your phone, you were finally going to let your boss know despite the voice at the back of your head telling you it might not be a good idea. What if the stalker somehow finds out about it? What he will do? But you ignored those questions, insisting on letting your boss be aware of this dilemma. After you finish typing that letter– informing him about the scary situation you are in and that you are leaving France.

Your boss doesn't respond immediately but you know he will the next morning. So you took this time to quickly pack your belongings and stuff them inside your suitcase.

Your phone buzzed on the bed, thinking it was your boss; you picked your phone up and saw it was from your friend. Who suggested not to leave instantly, whoever is watching you might speed up the process and just kidnap you the moment you step a foot out of your building.

Frustration and hopelessness build within your chest as you plop down on your bed. Staring mindlessly at her text message, you knew that she was right as you responded with an okay before switching your phone off. You are dumb, but it is understandable considering you will need to get the hell out. Far away from the secret admirer and his men.

You gazed up at the blank ceiling, pondering what might the future bring and you hoped, you would still see the sun the next day.

***

On Saturday in the early morning, you got out of the building after making sure your apartment was alright and yourself too. You decided to take the offer from this guy at your workplace whose name is Allen to hang out. And also to keep your mind from constantly panicking each time you go out.

You received an email from your boss who wrote you a long paragraph on what you should do in this situation and told you to contact the police. Leaving instantly will cause the stalker to act instantly.

You feel flattered to discover that your boss cares and this causes you to feel guilt. After all, you never cared to learn about your boss. You hopped inside the bus and took a seat as the bus started to move again. Leaving you to your thoughts about yesterday's events and it made you wonder who it is.

You thought about all the men you encountered in your life but none of them ever showed any sort of interest in you considering they would disappear for a long time and you barely even interact with them or any guys in your life.

You also thought about Allen, he is a nice person who helps you with paperwork and goes far to pay for your drinks whenever you two encounter each other along the way to work. He even asks for your permission to hug you or slung his arms over your shoulders.

You liked how respectful he is towards you or anyone else he meets. The bus slowly comes to a stop and you see Allen waiting for you at the same stop you are about to get off of, his hand grasping onto the lilies he brought.

His face brightens when he sees you exiting the bus and in front of him. You tilted your head as you gave him a curious look at the lilies he had in his hands.

Allen snaps out from his trance, "Oh, I got this for you to have." He lifts the lilies to your face, avoiding your gaze with blood flooding his cheeks. You smiled at him despite Allen looking away. You took the lilies from his hands and inhaled their sweet fragrance.

"Thanks, Allen, they're beautiful!" You exclaim in happiness, he glances at you with a shy smile now adorned his face; nodding his head.

"So uh, should we go to a nice restaurant? Or to the park? Where do you want to go?" Allen questions, nearly stammering over his words but manages to complete his sentence. The two of you started to stroll through the streets while you wondered which place should you both go to.

"Let's go to a park, I don't know either." The corner of your lips forcefully lifts upwards in a small insincere smile, glancing up at Allen hesitantly before looking away.

"Yeah, that's fine by me." He nodded his head before peering at you, "How about we get some ice cream? It's all on me."

You gazed back at him with your brows furrowed, "Are you sure? I don't want you to waste your own money." Worry laced your tone, you didn't want to be the reason why he became broke.

"It's fine, I got a lot of money since I just saved up a lot. Only buy hair products, skincare, and food." He assures you, waving off your concerns.

"Oh okay." You said unsurely, nodding your head at him. You and Allen visit an ice cream parlor, you choose your type of ice cream and he does too. While you and Allen sat down on the empty chairs, waiting. You noticed in the corner of your eye, through the window, that same black expensive car with tinted windows right around the corner, securely parked.

You felt your heart jump from your chest as you quickly looked away to maintain your breathing and composure. Soon you and Allen both get the ice cream and the rest of the day was you being paranoid about the car stalking you, Allen being shy and hopelessly in love which made you feel bad since you don't harbor any romantic feelings for him.

By the end of the day, Allen offered to drop you off at home to which you agreed. During the entire car ride home, you and Allen kept on conversing until he started to bring up your sudden paranoia.

"Is everything alright? It's good to let it out sometimes." Allen glances over at you with concern before looking back at the road. The sun slowly sets, and you can see various colors showering through the sky. It makes you appreciate the beauty.

"Well, it's...Complicated." You answered with hesitation, you searched for the right words to describe the current situation, it was easy emailing to your boss but why did it become so hard to explain it in person?

"It's okay, I don't mind if you don't tell me everything. I'm just worried for you." Allen says, his brows pull downward together as he makes a left turn, avoiding the traffic ahead. "But I don't mind lending a hand if you need one."

You pressed your lips together in a thin line before finally speaking, "So, I'm being stalked...By this rich secret admirer who always sends me expensive gifts and love letters. The only one who knows about the secret admirer is the lady behind the receptionist’s desk. But she's too scared to tell me, thinking she's going to die if she says a word about the secret admirer."

You say each word carefully with no stutter. Your eyes gaze over at the side of his face. Noticing a frown evident on Allen's face.

"That's...." Allen was left speechless as silence filled the car, "But do you at least know something about this secret admirer?"

"I know he's rich and French too." You mumbled, looking out the window. "And, he's mysterious too."

"Do you have the love letters? Because I got an idea." The car finally comes to a stop, the building is in your view now as Allen parks the car.

You glanced over at him with curiosity, with a raised brow you asked. "Really? what's the idea?" You unbuckled yourself but stayed inside the car.

"I have a friend who can identify people by their handwriting." Allen says before getting out of the car, you followed along as well. Shutting the car door closed, Allen strolls over to you with a serious expression on his face. No sparkle of light can be seen within his eyes and it made you wonder if he is bothered by this secret admirer on a personal level.

The two of you sauntered into the building and inside the elevator as you pressed on the button. The door slowly slides closed, now it is only you and Allen.

"How long has this been happening?" He inquired, turning his head over to you. His brow furrows and the corner of his lips fall downwards. Sympathy can be seen swirling in his brown eyes. You started to think rapidly in search of how long it has been occurring but none. You didn't keep track of how long has these gifts and letters and the stalking been happening.

"Um, I think for a few months or more?" You replied with unsureness, staring at the blurry reflection of yourself through the elevator door. You felt flattered by Allen's concern and care for you despite you knowing the reason why behind it all.

Finally, the elevator door opens and the two of you stroll into the quiet and empty hallways. "You said that you have a friend who can identify people by their handwriting?" You repeated his words, mentioning his idea.

"Yeah, even if he's old. He's good at these kinds of stuff." You pulled out your keys from your handbag and unlocked your door, entering inside along with Allen. His eyes survey the small but elegant home, noticing the gifts tucked away in the corners.

"Sorry, I had so many, didn't know where to place them." You shrugged, apologizing for the unnecessary mess even though you were sure he wouldn't care about the house.

"You don't need to apologize, but do you have the letters?" Allen questions to which you immediately answer.

"Yes, it's here." You quickly hurried to the gifts and opened one of them, picking the letter in your hands before going back to Allen. He lifts his hand out to you and you place the letter, Allen folds the letter into a smaller piece and stuffs it inside the pocket, he lets a gentle smile crawl upwards onto his face.

"Don't be scared because I don't think this guy wants to see your dead body," Allen reassures you, you nod--aware of the secret admirer's intentions.

"Yeah, I was informed of his intentions from the beginning when I first got his letter. He mentioned many times that he would never hurt me."

Allen presses his lips together in deep thought, wondering what he should tell you but decides to let it go and says his goodbyes to you, leaving your home as you watch him. Hoping nothing goes wrong.

***

The sound of your phone ringing is what slowly woke you up from your slumber. Your eyes flutter open as you turn in your sleep, snuggling the side of your face deep into your pillow but the constant ringing from your phone causes you to lift your arm to your nightstand, your hand searches for the device for a few seconds until you felt your phone beneath your fingers.

The name of the caller of none other than Allen and it made you curious what made him call you around 4 am. You answered and placed the phone against your ear.

"Allen? What happened?" You groggily asked, your voice raspy and deep.

"Y/n, I am very sorry to call you around this time but I found out who your secret admirer is." His words held worry and fear on the other side of the call. This causes your brows to furrow.

"But listen to me, come all alone to this address, and don't tell anyone. I'll send it to you through messages because I don't want anyone to know if I say it aloud to you. I'm going to share with you some secrets regarding this admirer."

You wanted to protest considering how early this is but the urgency in his voice prevents you from voicing out.

"Oh okay, I'll meet you there." You softly say before the call ends, you slowly get up from the bed to get ready.

Surprisingly, the address Allen sent you wasn't that far. Just a 15-minute walk through the empty and eerily quiet street. You stood in front of the door, knocking but no one answered. This causes you to frown but remain patient, he's probably getting ready. You looked at your phone repeatedly to see if he messaged you but to no luck, he didn't.

This worries you because of how urgent he is when telling you to arrive at the address he sent out. But now, you're not sure if you went to the wrong house. While you waited and waited, your phone in your pocket vibrated as you took it out. Now seeing Allen's message,

Sorry for waking you up but this can wait until tomorrow because it turns out the identity of the person is incorrect.

Uncertainty and confusion fill your being, and your eyes narrow as you keep on reading over the message repeatedly to make sure you read it correctly. Something about this feels off, you can tell. There is no way Allen would bring you all the way here just to send you a message saying he is mistaken.

So, something must have happened. But still, you stared at the door and slightly moved your head down, your eye looking through the keyhole, noticing how dark inside the room is which is somewhat expected. But wouldn't Allen at least keep the lights on?

You took your eye away from the keyhole and decided to retreat. You quickly walk all the way home just to be safe and not get ambushed while terror and paranoia slowly creeps its way onto you. Not noticing a tiny note sticking out underneath the carpet of the front porch, that is written the word "Run".

When you arrived home, you didn't feel like going back to sleep. You simply took your coat and shoes off before plopping onto your couch, turning the TV on but turning the volume down. Not desiring to wake up Nia. You felt so confused about what just occurred, Allen wouldn't end it that way. You were sure he wouldn't just randomly call you and then message you it was just a mistake.

You are one hundred percent sure that it might be the secret admirer must have done this because first, the lady behind the front desk is terrified when you confront her, even when you enter the building; you see her wide eyes stare at you before looking down to avoid eye contact with you. And now Allen is scared too. What exactly happened behind that closed door is something you were sure you didn't want to have any knowledge about.

Time passes by as you either make drinks for yourself or sit on the couch and watch TV or scroll through social media. By the time the sun rises fully, you start to leave the house to go back to work.

During your time working, your mind kept on replaying Allen's words when he called you. And he didn't arrive to work today which is weird because Allen always comes to work. You prayed nothing went wrong with him when discovering who this stalker was.

When it is time to go home, you notice that there are no expensive cars following you today which is a huge relief because you didn't know when you'll end up having a whole breakdown. Your phone started ringing again and this time it was from Nia. You quickly answered and placed the phone between your ears,

"Y/n, oh my goodness you have to check the news. That Allen dude is dead." Nia says in a full panic tone, you felt fear clench your heart as you responded,

"What? How? I'm coming home." You ended the call, not sure how to even feel or react. But you felt fear, shocked, and surprised, even when you got inside the bus and entered your apartment. You dashed to the remote on the coffee table and turned the TV to the recent news.

The picture of Allen's dead body shocks you to your core. Despite the image being blurry due to how graphic it is you can tell by staring. His head looked like it got smashed, his brain splattered everywhere and his face nowhere to be seen. Intestines and other organs spurt out from his body and so much more. This crime occurred at the same address you went before.

You stared at the screen, aghast. You're not aware how long you sat there as the picture disappears and only the woman on the TV speaking, but her words become nothing but a muffled sound to you. The door unlocks and Nia strolls in after locking the door.

"This is so crazy! I never thought Allen would die like that!" Nia exclaims, cupping her face with both hands as she sits next to you. "And my colleagues kept on talking about it too when we were watching the news through our phones!"

You felt too numb and speechless to even reply to her. Allen was one of Nia's friends, he met you through her. Nia and the others were talking about Allen's death and you were there wondering about Allen's absence. How are you so oblivious?

You thought about the secret admirer, is he dangerous? Who else could it possibly be then?

During the entire day, you stayed home and Nia did so too. Both of you took time to recover by distracting yourself and conversing about the secret admirer. Both of you conclude that it is the secret admirer's doings. But none of you two knew what to do about it. So you and Nia stayed quiet about the murderer, you and Nia are aware of who is the killer.

It is around the evening when Nia goes outside and you take a nap in your room. But around midnight, you woke up to the sound of loud footsteps that didn't belong to Nia echoing in the living room. You quietly bolted out from the bed to lock your door and took your phone with you to the bathroom. You're not going to die by jumping off from your window when you live on the 6th floor.

You called the police while stuttering when telling them about the intruders in the house. Telling them the address you live in as you could hear the harsh kicking against your door. You are doomed for sure.

There is no space to hide because your room is small, hiding under your bed is obvious because that's where it is first checked. The door breaks open, causing you to flinch as you hold your breath. If you don't have any weapons, might as well use your phone. Your heart hammers against your chest, and sweat coats your entire body while you struggle to maintain your heavy breathing and your wobbly legs.

Clutching your phone tightly against your chest as the door knob to the bathroom shakes. The man shouts to others to which they reply, but you only hear your heart rapidly banging against your chest. You prayed intensely to god at this moment when the man started to let out a powerful kick to the door, near the door knob.

This is it, you thought to yourself as tears streamed down your face, weeping quietly to yourself before you remembered that you had a small pocket knife behind the cabinet. You immediately took it out before the door slammed down, the man made quick strides towards you and reached a hand out to grab you but you pierced his hand with the pocket knife and bolted out from the bathroom.

The man grunts before chasing you out of the room, you sprint through your home until a hand roughly grabs your arm and places a cloth on your face. You could only see darkness filling your vision and hear their muffled words as you passed out completely.

***

You woke up to the silver light against your eyelids which caused you to turn to your side and snuggled deeper under the thick and soft blanket. The sweet fragrance erupting from the bed is what caused your eyes to flutter open in confusion, you slowly lifted your head from the blanket to the most beautiful and elegant room. Your head turned to the closed glass doors of the balcony and everywhere in the large room. The room looked like it was made for a queen.

Reddish walls with expensive paintings, the softest large bed, and shiny floors. Including the sparkly crystal chandelier with small light bulbs. You know you are kidnapped as you lift yourself from the bed, your bare feet slip into the flats lying on the ground, near your bed. Your captor is generous enough to give you a gorgeous room after having you abducted.

You fixed your messy hair as you ambled towards the bathroom, by the appearance of rooms, you could tell it was all prepared. You started to do your business; brushing your teeth with a fresh new toothbrush and splashing your face with cold water before turning the faucet off. You left the bathroom and strolled towards the double doors of the balcony and attempted to open it to find a way to escape but failed, due to how tightly shut it is. You were still in your pajamas but you didn’t want to go out of the room all dressed like this so you took a short black dress and jeans before heading back into the bathroom to change.

After you come out all ready the door suddenly opens, causing you to turn around in surprise as a man peeks his head out.

"The marquis wishes to have you for breakfast." The man with the serious expression announces, his dark eyes intensely bearing into yours. "Follow me."

He leaves the door open before retreating his head back, you quickly leave the colossal room and follow the bodyguard behind through the gigantic hallways that consist of elegant statues, paintings, red carpets, elegant chandeliers with sparkly teardrop stones dangling, and many more. This is making you feel broke.

Finally, the two of you entered a colossal dining room with a large table filled with various foods that you can't name. At the head of the table, sitting on the elegant chair is the Marquis, you figure who lit up when he sees you. Standing up, he strolls towards you with a smile painted on his face.

"Ma chèrie, how was your sleep? I deeply apologize for the ruckus I created in your home." Marquis apologizes, his voice heavy with the accent as adoration and guilt fester within his captivating green eyes, "But do allow me to introduce myself, I am Vincent Bisset de Gramont. Also known as the Marquis. But you can call me Vincent."

You rapidly blinked at him, you've seen many handsome men in your life across the internet and other places but this man is paralyzing. He is the most gorgeous man you ever met face to face, his beauty is so bewitching that it could rival the Greek gods. And then you notice how tall this man is by the way he is towering over you.

You didn't realize that he took your hand into his and gently pulled you with him toward the dining table. Pulling out a chair for you as you stood there with hesitation before sitting down. With you and Vincent now seated, Vincent broke the silence.

"I am aware you have a lot of questions but do hold onto them and eat your breakfast. You must be quite hungry."

You glanced up at him with brows furrowed while he started to eat as if nothing had ever happened. Despite your hunger, you didn't lift your hand to the fork and start eating. You wanted answers first.

"Why am I here?" You inquired, your tone firm as you glared at him. Vincent didn't bother to look at you, only after he finished devouring his food is when he started to talk.

"Only after you eat, I will answer questions." With that, he started to go back to his food.

You decide to give in and start eating your breakfast, and one taste has you eating it all. It is delicious, you had to admit as you took a sip from your water. The maid comes and takes your and Vincent's empty plates away.

"How about we talk in your room? So it'll be easier to converse freely." Vincent stands up to which you do the same. His hand unexpectedly wrapped around your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him as the two of you sauntered through the halls. You immediately attempted to pull away but his hand remained locked on your waist, preventing you from distancing yourself away.

He just gives you a look before glancing away. "Tell me Ma belle, did you ever think I would let go off you easily?" Vincent asks, leaving you in confusion about what he means by that. Leaving the country or keeping your distance from him?

"Um no?" Your words come out in unsureness and confusion. Not knowing how to respond to that. He merely smiles as he opens the door for you, allowing you to enter first before he gets inside and shuts it. You turned around to face him.

Vincent ambles towards the closed doors of the balcony. Looking outside with both hands in his pockets. You stood there awkwardly before he finally spoke.

"Why I brought you here is simple, it's because I want you here. The world out there...Is cruel." He places his hand on the glass of the door, looking at his reflection through the glass door and at the same time outside.

You didn't say anything which made him continue.

"I am the one who had your little friend killed. Why? It's because he was about to expose me to you, and I didn't want that. I was aware that he plans to take you away from me as well once he tells you my identity." Vincent paused, "And, I tend to go a bit crazy. When someone attempts to take my love away from me."

He turns around to face you, a dark look cast across his face. "I was the one who sent you those gifts and had you followed everywhere to keep you safe."

"And that is when I came to know from one of my men about the friend you had been seeing."

"Why do I do this? It's because I love you. I always loved you even if you forgot about me."

This causes you to raise your brow,

 "What do you mean?" You inquired.

"Do you remember? Around 2 or 3 years ago, in New York, you went to a ballet show and I was there. Only after it ended we talked until it got late." He explains as you thought deeply, searching for a memory of you meeting Vincent but you only remember going to a ballet theater with your friends.

Not desiring to anger him you pressed your lips together, and he could tell that you don't remember him.

"I do remember, but I don't recall seeing you or talking to you." Judging by the way you are looking at him, realization doesn't hit you. 

Vincent takes a deep breath before continuing again,

"But I remember every last one of it. You stayed in my mind since then, and I didn't get the chance to ask for your name before you left. Everything about you captivated me, your smile, your eyes, your innocence, everything." Vincent's words held nothing but obsessiveness and adoration when he named each one about you. This terrifies you to your core as you stand there speechless.

Vincent takes quick strides towards you as you take a step back but his hand reaches out and grabs your arm. Pulling you close to his body, his strong cologne fills your nostrils as you hesitantly gaze up to his eyes and this makes you regret doing so. Madness and lust could be seen in his eyes.

"Tell me amour, do you have any idea how much I thought about you? Morning, afternoon, evening, night...How much I longed for you? Without you I feel incomplete, my world is nothing but darkness." He carefully explains as you hold your breath, you can't recall the last time you were this close to a man.

His hands cup your cheeks, bringing your face closer to his. Your eyes widened in shock as you grabbed onto his wrists but his grip on your face remained firm.

"But fate brought me to you again, at the Louvre." His tone transitions into a whisper, staring deeply into your eyes. "And I felt my world started brightening. And I start to feel complete with you in my life. You may not remember but I do, I went to your side and started to tell you about each painting. You listened to me with the most beautiful smile on your face."

Your bottom lip quivers, "L-let go off me. I want to go home."

He narrows his eyes at you, "You are home, you don't need to go back to a life with hardships. With me, I can solve everything--just let me handle it."

"You're just going to keep me locked up here." You shakily pointed out, aware of the fact he's never going to let you outside.

Vincent shakes his head gently, eyes glued to your face. "As long as you listen to me, you are free." He presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling his nose against yours with his eyes closed.

You were paralyzed when Vincent whispered.

"Wherever you go, I will always follow you."

"You are mine, only mine." With that said, your fate becomes sealed forever as his lips capture yours. And you realize that this is only the beginning of the horrifying reality.

***

A/n; Took me weeks, I decided to write for John wick.

feedbacks is always appreciated. <3

[emptystove]

Sparrow - Ch 7

One Piece Fanfic (Drama/Romance/Suspense)

Pairings: E. Kid x Reader, Sabo x Reader, Lucci x Reader (one sided)

Rating: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY

Chapter Summary: You are kind of a mess trying to understand these familiar feelings. It's a good thing you have some new friends around to help you out~

CW: trauma, spicy situations

Links to AO3, Wattpad -- Fanfic Master List

Chapter 7: Sensory Memory

Cipher Pol Headquarters, NWC Central District

3 Years and 4 months ago

Lucci crossed one leg over the other as he scanned the room. 

Spandine had called the heads of each Cipher Pol unit to appear in person for a briefing. These types of gatherings were only held when he wanted all units to be aware of the information and when the information was highly sensitive, so much so that they didn't want to risk it being intercepted. 

"Suspect is female. From the state we found the bodies in, she is believed to be skilled in the use of firearms and edged weapons," the suit droned on as Lucci scanned the document detailing the next rising threat under discussion. The whole thing felt so beneath him. He was ready to delegate it to one of the other CP units when the next piece of information gave him pause. 

"There was a witness to the last incident. The bartender couldn't give us much, but he remembered someone fitting the suspect's description asking about some of the gangs who 'allegedly' participate in human trafficking. He apparently hid in a supply closet during the event. He did not see anything of use, but he claims to have heard her use the name Aisa."

Lucci quickly understood why this was a priority case. The person targeting these gangs started with street level thugs but was moving on to higher members of organized crime. They were following a trail of criminals that would inevitably lead to an elite yet elusive group of government officials and politicians who indulged in many illegal activities, one of which being the keeping of slaves. 

"I've seen a woman fitting this description, and I distinctly remember her mentioning that name."

The older man in a white lab coat standing beside Spandine looked up excited at Lucci's statement.

"I was hoping one of you might," his supervisor smirked. "Anyone else know of a potential lead on the suspect?"

The other agents stayed silent.

He nodded to the older man before addressing the room again. "In that case, the rest of you are dismissed."

Lucci remained seated as the remaining CP unit leaders left the room. Before the door closed, two more employees with the same white coats entered, rolling a cart filled with what looked like medical and mechanical equipment.

"Was it recent? Do you remember it well?" the older man had moved to take the seat next to him.

Lucci sent a questioning look to his superior and the man responded with stern indifference. "Lucci, this is Dr. Vegapunk. You are to answer his questions honestly and adhere to any procedures or testing he requests of you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Lucci replied coldly before turning to address the doctor. "It was fairly recent, within the last few months. I remember it well."

"Excellent! Excellent!" The doctor excitedly ushered over what were clearly his own subordinates and pulled several items from the cart.

He pulled out a black box, the size a bit bulkier and wider than that of a laptop, and flipped it open. Inside, he used a small keyboard to start inputting something Lucci didn't catch. The other two extended four wires from the small machine. They attached each wire to Lucci's head at various points using what they claimed were electrode pads. 

"Now, this won't hurt a bit, but you may feel foggy for a few minutes after. We'll be monitoring your vitals, so there's really nothing to worry about. It's definitely probably perfectly safe," Dr. Vegapunk instructed happily.

"I'm not worried. Just get whatever this is over with so I can continue my scheduled duties," Lucci's scowl was audible with every word.

"Right... Well, let's get into it then." He pressed a large button on the machine. A red light began blinking on the side, and a faint whirring sound could be heard. "We'll start with something simple. I want you to think about everything that happened from the beginning of the briefing to now."

Lucci didn't let his opinion of the annoyingly upbeat doctor deter him. No matter how pointless this exercise seemed, he would always follow orders.

As he began thinking back to the beginning of the briefing, he felt his eyelids getting heavy. 

The red light stopped blinking and remained on. 

Lucci's Private Residence, NWC East District 

Lucci woke up gasping for breath. 

He slowly sat up in bed, allowing the sheet to fall to his waist as he let out a long exhale. That was one he didn't dream of very often. 

His thoughts were muddled as he lazily stood. He was in nothing but a pair of silk boxers, but he didn't bother to even grab a shirt as he made his way out of his room. His next actions had become a standard morning routine, though it wasn't his intention. 

First, he checked his messages. There were no leads on your whereabouts from Cipher Pol, and there was nothing from Trafalgar. 

How disappointing. 

He then checked each room in the house. Your bedroom, the basement, the dining room, the kitchen, and lastly the den. He sighed softly as he confirmed what he already knew. He was awake. This was all real. And you were not there. 

Finally, he made his way to his home office, pressing a button under his desk to reveal a hidden safe in the wall. He input the code and opened the metal door. He brushed aside the other items and pulled out a black metal box labeled "EMR."

----------

Kid's Body Shop, NWC South District

You were restless.

It was a week after your visit with Law, and the adrenaline and excitement that came with your escape and prospects moving forward were starting to dull. 

Kid was kind enough to give you his room, but you were trapped there each day until the shop closed, unwilling to risk any clients or passersby recognizing you. At least he let you sleep in the bed. He insisted on taking the couch even though you pointed out he was starting to rub his stiff neck on a fairly consistent basis because of it. More than anything though, you appreciated that he seemed not to notice the times that you woke up in the middle of the night startled and wheezing. 

Still, you were grateful. His was twice the size of Killer's room with an en suite to match. You fell into a sort of routine, though you didn't intend to. Each morning, Killer would bring you something different for breakfast along with that day's newspaper. You would then get in a lengthy workout before showering and changing into the least baggy set of clothing they had offered you. The rest of the time you spent waiting for closing proved more difficult for you. You would have loved to keep yourself from overthinking everything, and you did your best to keep busy. Heat gifted you a notebook, which was something, and Wire promised to drop off some books by the end of the week. By now, you were struggling to find things to keep your mind busy. Hell, you even deep cleaned the bathroom. You were questioning whether Kid would be annoyed if you reorganized his closet when you felt something slip out of your pocket. 

You reached for the item and held it carefully between your fingers.

A heaviness filled your chest as your looked down at the picture Sabo gave you. You wanted to see him. You wanted to talk to him, ask him questions, learn things from him. You whined grumpily when the rational side of your brain reminded you that until you meet with Law's friend, it would be too risky. He was one of the more recognizable members of the RA, and anyone noticing a connection between them and Kid's group could put unnecessary attention on them.

You sighed dramatically and sat by the window in Kid's room, looking out at all of the carefree people walking through the streets. As long as Lucci was looking for you, you would never really be free. You wanted your memories back, but you also wanted your freedom. Freedom to live your life and freedom from the man who took it from you.

You wanted to ignore his obsession at the time or write it off as being overprotective after your amnesia, but you couldn't deny it. You knew how he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention or how his eyes would roam your body after he had a few drinks. Even looking back at it now, you wanted to believe his tight hold on you was only because he was deceiving you. But the things he said to you before he kissed you the night you ran and the way he begged you rather than killing you at the train station just confirmed what you didn't want to be true.

Even if CP9 stopped looking for you, Lucci wouldn't. And anyone who helped you stay away from him wasn't safe from his wrath. If you were honest with yourself, you weren't sure if you held onto that thought because it was true or because it was a justification for the one thing you wanted almost as much as getting your memories back. 

You wanted to kill him.

As you continued to gaze out the window, certain things started to take your attention. 

A digital billboard in the distance switched to an advertisement for athleticwear, and you found that you couldn't take your eyes off of it. The color was just so damn blue. Your head started to get a bit fuzzy, and you weren't sure what you were feeling. Shortly after, it faded into a different advertisement and your gaze fell back to the street below. You could faintly hear high pitched laughter as your eyes landed on the source. 

You saw a little girl with short brown hair. Instantly, your heart twisted as you were overtaken with fear and grief.

She was facing the other direction, but you could tell she wasn't laughing anymore. She had just been surrounded by a group of similar aged kids, but now she was alone. You felt your heart start beating faster and you parted your lips. 

Was she crying?

You couldn't pull your eyes away. She was looking around franticly for someone. You felt the urge to call out to her, but you also felt like you couldn't breathe. 

You were so lost in the feeling that you didn't notice someone behind you calling out to you until you heard the one word that cut through your trance. 

"Sparrow."

----------

When you finally turned to face him, the look on your face made him pause.

Kid assumed you were so enthralled with your view out the window because you caught a glimpse of what was about to arrive for you. When you finally took notice of him, you weren't excited or even uplifted in the least. No, you looked confused and scared. The way you looked down at yourself, your eyes traveling over your one hand on the glass of the window and the other on your heart, made it look like you didn't realize what you had been doing. Fuck, was that a tear rolling down your cheek?

He stormed toward you in an instant, yanking you away from the window and looking out at the street below. Nothing within view caught his eye. No criminals or police were anywhere in sight, no one suspicious, no one even loitering nearby. No out of place vehicles parked on the street, and by the look of the few pedestrians casually walking about, nothing of significance had happened. 

He swiftly shut the blinds with a yank of the cord before pulling out his phone. No missed calls, and flipping through his messages again confirmed everything was on schedule. 

"What happened? What were you looking at?" Kid asked as he turned back to you.

"Uh...," you faltered a reply. 

At least you seemed to know he was there this time. 

He was frustrated with your slow response, but he forced himself to wait for you to gather your words. You had moved away from the window, arbitrarily standing in the middle of the room. Your brows remained furrowed as your eyes flit between your hands and some random spot on the carpet. You shook your head briefly and swiped the wetness from your face. "It was just some little girl. I- I don't really know what I was looking at... just felt familiar I guess," your words trailed off at the end, and Kid felt his frown deepen.

He shot Killer a quick text to check the perimeter just in case. 

When he glanced back at you again, you were still looking away from him. You look smaller in a way, afraid and unsure of yourself. You probably needed someone to talk you through whatever emotional shit was knocking around in your fucked up brain. He ought to just text Killer to come up and set you straight while Kid did the sweep himself, but he pocketed his phone instead. 

Kid would normally be the last person to try to deal with this type of thing, but seeing you like that was pissing him off. 

He still had a bit before he showed up, and Kid didn't feel like waiting until after you were done to see you stare him down again. It couldn't be that hard to bring you back to your senses, right?

He walked up to you with appraising eyes. As he moved closer, you kept your gaze low, irritating him further. He opened his mouth to speak but found he had no idea what to say. He gaped at you in silence, his own sudden awkwardness in the situation angering him further until he did the only he knew to do and shoved your shoulder with what might have been more force than necessary. 

You stumbled a few steps back upon the impact, catching yourself before you fell into anything. Your eyes shot up to the redhead, widening in surprise before shifting to a more annoyed expression. 

"What the hell was that for?" You snapped. 

"Quick acting weird."

"I'm not," you denied. 

Kid blew a raspberry into the air at your obviously false claim. "Cryin' over seeing a random kid outside is normal for you?"

"Fuck you. I wasn't crying. My eyes were watering from being stuck in your musty room all day."

"You cleaned this room about every damn day since you got here, so if it's musty, it's your fault." Kid bit his cheek as he tried to suppress a smug grin. You were staring him down hard, no longer meek or afraid. 

That was easier than he thought it would be.

"Hey, I can clean up dust and grime, but there isn't much I can do about the mountain of hair products you spray into the air every morning," you replied coolly.

"Oi! That's not- Quit blaming me for your own shit, woman." Kid growled, suppressing a chuckle when he noticed you pursing your lips to hide your cheeky fucking grin. A cheeky fucking grin that seemed to spread after he stayed quiet too long without hitting you with a comeback. 

Exhaling loudly, Kid changed the subject, satisfied that he got what he wanted but not quite ready to leave you yet, "Anyway, you been asking about a way to help us out for letting you crash. Well, we got something coming up, and we're short a few guys." 

It was almost the truth. It was less about needing more guys and more about keeping a close eye on you. He doubted you'd be half as excited once you found out how little you would really be involved. 

"I can do that," you perked up significantly at the suggestion. "Yeah, you need guys. I can be your guy, -er whatever." You nodded and cracked your knuckles. Kid watched the little remaining unease melt off your features at the thought of anything potentially dangerous or exciting, the exact opposite of how any sane person should react. 

Damn, you were kinda cute when you were getting yourself all fired up. 

"Got something else I think you'll like even more than that. Not sure you deserve it after being an ungrateful brat," Kid teased.

"You literally tried to shove me on the ground," you dismissed quickly. "What is it?" 

"Your friend's coming by to see ya."

"Heat or Wire? It isn't even movie night," you mused happily.

"Heat and Wire are my friends," he corrected.

"Yeah, ok," you chuckled sarcastically. "Who is it then?"

"If you ain't figured it out yet, you're more brain damaged than I thought. You've got him for two hours. Don't make me regret it."

----------

You could have cried when Sabo handed you a suitcase filled with clothes and shoes in your own size. As thoughtful as that was, having this time alone with Sabo was a much better gift. You agreed to limit your contact with the RA until the heat died down a little. The only reason he was here now was because he already had a scheduled exchange with Kid. You didn't bother asking what they were buying from him or why. Frankly, you couldn't care less. 

Your plans were stalled on getting back your memories until Law's friend was ready to meet. Although you would have preferred remembering your past on your own, you were happy to hear his own memories of your past. 

"So you walked into the conference room wearing an exact replica of Inazuma's outfit - the custom coat, the sunglasses, everything. He just rolled his eyes and tried to keep everyone focused. When Koala walked in a few minutes later to drop off some documents to Dragon, wearing another exact copy of his outfit and acting like nothing was strange about it, he still somehow kept it together. But not one person in the room could keep a straight face when Hack and Karasu walked in, completely straight faced, wearing the same exact getup," Sabo laughed.

"Sounds like they all have an excellent sense of humor," you giggled with him. 

"Yeah, some of us more than others. Those two are definitely the opposite of pranksters. You never did tell me how you got them to agree to it," he sighed as the last of his chuckling died out. 

"Eh, it probably had more to do with them than me. Any attempts at fun at Cipher Pol were swiftly stamped out," you replied casually. 

"What was it like, working as an agent for them?" He asked almost hesitantly. 

You tilted your head, frowning slightly at a spot on the wall. "I don't know. It's weird to think about how I felt then when I know the truth now. Back then, I thought it was the life I chose, but even then I knew it sucked." You gave a half-hearted chuckle, "Most of the other agents wouldn't even give me the time of day outside of missions or training. I never understood why, though I guess at the time, I figured it was because of Lucci. Seems pretty obvious now that it was because I was really just a brainwashed enemy to them."

You ignored the guilty yet concerned look Sabo was giving you as you tried to turn the conversation a bit in another direction. 

"Oh, right. I almost forgot." You walked to the bed and opened the top drawer to the bedside table. You made your way back to Sabo and perched yourself on the armrest of the opposite end of the couch as you handed him a small notebook. "I thought this was the least I could do for you rescuing me or whatever."

Sabo's brows raised slightly as he thumbed through the pages upon pages of information. You tried to write down what you knew, but once you began, you realized that they withheld a lot from you. Still, there were some roughly hand-drawn maps of the levels within headquarters, notes on the types of missions you were privy to, and finally what you knew about the individual members of CP9. 

"Why would they ignore you because of Lucci?" He was trying his best to seem casual, but you could tell he was listening intently for your answer.

"I guess you could say he kept me on a pretty short leash," you began. Sabo watched you patiently, silently urging you to continue. There wasn't really a point in hiding the truth, but it still made you uncomfortable to talk about for some reason. "He was my sensei, in charge of my rehabilitation after I woke up. He kept me on a strict schedule, slept in the room next to mine, trained me everyday. At first, I would only see him once a day. By the end, leaving me alone in my room for a few hours was considered a gift. He would flip if I got banged up after training with another agent." You rolled your eyes and sighed. "He was always watching me. I woke up everyday with him standing in my room, and the way he looked at me when he would drink... The day you saw me on that train was the first time I had ever been outside headquarters without him with me. And that night, he tried to.. Well, he was drinking then too, and..." 

You were starting to get frustrated with yourself now. Why was it so difficult to say this out loud? It's not like you were the one who did anything wrong. It's not like you had anything to be embarrassed about. You didn't want to think about Lucci or about why something as seemingly small as an unwanted kiss was so upsetting to you. What you wanted to do was beat his face in until he had to eat through a straw. The thought gave you enough courage to steel your nerves and force out the words. 

"He trapped me against a wall, whispered bird facts to me, told me I belonged to him, and kissed me," the words left you all in the same breath. "That's when I ran," you added in a much softer voice.

When your eyes moved back to Sabo, his mouth was drawn out in a thin line. His head hung down slightly, allowing his bangs to cover his eyes. It was tough to read his expression, but you could tell that his jaw clenched as much as his fists by his sides. 

It probably should have made you happy, right? To have someone care enough about you to be upset by how you were treated, but you found it hard to keep your eyes on him. Mixed in with his anger was a clearly painful layer of guilt that you found difficult to bare witness to. 

You turned where you sat on the armrest of the couch so your back was to Sabo, then let yourself fall onto your back, bouncing lightly on the cushions. Your eyes wandered over the ceiling, letting him have whatever moment he needed to while your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

After a few minutes, you finally broke the silence. 

"What were... we... to each other?" You asked carefully as you peeked at him from behind a few strands of your hair. 

You didn't even notice just how tensed he was until his shoulders visibly loosened. He lifted his head and let out a deep breath. A small smile graced his face, and you had to push down the fluttering in your stomach when you noticed how handsome he was when he let himself relax. "It was... complicated," he began slowly. His gaze moved aimlessly around the floor until he finally glanced down to gage your reaction.

Ok, you were kind of hoping for more there. 

You wanted to push him, but you could tell he was just trying to find the right words, so despite your instincts, you kept your mouth shut and waited for him to continue.

"We were...," he swallowed hard. "The way I feel about you...," he trailed off again, furrowing his brows in quiet frustration. He finally shook his head and met you head on with a hard gaze. "Living the kind of life we did, we agreed it would be a bad idea to try to carry on with anything serious."

"Oh," was all you could manage to reply. So, there was something but you both stopped it before it could go too far. That made sense. 

"What made you ask that?" A warm hand lightly brushed a few stray hairs from your face as you resist the urge to lean into his touch.

"Uh," you feigned a nonchalant tone as you reply. "I guess I just get these familiar feelings when I look at you."

Sabo let out of breath and even without speaking you could hear his smile. His fingers moved through your hair again, then fell to trace lightly against your cheek, his touch prompting a nervous fluttering in your stomach. 

You tilted your head slightly to look up and him, and when your eyes connected, something shifted.

All of the sudden, you were starting to feel fuzzy. 

Your muscles relaxed, and you felt your hand glide against his as he caressed your face.

Yes, that felt right. That felt familiar.

You held his gaze as you started to sit up, all the while inching closer to where he was seated. You couldn't look away from him if you wanted to. Those blue orbs connected with yours and you could feel yourself being pulled further into him. Closer to him. A tiny voice in the back of your mind was telling you not to let go.

"Is this..." you asked, not fully understanding your own question but also desperate to hear the answer. 

"Ok? yeah," Sabo offered a breathy reply. 

That wasn't quite right. You had no idea what you expected to hear, but you knew he was supposed to say something different. 

This is your chance. The tiny voice grew a bit louder. 

And then your body was moving on it's own. You shifted toward him, never leaving his eyes as you slowly climbed into his lap. You heard a muffled sound. He was telling you something but you couldn't quite hear him. It almost sounded like he was underwater. He was right in front of you, but he felt so far away. Everything did.

His hands found your hips as you reached out to him. His eyes were shining that brilliant blue and it was all you could see.

You felt your hands move to cup his cheeks, and you heard that tiny voice again telling you that this was your chance, only this time with unsettling urgency. But it was difficult to read into what that might mean when the man between your thighs was so beautiful. 

You hummed as you noted the smooth, soft skin in your left hand while tracing the rougher, darkened skin around his scar under your right.

"Is this real... or is this just a..." you heard yourself whisper.

"This is real," a low voice replied, and Sabo smiled softly before giving your hips a reassuring squeeze.

You smiled. 

Yes, that felt right. That's what he was supposed to say.

You leaned forward slowly, only willing to close your eyes as your lips pressed softly into his. This is real, that little voice in your head emphasized, although you still weren't sure why that was so important to you right now. 

It should have surprised you, when you finally pulled back and opened your eyes. Somewhere deep down, you knew this. But your brain was so cloudy now. Your fingers grazed the sides of his face, smooth olive skin under each one of your fingertips. 

This is what you needed.

Your hands fell gently onto his shoulders as you took in the sight of him, the blue you so blindly gravitated towards fading into a greyish black. 

This is what he wanted.

You leaned back in more quickly this time, capturing his lips with renewed fervor and working hard not to smile against him as you heard him let out a small whine. 

This is real.

You kissed him mercilessly, ignoring the scruff of his facial hair that tickled your chin as you tugged at his wavy black hair. His hands started to roam over you as he pulled you flush against his chest. You let your hips shift against him as you felt him growing harder beneath you. 

You refused to let your mind wander to all of the vile, unforgivable things he did to you. That didn't matter right now. The only thing that mattered now was moving forward, getting out of the cycle you were trapped in. 

You moaned into his lips as you continued grinding. You were ashamed of how wet you were getting from pushing your clit against this monster's clothed cock. You began to undo his belt buckle, but he moved a hand to stop you.

You pouted and heard him chuckle softly into your ear. 

That wasn't what was supposed to happen. 

He leaned his head onto your neck while he tried to collect himself, and you shifted so his face was on your left side. You could hear someone speaking again, but everything still sounded so foggy. You ignored the far away voice, and took a few light nips under his ear. You allowed his hands tightening around you to still the movement of your hips, instead focusing on weaving your left hand through his hair and reaching out as far as you could to the side with your right.

Just a few seconds more and you were sure you could reach it...

The next thing you knew, you were on the floor, looking up at a baffled and disheveled Sabo. He was standing over you panting, belt half-way undone, with a look of confusion and worry on his face that only increased as you brought a hand up to candle your pounding head. 

…What the FUCK just happened!?

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut short by a swift knock and opening of the bedroom door.

----------

No one that knew him would characterize Killer as someone who was easily surprised. Yet somehow, you had been leaving him in such a state on a fairly regular basis since you arrived.  

The blond stopped dead in his tracks upon entering. His eyes darted from you to Sabo and back before shutting the door tightly behind him.

"It's not what it looks like," Sabo began.

Killer crossed his arms over his chest and gave you a long, penetrating look. He watched your expression morph from surprised and confused, to pained and confused, then finally to embarrassed and annoyed. 

"I'm fine. Thanks for dropping that stuff off, Sabo," you finally reassured both men as you hopped up from the floor, a newfound confident and aloof mask covering your features. "He's right. It isn't what it looked like. Just a little misunderstanding. Anyway, I'm gonna go take a shower for totally unrelated reasons."

Sabo called your name pleadingly as you moved toward the bathroom. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm perfectly fine," you assured him again, subtly glancing toward Killer before facing Sabo again. "Can we talk about this later?"

Killer didn't like that. 

They promised to keep you hidden and keep you safe. Ever since Kid filled him in on what you found out from Law, he had been watching you closely. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until this very moment. You were not fine, and it was painfully obvious. What bothered him more though is that you were trying to hide it from him.

Once you finally left the room, Killer cleared his throat to get Sabo's attention. 

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Killer asked.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Sabo sighed in frustration.

"It really isn't."

"We were... reconnecting I guess, but she was pushing too far. I asked her to stop, and then she..." Sabo swallowed looking down at the floor where she had been when Killer walked in, hesitating slightly before finishing his thought. "She kind of threw herself onto the floor."

It made sense. Well, the part about reconnecting did anyway. Anyone with eyes could tell by the way Sabo looked at you that there had been something between you two. You throwing yourself off of the couch seemingly without reason was less believable, though it was exactly how he had found you. 

Killer knew he was holding something back, but the way the gears seemed to be turning in Sabo's head made him fairly certain that it wasn't out of ill intent. It seemed like Sabo himself wasn't sure what to make of it all. 

"You know, you're lucky it was me coming to get you and not Kid. He probably would have killed you before you could explain what happened."

Sabo furrowed his brows. "I didn't hurt her. I would never hurt her."

"I know," Killer said honestly, moving a bit closer. "That's why I didn't kill you."

Sabo gave Killer a hard look, then tilted his head in amused intrigue.

"I'm the one who asked you to take her in, you've only known her a week, and already you would actually kill me if you thought I hurt her?" he mused.

Killer shrugged, "Yep."

Sabo hummed shortly. "The other two that know about her, Heat and Wire, would they do the same?"

"In a heartbeat."

Sabo seemed to think on Killer's words for a few moments before a genuine smile stretched across his cheeks. "I'm glad."

Killer wasn't sure why that would be surprising. You were under their protection, and they took that seriously. If anyone hurt you while you were with them, retaliation was inevitable. They would do that for anyone in your position. That should have been obvious. Sure, they hadn't actually harbored anyone outside of people they were already close with in the past. And sure, they also rearranged a few appointments to make sure all four of them could be at the next movie night with you. Maybe he even went out of his way to buy puff pastry to cook with after you mentioned it. But nothing about that was unusual, right? 

"I should get going," Sabo sighed. It was the agreed upon time he planned to leave, and waiting would only increase his chances of being spotted there. 

"Right, better fix that first though," Killer stated while motioned to the other man's open belt.

Sabo cursed under his breath as he quickly fumbled to make himself presentable.

"Is that what you were doing on the train?" Killer deadpanned.

"I didn't do anything on the train!" Sabo whisper-shouted, mumbling curses again as Killer led him out of the room. "And stop asking my subordinates about it. I don't even know how you got Koala's number, but quit texting her."

Killer's lips pulled up into a slight smile. He would figure it out eventually. 

----------

Author's Note:

Killer: *sharpens his blades grumpily in the corner.* Author: Killer, you can't be serious. You had your own POV section in this one! Killer: If I'm so important, why haven't you added me to the relationship tags yet? Author: *sinks lower behind computer screen* Sabo: He's not the only one upset, author. Author: Wha- You got your own spicy scene with her though! Sabo: *pulls out a metal pipe.* My own scene? Author: Uhh, well… Sabo: We waited months for this chapter, and you let that overgrown house cat take over half way through? Kid: *adjusts his metal arm menacingly* I'm burning that couch to ash. Author: Ok, wait wait wait. You guys just need to trust me. It's all part of the plan! Lucci: I think it's the best thing you've ever written. Killer/Sabo/Kid: Shut up!

Previous Chapter | Fanfic Master List | Next Chapter

[scarletskiesinthepaths]

can you talk about kuchel and levi pls i loved your last post abt levi

Hi, thank you so much for your question! I'm really excited because this is the first time I've received an ask like this :) Thank you as well for your kind words on my post!

Off the top of my head, I'll lay out some of my thoughts in general about Levi and Kuchel and some of the speculations I have regarding the circumstances they were in together:

Kuchel seemed to be a victim of sex trafficking. She fled to the Underground City to escape persecution, but prior to that, we can assume that she lived a relatively sheltered and privileged life, as the Ackermans served and protected the King. Because of this, it is unlikely she would have had the skills or knowledge to defend herself once reaching the Underground, so I'm assuming she was preyed upon—especially since it doesn't seem like she ever awakened her own Ackerman powers. We also know that human trafficking is common underground, given Mikasa's backstory and some of the "Bad Boy" panels that have been released.

Given that Kuchel became pregnant with Levi by one of her patrons while working as a prostitute, Levi is essentially the product of rape; Kuchel's occupation was more akin to forced labor and sexual slavery than it was willful employment. I'm certain the circumstances of his birth were never lost on Levi, as I'm sure he witnessed his mother being forced to have sex on a highly frequent basis due to their living arrangements.

To elaborate, I'm fairly certain Kuchel and Levi lived in the brothel she worked at. When Kenny went to search for Kuchel's address, the man he spoke with referred to her as "Olympia" (her prostitute name). That man was also aware of her health status in reference to her ability to see clients, so I'm assuming he was the brothel owner. Building upon Levi witnessing the sexual violence toward his mother by her clients, the reason I think this is the case is because I doubt Kuchel would have felt secure in having Levi leave the room. Given the danger of their situation and how hostile of an environment the Underground is, Kuchel would have wanted to ensure Levi's safety from kidnappers by keeping him in her presence. From what we see of the room Levi was in when Kenny found him, there was only one relatively small bed and a paltry amount of furniture. Not many places for Levi to hide, unfortunately.

The likelihood that Kuchel had postpartum depression (PPD) is quite high, as certain psychosocial circumstances increase the risk factors for developing PPD: stressful life events during the pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, food insecurity, violence against women, low socioeconomic status, low social support, single marital status, sexual abuse history, and more. All of these aforementioned factors apply to Kuchel. It is exceedingly unlikely Kuchel would have had access to treatment for any PPD she may have had as well. Furthermore, it is well-known that PPD can adversely impact the maternal-infant relationship, particularly untreated PPD. This would have affected not only Kuchel's ability to attend to her own needs, but also Levi's needs.

Levi was dying from starvation when Kenny found him. I imagine Levi was stuck with his mother's decaying corpse for around a week, and one does not reach that level of starvation from going without food for a week. Simply from those panels alone, it is evident Levi had probably gone without sufficient access to food for months at a time. This demonstrates that Kuchel was having significant difficulties providing for Levi's basic needs. Based on this fact alone, Kuchel would not have had the capabilities and resources to provide Levi with higher-level needs, like the feelings of love and belonging that children need to thrive. I think Kuchel clearly loved and wanted Levi deeply, just based on the panel of her crying tears of happiness while holding Levi as an infant; however, the reality of her situation would have precluded her from properly relaying this love to Levi.

Let's take a look at Maslow's hierarchy of needs:

Basically, human needs are arranged in this hierarchy, with lower-level needs required for survival having to be satisfied before moving on to higher-level needs. Higher-level needs cannot be met if lower-level needs are not. The more one progresses through this hierarchy, the harder it is to continue to move through the hierarchy due to the practical and interpersonal barriers that inevitably occur. Physiological needs are the most important because no other needs can be satisfied unless those are met. Practically none of Levi's physiological needs were being met during his childhood:

We've established he had no food.

Given the poverty they were in and the nature of the Underground, a lack of clean drinking water makes sense.

The barest minimum of shelter was provided, given the small room they lived in. The shelter itself was inadequate and unsafe.

Levi was dressed in rags when Kenny found him, so we can extrapolate that he did not have much clothing.

Due to the lack of sunlight and the known effects on circadian rhythm, as well as Levi's known issues with insomnia during adulthood, consistent sleep was also an issue.

Clean air quality also seems like it'd be an issue Underground, given the lack of electricity. Torches and oil lamps probably contributed significantly to air pollution, along with the proper lack of air ventilation.

On a different note, we know from Kenny's conversation with the man who I assume was the brothel owner that Kuchel got sick from one of her clients. Of course, it's possible that Kuchel may have gotten some other sort of illness from her client, but given the occupational hazards of her labor, I'm assuming this was a sexually transmitted disease (STD). We already know Levi is extremely wary and concerned about disease when he's older to the point of being seen as a "clean freak"; it seems pretty easy to trace this concern to his experiences living underground. Given how Kuchel became sick, it's not a leap to think Levi might associate sex with disease, especially if he ever learned about the concept of STDs. Levi probably internalized some very negative messages and associations regarding sex from his childhood with his mother.

Anyway, those are some of the basic thoughts I have in my head regarding Kuchel and Levi's circumstances. I do have some more, so I would definitely love to write more posts at some point on this topic. Thanks again for reaching out!

[macaron-n-cheese]

There is evidence that Thomas Jefferson may have been queer

Over the weekend I went to a history conference as one does. I was looking at the program and one of the lectures caught my eye. I was like "wait is that lecture what I think it is because if it is that would be awesome" so I went. It WAS awesome. The lecture was by an archivist who is doing a project on Jefferson's writings. Her background qualifies her to analyze 18th-century letters.

So basically she was reading books because that's what librarians do and the quotation “No body knows how much I wish to be with you” was very obviously right there. She realized that no one has done research on this before and decided to be the one to do it. The lecturer is still in progress if analyzing Jefferson’s papers and library.

To be clear, this lecture states that there is not enough evidence to definitively say Jefferson was queer, but just evidence that seems to be queer. The evidence is clearly homosocial, but anything beyond that can only be inferred.

my notes (my apologies if they are confusing at any point)

hahhahehheheh Jefferson: “No body knows how much I wish to be with you” Jefferson and Page and the Intimacy of Encryption

Same talk given to LGBTQ+ group

Coded letters to John Page

Page lives at Roseburg! Jefferson went there a lot

Scared people would find his letters so be encrypted

But he liked it like it was a game

Send real info but also bestie stuff

Impossible to determine Jefferson as queer but this is just fun

How do you define letters as queer or no?

Gender switch, Greek letters, codes

Coding citizenship, gender, sexuality

Homosocial bonds develop when yapping about exchange of women

Jefferson dirty enslaver grrrr

Sally Hemmings :(

Jefferson thought libraries, newspaper, education were essential to American nationality

Letters technology of collective fantasy

Lost history of cryptology

Jefferson father of American cryptology

Homosociality and stuff

Gay? 🤨 I mean he read ancient gay stuff

Trafficking women part of this (like using wives/daughters to connect families) :(

Connect families

Cedric mother of queer theory

Tools for examining must be subtle and definitive

Variable and political

Emerging subject categories in Jefferson’s writings

William Bendamen shows that Jefferson would be aware of queerness from what is in his library

Gay porn in 18th century WHAT

he owns gay porn caught in 4k

Lots of this is encoded, destroyed, difference in language & culture

Buggery laws

THE LETTERS to Page. 20 January 1763

Friends from youth to Page’s death in 1808

Letter from Shadwell. Jefferson is around 20.

“Why can you and I not be married, too?”

The commas, references, tenses, Latin is hard to attribute

Friendship or queer is unknown

Reference to laws of human nature. Early scientific musings of relationships

Elusiveness of understanding may be intentional.

Life together supported by letter 6 months later

Rebecca Burwell. Belinda

Plans to propose to her and writes to Page from Williamsburg “Devilsburg”

Refers to Belinda as “he”

Rejected by her

If it worked he and Page related by marriage between Burwells

Written like business transaction. (trafficking of women between men)

Many homosocial letters talk about trafficking of women

Jefferson thought his letter was interception and is super paranoid

Ask Page if he found this

Jefferson freaking out and asks him to being better code. I’m going to send you this.

Develops wheel cipher

3 months later Jefferson finds out Rebecca married to something else

Page marries. Jefferson moves to Monticello, marries Martha

Last letter

I can die with sweet resignation after reading your letter

Letters from Page lost in Shadwell fire

Page and Jefferson letters are ones between young men and are representative of such

Jefferson uncomfortable with women. Kinda misogyny but he’s so confusing so it’s hard to classify

Categorizing Jefferson but it’s all connected

This is technique to secure bonds among wealthy planter elite. College friends! This is before Revolution and stuff

There is so much to cover

Jefferson weird and paper expensive. He knows papers are to be shared and he decided NUH UH.

Jefferson morals vs action

Notes on Virginia. RACIST

Black writers at bottom in notes and in library

Boooo he’s a loser

Kicks off institutionalization in America

Jefferson isn’t the only one to code

Anne Lister codes. Puts lesbian letters in crypt.

This info puts my post from a year ago about Martha Jefferson’s epitaph into context, actually! The Greek reference and gender swapping is just Thomas’s thing with people closest to him. I wonder how many others got this treatment...Jefferson and gender is really something else, like bro can't interact with women yet swaps their gender in writing. What's going on in his silly autistic (probably) brain? Referencing mythology is also pretty cool like what a nerd using ancient Greek analogies.

I always found his coding interesting but just haven’t researched it. This new research is special to me because @asica-black and I used to discuss Jefferson’s coding and think “hey do you think these were coded and he worried that people would accuse him of buggery?” and answer is most likely yes!

So yeah it seems like Jefferson had a boyfriend.

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Okay I got a little more confident. Here's the first chapter.

This is a while after Jack had first been kidnapped and sold. This is the first chapter of the book, the other one was a flashback. (Sorry that's confusing. It'll make more sense with the whole thing)

--

Jack bangs his head against the wall. 106. He lazily lifts his neck and drops it again. 107. He decided he was on his way to beat his all time high of 318 a while ago. He only stopped then because he blacked out for a second, and he figured that repeatedly smashing his head into the wall wasn’t the smartest.

Except who the hell cares what the smartest thing to do is when you’re bored out of your mind.

108.

Not ‘oh there’s nothing on TV’ bored. Bored like Jack only has eight books in his cell anyway, and never mind the fact that he’s already read them all so much he’s got them memorized, but also the light has been flickering and if it goes out then he’ll be in darkness for months on end so he might as well just sit in darkness now by choice. So that’s what Jack did. He took a nap. Again. And then sat in darkness and banged the back of his head against the wall because that was better than letting his mind wander.

109.

Jack can never let his mind wander. When it does he always ends up sobbing so hard he throws up, or plots how he can potentially end his own life.

110.

If he lets his mind wander he might think of his mom. He might think that she’s forty eight now, and he missed another Christmas with her. He’ll think about how terrified he was when he was grabbed and thrown into a van. How he never even thought about that happening to him and so he had no idea what to do except lash out and kick his attacker.

He’s still got the scar on the side of his head from the man’s rings.

111.

Jack will think about the times he’s tried to keep track of the days on the wall next to his bed, but he just gave up when he stopped being aware of when was day and when was night. He had a little breakdown that day, when he realized that he’d been there so long he didn’t know exactly how long anymore.

112.

He’ll think about the fingers he lost for trying to run. The way he limps every time he walks and keels over every time he breaths. He’ll think about the part of his ear that--

113. 114. 115. 116.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!

Jack had a TV once. One of those big box TVs with the VHS player attached that he hadn’t seen since he was in elementary school. He played the few tapes he had basically 24/7. They weren’t good movies, he saw Joe Dirt so many times he dreamt about him, but it was something. Human voices to occupy his time. Voices besides his painful memories and… Mr. Reeder.

117.

Mr. Reeder isn’t the man who first took Jack. Once, in a bout of quiet contemplation much like this one, Jack let himself realize that he was in fact a victim of human trafficking. In his mind, trafficking was only for sex slavery or organ harvesting. But he was kidnapped, and then sold. For money. It’s not like he’s got Google on hand, but Jack’s pretty sure that’s the definition.

118.

No, Jack’s actually got no idea who first threw him in the car. He was walking home from a friend’s house. Not even a friend, just someone to hang out with so he wouldn’t be bored.

Man, 15 year old Jack had no idea what boredom was.

It was dark. He had headphones in playing music. He was alone. He was an idiot.

He never heard the car pull up beside him. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he turned around to ask them what the hell, but by the time he understood what was going on he was already in the man’s arms, hand over his mouth and phone tossed to the street. Jack had kicked out, managing to kick his attacker in the shin, but it didn’t stop him. He was thrown into the trunk of the car, and before he could even catch his breath to call for help, he was knocked out.

The whole ordeal probably didn’t take more than two minutes, if that. No time for anyone to hear a scuffle and come looking.

Jack woke up later to his arms and legs tied up, duct tape around his head, and the feeling of blood on his face.

119.

He doesn’t like to think about the early days. The constant fear and exhaustion that took hold of him. That still does if he’s being honest. He likes to think he’s more resigned now. Apathetic, if you will.

It makes stomaching his own existence a little easier.

120.

He lifts his head off the wall once again, but pauses before he can get to 121. Jack is a very very good listener, out of necessity. So despite being a floor down and many walls away, he can always hear Mr. Reeder’s car pulling into the driveway. No matter how many times he heard it, Jack can never stop the way his body tenses, the way his heart rate picks up. He swallows and stares up at the ceiling, waiting for more.

It’s been a few days. Mr. Reeder would leave to go to work every day, and sometimes he’d go somewhere for a night or two. But this has been the longest ever. Jack had woken up and went to sleep eight different times (half were naps, he knew, but even still it was at least four days.) He’s running out of food. Even if he didn’t see Mr. Reeder every day, he at least knew he was home.

Sickening that this is his home.

The door upstairs slams and Jack can’t repress a flinch. He stares up into the darkness, eyes following the sound of heavy footsteps across the floor. The footsteps stop. Jack holds his breath to listen, the only unwelcome sound that of his own heavy heart.

A slamming door is not good. Stomping across the living room is not good. What kind of mood is he going to be in?

Jack gasps and flinches at the sound of Mr. Reeder yelling, a wordless, angry shout, and then something crashes to the ground above him. Another shout and crash. Another. And another.

Mr. Reeder’s throwing things. So it’s safe to say he’s in, what Jack would call, a not good mood.

He tries his best to tune out the sounds above and focus on himself. He needs to calm down before Mr. Reeder gets here, or it’s going to be worse. Freaking out beforehand helps no one, and he ends up being in pain anyway so, you know. What’s the point. Jack closes his eyes (he can’t see anyway) and takes long, deep breaths in through his nose, and out through his mouth. His ribs flare painfully with each inhale, but Jack welcomes it. It grounds him. Lets him know he still exists, in this painful body and dark basement. He still exists.

Unfortunately.

Jack makes himself keep breathing as the footsteps get closer and closer, making their way down the stairs and stopping just outside his door.

It never gets easier. The suspense of waiting for his captor, it just never does. Even if his mind knows it’s going to be the same old same old, his body was terrified. It was tired of being hurt, of being hungry, of being tired and bored.

Sometimes he’s so bored he’s actually excited, not nervous, when Mr. Reeder comes. Oddly enough, this was not one of those times.

The keys jingle. A lock clicks. And Mr. Reeder pushes open the door.

Jack squints against the light from the basement filtering in from the cracked door. He lets out his last inhale and stares down at the heavy boots in front of him. They weren’t originally that dark of brown, but … you know. Blood.

Mr. Reeder just stands there for a moment, staring at his captive. He’s silhouetted against the light so Jack can’t see his expression. Jack waits for him to say something, anything. He doesn’t.

Jack clears his throat. “H-hi Mr. Reeder.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Jack nods, looking at the ground, heart pounding in his ears.

Mr. Reeder’s hand shoots out suddenly, gripping Jack by the hair and hauling him up out of his room. Jack hisses in pain, hands clawing at the fist tangled in his hair. If it was up to him, he would’ve shaved his head ages ago. But Mr. Reeder would never give him a razor.

Jack kicks at the ground, trying his best to get his feet under himself enough to relieve the pressure on his head. His bad leg howls in protest at the sudden actions, but he does his best to push through. As he begins to be dragged up the stairs, Jack grits his teeth to stop from crying out, knee painfully banging against each. Individual. Step.

Each step, Jack is able to brace the pain a little more and become more aware of what exactly was happening.

He is going upstairs. He hasn’t been upstairs since he first got here. The current circumstances are much different than those last time, so why the hell is Mr. Reeder bringing him upstairs?

He begins to fight.

Jack has been doing this a long time. Longer than he actually knows, but he’s positive it’s years. He’s an adult probably old enough to drink. That’s a long time to become a professional at getting your butt kicked. And being a professional victim, Jack knows that the less you struggle, the easier it is. Easier to deal with the pain, faster to get it over with, and easier to stomach your own cowardice… Or resourcefulness. He’s a survivor, that much he knows.

So he only fights back when he’s really scared.

And he has reason to be. When Jack was just a brand new greenie kidnappee, demanding to be let back upstairs, Mr. Reeder had leaned down, close to his face, so close that Jack had to lean away from the smell of the peppermint gum he was chewing.

“The only way you are ever going back up those stairs,” he said lowly, coldly, “is if I want to see your brains on the wall in natural lighting.”

It was the first time that Jack had thought I might not make it out of here alive. It took him a much longer time to accept it.

Apparently he hasn’t accepted it at all, Jack thinks as he wrenches his head out of Mr. Reeder’s grasp and dives to crawl away from him. It was never going to work but he needs to try.

Jack Thatcher was NOT taken away from his mother for years just to be shot in the head by some isolated lunatic. At least, he wasn’t going to without a fight.

Mr. Reeder grabs him easily, yanking him back by his bag leg, stretching it out. Jack can feel poorly healed bones in his knee scraping together, pinching the long disused muscles around them. He let out a shout before Mr. Reeder pulls him by his waist instead, hauling him into a room and slamming the door shut and sitting in front of it, trapping Jack inside.

With nowhere else to go, Jack pushes himself into the corner farthest from his captor, arms protectively shielding his right knee. His chest heaves and he can feel the stupid tightness starting in his throat that happens before he cries. He hates crying in front of Mr. Reeder, but it is continuously unavoidable.

Mr. Reeder sits in front of the door, catching his breath as well. He runs a hand through greasy hair, staring at the ceiling. He sighs heavily, like his life is the one here not worth living.

Tragic.

With his captor temporarily distracted, Jack takes stock of his surroundings. A mattress with no sheets is pushed against the corner opposite himself, some dirty clothes thrown at it’s end. A cracked mirror is attached to a dresser, dust slightly distorting the image of the ceiling. Behind Jack is a window half boarded up, letting a sliver of light into the room, washing over his captor. It looks like it’s golden hour outside.

Jack’s struck with the thought that this is the first time he’s seen the sun since he went down those stairs. Really, since he was thrown into that car as a teenager. He always had a blindfold on, or he was transported at night. The most fundamental, most simple and base thing a human has access to, Jack hasn’t for years. Still just out of reach.

His attention is brought back to Mr. Reeder when he sighs again. He warily looks up at Jack. “You’re lucky you know.” Jack doesn’t move. He’s heard the ‘you should be glad I’m not worse’ speech before. “You have no idea what you’ve missed. No idea… what you’ve been spared. What I’ve spared you from.”

Jack only watches apprehensively. His body is tight, poised like he’s ready to try to run again. Where, with Mr. Reeder blocking the door? That’s for future Jack to find out.

“I didn’t mean to spare you from it,” he goes on. “Heaven knows that wasn’t my intention. I think you could have benefited from being in the middle of it all.” He chuckles and Jack shrinks away even more. “Oh the look on your face would’ve been everything… Oh well. It’s just about over anyway.”

It’s nonsense. Utter nonsense. Mr. Reeder is certifiably insane, no doubt about it. He’s gone on long manic monologues before, Jack’s heard about everything.

He’s never seen Mr. Reeder pull a gun from his waistband though.

He can’t help the sharp intake of breath, the sudden urge to run! Run now! Go! He’s got no idea what to do with it so he just stands up, so quickly it doesn’t even hurt, and backs even further into the corner. Mr. Reeder always threatened that he had a gun but Jack had never had proof until right now.

Mr. Reeder looks at him from under his brows. “Sit down Jack.”

All he can do is shake his head, breaths coming out fast and shallow. The floor is liquid beneath his feet, making his body shake where it stands.

The gun clicks and points right at Jack. “Sit. Down.”

He slides down the wall, hands up. His throat bobs with a swallow, just to do something with his mouth other than sob. Tears fall steadily down his cheeks and his lower lip trembles.

Mr. Reeder, satisfied with Jack’s cooperation, relaxes his grip on the gun, hefting it like he’s simply judging the weight.

“There wasn’t much time,” he says. Jack shifts his focus from the gun to his captor, staring with wide eyes and frayed nerves. “I was trying to think about what to do with you but… I mean there just wasn’t much. I’m not sure I would’ve done anything even if there was. You’ve said it yourself Jack, who wants to die alone?”

His eyes meet Jack’s for the first time and Jack can see… tears. Welling in them. It only terrifies him more. “Mr. Reeder…”

“Shh. Shh sh sh.” He shakes his head, working his jaw. “Do you believe in God, Jack?”

Jack swallows. “I don’t know,” he whispers, voice catching on the words. “I used to.”

“What about heaven and hell? Think those exist?”

Jack can feel the panic claw up his throat, making him want to sob and scream. “I hope so.”

“Hmm… I wonder if hell will be any worse than earth.”

This is it then, Jack thinks. He’s going to take us both out, as a sick end to his sick life. He’s bored of me and now it’s over, it’s all over.

“Mr. Reeder please,” Jack begs, tears blurring him, “please don’t. Don’t do it.”

He furrows his brows, and looks down at the gun. He shakes his head. “See you in hell, Jack.”

[nekkomaa]

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I finally managed to finish this chapter without hating it!!! If you notice any errors please let me know, I know very little English and so I end up translating everything using an online translator, and you know sometimes there are errors...

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word counts: 1.435

The job was simple: break into the house of one of Markrov's henchmen, get any clues about their connection, and hopefully more clues about the human trafficking that had been going on for months. However, the job proved complicated when he had to deal not only with the guards but also with a woman, well, he was told that the guy had a wife, but he didn't expect her to be in the house.

The job was supposed to be simple. So why instead of just two in the car were there now three?

He actually considered the idea of killing her, leaving her in the house and making it look like some kind of ridiculous accident, just to confuse them and give them more time to act. But he felt sorry, Simon never liked killing women, he didn't even know if you were lying to them or not, but Ghost never minded killing women, not if they were involved in anything illegal.

You could well be in on it with your husband, and he wouldn't know until it was too late. Deep down your instincts tell you that you're just an ignorant woman who doesn't even know about her own husband, which would explain some of your behavior, but Ghost doesn't usually give people the benefit of the doubt, he's more of a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy.

So why is he taking you along? The only answer Ghost has come up with at the moment is that you could be of great help, a decoy perhaps. If this were a kidnapping, he could even use you as a bargaining chip, to find out how much the husband would be willing to pay to get his beautiful trophy wife back, but everyone knows that her husband wouldn't pay a penny to get you back.

As soon as they arrived at the safe house the first thing they did was tie you properly to a chair, they knew you wouldn't be able to escape even if they let you loose, not with two trained men of their size, but it was good to be safe. Ghost barely looked at you, he prefers not to memorize too many faces of people who will probably end up dead, he already has enough people to haunt his dreams, he doesn't need one more.

As soon as Ghost removed the tape from his mouth, he was ready to leave, anything not to be in the same room as you. He wasn't too surprised when you didn't scream, I mean, he realized you were a clever little thing the moment you decided to collaborate with him, maybe deep down he expected you to scream and shout at the top of your lungs even though you saw you were in the middle of nowhere and knew it wouldn't do any good, he kind of expected any reaction from you, just so he could be rude without feeling so guilty. He doesn't even know whether or not you were involved and aware of what your husband was doing.

“I thought she'd have some resistance, you know screaming and all.” Soap seemed excited by the discovery, a little too excited, but Ghost had learned to ignore strange comments and actions during his time in the army, after all, none of them had a good sanity, not even him.

“I think she understood that no one will come even if she screams.” Ghost just turned and left the room, heading for the room he would be staying in, he would leave you for Soap to deal with, meanwhile he would find out more information in other ways.

Soap appeared at the door a few minutes later, saying that you had fainted, overwhelmed by everything, Ghost just nodded and told him to try again later.

And then Soap was in charge of trying to get more information out of you when you were awake. Ghost felt he'd already had too much interaction with you, and let's face it, Soap was great at getting people to open up, so he was an infinitely better chance. Even though he initially failed, Ghost still believed that Jonny could achieve something.

“Why can't we have a clean safe house for once in our lives?” Soap complains as he throws himself on the bed and dust rises, he coughs a few times trying to shake the dust away in a failed attempt.

“We're in a safe house, not a vacation home Jonny. At least this one has furniture.” Ghost's voice comes out sarcastic, he doesn't take his eyes off the computer, grumbling when something doesn't go as he expects.

“How long is this going to last?” Soap rambles to himself, not really caring whether Ghost listens or not.

“Preferably as little as possible.” He answers back and lets out a strange sound, a muffled, croaking laugh. “I found something you might want to read.” Ghost passes the computer to Soap, the small print on the screen showing something interesting.

The night was colder than he thought it would be, probably because winter was approaching. Ghost stood guard in the early hours of the night, Soap was passed out on the dusty bed in the bedroom, at least this safe house had some comfort, in the last few missions the safe houses had nothing more than just the bathroom sink and the shower, of course, only cold water.

He busied himself going over the information he had about the mission. It was routine, something he was used to and something he could relate to now, if he let his mind wander to any other thought than the mission he knew he would lose himself in a spiral and Ghost couldn't let that happen. Not while he still had a mission to finish, not while he was still on that mission.

He wouldn't give you anything more than a few glances, just to make sure you were still in your sleep/fainting state. It would be tedious for anyone else to sit up half the night watching someone else, without much to occupy themselves, but Ghost doesn't really care, too used to babysitting at night to care that much.

It's actually kind of pathetic now that he thinks about it, the fact that he's watching you. A weak, untrained woman, tied to a chair and passed out. You'd never get out of that house without one of the two of you noticing, Ghost could be mistaken about you, you could be a clever little mouse playing dumb, but he still doubts you'd be able to get rid of the ropes holding you down without making a sound.

He's only awake to keep people out of the house, that's the truth. You're no danger to him. Too fearful, not even able to take the pressure of a few questions and already fainting.

Ghost remembers somewhere in the back of his mind that you're just a civilian, and as far as he knows you have every right to cry and faint out of fear and exhaustion, he sometimes forgets that people aren't like him, that most people aren't in the army.

And in a corner of his mind comes the nagging voice reminding him that for all he knows you might actually be being held in private. But again, it's just an assumption, not confirmed information. He found almost nothing about you in the files, your name was mentioned once in a file, but it was so vague that it could easily have been forgotten.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the thought and snorts, he'd rather not think about it too much, if he knew that bastard was holding you against your will he certainly wouldn't spare his fingers when he finally managed to catch the lowlife. Ghost simply hates violence against innocent, unarmed women. He also hates the memories that come with that thought.

A heavy sigh leaves his lips, he would definitely kill for a cup of tea or an alcoholic drink right now, anything to slow down his mind and relax his tense body. But well, unfortunately there's nothing in this house apart from drinking water, and if they're lucky, some kind of canned food.

The sound is very low, but it's still noticeable if you're paying attention. Ghost looks away from the window and sees you looking around, your gaze unfocused and lost, surely it would take you a few seconds to fully regain consciousness.

That's when Ghost knows it's going to be a long night. Maybe he'll wake Soap up and let him deal with it.

[bullet-prooflove]

Prey!Series - Part Two: Mentality - OA Zidan x Reader

Tagging: @trublu2u @mrspeacem1nusone @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @scarlettsakura @divergent146 @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @kilikonakapamana @yezzyyae @redpool @stxrryswvrld @district447 @soultrysworld

Prey!Series:

Part One: Trafficking - It's during a human trafficking case that Omar meets you.

There’s a wealth of information that Omar doesn’t know about human trafficking, and he discovers that the longer the case goes on. He doesn’t think of himself as naïve; he has an awareness of it, he’s read the literature, but he isn’t prepared for the extent of the misery, the impact of it.

The two of you are standing in the JOC, in front of the huge array of screens. On the first screen are the images of the girl’s visas from the employment agency. Every single one of them is fresh faced and hopeful. On the second screen are the images from the ‘Just4Johns’ website. They’re sultry boudoir images, lots of flesh on display. The text written across each picture invites the johns to come and play.

It's the eyes that get him, the deadness in them. Every single ounce of their hope has been stolen away, depleted. Omar doesn’t understand how a man can look at any one of these women and not see that they’re being coerced.

He raises it with you when the two of you sit down for lunch together. This case is moving a million miles an hour and there’s barely time to sit down and eat. He’s graciously loaned you the corner of his desk because it’s an all hands on deck situation and there isn’t space anywhere else. The two of you are crowded in close, his knee bumps against yours for the umpteenth time and he apologises yet again. You give him a look and a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“The men that are paying for sex with these women, they have to know that they’re raping them.” He says as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. The case is making him sick to his stomach but logically he knows he needs the fuel, so he persists.

“They don’t see it like that.” You tell him, opening your pack of chips and tilting it towards him. You’re a sharer, he’s learned. Food, stationary, mints. If you’re having something, you offer him one too. It’s the sign of someone who’s used to caring for others. “To them they’re paying for a service, it’s no different from hiring a plumber, they’re taking care of a need. They choose not to see the reality of it. They don’t question where these girls came from, or why they’re there, it’s a transaction to them.”

It makes Omar think back to that night in Germany, a few guys had come back to base late after visiting a brothel. He’d never reported it, they were shipping out to Iraq a few days later. What’s the harm he had thought at the time. It was a couple of months later they’d heard the place had been raided, every single one of those girls had been trafficked.

There’s shame in him when he tells you that story. You can see it in the slump of his shoulders, the way he hangs his head.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d reported them or not.” You tell him, leaning forward so that you’re within his proximity. The scent of your perfume floods his senses as he looks into your eyes. It’s something floral with a hint of nectarine, it reminds Omar of walking through the park in spring. “Stuff like that isn’t in the militaries purview.”

Your hands come to rest on his, his own are clasped together as he peers up at you with sorrowful dark eyes.

“It’s not on you.” You reassure him, your thumbs ghosting over the grooves of his knuckles. “I think this case is throwing up a lot of things that you haven’t had to deal with before and that’s ok, it’s a bad one, it’s jarring but you have to learn how to compartmentalise that otherwise it bleeds into your personal life.”

“Yea.” He says, bowing his head. “I have three sisters; I keep thinking about what you said back at the hospital about it being one in five…”

“It might not be any of them.” You remind him and he swallows hard against the ache in his chest before clearing his throat and pulling away.

“Yea.” He says quietly, his palm rubbing over the line of his jaw. “That’s what I’m praying for.”

***

It’s the basement that gives Omar nightmares, he sees it in his dreams for months afterwards. Filthy, stained mattresses all pushed together in order to maximise the space. The bedding is unwashed, tossed carelessly across them. The whole place is damp, he can feel the moisture in the air as he listens to the sound of the droplets impact the concrete.

The reality of what these girls endure is staring him in the face and it’s harrowing, it makes his stomach twist because no one should live like this.

It’s the wall that breaks him, the one out back next to padlocked exit. The cream paint is peeling but it’s the only surface that even closely resembles a canvas. The girls have drawn all over it, there are hundreds of images, depictions of their hopes, their dreams. Some of the drawings are more childlike that others and it’s those that hit him the hardest.

“Is it paint?” He asks you, his voice rough as he studies the wall.

“No. It’s make up.” You say quietly, the back of your hand brushing against his. “They used the only thing they had.”

His fingers capture yours and he finds himself squeezing your hand tightly because this, this is too much. He can feel their anguish seeping through the walls, their horror, their suffering and something inside of him just breaks. He doesn’t realise he’s crying, not until he tastes the salt on his lips.

“I know.” You say softly, your thumb chasing over the hollow of his wrist. “I know.”

Love Omar? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

SYNOPSIS: Knowing too much may become your downfall: that was the motto that Kaeya lived with until the day he dies.

TW/s: delusional thinking, yandere tendencies, unrequited love, toxic dynamic/s, implications for Diluc’s matchup + darling, conniving bastard won’t say a fucking word, master manipulator, we are going down the memory lane of “fucking people up”, nsfw tws include human trafficking, experimentation, operating on individuals and other things. Please dni if you are uncomfortable.

NOTE FROM HR: Happy Valentine’s Day. Unfortunately, it seems that Kaeya has a few things he’d like to express. I do wonder what they are, considering he did seem a bit somber…

Kaeya was never expecting to be able to get ‘in’ to such a tight-knit company like this, and especially when his lineage can cause people to raise some eyebrows. After all, no one in their right mind would have the chance of employing someone and getting them on the waitlist when they value the sense of ‘authenticity’ to their rentals.

And for him, he might be right. They do value that, but now, it seems they decided to forego their morals for how pretty he looked in the standards of the human population all across the globe.

Now, Celestia Inc. isn't all that bad. It's not that glorious as people make it out to be, all due to its shady past, but it was enough that people don't bother to raid it one day in hopes of having to take it down. After all, they are everywhere online: people may mention their sudden rise in certain niches, and some even mention their still standing operations. One of them was, surprisingly enough, MixMatch.

A dating site.

Back then, it was closed for a group of people to join. A payment for being a 'rental boyfriend', with its payment costs going as high as one can dream. They pay you at least 10 million when you manage to get matched with someone, and entertain them enough that they'd be satisfied. If they aren't, you get 5 to compensate for your troubles.

To Kaeya, this doesn't seem to be a 'dream come true'. To him, he knows that this feels more like a ploy to get others to join in. It was a marketing strategy, so when people join this 'free' and 'hot on the app store' dating app and website, they'd get traction oh so quickly.

He didn't like the idea. It sickened him. But he couldn't be bothered to correct them.

When he joined, he found that it was the same as those corporations he worked at prior. As a host in the past, he managed to get himself used to the workflow and gained traction in over a month. He's heard others comment on how he seemingly captured the public's eye from how different he is, and from his reputation from other countries, they were coming in like drones.

He liked the attention he's got because of that. And yet, for him, it all felt rather empty. Like it wasn't meant to be this long-lasting, and he needed— no, he craved for more.

He was greedy. A greedy man with a hollow heart.

Each smile he sent to his clients was not a genuine smile. Each wink and 'kind' gesture was all a ruse. A stage performance. He didn't feel anything for these people, and he didn't even feel the same as they do. Each confession they have for him was always met with the hollow words of 'I do feel the same way that you do', only to see them get the safer way to go.

He's aware of the dark side of MixMatch. After all, their Boss was nothing short of a past harbinger who stepped down. No one knows his name, no one knows who they are— but their workers all fear him.

He's seen him order the cleaners to get rid of the drugged clients. He's watched them all go down in their homes, ransack and ruin the place, and return with the client gagged and in a drugged rest. He watched with emptiness as they were then operated on with shady doctors, Dottore having a hand in some of these as he used their bodies for his sick desires.

He watched them become human sacks, their bodies empty of their organs but full of salt and junk, and for Dottore to tell them to take the organs down 'below'. He watched them become tied, their jello-like body being tossed to another set where they would be disposed of.

It's a fucked up operation.

Everyone knows this when they get signed up.

And yet, because of regulations, they can never breathe a word of what goes behind the scenes. Not to their friends, families, their coworkers, therapists, no.

Not a single word can be escaped from the confines of Celestia Inc.

If you asked him how his first date went, Kaeya would answer that it went… Interesting.

Sof was definitely the type many would like, especially for a casa nova like him. She isn’t too picky with who she wants, and her affectionate behavior made it easier for the duo to banter. However, what he didn’t like was the fact she’s blind to any sign of danger.

Such is the payment of being the ideal girl many would date, he mused. But I don’t like people who can’t see what danger is, much less even enable that without thinking that they will get hurt, too.

Kaeya is picky with what he likes from someone, and it’s why he’s so high maintenance. To his credit, though, he makes it obvious in his profile. He wanted someone that would be responsible, that would be able to handle the spontaneity of their dates, and that they won’t even judge him if things were going somewhere that isn’t in their plans.

And although many did swipe right on him, he looked through their profiles before checking to see if they were worth it. The answer? None of them were.

Well, except a few, like Sof.

Which is why he’s now regretting that decision, as he realized that she’s simply not the one he preferred to stay with. She was interesting, but he disliked those who can’t even see past the warning signs that go to their face. He found it more or less… Idiotic, in his standards.

Alas, he needed to keep pretending. That’s what he’s good at, after all.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked Sof as they left the restaurant, his easy-going smile present on his face. “I have a few places we can go to next. Although, since it’s getting a bit late, we can plan on heading back home after a short shopping trip.”

“Oh! Uh… Yeah, we can go out and get some groceries. I wanted to try baking when we get home,” Sof replied, a pep in her step as they walked to where he parked his motorcycle. “Hehe, I didn’t know you were a cat person, Kaeya. Have you owned a cat before?”

“You can say that,” he answered, tossing a coin and catching it deftly with one hand—a small trick he’s used to doing when they were simply chatting. “I own a maine coon back home. My brother, Diluc, isn’t a fan of cats. Never was, anyway, since one scratched him when he was young.”

Granted, they were both young and their father warned him, but he knew they were both too mischievous to listen. It was why Diluc hated cats, even when he became a magnet to them.

“Really? Hehe, that’s funny! I remember a friend of mine who hates cats…”

Try as Kaeya might, he could only tune out what Sof was saying. There was a sense of difficulty in paying attention to someone he doesn’t really enjoy being around. He thought of the matches he swiped as those who he really wanted to be with, but meeting with Sof, he felt disappointed.

He didn’t see her as someone that fits his needs. She was just another one of the fakes he had to deal with later. Such a shame. He was starting to like her, too. 

Alas, she isn’t perfect. She needs to be perfect. And he’s starting to get annoyed at the sound of her voice.

Too loud. Too piercing. Too imperfect.

No, she can never fit his standards. She never will.

“Kaeya?”

“Mm?” he hummed, seeing her grab her helmet and his hands instinctively grabbing his own. Realizing what he was doing, he laughed.

“Sorry, I just did them while I was zoning out. Hop on, Sof, we need to go to the nearest store and get those supplies.”

“Oh! Of course, hold on!”

He could feel the motorcycle move as Sof got on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. It reminded him of those scenes in romance movies, where the girl will cling onto her potential lover as they rode off, the sun setting in the background.

He recalled seeing it and feeling that it could be him with his lover, riding off the sunset and simply enjoying the air. The golden hour setting just right, the rays hitting their complexion as he looked at them. He remembered just how lovesick he got at the idea, he craved for that same feeling when he grew older.

Such wild fantasies. He needed to work for it, but how could he, when the people he met were too imperfect?

Riding off, he could see the scene play out. However, his eyes were focused on the road, his ears straining for the beeps and sounds around them. He needed to focus on where he was going, lest he, too, will drive off somewhere else.

Despite the noise that he heard, his mind remained clear.

He knew what needed to be done.

Kaeya had so many things he's kept secret. Every client he has met, he's kept a secret that he can never tell.

Including the ones he sees ever so often.

It was a normal day when he came to the company as usual (and way before things went haywire, oddly enough), and he was assigned with yet another person to go on a date with. Although, the one he was assigned to date next had their form already in the red.

It all screamed imperfect to him. It just looked as though someone pushed her to do it all in one go, especially with the direct bias of seeing who she really likes in her profile.

It made him scowl.

How dumb were they to assign someone like that to him?

"█d████, are you sure you'll be assigning me with her?" Kaeya asked the matchmaker, watching them sigh as they gave him a look. "You know my tastes and all, but their form is rushed. I'm surprised that you haven't bothered trying to get them with someone else."

"Look, Kae, I tried. I tried, okay? But the others that fit them are taken by their previous matches. There is no way that they would simply accept getting switched like that," they explained, trying to assign his match. "Besides, we're running out of time. We need to get it sorted before the Boss gets mad!"

Kaeya scoffs. Seriously? They're always so concerned about someone else, it's ridiculous... And laughable, to boot.

"What will the boss do, hm? Would he come down and interfere?" he taunted them, scowling. "You and I know that he doesn't bother to try. All he does is simply hide himself in there because he's become too paranoid to even care."

"Paranoid? Paranoid? Please, Kaeya, do you honestly think he'd be too paranoid when he's raised a hand against me and the others?"

Kaeya's eyes narrowed. It was true that he raised a hand against them, but that simply proved his point. He didn't exactly understand why they would be so scared of a middle aged man that may drop dead over what happened weeks ago.

"Oh, that's right. You guys are paid enough to not care, don't you?" they taunted, laughing at his face. It sounded so... Forced. Mocking, even. It sounded like they were at their wits end with him, like the stress from the job got to their head.

"Yeah. Yeah, that seems to be it. You all have no remorse after being serial murderers, huh? And for what, your clients?"

"I'd stop talking if I were you, █████e," he warned, but they laughed at his face once more.

"Me? Stop? Never! You guys are all such a pain, I'm tired of playing nice!"

Even if Kaeya wanted to, he had to hold his tongue. Watching their face contort to mania, he was reminded of why the job was so twisted to the point of being inhumane.

It drives their workers into madness.

Watching Cupid lose it, he stepped back, mumbling an apology as he turned to leave. Even when he closed the door, he could still hear the echoes of their laughter, soon followed with sobbing. He knew that they were at their limit, but still...

...

He watched Eros come by, giving him a knowing look.

"Did you push them over the edge?" Eros asked, scowling. "They're going to leave the company after this week. Don't make this harder than it has to be, Alberich."

"I didn't expect them to break this much and you know it, Eros," he reasoned, but they only shook their head and walked off towards their office.

"That doesn't mean that you and everyone else weren't at fault."

Watching Eros enter their office, he could only sigh. Perhaps he's in a bit of denial, but he didn't think that she, of all people in the industry, would ever say that.

It truly goes to show where his dedication and loyalty lies.

If there was one thing he was right on, it would be his second date.

Unlike Sof, his date with Eli did not go as well as he had feasibly hoped for. Maybe he had his doubts set too high, because he was convinced that she simply wasn’t fit for the app as a whole. To him, he had thought that she would ever learn from her mistakes, but the way she acted like she was the one being inconvenienced irked him.

He hated that she’s too avoidant. He hated those types of people.

To him, he never understood why you’d go on the app to find love. Will you ever treat those you dislike the same way? Act like you were the one being inconvenienced, and not the one that has to deal with your childish acts?

Kaeya can be mischievous in his own way, yes, but even he has decorum. And frankly, he despised those who think they can act so two-faced with him. He isn’t a fool.

While his date was busy acting like they were in a good relationship (and not one where she wanted to ditch him in the middle of the day), he took the chance to check on his phone. Already, he could see notifications from TeyvaTweets, rambling about how her recent date is not the one for her.

[ I wanted Alhaitham or Wriothesley, but this guy swiped right instead. ]

[ He’s pretty, but I don’t really like him all that much lol. ]

[ Oh god im gonna get back on my date, going to lyk if it goes horribly. ]

He turned the phone off and frowned. He didn’t want to show it, but he does sometimes wonder if her being nice was simply just a ploy to keep him entertained. After all, she has expressed (on her private account, that is) that she’d drop Kaeya to “go after that hottie”, whilst attaching the photo of the boss of MixMatch.

What a joke.

They all know that the Boss would simply use her and leave her to rot. No one would look at him, go through his background, and tweet at how they can still try to get to him. ‘To get to know him better’, as one would say.

“Hey, uh, I gotta go. I have to go to the hospital to check on them.”

Lies. He knew she didn't. Besides, she couldn’t be bothered to look him straight in the eye as she told him. What is he, an idiot?

Still, he was glad it was over. Putting on a face of mock concern, his brows furrowed and he spoke.

“Oh? I see… Do you need me to drive you there?”

“No need! I can handle it,” Eli answered, packing up her things as they left the cafe awkwardly. “I’m so sorry if we have to cut it short. You must have so many plans for our date today, especially when things are getting hectic in the agency.”

Kaeya laughed, but not out of amusement. It was simply out of… politeness, in a way. Sure, he had work to do with the agency, but what they’re doing is far more different. And for him, he could hardly care if he had lost that job because he decided to slack off.

After all, he knew his date didn’t bother to give him the respect he deserved. So why should he do that in return? He’s bound to see her tweet again about this ‘awful experience’ or something.

“It's alright, I was thinking it’d come to this. I’ll catch you later then.”

Waving at Eli, he watched as she did the same and left, though the sight of her walking so stiffly as if she was scared of him brought him a bit of amusement in return. When he was sure she was gone, he lowered it with a sigh.

Another failed date, and this one was the worst he’s gotten. Unlike Sof, he didn’t feel all too bad about Eli—after all, both of them never liked each other, so why should he?

Pulling up his phone, he began to dial someone’s number. He, truthfully, never thought of needing help from the likes of him, but he had to call it when the truth was staring at him in the face.

That he and a few others needed their services to deal with a few too many bad matches, and especially ones that want to get near to those that will never look twice. Especially those who thought of him as a good guy for his actions.

Then, he clicks the call button. And it starts to ring.

He could vaguely feel it vibrate as he waited for someone to answer. The caller ID was someone that he knew too well, and especially with how their relationship is like after everything that has happened.

Each time he didn’t feel them pick up, he could only sigh and head to his ride. He knew they were avoiding it, but he wasn’t going to let up until he’s sure they’d take the call.

…

…

And when he felt his hopes dwindle, he felt the vibration of his phone stop, alongside a gruff and annoyed voice.

“Kaeya. I thought you and I agreed not to call each other when we’re both busy in work hours.”

“Hmm, we have, but I just needed to ask you a bit of favor, mr. Diluc,” he replied, humming in amusement. “Are you still looking for people that can help you with the wine tasting? Especially that new brew you made?”

He could hear Diluc take a deep breath, and the sigh that followed made him smile a tad wider. Even when they were all twisted in their way, he knew that Diluc remained the same way that Kaeya always knew him to be.

It’s a shame, though. They aren’t as close as he remembered, especially after what happened years ago.

“... Yes, I am. I found some that are willing, but they haven’t come back to inform me when they’ll be available.”

“I see… Well, I have someone I would love for you to meet. I’m sure you’ll like her—she fits you just right.”

No man could say a single soul what Kaeya is capable of.

Some rumored that he was a demented man, masquerading as but as a young police officer who’s mischievous and doesn’t enjoy spending long hours in his work. Others, though, say that he may be one of those people who are involved in the mess that was the Ghost Killings, at how his smile and demeanor can be so… off-putting.

As for his beloved, the one he deemed to be perfect, well… It would be neither. Kaeya was Kaeya, after all. Even if he were to be sick in the head, there was no way in Hell would anyone be able to get a single word from him.

Descending downstairs, Kaeya looked over at the room he’s decorated all for his beloved. The one he was truly, truly meant to be was all kept safely in there, double locked for his safety, and so that no one may find them. Grabbing the keys, he began to insert them in the padlocks and turn them, pushing the door open when he was done getting through the restraints.

Laid before him was his own personal darling, all laid so pretty and docile on the bed he set for him. Sure, he couldn’t speak, for his mouth had been gagged, but those dull eyes spoke more than Kaeya’s one eye could ever hope for.

“I’m home, darling,” he called out, the lovesick man stumbling to the rather complacent lover he had in his house. “Oh, I do hope I haven’t left you rotting here for so long, my dearest. Work has been exhausting for me to deal with.”

They hadn’t said a word to him, but he didn’t care. It was almost like he heard them whisper something to him, making him laugh like he was demented.

“You’re jealous? Over what, pray tell?”

Silence. Then another beat of laughter, this time more unhinged and loose than the first.

“Over them? Darling, you wound me! They’re far, far too imperfect. I have simply made sure that the ones I got were to be taken care of. You always said you wanted to have their eyes.”

Oh, he’s aware of what happened to Ba. Ba had an accident years, years ago. Their relationship had been rocky, sure, but that accident had led Kaeya to go through grief. It was almost ironic, for he experienced the first of it by his adoptive father dying.

He was unable to do anything for his adopted father. Diluc resented him for his inaction, thus, their separation. And with poor Ba… He resents the world for taking him away.

The first time he’s felt love was during college with Ba, but it was the first toxic one he had. He hadn’t been the best man for his first love, and it led to them having arguments and extreme disagreements. It wasn’t always like this, but it hurts Kaeya when they fight.

It hurts to see the person he adored too much to hate him. Spew his name out like it’s a sin.

So when Ba died during the height of their biggest fight, Kaeya was going through it again. However, he had the means to… Assist Ba in his partings.

All it truly took was the cost of his heart and his eyes to get back what’s his.

Tracing over the open chest, he grabbed the bloodied, unbeating heart that he got from Eli’s corpse. Ah, it was too imperfect, but slotting it inside Ba’s felt like it was meant to be. Those eyes he took from another girl had been replaced, slotting in the ones from Sol.

He always resented those that couldn’t see, nor those who couldn’t feel.

But now, looking at his lover who owned those faults, he couldn’t help but laugh and love them all the same.

Ba is now complete. Kaeya knows that.

And yet those tears still fell as the beat of his heart was the only one left in the world.

The world that took Ba away, and his humanity along with it.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2024

[lilacthebooklover]

@staff after thoroughly reading and examining tumblr's terms of service and community guidelines, i can say with absolute certainty that @theinkbunny has done nothing at all that's worthy of being banned.

you claim that tumblr is not for:

Terrorism

Hate Speech

Harm to minors

Promotion or glorification of self-harm

Sexually explicit material

Violent Content and Threats, Gore and Mutilation

Non-Genuine Social Gesture Schemes

Deceptive or Fraudulent Links

Misattribution or Non-Attribution

Username/URL Abuse or Squatting

Account Dormancy

Spam

Mass Registration or Automation

Illegitimate Promotions

Themes Distributed by Third Parties

Copyright or Trademark Infringement

Impersonation and Non-Genuine Behavior

Harassment

Privacy Violations

Disruptions, Exploits, or Resource Abuse

Unlawful Uses or Content

Election Interference

Human Trafficking and Prostitution

i understand this, and agree wholeheartedly. and that is precisely why it is impossible to understand why @theinkbunny's blog has been suspended.

inky is one of the sweetest people on here, and has never once promoted terrorism or hate speech. he is himself a minor and has done nothing to harm anyone else on here, underage or adult. any mention of self-harm on his page is treated with the seriousness it warrants, and is appropriately tagged to prevent users from viewing it where they have no desire to.

he has been harrassed for months by anonymous askers intent on sending him sexually explicit material despite the fact that he is a minor. he has never once posted any of those asks as he is aware that it is against the community guidelines, and despite reporting it, the abuse has continued. his blog is entirely sfw, and i am certain that it is in no way whatsoever disobeying the terms of this site.

again: any mention of violence or threats he's posted has been frustration and upset over the stream of vicious anons intent on sending such things to him. it is by no means his intention to expose violent material such as gore to those who do not wish to see it, especially as he too does not want to see it in the slightest.

his asks are infrequent and sent to people he already follows/is mutuals with. there are no "follow trains" or excessive asks, and as his blog is oc and fandom based, there are very few sources needed to be provided (those which are are reliable, and with no malicious intent). his posts are original & he consistently reblogs rather than reposts.

he has one username (excluding side blogs with very different handles) and has not done anything as ridiculous as hoarding those similar to it. i find that he posts almost every single day, as well as using tumblr as a way to message those he has befriended here by being such a genuinely wonderful presence here.

ink's blog has never been used as a platform to promote anything, his tags are accurate and relevant. his ocs are his own, he gives fandom content full recognition & appreciation to its owners/creators. he has never claimed to be anyone other than his brilliant self, even posting occasional pictures of himself on here. there is no imitation involved, and there is nothing about him or his content that would incur a ban.

i reiterate: all and any harassment on his blog is the result of others (hiding behind anonymity) harassing him. he has no ill intent and has continuously proved himself to be a respectful individual. he makes use of tumblr to befriend and encourage people & to share his phenomenal artwork: all of which is firmly within community guidelines and completely legal.

he is too young to vote and is a canadian citizen with no intent or attempt to interfere with u.s. elections. finally, it goes without saying that he has never once promoted sex trafficking or illegal prostitution. his blog content is wonderful, innocent and obeys every rule put in place by your staff.

your terms of service say directly, and i quote, "If we conclude that you are violating these guidelines, you may receive a notice via email. If you don't explain or correct your behavior, we may take action against your account. Repeat violations of our Community Guidelines may result in permanent blog or account suspension. We do our best to ensure fair outcomes, but in all cases we reserve the right to suspend accounts, or remove content, without notice, for any reason, but particularly to protect our services, infrastructure, users, and community. We reserve the right to enforce, or not enforc, these guidelines in our sole discretion, and these guidelines don't create a duty or contractual obligation for us to act in any particular manner".

despite having absolved yourself of the obligation to justify your decisions in banning without notice, you have also stated that it is for "any reason". however, for this to apply, it is necessary that there must be a reason in the first place. ink has not received any notice, nor has he violated any guidelines; let alone on repeat occurances. you claim to ban blogs to protect your users, and yet situations such as this are arising more and more frequently- in which said users are being suspended for seemingly no reason and with no explanation.

i, among many others, have begun to notice a disturbing pattern in the banning of transgender individuals on tumblr who have done nothing that would even imply that they have violated this site's guidelines. tumblr is supposed to be a platform open to everyone, not only cisgender users.

having read the terms of service in full, i understand that users are able to "report violations of these guidelines to [you] directly". however, having taken into account the persistent influx of hateful asks inky receives on a regular basis, presuming that those transphobic, discriminatory anons were the ones to report him is a more than reasonable conclusion to make. they do violate the community guidelines due to their persistent harassment, hate speech, sexually explicit material and violent content & threats.

i am aware that you most likely receive many reports per day, and that it must take a while to go through them all. on the other hand, there is far more harm than good done when not even the most basic of fact-checking is done to ensure that reports are valid and warranted. i'm sure the tumblr staff placed in charge of such matters possess enough rational thought to understand how jumping to conclusions about whether or not a trans minor may have violated the terms of service without even checking their blog would create the wrong impression.

i am appalled, disappointed and shocked at what is demonstrably unfair and unwarranted condemnation towards a user who has done nothing in violation of your terms. i urge you to rectify your mistake and focus more on suspending those who are actually causing harm than on causing undue stress and dismay to people who are just trying to enjoy using your platform. a reputation of suspending people with no due cause is hardly going to make for a welcoming site, i promise you.

restore inky's account (@theinkbunny if you needed a reminder) and return it to him lest further action be taken. it is the only correct and reasonable response here, and as you have assured in your TOS that your intention is to make users' experiences here enjoyable, i am sure that you will be eager to fix this issue before it becomes even more prominent. tumblr ought to be a safe place for people everywhere to connect over topics they enjoy. as conditions are at the moment, it seems like nothing more than a cesspool of discrimination, ignorance and unreliability.

i thank you in advance for taking my words into account and returning ink's blog to him.