#it turned out i had a lot of feelings about these yahoos

[lunarriviera]

something that touches back by lunarriviera fandom: 雪迷宫 | The First Shot (TV) rating: E words: 13.7k warnings: no archive warnings apply relationships: Gu Yiran/Zheng Bei characters: Ding Guozhu, Zhang Xueyao, Zheng Nan, Zheng Bei's father, Zheng Bei's mother, Zhao Xiaoguang, Xin Tiegang tags: Gu Yiran POV, post-canon, first time, getting together, there was only one bed, police, undercover, arguing, crime fighting, angst and hurt/comfort, team as family, family feels, idiots in love

Gu Yiran had taken everything off the situation board that morning, and boxed it all up for the archives. There was one photo he kept, ripped in half. He thought Zheng Bei might want it back, later. Zheng Bei’s face is drawn and his eyes are haunted. He's hardly spoken since he woke up. Gu Yiran hates it. He doesn’t know what to do, to make it alright again.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

ON AN AUGUST night in 2003, a young woman who went by the name Paulina sank into the sofa of her modest, rented apartment, opened up her laptop, and began talking about sex with a man she’d recently met in a Yahoo chat group. His name was Stephen Bolen. His first communications had been terse, but he soon warmed to Paulina. It didn’t take long for both of them to begin to open up.

Paulina had told Bolen she lived in the Atlanta area, that she had a three-year-old daughter, that her daughter’s father was no longer in the picture. Soon, she was sharing more intimate details: what it was like growing up a skinny white girl in a rough neighborhood outside of D.C.; how her dad, a Marine, had died by suicide two weeks before she was born; how her mom had been emotionally and physically abusive, and had never really shown her love. How she’d had a sexual relationship with her stepfather.

Paulina would put her daughter to bed and then she and Bolen would chat throughout the night, over Yahoo and sometimes on the phone. The back-and-forth could feel like dating, but with an added element of danger and risk: Both Paulina and Bolen knew they were tiptoeing up to a line to see if they trusted each other enough to cross it. It could take a while to figure that out.

Eventually, Bolen asked Paulina to send pictures of her daughter, and she agreed to do so, though the ones she’d shared were chaste — the little girl clothed and her face turned away from the camera or obscured behind an untamable halo of blond curls. After seeing the pictures, Bolen asked to meet. While a lot of the men Paulina had encountered in chatrooms like “Sex With Younger” just wanted to trade images and videos of children, to expand their illicit collections, Bolen was a “traveler,” someone looking to act upon his obsessions.

On Sept. 17, just as they’d arranged, Paulina sat on a bench outside Perimeter Mall with a stroller parked in front of her, scanning the parking lot nervously. Part of her hoped Bolen wouldn’t show. When he did, she could see he was handsome, a preppy guy in a pink polo shirt and khakis. “Paulina?” he asked eagerly. She nodded. As he smiled and pulled back the blanket draped across the stroller, he found himself surrounded, handcuffs slipped around his wrists.

“Paulina” watched his face fall, his confusion giving way to distress as FBI agents took him into custody. It was her first undercover arrest. It would be the first of many.

[long read]

IF ONE WANTED to hide in plain sight, one could do no better than the tidy, suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of St. Louis, where FBI Special Agent Nikki Badolato now resides. The well-tended, two-story homes are so pleasantly indistinct that I could hardly tell you what hers looks like, even if it were safe for me to do so, which it is not. Suffice to say that Midwestern comfort and conformity unspool around every gently winding curve. Here Badolato has raised her two children, a daughter who is now in college and a son who is a junior at a local high school. When planning a neighborhood scavenger hunt or tending the community garden, Badolato does not often mention her many years as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force, a joint effort between the feds and local law enforcement that targets some of the country’s most heinous crimes. Open a cabinet in her kitchen, however, and a government-issued Glock 42 can be found stowed away between the vitamins and mixing bowls.

On a sunny morning this past October, Badolato sat at her dining room table, scrapbooks and albums spread out before her on the dark wood. There was the acceptance letter she’d received from the bureau the spring of her senior year of high school, after a representative had shown up to administer a test in the typewriting room. “I chose to wear a red dress and red heels,” she says of her first day as an FBI mail clerk, two weeks after her 18th birthday. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I guess maybe I was trying to go in bold?” She pauses at a picture of herself on the gun range at Quantico almost 10 years later, her shoulders squared and her caramel hair pulled back into a ponytail as she fires off rounds. By then, she’d married a man she met just after high school, had a little girl, completed college at night, and been accepted into agent training in the heady days after 9/11. She’d seen her first dead body only a few weeks into the job, after the pursuit of a bank robber ended with a shootout in a Walmart. When Badolato got to the scene, the body was still warm, and the perp’s head was resting on a bag of cookies. “It was surreal,” she says. “How many times have you been in a Walmart and walked down Aisle 4, not really expecting there to be a dead person with his head lying on a bag of Chips Ahoy?”

Badolato wasn’t deterred. She felt like the bureau saved her, plucked her out of a shitty home life, and gave her prospects and purpose. As a new agent, she was intent on proving herself worthy. “My training agent told me, ‘You know, Nikki, it’s a marathon, not a sprint,’ ” she says. “I was like, ‘That’s ridiculous. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.’ ” She turned a few pages to show a picture of the 391 kilos of cocaine and 140 pounds of meth she’d recovered on a single raid during a stint with a cartel squad, then pointed out another in which she poses with a five-year-old child she’d rescued, the little girl’s hair cut short because the kidnapper had wanted her to look like a boy. But the keepsake she really wants to find is the card that Bolen’s wife had pressed into her hand at his sentencing, the one with the picture of their children — a blond girl of about three years and a tiny baby — and the words “These are the faces of the children you protect each day.” Bolen’s wife had been the only one she’d ever encountered who had lobbied for her husband to receive the maximum sentence. Some wives accused the FBI of planting evidence inside computers. Most seemed intent on clinging to their delusions. (Attempts to reach Bolen for comment were unsuccessful.)

“Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It is happening all the time.”

Which, Badolato has come to understand, is the way it goes with child trafficking and sexual abuse. She had invited me into her home — had agreed to speak on the record about her decades-long career working undercover — because when it comes to the crimes she’s spent her career fighting, she has had enough of the delusions people are under. She’s had enough of the way movies like Sound of Freedom both glamorize and trivialize the work she and her colleagues do, enough of the idea that swashbuckling white men burst through doors and rescue trafficked children with a Bible in one hand and a firearm in the other, enough of conspiracy theories about Hollywood and Washington that detract from the real root causes of why children are trafficked and abused. “Human trafficking is not the movie Pretty Woman — the girl doesn’t get the guy — and it’s not the movie Taken, where people are kidnapped in a foreign country and sold on the black market, or shipped in a container across the world,” one of the detectives who worked on Badolato’s task force tells me. “I’m not saying that doesn’t ever happen, but it’s not what we’re seeing.”

What they are seeing is a lot more insidious and a lot more homegrown. A report released in 2018 by the State Department ranked the U.S. as one of the worst countries in the world for human trafficking. While the Department of Justice has estimated that between 14,500 and 17,500 foreign nationals are trafficked into this country every year, this number pales in comparison to the number of American minors who are trafficked within it: A 2009 Department of Health and Human Services review of human trafficking into and within the United States found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that between 244,000 and 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked specifically in the sex industry. Heartbreakingly, many of these children are victimized not by strangers who’ve abducted them from mall parking lots but rather by people they know and trust: Studies have found that as much as 44 percent of victims are trafficked by family members, most often parents (and not infrequently parents who were trafficked themselves). Between 2011 and 2020, there was an 84 percent increase in the number of people prosecuted for a federal human-trafficking offense. Of the defendants charged in 2020, 92 percent were male, 63 percent were white, 66 percent had no prior convictions, and 95 percent were U.S. citizens.

Badolato started her career as an FBI agent in some of the earliest days that children could be bought, sold, and traded online. As the internet-porn industry mushroomed, its most lucrative branch turned out to be that of child sexual-abuse materials (the term “child pornography” is no longer used by those in the field, as it implies consent). And as demand for these images increased, so did the abuse that led to their creation.

In 2003, just a few months after Badolato graduated from Quantico, a Crimes Against Children squad was formed in the Atlanta office where she’d been stationed. By then, the FBI was starting to get a handle on the extent of the problem — if not exactly what to do about it. At a weeklong training in Baltimore, Badolato was given a tour of the darkest underbelly of fetish chat groups and then instructed to figure out how to infiltrate. “Everyone was a little nervous,” she explains of the directive. “It was a process, a direction that was new.” Agents were told that they would need to come up with a “persona” and a “story,” and that they would likely have to provide images of children to “prove” they had a minor on offer. They were also told that they could use images of their own children, if they were comfortable doing so (the FBI no longer endorses this policy).

Badolato’s unit with a kidnapping victim after her recovery in 2011. A Health and Human Services review found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that as many as 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked in the sex industry. 

Badolato developed “Paulina” based on her understanding that any persona would need to share most of her own backstory and traits. “That’s the only way you can really do undercover work,” Badolato says. “People can tell the sincerity in what you’re saying, so there has to be a level of genuineness, but then you just add this criminal element to it.” Most of the things Badolato had told Bolen were true: where she was from, her family background, the monstrousness of her mother, a woman who she says would pass out cigarettes and beers to Badolato’s 13-year-old friends in a state of manic permissiveness one minute and fly into a violent rage about a piece of lint on the floor the next. (Badolato’s mother declined to comment for this article, but a childhood friend corroborated Badolato’s account.) It was true that growing up in an unstable home with a string of stepdads, she had never really felt loved, true that she had divorced her first husband, true that she was raising their three-year-old daughter on her own. The only thing that wasn’t true was her tale of being molested, her initiation into the “lifestyle” — to use the chatroom parlance — that Paulina said she now wanted for her daughter. As Badolato had familiarized herself with the language and behaviors of the chatrooms, she’d honed that added criminal element, imagining what psychological conditions might believably lead a parent to traffic their own child and how those conditions could be grafted onto her real life story. She already had a history of abuse; it was not hard to extrapolate to a fictional stepfather who had seemed to provide a gentle counterpoint, showing her love and making her feel special when no one else had, even if others couldn’t understand. From there, it was easy to convince the chatroom participants that she shared their belief — or justification — that most people had it all wrong and that “child love” was natural, and could even be beneficial for the child.

Badolato estimates that she has arrested more than a thousand people; not one of those arrests has failed to end in a conviction. She didn’t know until she was in the thick of it that most agents refuse this sort of work, that most can’t even pretend to forge a relationship with someone looking to victimize a child. But she could. “Paulina,” she points out, is not a name she chose at random; it’s similar to her own mother’s name. Badolato says she had grown up learning to compartmentalize for the sake of her own emotional survival. She’d perfected the art of engaging with someone whose actions she couldn’t stand. Doing this work had felt like a way of taking her trauma and putting it to good use, of leveraging her past as a safeguard against her daughter’s and other children’s futures.

Of course there were moments that were hard to take — when suspects mentioned which brands of lubrication were best or whether or not a parent might hold a child down. There were times when she knew that even talking about these things was a turn-on for these men, times when the conversations made her nauseous, times when she’d lie awake all night or play back a recording and think, “Holy shit, I listened to this? I said these words?” But she kept faith in the mission. She reminded herself that the pictures she sent of her daughter — the beautiful, little girl sleeping in the next room — did not represent a real child on offer. “I was thinking, ‘If I send this obscure picture of my daughter and he acts on it, then he’s never going to harm my daughter or anybody else’s,’ ” Badolato says now. “I was presenting a fake girl to save a real one.”

KYLE PARKS SEEMED to think he could get away with anything. He seemed to think, for instance, that he could get away with running a brothel, a 1-900 sex line, and a housecleaning company out of the same Columbus, Ohio, office park and under the same oxy-moronic name, XXXREC and Hygiene Services. He seemed to think he could invite one young woman and five teenagers (four of whom he had only just met) on a road trip to Florida, but instead deposit them in two rooms of a Red Roof Inn in St. Charles, Missouri. When they piled out of the minivan — high on the drugs he’d given them — saw snow falling and asked to be taken home, he thought he could make a little money off them first. All it took was a few ads in Backpage — the Craigslist of sex advertisements — and men began showing up.

Even after things started going south for him, Parks couldn’t fathom that he wouldn’t prevail. When someone alerted law enforcement as to what was going on, Parks (who, according to legal documents, had been out getting food when the police showed up) burst into the precinct the next morning looking to bail his “friend” out. When questioned about the 88 condoms found in the back of his van, he said they had been prescribed to him by a doctor. After being taken into custody, he protested that he was being set up. Most people would have cut their losses and pleaded guilty, but not Parks. He thought he could take his case to court and win.

And it wasn’t impossible to imagine that he might. Badolato knew that even the tightest cases could go sideways when put before 12 people who would inevitably enter the courtroom with a cinematic sense of what sex trafficking was supposed to be. In fact, it wasn’t just the jury that Badolato knew she would need to convince; it was also often the victims themselves, young people who had internalized the exact same misconceptions about trafficking that the jury had — along with any number of other judgments society had thrown their way — and who were loath to submit themselves to a courtroom full of more judgment.

Of all of Parks’ underage victims, the hardest to pin down had been a 17-year-old we’ll call Sierra. Once she returned to Columbus, Sierra seemed to basically disappear. Calls to her mother’s number went unanswered. When one of the other victims managed to track her down in December 2016, a month before the case was to go to trial, Sierra agreed to meet Badolato on a blighted Columbus block with a string of dilapidated homes, climbing into the bureau’s Chevy Malibu with matted hair, dirty clothes, and a wary expression.

By this time, Badolato had remarried, had a second child, relocated to St. Louis, and taken over as head of the Child Exploitation Joint Task Force, which had become one of the most productive FBI teams in the country in terms of arrests and convictions. Meanwhile, as the internet streamlined the process of buying or selling any good or service, trafficking had become one of the fastest-growing criminal enterprises, estimated by the Department of Homeland Security to bring in $150 billion globally and considered by many criminals to be a superior business model: If caught, the sentences were often lighter than those for peddling drugs; and unlike crack or heroin, the same product could be “used” again and again and again.

Badolato taught her team of 20 how to do the online undercover work she’d trailblazed in Atlanta, tracking the movements of child-abuse material through the online underworld and then prosecuting those who distributed and produced it. Her new squad also initiated her in the type of undercover work it had been doing before her arrival: covert sting operations in which a detective would pose as a john, set up a “date,” and then meet said date in a hotel room fitted out with hidden recording devices while, in the next room over, a taskforce team listened in, waiting for the code word that would let them know that enough evidence had been gathered for them to swoop in and shut the op down. This had proved a very effective technique for getting convictions, but Badolato’s arrival coincided with both a growing sentiment that consensual sex work had been over-criminalized and an increasing awareness that what looked like consensual sex work might actually be trafficking, no matter what the “date” professed in that hotel room.

Badolato has a tendency to say aloud the things she notices — about you, about others, about situations — observations that are not at all unkind but are perceptive enough that most people would keep them to themselves. She points out when someone deflects, and she has a sharp eye for defense mechanisms. She once casually mentions my tendency to mirror other people’s vocal and speech patterns. She is not shy about bringing up the emotional and physical abuse she says she experienced as a child, and she is quick to comment when someone is making excuses for someone else’s behavior. It was soon clear to her colleagues that Badolato brought a trauma-informed mentality to the work, a tendency to look beyond what someone was doing and instead try to parse why they were doing it. And she was relentless: While some squads did one or two trafficking sting ops a year, her team was doing four or five a month. In addition to the hotel rooms reserved for the john and the team, they would have a social worker set up in a third room, ready to offer services to the victims. They would have lookouts stationed to see who might be dropping the date off. If that date was found to be underage, the case was automatically classified as trafficking. But even if they weren’t, Badolato’s team was primed to get to the bottom of what was going on, to figure out whether they were being manipulated or coerced, and by whom.

“If I could put my hands on a pimp, that’s what I wanted,” says Jeff Roediger, a St. Louis county detective who was the “john” for many of Badolato’s sting ops and who makes clear that the team was not interested in policing voluntary sex work. “When I had those types of cases, and I knew they were being sincere with me, I wouldn’t book them,” he says. “It was all about talking to the girls. It’s not like in the movies where they come running to you. You know, ‘Thanks, you rescued me!’ It’s not like that. A lot of them try to bullshit you at first — ‘That’s my boyfriend, blah blah blah’— but once I talked to them for a while, they would become more forthcoming.”

Badolato’s unit was one of the first in the country to take on this “progressive and proactive” approach, as she puts it. Soon, St. Louis looked like a sex-trafficking capital — not because it was actually trafficking more victims than other cities but because the task force was so aggressively pursuing those cases, and classifying them as what they were. “I mean, I was working in vice for years,” says Roediger. “Back in the day, it was always ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution’ — until we started to figure it out a little bit, until we started digging a little deeper.”

Once they did, the task force found that roughly a third of the sex-trafficking victims they recovered were under the age of 17 — and they began to see the reach of the problem. Kids were being trafficked out of every hotel in the area, from the seediest roach motel to the fanciest Ritz-Carlton. They were being trafficked every time of day and by every socioeconomic group (“Before you go do brain surgery, you got to bust a nut real quick,” one underage victim told Badolato of her high-end clientele). Some of the victims were girls. Some were boys. Some were LGBTQ kids who’d been kicked out of their homes. Some were straight cis kids from the suburbs. “I tell people that I could probably name two or three [kids] in the school district they live in that have been trafficked,” Roediger says. “And they just can’t comprehend it.”

“If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work.”

There were kids who were about to age out of foster care (a particularly at-risk group, according to those who work in the field), kids who’d run away, kids who were being sold to pay their family’s rent, or to buy their family member’s drugs. There were kids who’d sit in the hotel room, backpack at their feet, dutifully working on their math homework while agents and social workers tried to figure out what to do with them. Was their home life safe enough that they could be returned to it? Would a residential program take them? Of all the imperfect options, which would make them least likely to be trafficked again?

The one common denominator was this: They all had a vulnerability that could be preyed upon. They all lacked a safety net — societal, familial, emotional, or some combination thereof — that might have broken their fall. Mostly, their stories weren’t dramatic; they were typical American tales of neglect, of abuse doled out casually, of a steady stream of letdowns by people and institutions who should have propped them up. Badolato found that she had a knack for getting them to talk about this, for getting them to open up to her. She didn’t look like an FBI agent — at least not what they’d imagined. She spoke softly, but with authority and a slight vocal fry. And she thinks that, at some level, they could probably sense that she’d once been a vulnerable kid too, that with only a few slightly different twists of fate, she could have become a trafficking victim herself — and that she knew it. “My trauma looks different than theirs, but it’s trauma nonetheless,” she says.

“And I think victims can feel that.”

AS THE TASK force learned more about the psychology of victims, they also learned more about the ways in which their vulnerability was being manipulated, and how those ways were evolving. It was known in law-enforcement circles that once a skilled trafficker set his or her sights on a vulnerable young person, they could be groomed in a matter of days: one day for an introduction, a day or two to make the victim feel special and cared for, and then the day when a “friend” comes over and he needs to be “cared for” as well. Sometimes violence was involved at that point; sometimes drug use was involved throughout. But emotional manipulation was the key element, which is why it was so easy for grooming to move online, for groomers to take advantage of the false senses of connection fostered on social media.

Of the victims who are not being trafficked by family members, the majority are being groomed in this way. “I would say that probably 75 percent of the initial grooming is happening online now,” says Cindy Malott, the director of U.S. Safe Programs at Crisis Aid International. “Recruiters used to have to work really, really hard to get access to kids, but now they’re practically sitting in a child’s bedroom. And kids put everything out there — what’s going on in their life, who they’re angry about, parents are going through a divorce, their insecurities about their body, about themselves, what they do, how they spend their time — so it’s like a gift to these predators.”

The ways to manipulate are legion: Get a kid to send a compromising photo, and she’ll do almost anything to keep you from sending it out to all her Facebook friends; find out a gay kid is still closeted, and the threat of outing him gives you incredible power. And predators aren’t just on Instagram and Snapchat; they lurk in the chat functions of Roblox, Minecraft, Grand Theft Auto. “They’re everywhere,” says Malott. “People think, ‘Oh, I just got to keep my kids away from those porn sites, those horrible places.’ Well, no, predators are gonna go where the kids are.” And once there, they’re going to zero in on the kids who are most vulnerable.

That’s what got to Badolato. In her online undercover work, she’d plumbed the psychology of pedophiles, but now she wasn’t just dealing with suspects; she was spending time with victims and seeing the same vulnerabilities in them that the traffickers had seen: the instability or poverty, the addiction or mental health issues or abuse that had been normalized in their lives long before the traffickers entered them. Sometimes Badolato couldn’t help but feel that all the conspiracies and misconceptions weren’t just a distraction from the truth of trafficking but rather some sick attempt to let society off the hook for trying to solve the much more intractable problems at trafficking’s root.

“People would rather stick their head in the sand than address the real problem, because then you have to face and talk about the societal issues,” she says. “With a movie like Sound of Freedom, it’s like, ‘Oh, this is in a jungle in South America. This isn’t actually in [my neighborhood].’ You know? It’s easier for people to ignore the problem than deal with the issues on a societal level.”

BY THE TIME Badolato was sitting in that Chevy with Sierra, on that blighted Ohio block, she knew that the rate of revictimization for children who are trafficked was as high as 95 percent, according to FBI reports. She knew that 90 percent of sex-trafficking victims have a history of child sexual abuse, that more than 75 percent had lived in foster or adoptive care. She knew that she could arrest one perpetrator, and another would pop up in his place, that she could send one pimp to prison and the same victims would show up to stings some short time later, run by a different crew. She knew that testifying was a way for Sierra to psychologically push back against what had happened to her, and she was right: After the young woman took the stand on Jan. 10, 2017, Parks was found guilty and sentenced to 25 years; while testifying, Sierra had seemed to transform, to channel and embody a sort of empowerment. But Badolato also knew that once her testimony was over, Sierra would go back to that blighted block. She wondered how long that empowerment would last.

She also wondered about her own trajectory, her own ability to continue doing this work. The youngest trafficking victim she’d ever recovered from a sting op — an 11-year-old who’d been recruited through Facebook — had been returned to her family in a house that had no heat (Badolato had used an FBI slush fund to get it turned back on). One did not become immune to the human misery of such things. They compounded, became harder and harder to compartmentalize. “It’s just a combination of all of those years — and it’s all awful,” she says. “But there are particular moments that, for one reason or another, you can’t get out of your head. I just don’t think it’s in human nature to be exposed to that for so long and it not start changing who you are.”

One night, at a restaurant near where Badolato lives, I ask her whether she thinks children are being sex-trafficked right then, in that very moment, in just the mile or two radius around us. She’s quiet for a long time, her gaze fixed downward at her glass of wine. By the time she looks up, her whole body is trembling. “It’s happening right now,” she says quietly. “Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are three or four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It’s not only when we think about it. It is happening all the time. And if I’m just sitting here, present, having dinner, not thinking about it, that means I’m ignoring a problem that I know is real.” Tears stream down her face.

“Many images have never left my mind,” she says. “It’s really hard to have worked your entire life in law enforcement with a lot of child crime victims and be at the end of your career looking at the situation where you realize you can only do so much to make a difference.” Badolato wipes back the tears with the palm of her hand and shudders her head, as if she can shake the thoughts away. “Damn,” she says. “Fuck. I shouldn’t be the one crying. I’m not the victim of this.” The veteran agent steels herself and repeats, “I am not the victim.”

THE HOUSE WHERE Korina Ellison says she was first sex-trafficked no longer exists. It once stood on an unassuming lot in a residential suburb of Portland, Oregon, that stumbles down to the banks of the Willamette River. Now, Ellison can’t quite bring the house’s features to mind. She was so young back then, maybe four or five. There is so much she’s repressed, or only pieced together after the fact. As a child, she wouldn’t have known what she now believes to be true: that her grandmother scored her drugs by offering up her youngest daughter, Ellison’s mom. Or that, once her mom was hooked on the meth cooked by the man who’d lived in that house, she’d known just what to do to get more. But Ellison does remember being inside the house, unclothed. She does remember how the man would touch her.

Her life unspooled from there. Her father died of a heroin overdose when she was six. Her mom lost custody for good. She bounced around foster care, then various residential institutions, then whatever shelter she could find. In the story she tells of how she was sex-trafficked again in her teenage years, there’s no moment of drama, no kidnapping, no clear coercion. There was just a random, rainy afternoon when she had no place to go and was alone in the street and a car pulled up. The man inside took her home with him, fed her, introduced her to his girlfriend. They took her shopping. They let her stay. When men showed up at the home to have sex with the woman, Ellison was invited to watch, but she wasn’t expected to participate — not at first, anyway. According to a statement Ellison later made to law enforcement, she just “realized that people aren’t going to take care of [me] for free.” Soon, the woman was posting Ellison’s services on Backpage — $150 for half an hour, $200 for a full one — and the trio were traveling the Midwest. For a long time, it didn’t even occur to Ellison, then 16, to leave. “Where would I have gone?” she asks. “I’d been missing for over a year. Nobody was looking for me.” When the man told her to call him “Daddy,” she complied.

That was more than a decade ago, near the beginning of Badolato’s tenure as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force. But by 2021, leaving it had seemed a necessary form of self-preservation. One of her last cases had gone well legally: The perp, a retired police officer from California who had produced child sex-abuse materials of three sisters in Manila, had pleaded guilty to such charges when he learned that Badolato had brought the girls to the states to testify against him. But the experience had been emotionally devastating for Badolato, who had wanted the sisters, then 16, 13, and 11, to have memories of the U.S that consisted of more than reliving their trauma in a courtroom. She took them shopping and to the zoo, invited them to her home to have dinner with her own family, saw them slowly start to open up and laugh and behave like the children they were. Then she’d had to put them on a flight back to Manila, back to the aunt who had allowed the man to abuse them and who Badolato had been unable to extradite. Fortunately, she says, their estranged father ended up intervening and taking custody of the girls, but that feeling of futility in the fight lingered.

“I stayed for a little bit longer after that trial, but it really was when I should have been able to look myself in the mirror and say, ‘Nikki, you’re done,’ ” Badolato had told me in St. Louis. “It became clear that I had been doing it too long.” She’d spend the last couple of years working national security, a position without the immediacy of child-exploitation work, but also without the heartache. “If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work. I just don’t,” she says.

And yet, here Badolato was in Portland, leading Ellison, now 30, up to her hotel room, telling her about all the announcements she’d heard in the Atlanta airport instructing travelers to be on the lookout for sex trafficking. “It’s like white noise in the background,” she says as Ellison settles into the sofa. “It’s a false sense of doing something to help.”

“Here’s the thing: Nobody knows what to look for,” Ellison agrees.

“And what about the victims who are in that airport, who are walking around and listening?” Badolato asks.

“I wouldn’t have even heard that announcement,” Ellison replies. “Because I didn’t feel like a victim. It goes a lot, lot, lot deeper than anybody realizes.”

That’s what she and Badolato both understand. That’s why they started talking eight months ago. Of all the teenage victims Badolato’s task force recovered, Ellison is one of the few who she knows has permanently extricated herself from being prostituted, though it took years for her to get to that point, years for her to see that what happened to her was not her fault but rather a fault in the system, a fault in many systems over the course of generations. Neither she nor Badolato can fix that.

Yet they can’t help feeling like there’s something they can fix — or at least try to. Under the umbrella of an organization she’s founded called Innocent Warriors, Badolato created a program for schools, instructing educators on the signs that might indicate a student is being trafficked and teaching kids how to avoid getting groomed online, which, she believes, is not about stranger danger but rather an awareness of subtle manipulation. Ellison has been working with trafficked youth through nonprofits like Children of the Night, the residential program where Badolato’s team sent her when she was 17. Together, they’ve been talking about having Ellison help train undercovers who are learning to do trafficking sting ops. They’ve also discussed starting a mentorship program in which children who are still being sex-trafficked are paired with young adults like Ellison who once were, providing a way for victims to begin to envision a different future for themselves and a path toward it even while being prostituted. Such a program may be retroactive rather than proactive, but it would capitalize on Badolato’s and Ellison’s experience and expertise — and it could help in the healing of mentors and mentees alike.

Badolato had traveled to Portland for the two to talk face-to-face about how the program might work. “You have to understand how they’ve been traumatized because sometimes, to a child, relating doesn’t sound like you’re relating. It sounds like you’re pointing out all the bad things in them,” says Ellison from the driver’s seat of her Nissan Pathfinder as she drives Badolato around to show her certain landmarks of her past after she’d left Children of the Night: the bridge she’d slept under for over a year after a boyfriend had gotten her hooked on heroin, the blocks downtown where she’d bounced between a children’s shelter and the needle exchange. It had taken a prison sentence for her to finally break her addiction and commit to a different kind of life, though that evolution had had less to do with not having access to drugs than with seeing her own mother cycle in and out of the same facility — like looking into her own future and witnessing how bleak it would be. Maybe, she thought, she could provide the inverse of that for kids in Innocent Warriors. Maybe she could reverse engineer her own escape.

“I just want to make it very clear that if you were a victim, you are a victim, and just to not have any shame in that,” she tells Badolato as they drive through Portland’s misty streets.

“What I anticipate and hope is that then we get survivors that are like, ‘They get it,’ ” Badolato replies. “And that it opens up doors to help, for people to recognize that there are people who get what’s really going on.”

“It took a really long time for me,” Ellison says of coming to terms with her own victimhood.

“It’s like reworking your thought process about some of those things,” Badolato agrees. “And that’s hard, and it happens slowly over time, and it looks different for everybody.”

Ellison grips the wheel tightly. “The truth does matter. It does. The truth is the fucking truth. And it’s been empowering to be able to talk about it because that’s another way that I’ve realized, like, ‘Man, I was a victim,’ is re-going over all of this. Because when it happens so many times, you do blame yourself. It’s a lot easier to just continue to live in a lie than believe that you were lied to.”

Still, Ellison and Badolato agree that the impressionability that makes children vulnerable is also what makes them open to guidance and mentorship if a relationship of trust can be established. “What do you think a parent does? They groom you. I’d been waiting to be guided and groomed,” Ellison says.

It’s been instructive to see that potential from another perspective, as a mother doing the guiding. As the afternoon wears on, Ellison stops to pick up her then-15-month-old son, who was being watched by a social-worker friend. She buckles the little boy into his car seat, ruffles his hair, and passes him a bottle. He grins widely and begins removing his shoes and socks, throwing them gleefully onto the floor of the car and then kicking his tiny feet in time with the music as Ellison glances back at him and smiles. “Kids are so perfect,” she says.

The last stop of the day is the large plot of land where the drug dealer’s house once stood. Now, it’s been turned into a playground, with brightly-colored jungle gyms, a covered picnic area, and a large lawn, where a couple leisurely walks their dog. Ellison and Badolato climb down from the car and stand at the park’s edge, as Ellison’s son toddles around the grass, oblivious to what had transpired in that very spot. There is some form of poetic justice in the land being earmarked for children’s enjoyment, but neither woman voices it. Mostly, they’re quiet. Night is falling, the air growing cooler, and the gray sky fading into dusk.

“You would never think a park could hide what it used to be,” Ellison says at last. And yet it did. Driving off with Badolato at her side and her son babbling happily in the back seat, Ellison glances in the rear-view mirror, but only for a moment. Badolato keeps her eyes fixed only on the road ahead.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Waiting for You

A Michael Gavey Drabble

Author’s Note: I guess I’m doing drabbles now? This came to me when I was in my third meeting in a row that covered the same information we got in meeting #1 lol

Summary: It’s the evening of your first date with Michael Gavey, but a phone call with your mum lasted way longer than it should have and now you’re running a little bit late. Unfortunately, you forgot your phone at your dorm, so you have no way of letting Michael know.

Waiting for You

7:15

That was the time you had agreed to meet Michael at the pub. He was completely certain about that - he’d written it in his planner, the calendar on the wall of his dorm, and his Yahoo calendar.

He looked at his watch again.

7:23

Being a few minutes late made sense, he thought. You didn’t have a car, and public transportation can be somewhat unreliable on weekends. But now, you were nearly ten minutes late. Even with imprecise bus timings, that seemed like a lot.

It certainly seemed long enough for Michael’s mind to start spiraling.

Maybe you had forgotten. Maybe you got on the wrong bus. Maybe the bus had a mechanical failure, or was stuck in unavoidable traffic.

The longer he stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers as he stared at the pavement outside the pub, the more far-fetched his thoughts became.

Maybe a faculty member had suddenly needed your help and you couldn’t say no. Maybe your bud had been in an accident. Maybe you’d been kidnapped somehow.

Maybe…

7:28

Maybe you’d realized you didn’t actually want to go out with him.

Why would you? After his outburst in the dining hall at the beginning of the year, he was infamous within your college. Everyone knew the creepy maths nerd who’d made a fool of himself on the first day.

It made perfect sense that you wouldn’t want to be seen with him. What if the essence of his social pariah-dom would rub off on you somehow, and people started treating you the way they treated him?

You wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want that for you.

Ditching him would be the smart move. After all, it had apparently worked well for Oliver Quick, the cunt. Maybe if you abandoned him as well, you’d also get an invite to Felix Carton’s estate for the summer. For all he knew, it was a requirement.

7:34

It had been stupid of him to even think you’d want to go out with him.

You were popular and well-liked. You were gorgeous. You were smart. All things that should have wiped Michael off your radar entirely.

But you were also kind. You were friendly to him. You talked to him.

When he asked if you wanted to study with him, you’d said yes. When he asked to exchange phone numbers, you’d said yes. And when he asked you out on a date - this date - you’d said yes.

The memory returned, even as he tried to shove it away. When he asked Oliver if he would get him another pint, he’d said yes, too.

Then, he’d abandoned him.

7:41

Apparently, this was just what happened to Michael. He found someone he liked, thought they liked him, too, then was left behind when something better turned up.

It had happened many times before, and would probably happen many times in the future.

Michael bit hard on the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain would chase away the monumental feeling of loneliness that threatened to overtake him. He should just go back to his dorm. It was pathetic to wait out here for this long. He should -

7:44

“Michael!”

He looked up and saw you running toward him, your cheeks flushed as you pushed through the crowd. When you finally stopped in front of him, panting from exertion, you grimaced slightly. He braved himself for what you would say.

“I am so, so sorry I’m late!” You said breathlessly. “My mum called, and she could talk for hours and hours if she wanted, and I tried to tell her I had to leave, but she wouldn’t…”

You half-sighed, half-groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. “And then I left my phone in my room and I couldn’t tell you I was on my way, so…”

Michael stared at you blankly as you continued to explain. He had almost completely resigned himself to the fact that you weren’t coming. But here you were.

Not only had you actually come, but you had ran to him. You were trying so hard to make him see that it wasn’t intentional. You… you were still talking.

“It’s fine,” he said, halting your babbling. “I understand.”

Your smile of relief was quite possibly the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

He laughed in awe, then tried to play it off. “My mum doesn’t know when to shut up, either.”

You laughed with him and grabbed his hand. “Still, I’m so sorry. You’ve been waiting here, probably bored out of your mind, and…”

“Nah,” he shrugged, “it’s all forgotten now.” Indeed, he could hardly remember the panicked train of thought he’d been on for the last half hour. “Thank you - for coming, I mean.”

You smiled again. “Of course! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Without giving him time to respond, you pulled him into the pub, both of you now laughing. “Since I was late, I’m paying!”

[olderthannetfic]

You've encountered site changes over time as a fan elder, what do you make of Tumblr potentially being put out to pasture? Tumblr was my coming of age fan site, and im looking for advice to transition to the next thing with grace and less bitterness than I feel now.

--

Ahaha. God, you should have heard the howling about LJ. "Fandom is over!" "Never again shall we dwell in fandom's True Home!" etc.

Hell, this endless "only LJ was good" crap turns up in replies here on posts where I as OP have very clearly laid out why that's rose colored glasses nonsense and you can so make friends on tumblr, have a conversation on tumblr, etc.

I had my crabby phase about this during the transition from Yahoo Groups to LJ. A lot of the real olds had it over paper zines and the transition to the internet.

I don't know if reading these hilariously samey old posts would help. It does give perspective, I think.

--

As for what you should do, do what I did with Tumblr:

1.

Look around to identify the Next Thing fandom is going to camp out on.

It may take a few guesses and some time to figure this out. You will likely not be an early adopter. Fandom was well established here by the time I joined at the end of 2010. Of course, by now, all those 2009 and before accounts are long gone, but at the time, I was a n00b joining other people's space despite having been in fandom for ages.

2.

Don't expect to enjoy it

I didn't join tumblr because I liked it. In fact, I despised it. I kept right on despising it until a brief stint in Sherlock fandom, a fandom that was so active here at the time that I was able to finally see the good aspects of the site's structure and features.

This is the mistake a lot of people make. They give things a cursory try, don't enjoy them, and go "not for me", forgetting that the last site also had a steep learning curve that was either difficult or that they didn't notice because they were in a different phase of their life.

Bitterness and grief are, frankly, an inherent part of the process. You can try not to be a debbie downer in your public comments, but you can't just not feel those things during the awkward part of the transition. Sometimes, acting positive and cutting off excessively negative thoughts can make you feel less negative overall, but it doesn't happen immediately.

3.

Accept that feeling cranky and old is both a you problem and a state of mind, not a property of the new site

Relatedly, the way we remember fandom platform X feeling usually has more to do with us being in college with fandom friends down the hall or having discovered Our People for the first time or some other time when we had a lot of energy and positive emotions. Often, we were in the throes of a first or new fandom love too, probably for some megafandom that other people also cared about at the same time.

When fandom is leaving some site, there's a grieving process anyway, but we're also often in a worse part of our lives for starting new things. We're busy. We're tired. We're between fandoms. We feel like we already paid our dues to build up our community. Why should we have to start again?

But let me tell you, you always need to start again eventually. I go to a weekly vidders' zoom chat, and a lot of the people in there are old as balls, including Kandy, the person who invented vidding back in the 70s. She's a lot of decades and a few cancers in, and she had to relearn how to vid on a computer after transitioning from slideshows to VCR vidding back in the day. If bad health, platform changes, and dead friends were going to stop her, she'd be long gone.

It's like sharks: you stop swimming, you die.

This isn't just about fandom, obviously. It's about avoiding a midlife crisis and, later, about avoiding feeling emotionally geriatric even when your body is falling apart.

Change gets us all, but being mentally old is a choice. The real reason I gave tumblr such a try was that I had been so resistant to getting on LJ. I was 20. Even a year later, it was fucking embarrassing to have been a crotchety old hag as a college student. I promised myself I'd soldier through the next change instead of dragging my feet about it. And it totally worked in the end! But boy did it not make the transition any less unpleasant emotionally!

4.

Find your joy

As is obvious from the above, the vast majority of the problem is just emotions. Fandom has been on a million broken sites with shitty features. We go where the people are, regardless of whether it has the technological aspects we liked at the last place. The actual shape of that platform is largely irrelevant.

What does matter is whether we as an individual fan are still excited and happy about something. I was between fandoms recently and went looking around for BL series I hadn't watched yet. People kept suggesting things set in the present day with too-cheesy production values and too many banal schoolboys in modern day settings without even anything spicy going on. I realized that the BL/danmei scene wasn't really cutting it for me and I should go for production values and genre and non-canon ships. You probably scrolled annoyedly past the picspams that resulted.

(Of course, hilariously, someone has now shown me the trailer of Red Peafowl, so someone may be making BL that feels like it's for me after all. Look at all that badwrong and very dark color grading.)

When you're in a good place emotionally, it's a hell of a lot easier to weather any change, and when you have a new fandom, it's a lot easier to connect with other fans.

A lot of people wait around for lightning to strike twice. They found their first fandom by accident, and they expect it to happen seamlessly again. For me, it's far more productive to brute force it: collect up a big list of what's popular or what's new and go through it till you find things you might like, then try them all.

And part of this, obviously, is not waiting for other fans to make the party happen. The more you need to join something other people are already doing, the less choice you'll have in fandoms or in platforms. If you aren't picky and just go where the tropey longfic is, that can work, but even then, favorite authors disappear or go to fandoms you hate and former megafandoms dry up. If you're the one bringing the party, it's a lot easier to find a new fandom or platform or community to have fun in.

[sillygoosealert]

Could you please do a follow up to the post you did of Bi-Han yelling at you making you flinch and cry where after Bi-Han made you cry you decide to completely ignore him where you don't talk to him or make eye contact, you leave the room whenever he enters the room, you don't cook for him anymore, don't take baths with him or give him massages and you even start to sleep in separate bedrooms for several weeks now. Bi-Han immediately recognizes that he fucked up bad by getting mad at you when you were only trying to help him so he corners you before you leave the bedroom and tries to forcefully get you to notice by saying something to him even if it's to say hurtful things to him which you don't even do so then he tries to kiss you but you turn your head and even try to push him away from you aggressively and slaps him hard across the face which stuns him long enough for you to run out of the room. Bi-Han eventually comes to his senses and realizes that you don't love him anymore and he breaks down crying in his sleep until he feels the bed dip and arms wrapped around his body bringing his head to your chest where he continues to cry more constantly apologizing to you and asking for your forgiveness. I got inspired by an old episode of the Simpsons where Marge completely ignored Bart after discovering he got caught shoplifting and I wanted to see how you write the scenario since your writing is excellent.

You’re too kind Tehe

Ignoring Bi-Han and making HIM cry (^_-)☆ (how silly)

Thank you so much for the Specific request, it helps me a lot when thinking of how to put things into words <3 ^.^ (and for the compliment, I'll be giddy for weeks ♡)

I made you a nurse again, I’m sorry, it’s just instinct 😔

Also this one is longer than my other ones, so yahoo for me !!

Tw-mental stuff, crying, loneliness, rotting Bi-Han

Bi-Han has been even more stressed out ever since you’re breakdown- because you’ve made sure to take your help out of things. You don’t make him little snacks anymore, not that he ate them but he would eat about anything you touched right now. You don’t bathe with him, making sure he properly took care of himself despite his schedule. Now he starts to find little knots in his hair, and his skin doesn’t feel as nice or clean. His back is filled with knots and is chronically hurting without you offering to give him massages anymore. You don’t even look at him- he didn’t mean to yell, he just..well he didn’t know why he did it either.

He has trouble sleeping after you stopped sleeping in the same bed as him. Sometimes he uses your pillow instead of his because it feels more intimate- something that you would do. He just feels sad and tired, like how you felt. He wanted to fix everything with you when he had the time... He would even move all your stuff back to his room and make breaks so you could have time alone together. He would do a lot right now, but he’s too busy to tell you he misses you and wants you. He doesn’t have time to be the man you need, but he’ll try if that means you’ll stay in the same room with him.

He finds you walking into where Lin Kuei keeps the medical supplies, so he takes his chance to tell you how he misses you- and he wants to give you a genuine apology. But when he corners you you freak out. Telling him to leave you alone, that you don’t want to talk or be near him..? He didn’t do anything that bad, why won’t you just talk to him...

‘Leave me alone, we’re not together, there is nothing between us.’

‘Listen to reason, I beg of you to reconsider. I miss you. Please come back to our room…’ you don’t move, and you look docile enough to move towards. He cups your face, he didn’t realize he leaned in until you pushed him away and ran out of the room. Oh, okay..

This does not make him stop, as he continues to try to re-court you into a relationship. But he can’t, you won’t let him. He’s in his bathroom now, sobbing as he tries to recreate the bath you used to make for him. He knows you used bath salts, and some oil or something… but he doesn’t think it feels as relaxing compared as when you do it- nor does it smell as good. He finishes his bath and dresses in the pajamas you said would help him sleep better, this is the first time he’s tried them out. He wishes he listened to you better, they are quite nice.

He lays in his bed as he cries into your old pillow, it doesn’t smell like you anymore. It just smells like swear and tears- his sweat and tears. He curls into the fetal position and shakes hard, his breath is coming out in harsh, jagged, moments. He almost doesn’t hear the knock at the door, but it’s persistent and hard.

He wasn’t going to open the door until you asked him to, he didn’t want to make you reconsider your visit. He opens the door only slightly before going back to sitting on his bed. You walk in and close the door behind you.

‘You look a mess..’ you say this to lighten the mood, but also out of worry. You wipe away some tears and lean your head against his shoulder.

‘I’m not mad at you by the way…’ you whisper, then he breaks down again. He didn’t mean to, he never means to.

‘Shh..it’s okay..’ you’re laying down with him now, his head is held close to your chest. He knows he’s holding you tight, but he’s scared, he’s scared to let go.

He falls asleep like that, close to you. He missed you

[spdrvyn]

better than snow: MIGUEL O’HARA

summary: have a merry christmas morning! you're groggy and experiencing a mild headache, but it's all worth it especially when you walk into the living room only to see your munch of a boyfriend.

fluff. suggestive. in typical vyn fashion, this is late YAHOO but merry christmas to everyone! i hope you all enjoyed your holidays because i very much did hehe, this fic is inspired by this fanart so go check it out! merrily we fall out of line out of line

You were a merry mess.

There was no such thing as partying too hard, but you thought that you'd never actually reach such a feat until last night. Hell, you didn't even remember falling asleep on the bed.

Don't get anything twisted, you had a lot of fun with Miguel and "coworkers" last night. That's what he liked to call them anyway, you know for sure he wouldn't invite regular subordinates to his home with you to have the craziest Christmas party known to man.

The tanginess of the copious amounts of whiskey you had was still on your tongue, your eyelids still weighed down by the very little sleep that you got. The sun wasn't entirely up yet, orangey hues barely visible through the blinds of the room.

You shivered as the cold hit your bare legs, these were definitely not the clothes you fell asleep in either. You looked down to see a t-shirt that very well reached up to just above your thigh, it was only safe to assume that you made a huge mess of yourself previously and even safer to assume that Miguel would save you by changing you into one of his shirts.

The choice of clothing isn't even necessary, you have clean shirts, but Miguel likes seeing you in his clothes so you weren't going to complain. Besides, it smells and somehow feels like him.

That didn't really help the fact that you were freezing, Nueva York and its deadly temperatures during winter season. You dug through the closet to find big enough blanket to carry, you weren't insane enough to drag the whole comforter of your bed around the flat.

When you entered the living room, the soft crackling noises of a fire the first thing you heard. Each piece of confetti, liquid, and dirty surface had then been wiped clean.

Though, that wasn't the only detail that had you baffled.

The moment your head turned, you could feel your heart stop beating in your chest, your breath slowing down, your blood run cold. Miguel was right there and he wasn't wearing anything else except for his briefs, you could see everything.

Smooth skin, a toned stomach, massive arms shielded by nothing, and the trail of hair that goes down to his even bigger—

"Merry Christmas," he uttered, you nearly choked. Right, right. He's in front of you. Shirtless. No! Act normal, act natural.

"Uh, Merry Christmas." the need for your little blanket lessened even more, this sight was enough to warm you up for the rest of the morning nay rest of the day. Your eyes moved to the mug in his hands that was still steaming hot, he reached it out to you in a silent question if you wanted any but you declined with a shake of your head.

With that, he gulped down the rest of his drink. As he set the mug down on the table, he gestured for you to follow him to which you immediately followed. He sat you down on one of the armchairs, his eyes raked over how you looked now. Bed hair, fingers clutched onto the blanket for dear life, flushed cheeks that you probably didn't know you had. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

He grabbed a present from the Christmas tree before it's presented to you, you tried to study the stern look on his face but if there's one thing you knew about Miguel, it would he how good he was at hiding how excited he was.

You unraveled the present to be met with a language book on how to speak Japanese, you noted the way two slips of paper bookmarked a specific page and when you opened it, you were delighted.

Two plane tickets to Tokyo, Japan and when you read the page that they were slotted into, it's how to say "I love you" in Japanese.

愛してます. Aishitemasu.

Your heart swelled, when you looked back to Miguel, he had the softest smile on his face.

"I'm going on leave for at least a week, we leave in two days."

"Oh, Miguel— this is—"

Unable to find the words for exactly how happy you were, you couldn't do anything more except grab him by his shoulders and kiss him breathless. Passionate was an understatement, you acted as if you were going to steal each breath from his lungs to which he'd let you if you truly desired it.

You've never received a gift this big before, never gone a trip with just you and another person. This is a first time experience for you and you're more than happy about the fact that you're going to be sharing those future memories with Miguel, you wouldn't choose anyone else over him.

When you separated, you both panted into each other's mouths. Miguel had you pushed you back into the armrest, the blanket too close to slipping off your ahoulders.

"I don't want to spend a moment away from you," he took one of your hands and pressed a chaste kiss to your wrist. His other hand slithered down to your lower back now to your bottom before giving it a firm squeeze. "What I want is to love, kiss, and cherish you in every possible. Will you let me? Corazón?"

There was only one answer.

There would only ever be one answer.

"Yes."

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Slashers x child!reader… except it’s CHILDREN, because they are TWINS

HMMM WOWW THIS IS SOMETHING NEW YAHOO!!

Uhm I made the twins energetic hope you didn't mind it 👉👈

Warnings: mentions of murder and luring. Idkk??? Fluff??

Characters in this : Michael Myers, sinclair brothers and Bubba sawyer SORRY SO SHORT.

Relationship: Platonic! Father/uncle/older sibling figure? Yes?

Slashers x twins! Reader

Michael

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

*immense sigh inserted from Michael*

How he'll take this is a matter of how they act.

Just two quiet timid little munchkadees and he shows a thumbs up.

But two little sly mischievous pranksters are a big no no from him. But let's go with that for the rest of the oneshot.

One was already hard enough for him but two?? He's gonna be breaking them spine and knees a little earlier... You can just imagine him sitting on a chair while two little children run around him and you can see the exhaustion behind his mask.

They can mess with him and ask him who is who and most of the time he gets it right or says idgaf. But if it's peepaw Michael he's a bit more willing to play along. Orr says idgaf too and points to whoever.

He doesn't necessarily hold those two but if they ask reeeeaaaallllyyyyy nicely he might. When he did though he thought it felt weird holding two children in his arms and intended to drop them after 10 seconds but seeing how happy and excited it made them he extended it to a few minutes. (And moved around the house a little since they asked really nicely about that too.)

If they get into an argument and get mad at each other and they turn to him for help he's panicking inside because he doesn't know wtf to do. He just grabs whatever their favorite food or drink is and hopes they make up.

One moment he goes into another room and comes back to find the twins throwing things around and screaming and he glares at them and gave them a little bonk on their heads and made them clean up.

If he finds out the twins had a bully he's ready for bone breaking or stabbing but if he also finds out the twins are tormenting the bully back for revenge and he just- he's so proud. (He came up to them and gave them a thumbs up.)

Overall he doesn't really love it nor does he really hate it. And he wouldn't say he wishes one of them to disappear cause he doesn't. I guess he kinda loves likes the both of you equally.

Sinclair brothers

Bo looks at the both of them together sometimes and smiles because they lowkey remind him of him and Vincent when they were younger. (The children twins get along wayy better) he tries not to mind and lash out when they're acting especially chaotic but you know the romantical relationship between him and anger so he yells at them. But then he later feels super guilty and tries to apologize with ice cream or something. Actually he's pretty lenient on them cause there's two of them and in his sense that means if one is in trouble then the other one will get them out of it. Boy was he wrong. He found them both wailing in a ditch with leaves as bait somewhere that they dug up because they wanted to catch animals for food but they forgot it was there. He also bonked them in the head after lifting them up. You can see him a lot with the twins and lure tourists in like 'heh... Yes come follow these two innocent looking kids...' He would rather die than admit it but he really likes having the twins company. He acts so nasty and detached but yk he would be so hurt if they didn't talk to him more than 10 times a day. Whatever tourist that picks on them or acts extremely suspicious around them would be dead before the sky turns deep blue. I bet he lets them hang on his arms and turns so smug when they comment about how strong their 'uncle' is. Wait did they say uncle? He accidentally dropped them. And crode later. Overall he likes them more than he could ever admit.

Vincent he loves watching them play (not in a weird way ofc) he watches them and sighs because he highkey wishes Bo would be a bit nicer to him sometimes. And for some reason he is a little nicer when the twins are around. When days are getting long and there's nothing to do he's playing with them, whether it be tag or dressing up in tutus he's fine with it. He gets worried a lot when the twins are on their own. Instead of a mindset like bo (and Lester) he thinks what would happen if BOTH of them get in trouble. He doesn't want to find two dead bodies somewhere so he tries to keep a close eye on them. A scenario where the twins are also running around in circles around Vincent sitting in a chair except he doesn't mind it and smiles. Contests where the twins draw Vincent and makes him choose whose art is better but he doesn't have the heart to choose which are inevitable. Anybody who looks at them weird? Gone. Not even wax just gone. Treats them like they're his own (he is their father figure). Since lester isn't always in ambrose Vincent does most of the raising since Bo apparently is always doing something (he tries.). So Vincent is the twins favorite and always comes to him for help unless it's about mechanical or such. Probably holds the twins in his arms a lot and scurries or runs around because it's so cool for them to look at everything from the height of 6'1 - 6'ft. His soul almost leaves him when they play and run around in the house of wax. Vincent thinks it's kinda hard handling twins but he loves it either way.

I said before Vincent was their favorite but boy do they get excited when they see Lester. He doesn't always come but he doesn't always decide to not visit. To be honest because of the twins he visits more frequently oh and they loveee jonesy. And for the record he's the fun-est and also funniest so when he pulls up with them truck the twins will be yelling, "omg look uncle Lester came!!!" Bo will give shit. Not to the twins but to Lester for some reason. The whole day you'll be spending time with Lester and they play stuff like who can hit the most animals with uncle Lester's car. (Sorry they don't actually play that.) But hes convenient because when the twins are refusing to do Or eat something and knowing how competitive chaotic kids are, Lester does the good ol' who can eat/clean the fastest and also does it with them so it'll be more fun. And he's carefree too and then he also finds the twins somewhere in trouble. I'm imagining a scenario where he tells a creepy tourist to get in a car and then he was driving really fast around a cliff and then he opens the tourist's side of the car door and roughly pushes them off the cliff. They were there to witness it all and honestly they were high key rooting for Lester. The kid twins get into mischief with Lester a lot and Bo finds it so annoying and Vincent is just concerned. Them and Lester are literal partners in crime. They work together like legitimately. Also when the twins get mad at each other Lester makes them apologize to each other and then treats them with food or some activity for doing so. Because it's important to apologize <3. Overall, he loves em' and they love him.

Bonus, jonesy!!: did I mention they love jonesy? Everytime the kid twins aren't playing with Lester they're most definitely being playfully chased by jonesy. Ofc she catches them every time and also gives them little kisses on the cheeks :,). 🩷🩷🩷 jonesy is just a natural at everything that's why she got along so well the first time they met with the kid twins, in fact she's the head master and wears the pants in the sinclair family. She's extremely vital. Someone acts mean to one of the twins? The other one and jonesy team up and start beating the person. Somehow they three team up and torment the other Sinclairs and the brothers have no idea how but they allow it. Overall 100/10, she's their second partner in crime.

Bubba sawyer

He loves taking care of them! Just whenever he can he plays with them. Wayy too attached to the twins since they're really the only ones who treat Bubba like an actual human being.

Will get so stressed if they mess up somewhere in a room because Drayton will yell at both the twins and Bubba. (The twins shit talk about Drayton and let Bubba on it too but he gets nervous.)

He also runs around the house holding one twin on his arms and one on his back. The twins love pulling that "guess who is who" Question and watch as Bubba struggles and fidgets as he tries to figure out.

There isn't really a quiet day with twins chasing each other but Bubba loves it. It doesn't make him feel alone. As much as he dislikes it, the twins help and lure victims in and also watch the brutal killings. If they insist it doesn't really bother them that much then he'll be put a little at ease.

He gets the big sad when the twins come crying to him after Drayton yelled at them for acting like the kids that they should act like. Knowing Bubba has a soft heart he can't really do anything other than comfort them physically by stroking their hair/heads.

He tries his best to keep them safe at all times knowing how dangerous this can be if the victims get smart or lucky. Overall he loves them to death and he wouldn't have it any other way.

This is the end. I'm losing my creativity and it took me like 6+ to finish this because I'm so indecisive. Anyways tell me if you want a part two :))

[drunkoffsmoke]

Hello ! Could I request relationship headcanons with Porco and a male reader 🙏🏼 ? Maybe before dating and during ? If you're up to it ofc

a/n: YOO-HOO !! hope you didn't forget about this anon, i promise i saw it. i've been meaning to get to this for awhile, but of course my motivation is absolutely fucked. i apologize. hope this satisfies you ^^

PAIRING : PORCO GALLIARD x MALE!READER

FANDOM : SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN / ATTACK ON TITAN

GENRE : FLUFF, HEADCANONS, ROMANCE

! WARNING ! : contains spoilers

reader is a marleyan and works as a shop keeper.

little story yahoo !!

What a day. First, two kids place foot inside your store, watching in awe at all of the artifacts for sale—and next thing, two grown men arguing next to the younglings. Not to mention the fact that they're soldiers.

Things were about to get physical before you stepped in. After all, this was your shop. You couldn't risk these arrogant warriors would tear this place up.

The taller, blonder man was more understanding—he wasn't really paying attention to the arrogant and obviously irritated shorter male. Matter of fact, he looked tired of him. So, obviously, all of the blame turned to stranger with the undercut hairstyle. He wasn't very pleased.

"I didn't start anything!" He protested, throwing his hands up in defeat as he glared at his comrade. Just as he was about to speak once more, one of his arms subconsciously jolted backwards, knocking off the shelf a vase.

Looking down at the shattered object, silence fell in your shop, the tension thickening as seconds pass. With a twitch of an eye, you fold your arms and glare at the man.

"You have to pay for that, jackass." Your grip on your arms tighten, clearly irritated with this whole scene. "You come into my shop, cause a ruckus, and now you break things. I think you should get out, right after you pay."

At that point, one of the children was dragging the other—who wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon, being too invested in this little argument—outside and instead watched from the window.

The shorter blond scratched his head, looking down at the mess while grumbling a few words underneath his breath. Patting down his pockets, he pulled out his wallet while murmuring a quiet 'sorry'.

"How much was it?" He questions, trying to ignore the shards littering around his feet. You laughed, looking inside his pocket. "A lot more than whatever you have in there. Just forget it, you already did enough."

You shoo the two men outside of your store, inhaling and exhaling sharply. You grab the broom and the dustpan sitting in the supply closet and began cleaning up the mess.

All while someone was watching from the window, a certain glint in his eyes that few have seen.

before dating.

Surprisingly enough, he feels guilty for what he's done. Sure, the vase wasn't that grand—but he could tell it was an antique that many would want to have in their homes.

So, with gritted teeth and clenched fists, he returned a few days later to your shop.

Slamming money on your counter without uttering a word, the sum of it nearly shocks you. You wondered how could he get this much cash in just a few days. Oh, right. He's a soldier. The pay is good.

You take the money hesitantly, narrowing your eyes at him. He was about to turn around and leave, when your collection of guns caught his eye.

Of course, the two of you had to talk about them. Sharing the knowledge with eachother as you led him to other war-related artifacts you owned, the tension between you two began to fade. Hell, he even smiled once at your knowledge. Most civilians wouldn't even stress themselves to learn the basic military procedures.

Yet look at you. You're literally a walking encyclopedia. Secretly, he admired it. Just before you turned around, his smile faded, and pretended to focus on the details of the dagger you were showing.

Aside from artifacts, you also had cigarettes and razors for sale, and many more items that were useful in the daily life. So, because he was in need of a few things, he decided to visit your shop once more.

At first, he thought he was buying things from you because he needed them. Later on, he came to the realization that it just wasn't true.

During his visits, you often chatted about news and war, but also cultural knowledge. He still made snarky remarks and sometimes appeared rude, yet deep down, he respected you. Sure, he often belittled you, but Porco would be willing to fight tooth and nail for you.

He was intrigued by you, he wanted to know why. But the more he thought about his feelings for you, the more he grew anxious and scared.

Was he in love? God, please, tell him he's not—what would others think? A man loving another man? Impossible, a sin.

That's what they say.

And unfortunately for Porco, his suspicions were confirmed. He was in love. I mean, how could someone's heart not flutter when looking at you? You were smart, capable, good-looking. You had it all.

But you were a man, just like him.

In order to hide his feelings, he began visiting less and less, hoping that this 'foolish attraction' would pass.

Unfortunately for him, you took notice of that. And unfortunately for him again, you also grew close to the two kids that visited your shop that day.

Gabi and Falco, that's who they were. When you asked about Porco, Gabi suggested you see him yourself.

And that's what you did.

You found him sitting on a bench, away from everyone, with only silence to keep him company. You startled him once you took a seat next to him, causing him to shift uncomfortably and look elsewhere.

You asked him why he hasn't been visiting like he used to, and he hesitated to answer. As nothing came out of his mouth, you frowned and stood up to leave, when he abruptly grabbed your wrist, insisting that you stay.

Sitting back down on the bench, your heart was pounding as his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. You didn't look at eachother, both of your minds screaming with unanswered questions.

Until his hand traveled down in order to hold yours.

during dating.

He doesn't show much affection in public, still afraid of what others may think. But, with his subtle touches and occasional glances, you know that he loves you.

He visits your shop more often now—and when others question it, he simply states that he finally found someone smart enough to have a proper conversation with.

While alone, Porco is keen on physical touch and relies on it in order to tell you how much he loves you. He's always had a rough time expressing himself, but when he's with you, he feels as if a simple forehead kiss or a hug speaks louder than any word he wants to say.

When he's away for missions, he longs for the day he gets to hold you in his arms again. He fights for you, he kills for you, he does anything if it means that he'll be with you again.

Sometimes he has nightmares of your death, and when he wakes up sweating and with glossy eyes, he finds you there, gently caressing his shoulder. You let him hug you tightly, tears staining your shirt as he quietly weeps.

Most of the time, it seems like he doesn't listen. Oh, you're so wrong. At this point, he has notebooks with your favorite things and interests, just in case he forgets. But does he ever forget? Nah.

He listens to you talk, he takes you out on long walks and always make sure to stop by the bench where it all started. Most of the folks living nearby have been spotting you sitting on that bench often, and even made a common rule that nobody besides you and Porco get to sit on that bench during the afternoon.

And even after death, he offers solace from above by dropping flower petals next to you, on that special bench, during the afternoon.

a/n 2: holy dang this was actually so sad to write like.. its 3 am and now im crying because of myself UGHHH ANON THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME WRITE THIS, i apologize if it's ooc though i finished aot a long while ago and i forgot a lot😭

[justmeinadaze]

A Virtual Romance (Steve X Reader)

A/N: I was going to release this tomorrow but I'm proud of it and I want to hear what y'all think. This would definitely be a little series. It is set in the golden days of messenger and them fun Samsung flip phone. I clocked it at about 2002. This is based off A Cinderella Story. I told you guys I watch stuff and I'm like "This would be cute for Steve or Eddie." Lol. But yeah :). I hope y'all like it.

If it has their screen names next to it they are talking via messenger. If it doesn't they are texting. I'm going to color code it to make it easier on the eyes. Her virtual dialogue will be in color, Idk which one yet lol

@lunatictardis I dedicate this to you!

Warnings: A lot of this is virtual communication. They do have a smutty moment near the end. All dirty talk and masturbation.

Word Count: 2559

YOU

You rub your eyes as you squint at the computer screen. Senior year at Hawkins High was really kicking your butt when it came to the curriculum and your grades. You couldn’t afford to slack off though. You were so close to getting that academic scholarship for college. 

The monitor in front of you pinged softly as a small notification appeared in the corner. 

StealthyNinja02 is online.

You smile as you lean back in your chair, waiting. After a few seconds, the little box popped up in front of your homework. 

StealthyNinja02: Hey you : )

StealthyNinja02: I already know what you’re going to say. Give your brain a break!

You bite on your bottom lip trying to control the grin on your face. The first time you saw his name appear in the Yahoo chat room for “People in Hawkins” you thought it was stupidest thing you had ever seen. He would occasionally pop up in conversations regarding Hawkins High or flirt with one of the girl’s names you recognized. 

One day, you noticed some students bullying another when she messaged asking some questions about the new year starting. You immediately intervened, telling the popular kids to fuck off. You never understood why Tommy and Carol insisted on using screennames that made them easily identifiable if they were going to be assholes to people online. 

StealthyNinja02 reached out after your interaction praising you for standing up for the kid. From that point forward, you two were inseparable. Well, virtually that is. He messaged you throughout the day and texted you when you weren’t online. For a while he insisted on meeting but you kept refusing. That didn’t curb your curiosity though. He never gave any specifics in the chats and, to be fair, neither did you. 

It was a common understanding in the group chat rooms that you just don’t call out people’s names. You were fine with how things were though. Honestly, at this point, you were more afraid that if he found out who you were or vice versa, it would shatter the illusion and you would lose him forever. You liked talking to him and the way he made you feel. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Okay! Geez. Stop yelling at me : )

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: How was your Sunday?

StealthyNinja02: It was fine. My parents are still out of town so just went to hang out with some friends. What about you?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I was at work all day. Now I’m just finishing up my paper for English. 

StealthyNinja02: Shit. I should properly get started on that. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Omg! Lol. 

StealthyNinja02: God I wish I could hear your laugh.

You sit there and grin at his words. You never know how to respond when he talks like this. You don’t want to lead him on but…

StealthyNinja02: Did I scare you away? I don’t mean to make you nervous or anything.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: You don’t make me nervous. 

StealthyNinja02: : ) Can we revisit the topic of meeting?

You cheekily set you status on messenger as AWAY and turn off the computer. The phone by your bed vibrates and you giggle as you flip it open to read the text message. 

So no then? Lol. 

Goodnight, StealthyNinja!

Good night, Ouyay.

####################

“So how late were we up this time talking to prince charming?” Your friend grins over at you from her place in the driver’s seat. 

“Not too late. I spent most of the time studying last night.”

“Uh huh. Is that what the kids are calling it?”

“Shut up, Sam!” You both laugh as you roll your eyes. 

After she parks in the Hawkins High parking lot, you wait by her trunk as she digs through it for her schoolbooks and papers, shoving them in her bag. 

“Sometimes I wish I was more like you and then I see stuff like this.” You gesture at her with your finger. 

Suddenly, you feel a hand push you forward into the car, knocking your own books out of your hand. 

“Oh shit! Excuse me. You should really watch where you’re going.” Carol giggles as her boyfriend Tommy wraps his arm around her shoulders and they head for the school. 

You bend down to gather your things when a man’s hand comes into view handing you some of your things. 

You look up coming face to face with the king of Hawkins High himself, Steve Harrington. 

“Are you ok? Let me help you.”

You clear your throat trying to regain your confidence. “I got it, thank you. You should help your friends to not be assholes.”

He sighs as he nods. “Yeah. They can be that way. Look, I’m sorry if they…”, he points at your stuff. When you don’t respond, he smiles awkwardly as he runs to catch up his group. 

“You know, he may be a bit of a jerk but damn is that boy fine.” Sam watches as Steve disappears. 

STEVE

How’s your day so far?

Steve grins down at his phone as he picks at his lunch in front of him. Tommy and Carol are across from him talking about some mundane crap he couldn’t care less about. His fingers quickly started pressing numbers on the keypad.

Sigh. Boring. I wish you were here to keep me company. 

Lol I’m sure I’d just bore you more.

Why do I doubt that?

How’s your day?

“Steve!” Tommy snaps his fingers in front of the boy’s face. “Are you even listening? Who are you even talking to?”

“None of your damn business.”, Steve replies with a joking tone. 

“We were thinking of meeting some of the other kids at that restaurant by the school when we leave today. Are you in?”

Steve casually nods his head as he turns his attention back to you. 

Frustrating. Some of the popular kids were jerks this morning.

Ugh I’m sorry. Do you want me to beat them up?

Lol no! But thanks for the offer : ). 

I’ll talk to you later, ok? My lunch is almost over and I have to get my homework out of the way before work tonight.

Steve’s head looks around the cafeteria. You were in the same room with him, so close but yet so far. 

####################

Steve and his friends piled into a booth near the corner of the burger place just a few blocks from the campus. He had only been here a handful of times but it was a pretty okay restaurant. The girl that Carol invited along pressed herself up against his side. He gave her a stiff grin as he tried to scoot his body further away from her without falling out his seat onto the floor. 

“Hi there. What can I get you guys today?”

All four pairs of eyes looked up to meet yours. Carol and Tommy chuckled at your messy attire. You had on the standard uniform the restaurant required, jeans and a black shirt, but your shirt had some grease stains blotching the fabric. Your hair was pulled back in a messy bun and your sneakers squeaked against the linoleum.

“Wow. Um, don’t you look ravishing, Y/N!”, Carol giggles. 

Steve looked over at her with an annoyed expression. 

“Oh, thanks Carol. It’s a new look called independence. Maybe one day when your daddy stops catering to your every whim, you’ll be able to recognize what that looks like.”

Your eyes turned to look at Steve as he started choking on the water you had brought to the table. He placed his hand over his mouth trying to cover his smile. 

“Shut up, Harrington. Look, are you going to take our order or not?” 

You flash them your pad and pen signaling you are ready. After you bring them their food they sit there for a while, talking. The girl next to Steve kept trying to put her hand on his leg but he kept trying to nonchalantly shake it off. 

“I’m going to go smoke real quick.” Without waiting for a response, Steve got up and exited out the back door. 

I hope you’re having a good shift. I’m thinking about you.

He closes his phone as he leans against the wall the outside wall staring off into the distance. 

“I’ll see you inside, honey.”

Steve’s head abruptly turns seeing you and another woman sitting on a bench a few feet from him. The woman gently pats your hand as she passes him, giving him a polite nod before going back into the building. 

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Oh, no you didn’t. We were just on our 15.”

He nods as he moves a bit closer to where you are. “I’m also sorry for my friends.” Steve reaches into his pocket and hands you some bills. You look at them completely confused. “If I know them, they aren’t going to leave you a tip so…” He smiles as he turns to go back into the restaurant.

 He doesn’t see you pull your phone out and grin at the screen. When he gets back to his table his friends are already heading for the door. “We were just about to go look for you. Let’s go hang out at your place.” Tommy loops his arm around Carol.

“Not tonight guys. I think I’m just going to go home and relax.”

“Alright, old man.” They laugh at him as they head for their car. The girl that had been flirting with Steve gave him her number as she followed after her friends. 

As soon as they drove off, he tore up the paper she had given him, throwing it into the cup holder of his car. Glancing at his phone, he bit his bottom lip when he saw he had one new message. 

Aw : ). I’ve been thinking about you to. I’ll message you when I get home!

YOU

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: What are you up to?

StealthyNinja02: Waiting for you ; ). How was work?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: It was ok. Boring lol

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: What else did you do besides wait for me?

StealthyNinja02: Um that’s all I ever do? Lol

StealthyNinja02: I hung out with my friends and they brought some girl along. 

A pang of jealousy coursed through your body. Obviously, he wasn’t yours but you couldn’t help it. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Oh? Like as a date?

StealthyNinja02: Uh oh. Ouyay, are you jealous? : P.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Maaaaaybe!

StealthyNinja02: Well, I’m flattered : ). 

StealthyNinja02: No to answer your question. I think she wanted it to be a date but

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: But what…

StealthyNinja02: But she’s not you. 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. 

StealthyNinja02: Don’t do that. 

StealthyNinja02: Please don’t go silent on me.

StealthyNinja02: I want to meet you.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I don’t think that’s a good idea. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I like what we have…

StealthyNinja02: What if I want more.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Like what?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Tell me. 

StealthyNinja02: I want you here in front of me. With me. I want to take you out on a proper date. I want to hang out with you at school and hear your voice when you scold me for not doing my homework. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Lol

StealthyNinja02: : ). 

StealthyNinja02: I want to wrap my arms around you every morning before class and every night before I drop you off back at your house. I want to taste your lips against mine every chance I get. I want to lay next to you in my bed talking about everything. You’re so smart. I love hearing you talk about things you like. 

You hesitate, hovering your fingers over the keyboard, deciding on if you should type the thoughts in your head. Maybe it will distract him enough to forget about wanting to meet with you. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Is that all you want to do with me in bed?

You watch as the little bubble appears and disappears. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you wait for him to reply. 

YOU AND STEVE

Steve stares at his computer, reading and rereading what you wrote. You both had talked about sexual things in the past but it had been things picked up in conversations. He had mentioned Lover’s Lake once and you talked about how lost your virginity there. You made a joke once about him needing to release some of his sexual tension and he jokily made you an offer that you laughed off. You didn’t come off like a prude and neither did he but he was a gentleman so he never wanted to push you into doing or saying things that make you uncomfortable. 

But YOU initiated this. Does he brush it off or does he play along? Are you bluffing to see what he’ll do or do you really want to play?

 StealthyNinja02: No.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: What else would we do?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: What would we do if I was there with you right now?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I’m standing in front of you right now in my Hawkins t shirt and panties. What about you? 

StealthyNinja02: I’m in my boxers right now…

StealthyNinja02: Are you wearing anything under your shirt?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: No.

Fucking hell. This girl was going to kill him. 

You uncrossed your legs as you leaned back in your desk chair. Sliding your hand under your shirt, your fingers gently grazed your stomach before landing on your breast. You moaned softly as you thumb touched your nipple. 

Steve’s own hand started palming the growing bulge in his boxers. 

StealthyNinja02: I wish I could see you. Youre making me so fucking hard. 

You licked your lips at thought of him touching himself to you. He pulled his cock out, spitting into his hand, as began stroking his length.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I want touch myself but I don’t know how big you are. Stealthy, how many fingers should I use?

A heavy groan of pleasure left Steve’s throat at your question. You reached between your legs, spreading them wider as you moved the fabric blocking your cunt so you could slide your fingers along your clit. 

StealthyNinja02: Use 2. Fuck I wish you were here. Id throw you on my bed and devour your pussy over and over until you were begging me to stop. Even then I don’t know if I would. 

You slid your middle and ring finger into your dripping entrance easily. His filthy words were driving you crazy. You had stopped responding so Steve knew you were pleasuring yourself. He pumped his hand faster at the mental image. He reached for his keyboard typing with one hand. 

StealthyNinja02: Im gonna cum. Are u?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Yes

You both cum at the same time. He grunts as ropes of his seed hit his stomach and you clasp your other hand over your mouth to keep yourself from moaning too loud as your pussy clenches around your fingers. 

Everything is quiet for a few moments; no one saying anything. Your eyes glance up to the message box to see the dots next his name hovering. 

StealthyNinja02: Meet me at the Halloween dance Friday night. Everyone will be wearing costumes so you can keep your identity to yourself still if that’s what you want. 

StealthyNinja02: I just need to know that you’re real. I need to hear your voice and see you in front of me. 

StealthyNinja02: I’ll be waiting for you in the middle of the gym dance floor. 

StealthyNinja02: Please.

[macleod]

Tumblr to begin selling off user content to AI generative content companies.

My thoughts (that I also left on the official announcement post with some additional points).

I have a lot of feelings that I am going to briefly summarize here: this is fucked.

Tumblr, in the way it works, means that every reblog is essentially its own post. I can barely believe that "opting out", which is absolute bullshit, is going to restrict any data from being sent. A reblog is a copy, which means even if you opt out, the reblogged content likely isn't, and considering the absolute farce that is the way tumblr backend works (mainly from 15+ years of hotfixes) I have absolutely zero belief that opting out will work and that they can remove reblogged content from posts in a way that is substantially accurate.

The next issue is simple: If you opt out later, your data has already been packaged and sold off to the highest bidder and there will be nothing you can do about it. The way I've seen the phrasing on this has been that they have already packaged quite a few posts and sent them off. Once they are submitted, there is absolutely no way to remove them from the blackbox of data aggregation once the weights have been created from them (that's a very minimal explanation of how companies like OpenAI and Midjourney have their technology working. Once something is added, it can't or won't be removed).

The other issue: deactivated, terminated, or long ago blogs from users past can not, will not, and would not be able to opt out of this (and again, I don't trust them even if they say they will for deactivated accounts). That is the vast majority of the ecosystem here.

This toggle is worthless. They know that. Automattic knew this was going to be a horrific decision from the user base and pressed forward anyway. They are going for a cash grab that has a one time payoff and horrific longterm dividends. This pays them a single large sum, then nothing for practically infinite data usage.

They've had a horrific past few months between the mass layoffs, this obvious intellectual property sell off, the CEO of Tumblr going absolutely insane over trans issues, targeting users, making up lies, and releasing private information from inside a trans users account that wasn't public.

I adored tumblr for what it was, when it was in the best interest of the users, hell, there's a chance that Yahoo (who wanted to turn it into the "next PDF") understood Tumblr better than Automattic ever did.

I know a lot of previous and current staff members, several who are absolutely pissed about these changes. The enshittification continues of this poor place.

I have been on here since 2009 and have amassed well over a million followers in that time on this platform through various blogs, and for the first time in a very long time, I will start reconsidering my usage of [tumblr] and may migrate elsewhere (or nowhere).

In the meantime, I guess you can follow me here:

BlueSky: @macleodsawyer.com

Mastodon: @macleod@infosec.exchange

cohost: https://cohost.org/macleod

[the-s1lly-corner]

Which of the creepypastas would be okay with an asexual s/o?

Creepypastas w/ an ace!reader!

yahoo!! sorry for taking so long to get to this!! i kinda had a small lil slump for a few days but im back!! sorry for any typos or if these seem... bllluguuguh!!! im still trying to get through that lil slump so my brains still a lil... boo!!! obligatory these are with characters that i think would be compatible with an ace reader so this isnt going to follow my base/go to list of characters! a lot of these are going to dip into admins experience as someone on the ace spectrum (asexual/aegosexual!) reader is written as vague ace identity but like. mostly involved to be ace. admittedly this leans more into most of this being ace hcs since i think for the most part they dont care/dont find issue with your identity

Characters: Slenderman, Trenderman, Eyeless Jack, Masky

CWs: mentions of sex but like. nothing too bad mostly just vague sex drives and that sort of thing, really!

Slenderman;

honestly i think he might be on the ace spectrum, or maybe thats because i dont think he really knows what sex /is/

okay well he does know what it is but he only understands it on a surface level, but otherwise he doesnt really care much for it in an everyday setting

yeah i think hes on the spectrum; i also think he might be on the aro spectrum!

only really initiates intimacy if you want it (reminder that not all aces dont have sex! attraction stuff is the main thing) but otherwise i would write him the same way as i do with a non-asexual reader!

extra headannon since his is kinda short but really hes probably the most supportive out of any creepypasta simply because i like to write him as this entity that doesnt interact much with others but is still. curious. this man does not know what lgbtphobia is (and thinks its dumb when he does find out!)

Trenderman;

very similar with slenderman but more in tuned with identity stuff and things like that

personally i hc him to be greysexual, or demisexual! i think trender is like. the only one out of the 3 brothers (that i claim) that i dont see being ready to get down and dirty? like unlike slender he KNOWS what it is and understands attraction and all that but just doesnt. feel it

so he gets it! he interacts with people more than slender but like. not openly, i mean like not as himsef?! this is kind of a side tangent but i like to think that slender beings can create false human bodies and trender is the main one who uses it

anyways! im kind of getting off topic

he understands the stigma and hate ace people can get so out of the four characters today i think he would be the most likely to offer an ear when youre getting flack

i wish i had more for trender as well but this is genuinely the first time ive written for him so im still all OWOWOOOUGH!! with how i wanna portray him

speaking of i need to do like a catch up post for him, and some other characters so i might do that soon^^

Eyeless Jack;

okay so! the two above characters are fine with it because theyre on the spectrum above but i feel like eyeless jack just outright doesnt care if your ace or not since he has a fairly low sex drive 99% of the time

sappy man, one of those "i prefer people based on their personality rather than their looks" but not in the "im so deep for this and im lying through my teeth" way i (personally) see people say (school was ROUGH man) but in a "im literally turning into a monster my skin is fucking blue and starting to rot i have no place to say anything" way

anyways

he adores you so so much and he really feels like he doesnt deserve you, bro could not care

probably tries to find flowers around his cabin that make up the ace flag/which ever flag you use

though im not sure how many grey flowers there are... hes trying his best!

Masky;

similar to eyeless jack he has a low sex drive imo so it isnt too much of a big deal to him, plus i think hes graysexual? at least i feel like he would if he knew about the label

i think asides slender and trender, he doesnt know much about this sort of thing so youre probably going to explain it to him

he mostly gets it! he gets things mixed up but hes trying his best!

overall supportive bf!! probably steals a pride pin from somewhere (dont ask)

imagine he grabs the wrong pin/j

wweoeoeohh! i hope this post is okay! admittedly i wasnt sure how this was going to turn out since, as stated above, i feel that a lot of the characters wouldnt mind/are on the spectrum themselves im not gonna lie this couldve been better but im so out of it rn that my brain is all scattered n stuff :( regardless i hope this is sufficient, and once again im so sorry for the wait TToTT

[disastress-i-guess]

Trigger warning: Blood, gore and mild eyestrain under the cut.

Weeeee I finished it! Took either 4 hours or 2 and a half hours idk. I've been wanting to draw this since last Saturday I think. Anyways not sure if I like this or not because on the one hand, I spent a lot of time and I think it's not bad. His face looks very squishable but on the other hand, I don't think mouths work like that. Anyways some colored versions Idk how I feel about these. Colouring it kinda seems like a waste of time given I like the white version better but oh well it was fun that's all that matters.

Close up of the face because im kinda proud of it.

His teeth look funky but other than that I'd squish that face I'm happy with how it turned out.

For context I wanted to draw this because last Saturday I went to an event and by the end of it I was exhausted and I remembered thinking ' man I wanna bite someone's arm right now'. I have thoughts about biting people pretty often but usually it's just a vague urge to bite something. Occasionally I might wanna bite someone's hands specifically but this time stood out to me because I distinctly thought about biting someone's forearm and feeling the meat get stuck between my teeth and blood oozing out and all that stuff. Which is odd to me because I don't really like meat? Anyways I chose saiki but tbh I would've had more fun with this piece if it were Akechi instead but oh well all's said and done. I'm still pretty proud of how it turned out given I spent 3 ish hours on it!!! 3 ish hours!! I never draw that long usually!!! Doing art feels great I love art!!

Weeeee yippie yahoo whoppeee and all that jazz in in a good mood

[rinnelovebot]

Yahoo!! Can we get headcanons about flustering Rei and Rinne (which acts confident most of the time)? Thank you !!

A/N: sobbing, screaming at the top of my lungs. I love these two soooooooo much,,, someone hold me right now

*ೃ༄ Flustering Rei Sakuma and Rinne Amagi

✦ — REI SAKUMA

⤷ Needless to say, Rei is seldom flustered. Teasing is a skill he has down pat, and no one can overwhelm your face with heat in the same way that he can. While he absolutely adores your affection, it isn’t really something that tends to fluster him, and he’ll usually find a way to flip the situation on its head and turn you into a flustered mess, as opposed to him. Your best bet would be to catch him off guard, and present him with tenderness when he least expects it.

⤷ Even in a flustered state, Rei manages to remain (mostly) suave, offering you a pleased smile, with his cheeks slowly beginning to match the rubies of his eyes. He gives you a tender pat on the head, and a silent kiss on the cheek, as if to say a small “thank you”. Even if being flustered by you had been fully unexpected, he still appreciates it as an act of your love, and a display of your affections. He can always count on you to surprise him in small ways like this.

⤷ Somehow, he finds your ability to fluster him endearing. Rei thinks it’s sweet — the feeling is new and exciting, and he adores the way you make his heart clench within his chest. He’s always been somewhat of an unusual man, and his reaction to your sugary words and actions can be considered just as unusual. You hadn’t expected to be able to catch him off guard at all, so you had to admit that you were mighty pleased with yourself.

⤷ Rei tends to fondly recall times in which you made him feel as though he were a young girl kicking her feet back in forth at the thought of her crush, blissfully raising his hand to his cheek and sharing just how wonderful you are to his unitmates, and to anyone else who’s willing to listen. He commonly jokes that if he could turn fawning over you into his profession, he’d absolutely leave his life as an idol behind at the drop of a pen.

⤷ As you can tell, there’s a compromise to be made. While yes, you can fluster him, it’ll mostly serve to make him fawn over and fluster you more than he already does, which is saying a lot. Not that you’d mind, given your relationship. Seeing him sort of vulnerable and flushed warms your heart, and you mentally note to figure out how else you could fluster him in the future. He thinks your efforts are remarkably praiseworthy and cute.

✦ — RINNE AMAGI

⤷ Contrary to popular belief, flustering Rinne is surprisingly easy if you play your cards right. A single comment, or a simple display of affection can quickly cause his brain to spin out of control until he’s nothing but moldable putty in your hands, desperately attempting to save face by laughing it off and pinching your cheek. But you know him well enough to recognize and understand. Of course, he knows you do — but he can’t help his pride, you know.

⤷ Giving affection comes easily to Rinne, but receiving it can cause him to short circuit at times. Although he enjoys your willingness to hug, kiss, and cuddle him, you always make his stomach tie into a million knots. Pleasant knots, but knots nonetheless. He isn’t sure how to handle the blooming warmth within his ribs that you bring upon him, but carefully, quietly, he knows that he’ll figure it out, with you by his side. He lets you hold him a little closer.

⤷ Praise is almost guaranteed to get him red in the face. Rinne gasses himself up quite a lot, but saying generous things about himself doesn’t even come close to comparing to how they sound from your lips. The first time you genuinely complimented him, he nearly panicked from the bashfulness that overtook him. He can really only half play it off, the other half of him always remains flustered and dumbfounded.

⤷ Despite how he comes across, he craves your validation and affection, the same kind that makes his face hot and his palms sweaty. He’ll shoot all the praise and love your way for hours and hours in the most natural way possible, but his walls come crashing down when you tell him that you love him, or tenderly cup his cheek. That unfamiliar feeling becomes somewhat addicting to Rinne, something he wants and needs more of. Surely, you’ll indulge him endlessly.

⤷ He’s said it countless times, and he’ll say it infinitely more — god, does he love you. Only you could ever make him experience joy like this, and only you could introduce him to new feelings that he thought he’d never be able to feel. Silently, he begs for your love, but you always make sure he knows that he never has to. It will always be you. He knows it, you know it, everyone knows it. Every time his heart leaps into his throat by your hand, he falls deeper in love.

[mysaldate]

I can't believe this event keeps getting worse and worse.

I said before (not on here though) that it feels like Masquerade but with none of the love and effort and they just keep proving me right.

So remember how GloMas had a song? A beautiful, deep, slightly mournful but Ultima hopeful song about not giving up and holding onto your deepest wishes? Well, it's that but there's only four lines repeating ad infinite, it's completely out of line for most of these characters, the "dance" choreography is about on the level of Minna de Yahoo and speaking of that song, it's about as serious a song as that one was. Also, it's smack in the middle of the event because Make a Wish generated a lot of hype that surely was just because it was a song and not at all because it tied the themes of the whole event together and came at the absolute peak of it and acted as a grand finale.

And don't even get me started on the agency snatch, couldn't have done a Vil story without one, could they?

Again, if you like this event, good for you. But everything I see just feels like a cheap GloMas rip-off.

Oh, GloMas had a new character? Better introduce two new characters except neither of them is as iconic as Claude Frollo. Oh, GloMas had varied outfits and masks? Better make sure each card rarity has a completely different vibe and our SSRs look like they've been pulled from three different events altogether and slap weird twiggy masks that make most characters look ugly on them! Oh, GloMas showed characters in situations we haven't seen them in before? Better make most of the cast act out of character and like total morons who put themselves and the people they care about in danger either deliberately or because their brains suddenly stopped working. Oh, GloMas had a song? Better do that but make it sound like a 3yo came up with the lyrics and that they make no sense for most of our cast!

And yeah yeah Gidel and Ferro or whatever, wasn't there a part of the en fanbase screeching how it was predatory that Rollo targetted students two years younger than himself? Ferro is several years older than even Leona, where's his drama for trying to turn 16yos into puppets? Oh right, I forgot drama only applies to characters Twitter deems ugly.

I'm just so tired of this event I wish it finally ended and we could get something better.

[azure-firecracker]

💥🥳🦋

Yahoo thank you for the ask! Sorry this took so long!

The game is here.

💥What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Number of times Scully gets kidnapped in the exact same way (they clearly know how to put characters in danger in a variety of ways so it doesn’t feel repetitive- they did it with Mulder). So I would lessen that, and I would add more role reversals to even it out. Y’all know that I am constantly doing this with fanfic:)

I would also want the show to pay more attention to Scully’s agency, because it gets taken away a lot, and she’s the female main character, and the writers’ room was mostly men, and I just…do not like that.

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I started writing fanfic for Six: The Musical in spring 2020 when I was locked in my house and looking for ways to connect and find an outlet for my creative imagination that wasn’t theater. Writing turned out to be really great because I could essentially act out stories to myself and then write them down (and still do this) and it helped me find a new community. I’ve traditionally written the most since then at times when I’ve been the most isolated or lonely (COVID, 9th grade year abroad, summer after a rough senior year), but now I’m realizing how much joy it brings me, and I’m trying to keep making time for it in college, even though my mental health is much better.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

Back when I was in the ATLA fandom, I really loved writing Azula. A lot of her fears and motivations were similar to mine, and her angsty thoughts when I wrote her did often parallel my own (though not exactly-and demeanor wise we’re quite different). Writing her was often cathartic and served as an outlet for me - but she was also badass and a lot more of a fighter than I am, so having her be able to do that even with the same flaws I had was nice.

But in terms of Mulder and Scully my current loves, it honestly depends on what the situation requires. I will say Scully comes more easily to me, because I find writing women easier and I’m also a bit more like her, but Mulder when he’s in the throes of his guilt complex or being super duper tender is wonderful to write. The guilt complex is just so layered and tragic, and the way Mulder loves with his whole heart is such a lovely thing to write about. I almost feel like I’m a part of it. For Scully, her internal monologue is so articulate and clever and thought-out, and that’s quite satisfying to write. I’m also a sucker for badass Scully, so anytime she’s on the warpath and gets to yell and point her gun at bad guys and save her coworker/boyfriend/who knows is just self-indulgent and fun for me.

This got long! Tysm for asking😊😊😊

[zylophie]

Styling Dates 🎀

↳ Makeup and Styling their hair

♬ X is typing...

↻Improved version of ModNene/X's work on this blog

ModRui, I revamped my work. Please let my family go/j

𝅘𝅥𝅮 If you would like to request click here and read the noticeboard

■ Contents: Fluff/Comfort/Angst [Drabble]

► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Mizuki Akiyama and Ena Shinonome

(Y/N) had called over Mizuki to their place for a makeover. Upon hearing the request, Mizuki got really excited to come over as she had never tried styling anyone from out of her circle. Though the question now bugs is, did (Y/N) asked to do makeup for fun?

Nightcord at 22:00

(Y/N): Hey Mizuki? Are you there?

Amia: What's up?

(Y/N): Are you free tomorrow?

Amia: Yeah, I don't have any work.

(Y/N): Could you come over to my place tomorrow at 08:00?

----------------------------------------------------------

Ding Dong!

"Yahoo! Is anyone home?"

(Y/N) quickly rushed down to the door of their apartment. Stood behind it, was their friend, Akiyama Mizuki, who (Y/N) had called over yesterday on Nighcord, to invite them to their place for help

"Ah there you are! Geez, you really surprised me with this one. Asking me out of nowhere to do your makeup and at this time of the day too." Mizuki states as (Y/N) invited them into their abode. "Ahah sorry about that! Hopefully you got sufficient rest at least since you did mention that you stay up late to work on music videos." (Y/N) replied with a sorry expression on their face for interrupting Mizuki's sleep.

"Don't worry about it, I'm already getting energized thinking of how I'll be styling you. Anyways do you have all your beauty products ready? I also brought some of my things to make you extra cute 𝅘𝅥𝅮" Mizuki then held up a mini tote bag, showing various clothing's and accessories sticking out of it. (Y/N) immediately went to see the tote's bag contents in it and were surprised to find at least 10 different outfits which led (Y/N) turning their head to see Mizuki smirking at them.

Now (Y/N) was in front of a mirror while Mizuki was coming their hair. (Y/N) learnt a lot about makeup during the time you spent with Mizuki and was really glad Mizuki was available for the day. "Oh (Y/N)? I didn't manage to ask this since I was too excited to style you. However, why do you need this makeover for? I mean.. You already look so cute 𝅘𝅥𝅮" Mizuki questioned (Y/N) while they moved onto trying to braid (Y/N)'s hair.

"Hehe thanks for the compliment. As what I need it for.. I guess you could say I'm meeting up with my crush today." (Y/N) replied. "YOU HAVE A CRUSH?!" Mizuki accidentally blurted their thoughts out due to the shocking news, and realised they stopped moving their hands. "Ah, sorry about that accidental burst. I'm.. just surprised.." Mizuki apologised before going back to brushing (Y/N)'s hair. "Are you alright Mizuki? You sounded a bit.. I don't know, upset?" (Y/N) replied, feeling concerned of Mizuki's feelings due to their friends' sudden outburst.

"Me being depressed? Hah, never! I'm fine really!" Mizuki stated, however they felt their heartstrings tearing apart. '(Y/N)? Having a crush? Why can't I be happy for them but I'm not.. I know they deserve better.. But.. It would be nice to be selfish for once..' Mizuki thought to themselves, before Mizuki knew it, they finished styling (Y/N)'s hair.

"I looks so amazing and cute! Thank you so much Mizuki!" (Y/N) immediately inspected their hair through the mirror in their house. "N-no problem! I'm really glad that you like it" Mizuki replied. 'No.. I can't show them I'm sad. They do deserve better, I should just be happy I could be able to give them a makeover for the day. But at the same time.. Why does it hurt so much? ...'

"Oh would you look at the time! I-I just remembered I got work today! I'm so sorry (Y/N)!" Mizuki spoke.

[Angst Ending] - Optional to read

"Eh? I thought you got nothing going on today?" (Y/N) responded to them. Although looking kind of sad for some reason. "Ah yep! I totally forgot about it since we all had new schedules. See you next time (Y/N)!" As Mizuki rushed out of the house, knowing themselves they don't have any work that day. Nontheless, all they wanted to do is cry when they reach their home.

"Oh.. They left quite fast.. Did I mess up..?" (Y/N) questioned themselves. "It's my fault. I probably should've been more direct that they were my crush.."

[Fluff Ending] - Optional to read

As Mizuki was about to leave the room.

"Wait Mizuki!" As (Y/N) rushed over to grabbed their hand. "Is there a way you could probably call to reschedule?" (Y/N) asked. "Don't you have a date to get to? Plus I already took up so much of your time today aha. Don't worry about me, I'm fine really!" Mizuki responded, mustering up all their courage to smile at (Y/N).

"..In that case we do have some time before you work right? From what I know you work fairly close around here." (Y/N) spoke, in hopes that Mizuki had a bit of time left. "Huh? Oh yeah, I guess I do have a little bit of time.." Mizuki responded "Great! In that case how about we go on that small date? Even if it is just a little." (Y/N) asked leaving a really puzzled Mizuki.

"Oh come on! Don't just give me the silent treatment. After all the work I put into preparing myself too" (Y/N) joked sarcastically. "..Eh?" 'Did I hear it right? Man I'm being so desperate my brain is playing mindtricks on me' "But that would mean.."

"Do I have to spell it out for you? Geez, you aren't that dense Mizuki. You are my crush" (Y/N) tried to look away to hide the subtle blush on their face due to admitting it and hoped Mizuki was actually confused instead of trying to tease them.

The moment Mizuki heard those words. They immediately felt warm and went back to their normal self. "Ha ha ha! Got ya to admit it, I knew acting could come in handy one day~ 𝅘𝅥𝅮" helding their head high, though it wasn't acting.

"Why yo-" Before (Y/N) could finish their sentence, Mizuki cut in "Well let's just spend the whole day giving each other a makeover 𝅘𝅥𝅮"

Ena would always include you whenever she is taking selfies as she wanted to show off your looks to her socials. However one day, you decided you wanted to try in her makeup as you found it really interesting. However, is that the only reason?

"Look at this (Y/N)! Our selfie got over 1000 likes!" As your friend, Shinonome Ena, placed her phone in front of your face. "We should take pictures with each other more often. We look super pretty and adorable together!" As Ena boasted while scrolling through the comments of the selfie post.

"I don't mind taking selfies with you, however in exchange for taking selfies with me, could you teach me how to put on makeup?" Ena immediately halted in her tracks after hearing what (Y/N)'s favour. "Huh?! You don't need makeup! You're already so pretty. Who said you weren't?!" Ena replied angrily. "No one, I just want to learn how since I've seen you put it on several times and I've got interested." (Y/N) tried to clarify, although Ena did not fully believe her. However, she accepted the request.

'Whoever told (Y/N) that they're ugly. I'll make them have regrets by making them the prettiest they could be! I'll show them!" As Ena worked really precisely on (Y/N)'s makeup and ensured every foundation, blush, beauty products is applied with most cautious and care on her beloved (Y/N)'s face.

Ena then continued on to do (Y/N)'s hair. Which she found was really soft and smooth and was easy to comb through. '(Y/N)'s hair is really pretty.. Wait why am I helping them again. Is this the right thing to do? If (Y/N) really did get insulted then aren't I making it worse to show that they need makeup?'

Ena, who was focus began to drift away in her own thoughts, debating if this was the 'right' way to help. After all she did learn that she should've helped Honami embrace her own style instead of changing it.

"Ena? Are you alright? You sort of paused a little." (Y/N) spoke up, looking worried for Ena, since she paused her work. "Ah.. I can't help but notice if this was the right thing to do. I know you said it was for interest but I really still think someone is insulting you. Could you please tell me the truth?"

[Fluff Ending] - Optional to read

"Alright alright, you caught me. The real reason is.." (Y/N) suddenly paused which cause Ena to be more anxious. "Oi! Don't leave me hanging, is there's actually a person insulting or harassing you.. I'll.. I'll scream at them up for you!" Ena jumped in, hoping that whatever she said would cause (Y/N) to open up. Though what Ena said had shocked (Y/N) a bit.

"You would? Thanks but actually my reason for this is simple." (Y/N) quickly spoke to ease Ena's worries.

"I actually just want your attention." (Y/N) put it bluntly. "..Eh..?" "You being on your phone 24/7 and leaving me attention-less! You know how sad that makes me?" (Y/N) scoffs sarcastically. After hearing this, Ena grew a little red. Feeling a little glad she is behind (Y/N) so they couldn't see her flushed face. She then sighed.

"I'm really glad you're okay then.. Also if you want wanted attention you could've asked me!" As Ena slowly became back to her normal self.

"Really? You would've probably argued saying you're not on the phone all the time, Tsundere." (Y/N) instantly regretted calling her a Tsundere as Ena stroked their hair roughly once because of that.

[Comfort Ending] - Optional to read

"..Was it that obvious?" (Y/N) asked. "So there IS someone out there insulting you?! Jeez, people these days." Ena scoffs. "Aha.. Sorry.." (Y/N) apologised as they knew they made their friend worried for them. "They're jerks, don't listen to them (Y/N). You're already so pretty, you shouldn't need to change for others." Ena retorts trying to cheer (Y/N) up a little bit. Though feeling quite a bit of regret doing (Y/N)'s makeup now as it would be changing her for others. "I'm going to stop doing your makeup now if that's fine. I don't think it's right for me to hide your beauty with it. Plus it'll also be proving those jerks right." Ena responded. "If there's someone bothering you please let me know next time." As Ena hugged you from behind.