#my keyboard keeps disappearing on my phone every 15 seconds

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Little things I don't know what to do with

1. Phantom: Just because you're my dad doesn't mean you get to tell me what to do!

Nightwing: *just now learning he has a clone son and is nearly hysterical* Actually, it does!

Killer croc: *still holding Phantom by the neck but is now awkward about it* Uh, is this a bad time?

2. Tim goes undercover as Alvin Draper in infiltrate this new and very successful gang thats popped up in Gotham only to start falling for the mysterious leader Danny Nightingale aka a mage going by the name Hex

3. Future 7ft tall Phantom bursts into present day Gotham City like a meteor. Curled into a ball, he desperately tries to keep his unconscious husband safe from the flames and impacts as they are thrown through several buildings before creating a crater in one of the local parks

By some miracle his hubby is safe and Danny passes out once he sees some of the local bats approaching via rooftops

4. Danny flirts with Spoiler by bringing her wierd stuff thats purple. What makes it interesting is that none of this stuff should be purple

5. Danny accidentally ends up in the DC universe via ghost zone portal after he gets injured by one of his parents failed experimental weapons and it destabilizes him. He fights Superman thinking he's possessed and hes actually creaming Superman pretty bad since Clark can't hit what isn't tangible but oh boy, it can hit him.

Anyway the other supers come out to save Superman and began ganging up on Phantom.

Danny, fully convinced they're all possessed, opens a portal and manages to get them all in using Looney Toons Trickery promising to come back and "free the hosts" once he gets a more stable portal. Danny can't go through it since he's so unstable and has to look for some way to fix himself before it becomes a (after)life-threatening issue.

Turns out Ectoplasm is somehow worse for a Kryptonian than Kryptonite and they have no powers what so ever within the Ghost Zone and everything aches.

Oh.

And they're basically living out every creepypasta/horror movie ever in this creepy hell dimension.

Fun times.

[jessicalynnhepner]

What Every Parent Needs to Know About Child Sex Trafficking

For most police officers, this scene is a familiar one—a young kid gets mixed up with the wrong person and finds him or herself on the wrong side of the law. In virtually every case, this would be the end of the story. The young girl would get a slap on the wrist and be released into her parents’ custody where they could, presumably, set her straight. And, at this point in our story, Officer Scott was prepared to do just that—to trust the overwhelming testimony of prior experience and process this girl out so that he could get on with his shift. But, something was different this time… Discerning the SignsAs Officer Scott sits down to file his paperwork, he’s reminded of last Tuesday’s roll call.  His Sergeant, having recently attended a training seminar on human trafficking, used that day to teach his officers how to identify potential trafficking situations. All of a sudden, alarm bells start going off in Scott’s mind: The Fear — Sure, a kid’s going to be afraid of the consequences. But, this girl seems to fear for her physical safety. She’s acting like there’s something worse waiting for her than an angry mom and dad at home. The Stolen Merchandise – Why did she need a Red Bull and a pack of condoms? Scott recalled that traffickers use starvation to control their victims. Usually, their only choice is to steal the bare necessities. The Boyfriend – Per the owner’s description, this guy was at least 10 years older than she. What were they doing there together in the first place? A New ApproachWith these things in mind, Scott calmly invites the young lady out of holding and brings her to a quieter part of the station, away from prying eyes and menacing glances. She looks cold, so Scott hands her a sweatshirt. As he does, he notices a small tattoo of a crown with the name ‘Hugo’ scrawled beneath it—likely a brand to show who ‘she belongs to.’ They start to chat. This time, he speaks less like a cop and more like a friend. Clearly, she hasn’t had anything to eat for quite a while. Moments later, a female officer appears with a bag from McDonald’s. The three make their way to a private lounge. As they talk, the girl lets her guard down. Scott listens as she describes her broken home life, struggles with friends at school, and her constant search for belonging. All the while, her phone continues to buzz. “Your boyfriend?” “Yes. He just wants to make sure I’m ok.” He really is a great guy, she explains. He’s been there for her when her parents weren’t. He shows her the affection and attention she needs. She feels protected. He loves her……only, sometimes he makes her do things—things she would ordinarily never do. TrustHaving earned at least a glimmer of trust, Scott asks if she would slide her phone over. Reluctantly, she does, and he begins to scroll through the text messages. Wisely, Scott checks his emotions before he begins to read. It doesn’t take him long to realize these are not the supportive words of a loving boyfriend. No, they’re the verbal assaults of a degenerate thug bent on belittling her into submission. Scott does his best to hide his disgust as he reads about threatened consequences for ‘missed quotas.’ Horrified, he sees insults that no human being should ever have to endure, capped off by threats against her little sister for talking to the cops. Officer Scott thanks the young woman for her trust and politely excuses himself to make a call. He can read the writing on the wall: this girl is clearly a victim of trafficking. She needs someone with much more experience than him to help regain her freedom. He picks up the phone, dials his Sergeant, and together, they get to work. What Made the Difference?This story, though generalized in some ways, is rooted in the accounts we hear from police officers every day. The first part of the story is common enough. But, what about the second when, in Scott’s eyes, the girl goes from ‘shoplifter’ to ‘trafficking victim’? Not so much. So, how do we get from A to B? How do we help police officers learn

to look at each ‘punk kid’ as a potential victim, to ask deeper questions, and find the real story lies beneath the surface? Just as in Officer Scott’s story, that turning point comes when an officer recognizes the signs, trusts his or her gut, and decides to unravel that thread. It all starts with that one officer—a soldier on the front lines of the underground battle to set captives free. This can only happen when officials at every level of law enforcement learn to detect the signs and receive the tools they need to bring trafficking victims out of the cruel darkness and into the liberating light of day. National Human Trafficking Law Enforcement Training ProgramAt ERASE, one of the most impactful things we do is train police departments so that they produce more officers like the one in this story. It’s our mission to educate officers to detect the warning signs, identify potential victims, and safely lead them to freedom.  Your donations make this possible. Source Child Sex Trafficking-Not My Child Mom shakes her head and Dad raises his voice. Their 16-year old daughter storms up the stairs. As the bedroom door slams, she collapses on the bed with phone in hand. She’s ready to vent her frustrations one status update at a time. With every angst-laden tap of the keyboard, she lays bare her soul: “Nobody here gets me.” “No one understands!” “I feel unloved.” 📷An hour later, a boy from the next town over reaches out. She doesn’t know him, but they’ve got a few mutual friends, so it’s probably no big deal. He’s cute and thoughtful. And, he seems to understand what she’s going through better than anyone else. For the next two weeks, they exchange messages every day. He’s sweet, a digital shoulder to cry on when nobody else seems to care. They decide to meet up in person, so she borrows Dad’s car “to meet some friends at the mall.” That night, Daddy’s little girl doesn’t come home for dinner and Mom sits up all night. The next morning, they call the police. An officer searches her computer and finds evidence of the girl’s new relationship. Turns out, the boy she thought she knew didn’t exist. And, just like that, she’s gone.Reality check about child sex trafficking At ERASE, we hear heartbreaking tales like this all too frequently. Stories from average families dealing with everyday stresses when out of nowhere, their child is lured right out from under them. Whenever we tell these stories, the most common response goes something like this: “Child trafficking is something that happens to those types of kids out there. We live in a great community and our neighbors are good people who look out for one another. Something like that could never happen to one of my children.” This is the kind of response that makes us cringe. If only parents knew what we know, they wouldn’t be so quick to ignore this real and pervasive threat. Sadly, that very ignorance is what traffickers count on most when looking for children to target. The danger is far more imminent than most parents recognize. If we’re going to protect our children, we need to be clear on the real threats child traffickers impose. Traffickers are Smart, Motivated, and Tech-SavvyA dark and horrific market has grown up around the purchase and sale of human beings. Researchers estimated that, in 2007, Atlanta’s underground sex economy alone brought in $290 million. Even in a far less “saturated” market, sex trafficking in San Diego enables a pimp to pull in over $11,000 per week. Fast forward 10 years and there’s no reason to think that number hasn’t grown. Innocent children aren’t given a pass here. Instead, the most vulnerable among us are routinely bought and sold like property—many of them up to 15 times a day. With business booming, traffickers are working harder than ever to keep up with demand. Leaving no stone unturned, they use social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat, to research, target, and groom children for sexual exploitation. In fact, 77% of sex trafficking victims

report having been initially approached online. Just as a skilled marketer uses sophisticated keyword searches to identify his audience, traffickers monitor social media for anything at all that would suggest an easy target:Children with social media profiles open to public viewing Teenagers posting introspective status updates about feelings of insecurity Boys and girls who are venting about arguments with their parents Like a lion crouched in his thicket, a predator will scan through lines of text looking for vulnerable children to drag off into the tall grass. How many of those lines will have come from one of your children? Yes, your child can be a victim of sex traffickingThe children that traffickers rip from their happy homes aren’t pretend characters on television or disembodied faces from the evening news. They’re our kids, the ones we work hard to raise and the ones we hope to see grow up happy and healthy. They’re the kids we teach to be smart, to mind their surroundings, and never talk to strangers. And yet, we give them free reign to explore every dark corner of the internet via their cell phone. We must do betterLittle more than half of parents closely monitor their children’s online activity. So, when a stranger asks to connect on Snapchat, it’s nearly an even shot that no one will be looking over that kid’s shoulder. You can count on a child trafficker to take that bet. Do you know which platforms your children are using or who they connect with online? Do they have any secret accounts and how would you find out if they did? If someone asked to meet in person, would they do it? Can you be sure? These questions may seem intrusive and even overbearing. However, considering the reality of child trafficking in the United States, we have to ask these questions.  Every day, thousands of children disappear into slavery. We’d like to hope our kids could never be victims but the facts simply don’t allow us that option. Understanding the facts of child trafficking is the first and most important step in prevention. There is HopeGood people around the world are standing up and fighting back against this great moral evil. You don’t have to live in constant fear for your children. The story we shared at the beginning of this post doesn’t have to be your story. And with some common sense and the will to step intentionally into your kids’ digital lives, you can protect them from becoming a victim of sex trafficking. The question is: will you? At ERASE, we want to educate parents on how best to protect their children from online predators. Please take a look at our tips and best practices pages to see how you can teach your children to be safe online.Juvenile Delinquent or Victim of Human Trafficking? Blog Story of a Human Trafficking Victim It’s midnight. Officer Scott pulls his patrol car into the lot of a small, 24-hour convenience store. As he approaches, he peers through the decal-laden glass door to see a middle-aged man struggling to restrain an agitated 16-year old girl. The store owner had caught this young woman and her boyfriend stuffing items into a small handbag. Her companion—a ‘white man in his late 20’s’—had bolted out the door without so much as a backward glance. The last thing on Officer Scott’s mind was “human trafficking victim”. Scott had seen this before. Some young teenager, looking for thrills, decides to pocket a few items from the local bodega and gets grabbed by the watchful owner. As he escorts the girl to his police car, Scott’s treated to an earful. She can’t stop going on about what a jerk he is, how he had violated her rights, and how much trouble she’d be in if he didn’t let her go right away. “Just wait until I call your parents,” he thinks. 📷 The Same Routine When they arrive at the station, Scott walks this young woman to his desk. She can hear the snide remarks of a few men handcuffed to chairs nearby. As they leer conspicuously at her, she shrinks further into herself.  Scott starts in on his typical line of questioning: name,

age, address, and so on. The entire time, her phone buzzes with one text message after another. She begs Scott to let her reply, but he refuses. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk to your parents later.” “I’m not worried about them,” she snaps back. “They don’t give a crap about me, anyway. They’re too busy arguing to even notice I’m around.” Not sure what to make of that outburst, Scott begins to sort through the items she had attempted to steal: a sleeve of Hostess Cup Cakes, a Red Bull, and a box of condoms. “Must be one heck of a boyfriend to leave you there like that, huh?” “You wouldn’t understand. He loves me. He takes care of me.” Angry and frustrated by this girl’s bad attitude and ignorance about that poor excuse for a boyfriend, Officer Scott escorts her to a holding cell and prepares to process her out.Is This the End of the Story?

https://whateveryparentshouldknowaboutcps.blogspot.com/2020/08/what-every-parent-needs-to-know-about.html

[cherry3point14]

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Other than worrying about being killed, not much. Word count: 3,566. Chapter Summary: You never know where those pesky boys will show up. A/N: Sometimes I put things in that I think no one will ever notice. This chapter has one.

Ao3 if you prefer

“My imminent…?” You're stuck at your desk whispering to yourself.  Every inch of you frozen in place so completely that you can’t do anything except stare at the cream folder in your hands like it might be a bomb. As if the last five seconds have started ticking away and you have to choose which wire to cut.

It must have been a mistake. There was no way you were going to… die. Soon anyway. You couldn’t be… how could a folder kill you? Forget about the voice in your head that knew your secrets, how could this card and paper in your hands kill you?

This whole thing. This day. It must be a fever dream or a very vivid daydream. Of course, the voice knew your secrets because it was all a figment of your own imagination.

Imagination or not suddenly you were hoping to hear anything, answers to any of the questions buzzing about your head. It would be so much easier if you could hear the answers. The voice, that stupid godforsaken voice, it had done this to you, so it could fix it. But now that your fate had apparently been sealed everything was achingly silent.

“Answer me.” You finally move, leaning into the folder with a stern command but your voice cracks before you start.

Silence, except the normal office din. Phones ringing and fingers tapping away on keyboards but the voice stayed quiet.

You drop the file on your desk, not out of choice but because your hands start shaking if you get close to opening it. Though you are loath to admit it, the voice was right. Something about today and this file, in particular, feels different. Could different be enough to make everything true? If it's true can you stop it? You don’t know the impossible danger you’re trying to avoid.  Although yesterday you'd have said a voice in your head was impossible, let alone dying tomorrow.

You wouldn’t open it then. How could something hurt you if you didn’t engage? You could put the folder in the back of a filing cabinet somewhere and never look at it again. Or you could shred the thing. Coerce Laura into shredding it for you? You could convince her she’s not doing anything wrong.  This could be one case that got lost in processing—the client will get paid out because the company failed to investigate and you’ll go on breathing. Everyone’s a winner.

“Oh good, you got twenty-four zero one.” Your manager appears, hovering over you, coffee in one hand as he reads out the files’ label number.

“What?”

He takes an exaggerated sip, like a bad Folgers commercial, before explaining himself. “I thought you could use a little treat is all.”

“Treat? A treat?” You splutter; exasperated and unbelieving. The file might be your end and he thought this was a treat? “I’m sorry, why is this a treat?”

Your office was not normally a place for dramatics. You yourself were not normally one for dramatics.  It was only of the many reasons your boss liked you so today he ignores your sarcastic, borderline angry tone. He doesn’t make assumptions about your attitude, he simply chooses not to hear your tone at all.

He winks, “it’s right up your street.”

You almost dry heave,  barely choking it back. “I’ve got to go.”

“What?” He parrots, glancing at the clock on the wall reading 9:15 before turning back to you, your laptop not even switched on for the day.

“I’m sorry Mark,  really  I am.” You hastily stuff your laptop into your bag. Followed by your phone.  Pausing only a second after throwing the bag on your shoulder to decide if you should take the case file, before finally hugging it to your chest. Losing the file would be worse than taking it with you. “I’m feeling under the weather. I-I thought I would be ok but  I think  I should have stayed home this morning.”

There’s an air of patronizing manly-ness in the way he looks at you, “o-oh well. I appreciate you trying to make the effort.”

There’s no time to argue against Mark’s casual sexism, you have to get out of here,  quickly. “I’ll work from home for today. Sorry, again.”

He doesn't get a chance to say anything as you make your way erratically to the exit. Some desks you clip the corners of as you swerve to avoid people, plants, even the printer finds itself in your way.

Laura gets out a questioning, “Y/N?” before you’re back in the elevator you’d only recently vacated. The doors close behind you while you try to calm your racing heartbeat.

No getting rid of the evidence then. Mark knows you have the file now. Even if you hadn’t taken it with you he’d seen it at your desk, in your hands, he chose to give this to you.  Obviously  Mark has no idea he’s signed your death warrant with whatever was inside. It’s not even the first time he’s given you that dumb wink and treated you to cases he thought you’d enjoy. Like the time he had you go investigate the fire at that bakery because, quote, ‘you love pastries’.

The drive home is as silent as the rest of your life had been yesterday. You turn off the radio in case the voice cames back with more information but it doesn't. Which means the soundtrack to your journey is the clunky engine sound, again.  You absolutely needed to take your car to the garage, but who has the time with imminent death hanging over their head?

It’s 9:45 when you scuttle back into your house, bag in hand, and still clinging to the file like hiding it in your chest will make it disappear. You’ve only been out of the house for an hour but there’s something eerie about being back so soon. It’s almost like you’re interrupting your house’s private time. You’re not supposed to be here now and the dust bunnies hanging in the air seem disturbed by your presence.

There’s no time to dwell on the eerie presence of your usually comforting home. You put everything on your table and look around. Half hoping some insane stalker comes out of the woodwork with the exact voice you’ve been hearing. Unfortunately, that’s too easy.

Then you go back to the sofa. Yes, that’s where it had started. Your half-drunk tea is still on the coffee table where you’d been rushing to get to work. Instead of taking the mug into the kitchen you fall into the seat and pick up the cold cup. You have no intention of drinking it but you’re hoping for a miracle. If you do the mundane things she had taken so much pleasure in narrating earlier then can you force her to come back?

Although you sit there for a few minutes it’s painfully obvious after a few seconds that nothing is going to happen.

And then you remember the folder. The new bane of your existence. What if the only way out of this is to keep going? One step forwards, two steps back.

Maybe you have to open the folder that your narrator—there isn’t another name for them at this point—seemed so interested in earlier.  Maybe rushing out of the office hadn’t been what she wanted, so she had nothing to say.

You were going to open it eventually anyway. It’s your job and you couldn’t live with not knowing.

There's a glimpse of Manilla on the table in front of you, trapped under your purse. The voice had called it innocuous earlier and the description is apt. It is the next folder of thousands that you will ever hold. Unless, of course, it’s your last. If it’s your last then that explains why this one feels heavier than it looks as you slide it free.

Once it’s in your lap you frown at it. Mentally preparing yourself. For the voice or the contents, it doesn’t matter, either way, you try your best to steady your breathing.  Despite your reverence, as you flip the cover open, the first page is exactly what you expect to find: a summary of the claim, dollar amounts, and beneficiary details. And your head still stays silent.

You could get angry. You could shout and plead to whatever cruel twist of fate decided today was the day that you'd go insane. Anger won't change anything though. Screaming won't get your answers. But, your work is something you know how to do. It's always been a safety net, if not a little dull.

Yes, you could get angry, but there’s a file in your lap that needs investigation. The same as all the other claims you've ever closed.  And now that you’re in this ridiculous situation, caught between crazy and scared, you only had two options.  The first was to ignore the situation—return to bed with that half bottle of wine in your fridge and wait for something to break down your door and kill you. The second was to continue to do your job and ignore that everything in your life is absurd right now.

Those two options aren't options at all because you're not quite ready to start drinking before noon. Which leaves carrying on with your life. Mark was right about one thing anyway, it is right up your street. Well, a couple of streets over anyway.

You knock on the door and wait. The red paint is curling and peeling at the edges. The ‘5’ in ‘75’ is slightly askew, but nothing else is out of place. Even those small things you only notice because you’re waiting on the doorstep staring at them.  There’s sound inside the house, like muffled voices and then footsteps before the door bursts open.

“Hello?” The woman seems agitated already, which usually doesn’t happen until after you introduce yourself.

“Hello. My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m here on behalf of First National insurance. Are you Margret Hall?”

“Call me Maggie. Yes but…”

“I understand that you recently filed a claim with us for….”

“For my dead husband, yes, but what about the two guys who are already here?”

You can’t help your flinch at ‘dead husband’. In life insurance cases you always try to use tactful language even if it's the spouses or family who cut to the chase. Still, that’s not the part of what she said that’s worrying.

“Excuse me? There’s somebody already here?” Hope surges through you at the prospect of being mistaken. You have the wrong case, the wrong file, you’re not going to die. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, I have two guys here now.”

Two guys? The company never sends two men to do one woman’s job. Especially not on a run of the mill claim like this. You slump your shoulders a little, deflated. It's your own fault for hoping.

“They’re still here?”

The woman grimaces in a way that tells you she wants to roll her eyes but she’s resisting. Instead, she purses her lips before she looks back into her home to confirm. Her answer is dripping with sarcasm, “still at the table where I left them.”

You’ve had worse from a widow—you’ve had screeching and accusations—and you let all that go because it’s a difficult time. So, when Maggie Hall twists her face and offers you her bored cynicism it's easy to not see it. You are more focused on the suspicious situation instead.

“Can I meet them?” You lower your voice because you don’t know how close they are to where you’re standing. “I, eh,  just  want to make sure they have all the correct information if they’re taking over.”

That's a lie. You don’t want to scare the poor woman by telling her she has a couple of strangers in her house but she definitely has. The claim file is reassuringly tucked under your arm. It is your proof, it’s your shield against their criminal behavior, their lies.

You’re so distracted by the drama of the situation that you seem to have forgotten,   momentarily, that you’d be more than happy to be wrong  . Overjoyed even. You’d quite like Harry and David from the office to be sitting there with an identical file offering you an escape. Yet you know they won’t be, because this has never happened before. There’s never a duplicate file. There’s never more than one adjuster accidentally sent. Until the voice in your head offers more information there’s no getting out of this.

Then you allow yourself to be distracted. You treat the situation seriously because it is serious.  While you can’t imagine why anyone would want to pretend to be an insurance adjuster, for some reason these two men are. The best you can hope for is that the strangers are as dull and harmless as the men who genuinely  work in your office.

Maggie, who is only a decade older than you to have lost her husband, steps back and finally ushers you inside with a tight-lipped smile.

Two men are sitting at her round kitchen table with their backs to you as she shows you in. They’re whispering and leaning into each other for their secret conversation.  If you didn’t know any better you’d swear you hear the words ‘silver knife’, which only perpetuates the criminal label you’ve already assigned them.

“Hello.”

They both turn their heads to look at you, startled by a new voice. Then they stand up in unison causing their chairs to scrap against the kitchen floor. They are definitely not the soft, unassuming men that you hoped to find.

You want to stand your ground and keep your body language confident but your hand still creeps into your purse as you puff out your chest  . Fingers searching blindly  for your phone while you speak. “I’m from First National insurance. I’m here to investigate Mrs. Hall's claim but she said someone was already here.”

They have excellent poker faces, you’ll give them that at least.  If you had to read anything it’d be a small hint of panic from the taller one and a flash of anger from the shorter one, like an animal backed into a corner  .  But their reactions are instantly hidden under steeled expressions so you can’t be sure if your elevated heart rate is making you see things  . It dawns on you then how stupid a plan it was to try and seem imposing to these two behemoth men who fill up the entire room. Would you even be able to dial 911 without taking your phone out? There’s a pause before the taller guy runs his hand through his hair  nervously , “that’s a crazy mix up, huh?”

His attempt at friendly casualness bolsters the last shred of confidence you are clinging to  . He’s nervous because he knows he’s been caught, which means that you are right.

“It would be if I had ever seen you two around the office.” You narrow your eyes at them and open your mouth, ready to unmask them for the imposters they are.

Mrs. Hall chooses this moment to decide that three uninvited insurance adjusters are two too many .

“Can someone explain what the hell is going on?”

Tall guy is quick on the draw and jumps on the opportunity to run. “I’m very sorry Mrs. Hall it looks like there was a mix up at the office. We’re going to head back now and straighten this out but we’ll leave you in the capable hands of… um… our colleague here.”

They’re already walking. Taking big strides with their long legs and your widow is glad to guide them out. Your fingers finally wrap around your phone  securely  and you protest as best you can. “You don’t even know my name. Why were you…?”

A deep and unsettling emotion brewed within Y/N as she watched them leave, one she didn’t ever remember feeling ever before. She might not have a name for it but knew that this was one of those important moments. The ones that stories are written for, that songs are created about, the kind of moment that changes a life.

“Oh for the love of God, not now.”

She was, of course,  absolutely right. Her life had changed as soon as she’d opened her eyes that morning. Knocking on this particular door was not a choice made for her by her boss or even herself, it was destiny. She could never go back to a time before she crossed this threshold and in time she wouldn’t want to.  Although at this moment—trying to stop these strangers from leaving like she’s a detective in one of her mystery novels—she doesn’t realize what’s happening. All Y/N knows is that feeling in her stomach. The glaring klaxon sound echoing in her head. The icy determination that has locked her chin into an unwavering line. All Y/N knows is that these men broke the rules that dictate her life.  If they could so effortlessly disrespect her tenuous sense of self, then there was no limit to the heinous crimes these madmen might commit. She had to stop them.

You’re only dazed for a second by the implication that you might, at some point, not regret any of this, or them. It's enough time for them both to make it to the door. The taller one is quick to open it, ready to make his escape. “Wait! What were you doing here?”

It’s the shorter one, although shorter is all relative when he still towers over you, who spares you a frustrated glance before he leaves. “Above your pay grade, sweetheart.”

And then the door closes. Maggie finally rolls her eyes as if she’s been waiting a lifetime to do it, except the action is not at you, it’s with you. Their rude and haste exit has catapulted her firmly onto your team.

The door tried it's very best to separate her from the strangers she’d just met. It stood as opaquely as it could in the hopes that, without the visual aid, she might forget they had existed.  It tried, oh, how the door tried to divert her attention from the unknown men who could be terrible, rule-breaking influences on her.  However the door was only wood and she was a stubborn woman made of free will and limbs—a woman who refused to be deceived.

Your hand is on the doorknob before the mention of your limbs has finished rattling around your head.  Realistically you don’t want to encourage the voice by doing what it says. After all, the voice's ultimate goal seems to be killing you. It’s just  your need to open the door goes deeper than your fear of the voice. The voice isn’t proven yet. It could still be a psychosis or a brain tumor. Those men are concrete. Real dangers that you can chase down and confront. Or at the very least you can see what direction they head off into. That would be good information for the police.

The doors of a black muscle car slam at the same moment that you step outside again, phone in hand. The engine revs loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood of their exit. The police will never get here on time so you do the next best thing. You snap a picture of their big, noisy car and make a mental note of the license plate in case the picture’s blurred.

Watching the unknown car hurtle into the dusky, afternoon daylight felt like an ending. The proverbial full stop in a sentence she hadn't been finished with. Were it any other day, any other encounter, then Y/N might be right about this ending.  Perhaps this might have been an intriguing story to recount to her coworkers in the office. A fable to paint herself as the insurance adjusting sheriff around these parts. She scared off the bad guys. However, this was not any other day and those were not any other bad guys. In fact, one of them would change her life.

It was hard enough typing the license plate into your notes app while the voice distracted you.  Impossibly  you manage to note down the Ohio plate to go with your hasty picture.

Googling that would be something for later, for now, you had a whole other job to do. Something simple and easy. Something you knew how to do in your sleep.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Hall, I mean Maggie, let’s get these questions answered so First National can stop sending people around . Huh?”

Contine to Chapter 3.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278​ @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson

[aster-wastaken]

404

Well look what I managed to find through Wikipedia! The old 404 short story Jack Heath wrote to replace the 404 error page.

It can be accessed here: https://web.archive.org/web/20111003161346/http://jackheath.com.au/404

Possibly here: http://jackheath.com.au/404

But definitely here:

404                                    

The requested URL was not found on this server.

'What's a 404 error?' Agent Nine asked, staring at Six's computer screen.

'It's bad,' Six replied. 'It means Lilam gave us the wrong address.'

And we've got less than 15 minutes to find the right one, he thought, looking at his watch.

'I'll try again,' Nine said, hands hovering over the keyboard.

'Don't,' Six advised. 'We're lucky he didn't send us into a trap, like a URL that would send out the detonation signal.'

He pulled out his phone and dialled Kyntak's number. "Kyntak, have you secured the bomb?"

'Yeah, I found it.' Kyntak's voice was muffled by engine noise - he was driving somewhere. 'It was in a shopping centre four kliks from the Deck. Any luck with the disarm code?'

'Negative,' Six said. 'Liamm lied to buy himself some time. What's it look like? Can you defuse it?'

'Not a chance,' Kyntak said. 'Eleven wires, left to right: yellow, blue, yellow, green, two red, blue, three green, and one black. Not a standard configuration. And each wire is encased at both ends in a 22cm iron cube, rigged to blow if you try to open it. Without the remote disarm code, only one guy can disarm this. The guy who built it.'

Lilam, Six thought. No chance. He'd never tell anyone how to dismantle one of his bombs. Six shoved open the office door and walked into the corridor. 'Can you take it somewhere where it won't hurt anybody?'

'ChaoSonic officials have been evacuated out of the area surrounding the shopping centre. Ten klik radius.'

Six gritted his teeth. 'Which means, ChaoSonic has established a perimeter.'

'Right,' Kyntak said. 'They don't want the bomb to leave the area they've already evacuated, or it could hurt someone they actually give a crap about. Someone other than us, and the sixty or seventy thousand people still in the hot zone.'

'And there's nowhere in that zone we could have a safe detonation?'

'Are you kidding? There are people everywhere, Six. It's pandemonium out here.'

'Can you seal it in something?' Six asked, getting desparate. 'Something that could contain the explosion?'

'The core is made of cyclotrimethylene trinitramine, usually called RDX. The blast will penetrate steel of any thickness up to three metres. I'm open to suggestions.'

Six closed his eyes. Can't disarm it, can't contain it, can't get rid of it, can't let it explode. There seemed to be no way out.

He opened his eyes. 'You're mobile, right?'

'I've got a car, yeah. But I can't get past the roadblocks.'

'You don't have to,' Six said. 'I've got an idea.' He pushed the button for the lift.

It was just before 2 pm, so cell block 72-C was brightly lit. The lighting conditions always mimicked those outside, with a gradually building "sunrise" and a slow, dimming "sunset". This was so the prisoners didn't become disoriented and lose track of time.

Years ago, each cell wall had been adorned with its own clock. But the clocks were frequently smashed by some of the inmates. Other prisoners became hypnotised by them, watching the seconds click away instead of eating or sleeping. And still others complained that the ticking was keeping them awake at night, even though the clocks were completely silent.

Apparently the inmates were willing to measure their imprisonment in days - but seeing each individual second of their lives disappear was too much for them.

The prisoners talked to Agent Six as he walked down the corridor, some whispering, some shouting. He didn't listen. Only six minutes until the bomb went off.

The interrogation room was at the end of the hall, behind a giant chrome door with a small keypad. There was a steel box on the floor. This was where Six was supposed to dump probited items - any phones or radios, anything sharp that could be used as a weapon, anything magnetic or electrical that could be used to hack the electronic locking system. But today there wasn't time. Six punched in the combination, and the door slid aside.

The man inside was chained to a metal chair by both wrists and both ankles. A clamp around his neck tethered him to the wall, to stop him from moving the chair too far. Six walked in, put his briefcase down on the table, and shut the door behind him. It locked itself with a muffled clank.

'If it isn't my teenage arresting officer,' Lilam said. His lips slid back, revealing yellowed teeth. 'Didn't expect to see you again so soon, Agent Six of Hearts.'

'The URL you gave us didn't work,' Six said. '404 error. You're going to give me the real one immediately, or I promise you, you'll wish you had. Very soon.'

Lilam eyed Six's briefcase. 'What've you got there? Money, to buy me off? A pardon agreement, perhaps?'

'Something that'll make you talk,' Six said, 'if you won't do it willingly. You have fifteen seconds.'

Lilam's smile never wavered. 'Since you took my watch away, I've been sitting here counting seconds,' he said. 'I'm very good at it. Eight thousand, two hundred and sixteen have passed so far. That's almost two hours and seventeen minutes.'

Six said nothing.

'That means there's less than five minutes before my magnificent bomb goes off,' Lilam said. 'Whatever you have in that briefcase, whether it's knives or needles or whips or really sharp rocks, I think I can withstand it for five minutes. Don't you?'

Six said nothing.

'You know what they sometimes call RDX?' Lilam said. 'They call it "cyclonite". That's because - '

'Time's up,' Six said. He drew a pair of nail scissors from his pocket, and placed them on the table next to the briefcase.

Lilam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Then Six cracked open the briefcase, and stepped aside.

Lilam craned his neck to see.

His jaw fell open.

Inside the case there was a iron cube, with eleven wires poking out of it. The timer clipped to the face read 04:13. Then 04:12. Then 04:11.

I hope I'm not making a mistake, Six thought.

All the colour had washed out of Lilam's skin. 'What the hell is this?'

'Your bomb, I hope,' Six said. 'Otherwise there are two worthless, deluded psychopaths planting RDX bombs in the bathrooms of shopping centres.'

'Why did you bring it here?' Lilam demanded.

'So you could defuse it,' Six said, pointing at the nail clippers. 'I figured the only life you cared about was your own, therefore this was the best way to get the job done.'

'The whole building will blow! All your own agents will die!'

'All the agents have been evacuuated,' Six said. 'If that bomb goes off, the casualties will be you, me, the other prisoners in the cells, and anyone who happens to be on the street above our heads.' He shrugged. 'Not optimal, but better than a detonation in a shopping centre.'

'I'll kill you,' Liam snarled.

'Technically, yes,' Six said, 'if the bomb goes off. But I don't think it will. I think you're going to do what I want.'

Lilam stared at him for a long time. Then he said, 'No. I won't do a thing to help you.'

'I agree. You'll do it to help yourself.'

'You're making a mistake,' Lilam said. 'You're going to die here.'

'Fine,' Six said. He leaned against the wall. 'I'm ready. Are you?'

The timer read 02:51.

The timer read 02:50.

The timer read 02:49.

Six could see beads of sweat growing on Lilam's brow. His eyes were fixed on the timer, like all those inmates with the clocks in their rooms.

The timer read 02:37.

The timer read 02:36.

Lilam screamed and smashed his forearms against his chair, rattling his chains. He heaved his torso forward, pulling the clamp against his throat and making a roadmap of veins stand out on his forehead.

'Every second you spend doing that is a second you'll never get back,' Six said. 'And you haven't got many to waste.'

Lilam sat back, breathing heavily.

'134 seconds to live,' Six said. 'What would you like to do with them?'

He saw Lilam's eyes flick to the nail-scissors, and back to the bomb.

'Or, you could give me the URL that disarms it,' Six said. 'Then you'd have lots of time. But it's up to you.'

Lilam clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. Then he looked at Six, and said, 'This bomb can't be disarmed. Not after the countdown reaches fifteen minutes.'

He's lying, Six thought. 'Is that so?'

'Yes,' Lilam said. 'You'll have to get it out of here, somewhere where it won't hurt anyone.'

'I don't think so,' Six said. 'I like it right where it is.'

'We'll both die!' Lilam howled.

'Yes.' Six frowned. 'I wonder how I'll spend my last two minutes and five seconds.'

Then he turned and looked at Lilam. 'Maybe I'll break your arm.'

Lilam's eyes widened.

'I'm just wondering what you'd look like with a third elbow, that's all,' Six said. 'You could probably still defuse this one-handed if you had a change of heart. Would you like the break above, or below your real elbow?'

'You'd never go that far,' Lilam said.

'You sure?' Six asked. 'I wouldn't feel bad about it - it's nothing compared to the agony felt by the families of your dead victims, or the pain of the amputees who survived the disasters that you created.'

Lilam said nothing.

The counter read 01:40.

This isn't working, Six thought. He's scared, but not scared enough to defuse the bomb.

Six felt sick at what he was about to do, but he kept his face completely blank. Lives are at stake, he thought. I need to go further.

Six picked up the nail scissors and stared at them thoughtfully.

'It seems a shame to waste these,' he said.

Lilam shrunk back in his chair, more afraid of Six than he had been before.

'I wonder if you could still defuse the bomb with one eye?' Six wondered aloud. 'That is, assuming you have a change of heart after I half-blind you with these.'

A barely audible murmur escaped Lilam's lips. 'No.'

'Would you like to choose which eye?' Six asked.

'No,' Lilam said again.

Six walked around behind him, twirling the scissors on one finger. He put one hand on the top of Lilam's head. 'You sure? I'd want to choose.'

'No, don't do it!' Lilam screamed.

Six moved quickly, violently. Lilam thrashed around in his seat. But Six was only unlocking the clamp on Lilam's throat and the chains on his wrists. The Six put the nail scissors back down on the table, within Lilam's reach.

'If that countdown is still going by the time I get back,' he said, 'I'm going to use the remaining time to cripple you with those scissors. Got it?'

Lilam lunged at Six, teeth first. His ankles were still chained to the chair - maybe he figured he could incapacitate Six and take the key off his body. But Six ducked aside, twisted round and punched him square in the centre of his abdomen. Lilam doubled over. Six pushed him back down into the chair. Lilam was terrified, and in pain, but he didn't appear winded. That was good - Six wasn't sure if Lilam could defuse the bomb if he couldn't breathe.

Six punched in the code on the pad beside the door, careful not to let Lilam see. He walked out, and slid the door closed. Then he sprinted back up the hall and out of the cell block 72-C, towards the security station. He needed to watch the camera feed from the interrogation room.

When he got there, he saw that Lilam hadn't picked up the scissors yet. Six squinted as the grainy light from the television poured over him. Lilam was sitting with his palms flat on the table, on either side of the open briefcase.

Six's heart pounded in his chest. Come on, come on! he thought. Do it. If that bomb goes off . . .

Lilam touched the iron cube - a gentle, stroking motion. Like it was a beloved pet he had to put down. Six couldn't see the countdown, but it was still running in his head. Fifty seconds.

Lilam picked up the scissors. He hesitated.

Six held his breath.

Liam leaned forward, and snipped through the black wire. Then the leftmost green wire. Then, in quick succession, the yellow wire on the right, and the second green from the right. Then he stopped.

Six waited.

Lilam dropped the scissors. He tried to push himself away from the table. As his head turned, Six saw an expression of horror on his face.

The countdown hadn't stopped. Lilam had tried to defuse the bomb, and failed.

The counter hadn't stopped because Six hadn't actually hooked it up to anything. He had barely had time to take down Kyntak's description of the real bomb and find enough scrap metal to make a convincing duplicate, let alone make a working timer as well.

Six ignored Lilam's frenzied thrashing on the screen. The psychopath would believe he was going to die until the counter hit zero, but Six didn't care much. He snapped open his phone. It read no reception.

He ran out of the security station and tried again. The corridor was deserted - the Deck hadn't really been evacuaated, but most of the agents were outside dealing with the panicked crowds.

The call connected. 'Kyntak?'

'No hurry, Six,' Kytank said. 'I'm just clinging to the top of a communications tower with a bomb strapped to my back. I could sit here all day, if it weren't for this darn timer telling me I only have twenty seconds to live.'

'Shut up and listen to me,' Six hissed. 'Wires numbered left to right, cut them in this order. Eleven, black. Four, green. Three, yellow. Nine, green. Repeat that back to me.'

Nothing but dead air on the line. Twelve seconds to go.

'Kyntak!' Six repeated, starting to panic. 'Repeat the instructions!'

'Shut up, Six, I'm doing it!' Kyntak said.

Six heard three clicks as Kyntak cut three wires. 'Nine, green,' Six said again. Five seconds. 'Nine green!'

And then there was a beep as the call was disconnected. Six's phone was no longer recieving any data from Kyntak's handset.

No, Six thought. He felt dizzy. No, no, no!

Then the phone rang. Six jammed it to his ear and demanded, 'Kyntak?'

'Sorry about that,' Kyntak said. 'Part of the communication tower came off in my hand, and I had to put it back. The whole network was probably down for a second.'

A sigh of relief exploded out of Six, and he leaned against the wall. 'You idiot! You scared the crap out of me.'

'Out of you? I was the one who had to climb the tower with the bomb!'

Six started walking back to the interrogation room. 'You don't even want to know what I had to threaten to do to Lilam to get him to defuse the dummy.'

Six could hear the skepticism in Kyntak's voice. 'You didn't say the "third elbow" thing, did you?'

'No,' Six lied. 'I had a whole routine involving nail clippers.' He pushed open the door to the cell block.

'Nail clippers? I'm lucky to be alive.'

'Yes,' Six said as he approached the interrogation room door. 'You are. So a bit of gratitude might not go astray.'

He punched in the code and slid open the door. Then he froze.

Lilam was gone.

The blades of the scissors, no longer attached to each other, were twisted into the lock of one of the ankle chains. The iron cube was now wired to the battery of the counter, making it an electromagnet. It was sitting under the electronic door lock.

Lilam was loose again.

'Kyntak?' Six said. 'Get back to the car. We've still got a bomber to catch.'

[heavenlydreamerblog]

In Too Deep

Chapter 6

 “I have to go Jared,” I said, pushing myself up from the sofa and away from his naked body and questioning eyes.

I could just make out my clothes in a messy pile on the floor. I moved quickly, my thoughts muddled, and sight blurred by a haze of tears. I needed a shower, I needed to clean myself, scrub myself clean, scrub away these feelings that would haunt me for too long.

“Lexy, stop.” His voice broke through my thoughts and I looked up as he launched himself from the sofa, grabbing hold of me by the waist and pulling me into his arms.

“What the fuck’s up Lexy. What have I done wrong?”

“Nothing,” I snapped. “Nothing. I need to go home and get some sleep. You know I’ve got a mountain of work to get through with this party.” I unwrapped his arms gently and moved away, gathering my clothes. “Where’s the bathroom so I can dress and sort myself out?”

“You don’t have to leave Lexy.”

I looked into his eyes. They were focused, questioning. Was that  confusion I could see written into a normally confident gaze.

“I do have to leave Jared. This ....,” I gestured with my hands, “ ...this shouldn’t have happened tonight. I need space to clear my head. I’m sorry .... “

“The bathroom’s down the hall, third door on the left,” he motioned with his hand. “I’ll get Emma to take you home.”

“No, just call for a cab,” I said, leaving him in darkness as I made my way down the cool, tiled hallway.

I closed the bathroom door behind me and pulled the lock. I sank to my knees, my legs giving away to the emotions of the night. I shivered as the cool tiles suddenly became cold to my skin, goosebumps covering my aching limbs.

I took my phone from my bag and texted.

Lexy: Jess, are you awake?

The reply came back in seconds.

Jess: Yes! Where on earth are you?

Lexy: I’m fine. I’m on my way home. Put the coffee on ☕☕

I dressed, fixed my hair in the mirror and promised myself a shower back home.

When I walked back into the den, Jared was nowhere to be seen. A sense of unease and dread filled me, remembering the confused look on his face when I left him.

“Lexy!” I spun around at the sound of a female voice. Emma was standing in the doorway, looking slightly worried. “Are you two OK? I just saw Jared walking off to the Lab. He told me to call a cab. You sure everything’s OK?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, everything’s OK. I just need to get home and start working on this party. Jared will be fine. Just tell him I’ll call in a few days to check on some of the finer details.”

Emma’s phone vibrated. “The cab’s outside. Take my number and call if there’s anything you need. Sometimes Jared can get lost in work and won’t answer his phone. At least you’ll know I’m here if you need help. By the way,” she said, pointing to my car, “I’ll get someone to drive that back home for you.”

“Thanks Emma.” I turned around and hugged her, hoping she couldn’t smell Jared’s odour which seemed to cling to my skin.

I jumped into the cab and waved goodbye. Jared was nowhere to be seen.

************************ 

“Jess! I’m home. Where’s the coffee?” I could smell a fine brew wafting towards me from the kitchen. I walked in to see Jess in her pyjamas, hands curled around her favourite mug.

“Spill the beans Lex! Where’ve you been until this time?” She looked at the clock on the wall; it was 2.30am. She poured me a press coffee and dragged two chairs around the table. This meant business. “Carrie said you’d gone to see Jared Leto about a house party. Please don’t say you’ve been there all this time,” she said, looking for an answer in my tired eyes.

I looked away and an audible sigh escaped my lips. “Hell Jess! What have I done?” I whispered putting my coffee mug on the table and burying my head in my hands. I heard the scrape of her chair across the floor and felt her arms cradle me.

“What was so bad about tonight’s meeting then?” she asked. “Have you fucked up the job; is Carrie going to bust your ass; .... or is there something else you want to tell me....” Her voice trailed off as she pulled me into a tight hug. We hadn’t known each other that long but she’s become a true friend in a very short time. Dan back home in Louisiana was my text buddy ... Jess was in the here and now, able to guess my every mood. And she could tell I was holding back.

“So, it’s 2.30am ... your meeting with Jared was at 5pm yesterday ... so fill me in on the bit in the middle. C’mon Lex, it can’t have been that bad, surely?” It was the questioning at the end that tipped me over the edge into floods of tears.

I must have sobbed for a good 10 minutes, telling her everything that happened with Jared, and how we parted, him disappearing into the house and not saying goodbye ... or anything.

“What if he doesn’t want us to organise the party,” I said, between crying and sipping the hot coffee that Jess was now forcing me to drink.

“Lex, I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’re reading too much into the situation. We’ll manage this between ourselves. Don’t mention any of this to Carrie whatever you do.

“Now, go and have a shower,” she said laughing, this time parting me from my coffee. “You smell of sex, and there’s a shit load of work to get through tomorrow. Go clean yourself and get some sleep while there’s still some hours left.”

I turned and hugged her. I caught sight of my mascara smudged eyes in the mirror over the table and winced. “Do I really look this shit?”

“Yes Lex. Yes, yes, yes, so get the hell into the shower.”

 *****************************

The next day, I hid behind a mountain of paperwork, costing up catering, valet services, bar staff and everything else Jared had requested. I glanced at my phone as it vibrated on top of a pile of papers.

Emma: Any communication with Jared this morning?

Lexy: No. Nothing. I’m just getting my head around everything on the list he gave me.

Emma: He was still locked in the Lab this morning. I think he was up all night working. Drop him a text and see if he responds xx

Lexy: Not sure if that’s such a good idea. I’ll leave it until later and then try!

I put my phone on silent and tried to focus on the work at hand. Carrie had yet to come in, so I’d made the most of my time alone, fearing I’d have to provide her with the ins and outs of my meeting. That, I could do without this morning. I peered out of the window. Yesterday’s unseasonable warmth had given way to grey skies and a cool breeze.

“Jess,” I called, pushing paperwork and my laptop into my bag. “I’m off out to work. I need some space after last night.” She looked over her screen, long enough to check I was OK and not about to have a major breakdown.

“What shall I tell Carrie if she asks?” Jess stood up and walked over, wrapping her arms around me tight.

“What’s that for,” I giggled.

“That’s what friends are for Lex! A hug when you’re least expecting it. Now go and find a coffee and settle your mind into work. We’ll have our asses kicked if this party doesn’t start taking shape.”

I gave her a playful punch and ran out of the office. Once outside, I checked the time: 10.15am. I’d had less than six hours sleep. Yesterday’s  sunshine had given way to grey skies and temperatures more in keeping with the end of February.

I had less than two weeks to organise this party. I’d better get used to sleep deprivation. I decided to walk over to a cafe I’d seen a few weeks ago. We’d driven past it a few times and I’d been promising myself a coffee there.

LA Metro was quiet as I pushed open the door, managing not to catch my bag as it swung closed behind me. It was warm and the smell of coffee was comforting, knowing the work that lay ahead. I found a table that was big enough to take my laptop and spread out my papers and then ordered an Americano.

“What’s your name and we’ll call when it’s ready?” The young boy behind the bar smiled as I jumped at the sound of his voice. “Lexy. Thanks. I’ll be here for a while if that’s OK. I’ll be needing plenty more coffee to power me through.” I laughed when he asked what was I was doing. “Planning a party,” I said. “I organise events and this is taking up all my time. So, if you provide the caffeine, I promise to get this work sorted and clear my mess as soon as possible.”

He was sweet. “Hey no worries. Stay as long as your work takes,” he said, pointing to my table. “Sit down and I’ll bring your coffee over for you.”

I thanked him and made my way back to the table. I powered up my laptop, calling up my emails to check if any of the suppliers had got back to me. I was lost in work, the cafe getting busier as lunchtime approached. The smells and sounds were just background noise as I tapped away on my keyboard while taking calls. I hung up after 15 minutes of haggling over the price of bloody fairylights. Jared had better appreciate how much work this was taking. My phone buzzed, rattling against my coffee cup. A text flashed up on the screen.

Jared: Let me know progress on party. Need to update guest list. Make sure catering has vegan option.

Lexy: I’m on it. I’ll update you with more info later.

I put my phone down, noticing my hands were shaking. My stomach was knotted, as I recalled the madness of last night compared with Jared’s cold, business-like message. The phone buzzed again.

Jared: If you want, we can forget about last night x

The bustle and noise of the cafe faded away, my eyes focused on the message. So Jared forces the decision on me. I switched the phone off, deciding the reply could wait.

I ordered another coffee to steady myself and again buried myself in paperwork for another hour. My mind wandered from time to time, worrying about Jared waiting for my reply and wondering if I should message Emma.

Behind me I could hear the scrape of a chair, and the chink of a coffee mug hitting the table. I breathed in a mix of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke. I saw the young barista approach with my coffee. “Here you go Lexy. Sure I can’t get you some food?”

“I’m fine,” I said, “but thanks for looking after me. The coffee’s great by the way.” I smiled as he walked back to the bar. Behind me, I heard once more the scrape of the chair leg on the tiled floor. Then silence. I stared at my laptop, a strange feeling washing over me.

“Lexy?” The voice came from behind, at once familiar, but awakening memories that I had buried like long lost treasure. I could feel myself shaking as I turned to face the voice.

The silence between us must have lasted for just seconds but seemed to stretch into the never ever.

I remembered his touch, his warmth, his kindness, his embrace and our parting at LAX.

“Shannon ....

If you want to be tagged (or even untagged) just drop me a message. I’m having problems tagging a few of you. Anyone know why?? @nikkitasevoli @llfd1977 @wolfgirl624

@letojokerownsme @letsbeautifuldisaster

[pluto-fics]

When you fall asleep while waiting for them

Kim Seokjin

It was a late friday evening when you arrived at the dorm to spend some time with your boyfriend, Seokjin. You had had a long, exhausting day at work and all you really wanted was to rest, maybe in front of a TV with some snacks in reach. However, you hadn’t seen Seokjin for a whole week, both of you having been too busy to actually arrange a meet up. Thus, you decided to surprise him with your visit and eventually ended up on the couch in the dorm’s living room, resting your head against one of the softest pillows your skin has ever touched. Or so it felt, due to how tired you were.

“You can pick a movie to watch, I’ll prepare some food for us in the meantime” Seokjin had said before he disappeared into the kitchen and left you to yourself. A yawn escaped your sleepy looking features and you couldn’t fight the urge to close your eyes. “Just for a few minutes...” you mumbled to yourself and snuggled into the cushions of the couch while closing your eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep.

When Seokjin came back into the living room, two plates with delicious snacks on them, he stopped in his tracks as he saw you asleep on the couch. A smile slowly made it’s way to his lips and he chuckled. “You could have just told me how tired you are...” he mumbled and quietly placed the plates down on the coffee table before he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, then took his seat next to you, not daring to disturb your well deserved nap.

Min Yoongi

A sigh fell from your lips as you stared at the back of your boyfriend’s head. You were sat on the small couch in the back of Yoongi’s studio and kept yourself busy on your phone while said man was so lost in his work that he didn’t even register the second, significantly louder sigh coming from you.

“Yoongi, let’s leave, it’s almost two in the morning...” you said, trying to break through to him. “Just give me 5 more minutes” he answered, to which you sighed yet again. “You said that two hours ago, Yoongi.” Your pout didn’t stay unnoticed as he finally turned around in his chair to look at you. He instantly grimaced “No, don’t give me that look, please” he whined and tried to avoid your judgemental stare. Yoongi rubbed his face in frustration then said “Alright, just give me 15 minutes, I promise you, I won’t make you wait any longer than that.”

Your pout never left your face, but you nodded in agreement. “Alright” you said, to which he immediately spun around again to face his several screens and furiously type and click away on his keyboard to keep his promise. Your phone’s battery was running low already, so instead of continuing to scroll through your feed on any social media site you could think of, you decided to lay back and give your already hurting eyes a short break by closing them.

Exactly 14 minutes later, Yoongi turned off his computer, along with all the other devices he had used until now, and stretched as he rose from his chair. “Alright baby, let’s go-” he spoke, but stopped midsentence when he saw that you had fallen asleep on the couch. His signature gummy smile appeared on his face as he adored your sleeping form, almost feeling sad about having to wake you in order to take you to bed.

Jung Hoseok

You sat on the floor, adoring every move your boyfriend made in synch with the loud music which seemed to fill the otherwise rather empty looking dance practice room. Hoseok’s face showed the concentration he held in order to not mess up the difficult dance moves he was practicing. Your face, however, clearly showed the sleepiness you had been fighting since you had arrived. Never would you understand how he could spend a whole day within the walls of this room when you already felt drained just from watching him for two hours.

The music stopped and so did Hoseok’s movements. Like the supportive girlfriend you are, you immediately clapped in awe and didn’t miss the happy smile and slight blush appearing on the male’s face. “That was amazing, you even managed to land before the second beat after your spin this time!” you said, clearly having payed attention to his every move. Of course you did, you’re like his personal coach and cheerleader in one, after all.

“Yeah, but I messed up at the end...” Hoseok huffed as he stepped closer to you to take the bottle of water that stood on the bench you were sat on. You frowned “Hobi, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself... I didn’t even notice it, so it can’t have been too big of a mistake, can it?” He hummed, busy downing half of the contents of his bottle at once. Then he sighed. “Sure, but... I think I’ll try the last third of the choreography again. Just to really save it in my system, you know?” He then said, already getting ready to start over. But all you could reply was “Are you sure you shouldn’t take a break first-” and then the music started again. A huff left your throat. Of course he had to reach perfection before he would stop. He always did.

Thus, you kept watching him for another half an hour, but it became harder and harder to focus on him. Your eyelids felt heavier with each second that passed and in the end you could no longer keep your eyes open. Your head gently fell back against the wall which you were leaning on and your mind drifted off to sleep.

Just a few minutes later, Hoseok finally managed to dance the whole choreography without a single mistake. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, a satisfied smile forming on his lips, but something was missing. His gaze fell on you and his smiling features turned into surprised ones. “(Y/N)?” he called out your name, then chuckled amused as the only response he got was a hum and a sleepy pair of eyes opening again. Making his way towards you, he said “I’m sorry, you must have gotten bored of watching me practice for hours” and crouched in front of you so your eyes were on one level. Gently cupping your cheek with his hand, he then quietly spoke “Come on, let’s go home, (Y/N).”

Kim Namjoon

With a soft smile on your lips, you studied your reflection in the mirror in front of you. The dress you had decided to try on fit you perfectly and it turned out to look even better put on than it did when you took it from the clothing rag. You nodded to yourself, as if to agree with the decision you had just made. You’d buy it. It was the last item of those you had picked out to try on, so you quickly changed back into your own clothes before opening the curtain of the small cabin which seperated you from the rest of the boutique you had entered with your boyfriend. Speaking of which, was he still not done trying on the clothes he wished to get?

You frowned, debating whether or not you should check if he’s somewhere else in the shop, but decided on calling his name in the corner of changing rooms instead. “Namjoon?” you called out and his response was quick. His head peaked out from behind another curtain and he spoke “Yes, I’m here. Are you done already?” You nodded. “Oh, then I’ll hurry up!” he said and hid behind the curtain again. An amused smile found the way onto your lips as you shook your head knowingly. This would take a little longer than you’d like it to, you already knew. But who would you be if you could judge him for it?

You looked around until you found a stool in a corner nearby. Taking your seat on it, you then looked at the dress on your lap, wondering when the best opportunity to wear it would come. Maybe you could wear it to Namjoon’s birthday party? While your thoughts drifted off, so did you as you drifted off into a sleep you didn’t know you needed.

When Namjoon came out of the changing cabin, he saw you asleep on the stool, your head hanging low while you held onto the dress on your lap. He couldn’t help but chuckle before gently patting your hand to wake you up. “(Y/N), wake up, people are staring already” he said amused.

Park Jimin

Jiminie, 3:37PM:

[(Y/N), I'm so sorry!! I'm stuck in traffic rn, but I'll be there as soon as possible!!]

You sighed audibly as you read your boyfriend's message. A simple "It's fine, don't worry'' was all he got in return, and you really meant it, it wasn't his fault after all, but you simply felt too exhausted to write any more than that. Your head gently dropped back as you gazed up at the clear blue sky.

Jimin had asked you to meet him in the park today. He got the full day off and wanted to spend it with you, just enjoying nature and possibly getting some ice cream while talking about everything you had missed out on in eachother's lifes during the last couple of days in which you hadn't met at all. Or so was the plan.

However, with Jimin stuck in traffic on his way there, you now had to come up with something to do while you waited for him to arrive. Sure, he kept messaging you how sorry he was and how he was almost there, but you felt so exhausted and tired from last night still. You hadn't slept well at all, may it have been the excitement or simply your nocturnal mind which kept you awake almost all night long.

Suddenly, the park bench on which you had taken a seat earlier seemed perfectly suited to have a short little nap on. You smiled in amusement at that silly idea of yours, taking a nap in the middle of a public park, sure. But just minutes later, you found yourself laid across the bench rather comfortably, your eyes slowly closing while you watched the only cloud in your field of vision slowly sliding across the bright blue sky. The bird's chirping sounded like a lullaby to you, the quiet rustling of the tree's leaves in the mild wind too comforting and relaxing to keep your eyes open. And so you fell asleep.

It was almost half an hour later when Jimin arrived at the park, frowning in worry because you hadn't replied to any of his messages. He thought you might be too upset to answer, but when he found you laying on a bench and peacefully sleeping in the middle of the park, he couldn't believe it. He was startled at first and rushed to your side, the idea of you having passed out crossing his mind. However, when he gently shook your arm and called out your name, you awoke slowly. "God, (Y/N), I'm so sorry'' he said but couldn't help but giggle at your drowsy self. "I can't believe you fell asleep on a park bench'' he then laughed before he took your hand to help you stand up. "But now I'm here, so let's go have fun!'' He then said cheerfully.

Kim Taehyung

You smiled softly when the warm steam of your freshly made hot beverage as you checked the quietly ticking clock on the wall of the small café. Your boyfriend, Taehyung, still hadn’t arrived yet. A hum played along your vocal chords as you slowly stirred your drink.

“I’ll be there at 2PM...ish” he had said with his signature boxy smile gracing his features when you had met him earlier today. But now? Now, you sat in your seat in the small café that you usually went to with Taehyung and stared at the steam floating above your drink. You wouldn’t judge him for being “late”, after all, he never promised to arrive at 2:00. He did, however, say he would arrive around 2 in the afternoon, and it was now almost 3. A yawn fought it’s way out of your body and you blinked away the sleepiness rapidly. If Taehyung didn’t hurry up, you might end up falling asleep.

The thought of it made you smile in amusement. Well, that was until you realized that it wasn’t such a silly thought after all. Just a few minutes later it felt impossible to keep your eyes open. And so, you ended up resting your chin in your hand, your eyes closed and a short nap overtaking your system.

It was an all too familiar chuckle which woke you up. “Hello there, sleepyhead” you heard your boyfriend say, your eyes narrowed until they focused on Taehyung’s handsome face. He smiled at you with an adoring smile playing on his lips. “You always look so beautiful, even when you’re asleep...” he then said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear and for your cheeks to heat up as you returned his loving smile.

Jeon Jungkook

“Woah! Dude, my back! You said you’d watch my back!” Jungkook exclaimed, his eyes locked on the screen in front of him while shooting noises excited the speakers of his laptop. It was clear that he was busy gaming with his friends again, one of which you guessed was Taehyung due to the repetitive calls of “Hyung! What are you doing!?” and similar ones.

Whilst your boyfriend enjoyed himself at the desk in his room, you were sat on his bed, watching him play from over his shoulder. To be fair, you liked watching him whenever he played games. But you liked it a lot better when you could play together, instead of having his laugh into the mic of his headset whenever his Hyung apparently did something ridiculous that you somehow always had the talent to miss out on. 

“Hey, Kookie?” you then called out, pouting when he seemingly didn’t even hear you due to the headset covering his ears. You decided to get up from the bed to gently place your hands on his shoulders, making him flinch in surprise before he smiled amused. “Sorry (Y/N), did you say something?” he then asked, moving one of the earpieces out of the way to hear you. You nodded. “We need to leave for your brother’s birthday party in an hour, remember?” you asked, his eyes widening at that. “Is it that late already?” he then asked before sighing “ Alright, I’ll get changed after we finished this mission”

You smiled amused and nodded, quickly kissing his cheek and teasingly saying “You better hurry up then”, to which he just responded with an amused smile and putting his headset back in place before talking to Taehyung again. You, on the other hand, took your seat on his bed again and leaned back on the mattress, waiting for Jungkook to get changed so you could leave soon. However, your eyes soon closed on their own accord and let you drift off into a sleep you didn’t know you had needed.

When Jungkook finished the mission, he said his goodbyes to his friends and shut off his laptop before he turned in his chair to face you. But instead of meeting his beautiful girlfriend’s eyes, he met her sleeping face snuggled into his pillows. Jungkook coudln’t help but smile. “How unfair... You’re always so adorable” he mumbled as he got up and placed a kiss on your head before he quickly got changed.

[lirlovesfic]

The Choice

A Doctor Who fanfic

Summary: After GitF, the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey back to the estate to solve a problem involving the TARDIS herself. But when they see a familiar face, the face of someone who should not exist, they realize the problem is deeper than they thought and could endanger the Doctor’s very existence. Primary characters: Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler. Genres: Romance, mystery, adventure, drama, character study, HN AU, fobbed!Nine, sick TARDIS. Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose Rating: Adult

Warning: none for this chaper

a/n: I am currently working on editing this chapter-by-chapter, with the hopes of completing a chapter a day until I catch up with myself. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m doing it to try to get back into the swing of writing and to build some momentum in order to finish this. Also, there have been some tiny things nagging at me for a while (grammar, punctuation, etc.) so I’ll be correcting as many of them as I can find as I go. The story will not change. In fact, most of the changes are going to be so minor that I doubt anyone (besides myself) will notice. But to keep myself on target, I’ll be posting it all here as I go, with links to the other websites it’s on. I hope you enjoy it.

Catch up: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

This chapter: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

Chapter Fourteen—The Time Vortex, twenty-five hours after leaving the Powell Estate, and London, 15 July, 2007

"Ha!" the Doctor cried triumphantly. He crawled out from underneath the console. "Dismantled the space-time redundancy limiter. Now all that's left is to set the coordinates for Southampton, 10 April, 1912. But before I do that, the question is, 'Where will I be?'"

"Can't we just look for you the way we did last time?" Mickey asked.

He had been sitting on the jump seat, dressed in clothes appropriate for England in the early twentieth century and watching the Doctor working on the TARDIS, for what felt like hours. After witnessing the assassination of President Kennedy in Dallas, his initial excitement at traveling to key points in history was gone. At this point, he was just anxious to get the trip over with.

The Doctor shook his head. "We could, but the risk of detection is much greater. We need to figure out what he's doing there and what might have happened to both him and the TARDIS without either of my previous selves realizing that we are there."

Mickey shook his head. "I'm going with you to look for you to find out what you're up to, and at the same time we have to avoid being spotted by you. And another you. This is giving me a headache."

"If we don't solve this undetected, we'll have a lot more to worry about than a simple headache. This situation is much more delicate, for reasons that go far beyond just running into myself in triplicate. That's dangerous enough, but we're crossing my timeline in a way that has the potential to shatter the fabric of space-time."

"I don't get it. How is this different than what we did before?"

The Doctor didn't answer immediately, and for several long seconds, Mickey wondered if he even would. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, his tone more serious than Mickey had ever heard before. "Mickey, has Rose ever told you about the Time War?"

"Yeah, a little. When you sent her back that time and we opened up the TARDIS console so she could get back to you."

"What did she tell you?"

"Just that there was a war, a big war that could have destroyed the entire universe."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, that you ended it somehow," Mickey said grudgingly. A small part of him was still resistant to acknowledge anything good the Doctor had done. "And managed to save the universe from being destroyed."

"When you met me, I was fresh from the Time War, but the other me we're trying to avoid has not yet fought in the war. In fact, the war hasn't even begun. Only the first battles have been fought, and it isn't at all clear to anyone that a full-blown war is about to start. And for him, our planet is still there, our people are still there. If we have contact with him, we could unintentionally change the outcome of the war. And if we did that… well, we wouldn't have to worry about what I did on the Titanic, because the entire planet wouldn't be here.

"That's why we absolutely can't interact with him in any way. And the only sure way to do that is to try and avoid those places where he was. And since I don't remember everywhere I was, the only way to do that is to know exactly where we'll find the me you know, find him and find out what we need to know, and then get out of there as quickly as possible."

"You don't remember where you were the first time you were here?" Mickey asked incredulously.

The Doctor gave him a withering look. "It was at least a hundred years ago, possibly a lot more. By comparison, I'd ask you if you remember where you were on a specific day ten years ago, but you probably don't even remember what you had for tea last Tuesday."

"Yes, I do!" Mickey automatically replied. "I had…" His forehead wrinkled in thought. "I had… Damn, what did I have?"

"You had fish and chips," the Doctor told him.

Mickey's jaw dropped. "How do you know that?"

"I was there," he said. "It was while we were sorting that business at Deffry Vale with Sarah Jane."

"Was that only last Tuesday? Seems like longer ago than that."

"That's what time travel does. Completely screws up your sense of linear time. Anyway… to get back to the matter at hand, we need to figure out approximately where my last self is going to be so we can find him without running into, well, me."

"So how do we do that?"

"Mickey, did Rose tell you anything about that picture of me on the Titanic? Whether I was on the ship itself or on the dock? Who I was with, perhaps."

Mickey screwed up his face in concentration. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't think she told me, and if she did, I don't remember. That was a long time ago."

The Doctor let out a harrumph of frustration.

"Why don't we just call Rose?" Mickey asked. "I mean, she's the one who actually saw the picture. She should be able to tell you."

"I really, really don't want to do that," the Doctor told him. "I promised her I'd be back in ten seconds. Once we phone her, we put ourselves into her timeline. If we reach her an hour later, or a day later, we won't be able to come back when I said we would."

"So if we call her and she says we've been gone a week, then we can't go back until a week after we left. Right?"

The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise at the comment. "Yes, that's it exactly."

"Which is more important, getting back ten seconds after we left, or not running into that other you?"

The Doctor's mouth opened… and then abruptly shut. With a growl of frustration, he picked up the receiver and began to dial. After a moment listening, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he muttered. He hung up the phone and pulled his glasses out of his pocket. He peered through them at the communication control panel on the console. "Hmmm." He picked up the receiver and tried again. The look of confusion grew. "This is impossible." He disconnected and urgently dialed twice more, each time becoming more and more panicked.

"What's goin' on?" Mickey asked.

"I don't know," the Doctor said. "And when I say I don't know, I mean I really, really don't know. This shouldn't be able to happen." He pressed a button and a mechanized voice echoed through the chamber.

"Your call could not be completed. The number you have dialed is out of range.

"Your call could not be completed. The number you have dialed is out of range.

"Your call could not be completed. The number you have dialed is out of range.

"Your call could not be completed…"

The Doctor quietly pressed the button again, and the voice was silenced. He stared at the console, devoid of expression.

"What does that mean, out of range?"

He turned to face Mickey and then leaned against the console, crossing his arms and ankles in an overly casual pose. "One of three possibilities. First, that somehow Rose has moved out of the range of the TARDIS's communications systems. Since she's on Earth that would mean the entire planet was out of range as well, either moved to where even the TARDIS couldn't find her or totally destroyed. Not entirely impossible, but extremely unlikely."

The phrase totally destroyed left a sick feeling in the pit of Mickey's stomach.

"Okay," he said. He swallowed nervously. "Uh, so I guess that's out."

"Possibility number two," the Doctor continued. "Somehow we are out of range of her. That's even less likely, because we're in the Time Vortex. Within the Vortex, the TARDIS simultaneously touches every point in space and time. That's how she's able to disappear from one spot and reappear at another almost instantaneously."

"What's the third one?"

"That the TARDIS herself is having trouble sending a signal out of the Time Vortex." The Doctor didn't continue. Instead he returned to examining the console, this time without his typical exuberance.

"And?"

"And…" he said without turning, "that would mean that whatever damaged the TARDIS in the past has filtered through time to affect us." He peered into the monitor and then began to rapidly type into a keyboard that had suddenly appeared on one of the control panels. Or at least Mickey had never noticed it before. "If that's the case, that means it might be difficult for the TARDIS to navigate in and out of the Vortex. In fact, we may not be able to get out of the Vortex at all. And even if we do, we probably won't be able to get back in." He said it all in an overly casual, matter-of-fact way, as if he was discussing the weather in London or the taste of his tea. In fact, Mickey was certain the Doctor would have shown more emotion about the rain or sugar content in his tea.

"So we'd better get you back home," the Doctor continued. He moved to another control panel on the console. "Let's see, Powell Estate, Sunday, 8 July, 2007. Ten o'clock in the morning, just to be safe."

"No."

The Doctor turned back to him. "No?"

"No," Mickey repeated. "I mean, if I understand you right, the TARDIS right now has maybe one trip left, one shot to get out of the Vortex. And if we use it to go back to the Estate, we won't figure out what's wrong with her. And if that happens, the other you stays human. If that happens, what happens to you? This you?"

The Doctor didn't answer.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Mickey continued. "So I say, let's get this sorted while we still have the chance."

"I have to remind you that the next place we're going is 1912. If this doesn't work, you'll be stuck there," the Doctor warned. "I won't be able to get you back."

"Then the sooner we get started, the sooner we get this sorted, and the sooner you get me back."

The Doctor stared at him. In turn, an odd combination of amazement, shock, and gratitude flitted across his face. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he was trying to talk but couldn't come up with words. Then he began to smile, a small, proud smile that slowly grew to a wide, delighted grin.

"Mickey Smith, you have made me speechless, something that very few in my life have ever been able to do." He whirled back to face the console. He raced around it, pressing buttons, flipping switches, and spinning dials. "Right!" he said as he pulled down a large lever. "Let's get this sorted!"

~oOo~

Rose slowly awoke, gradually and reluctantly returning to consciousness.

Warm, she thought. She sighed contentedly.

She shifted her shoulders to snuggle more deeply under the blanket and tried to fall back to sleep. She was completely comfortable despite being in an awkward position: on her stomach with her left arm and both legs twisted sideways and jammed into a narrow space, preventing movement. Something heavy lay sideways across the middle of her back while her free arm was tightly wrapped around something, like she was hugging a pillow.

A hard, warm, breathing pillow that was quietly snoring.

Her eyes flew open. John was stretched out the sofa with his head on the armrest, and she was half on top of him, tucked firmly under his arm and with her legs stuck between him and the back of the sofa. One of them at some point must have pulled the blanket up to cover them both. She scanned her memory of the past night, or actually early morning. Rita and Chuck. Tea. Acupressure to relieve her aching back and head. A hug that turned into a snuggle that must have turned into falling asleep.

That was… new. Although the Doctor had never had much concept of personal space where she was concerned, particularly after his regeneration, he had limited his contact with her to exuberant hugs, an occasional an arm around her shoulders, and a single, chaste kiss in Ancient Rome.

They had certainly never had a full body snuggle on the sofa to the point of both of them falling asleep.

She was torn. On the one hand she knew she should get up. Despite his current situation, John was the Doctor, and she was certain that had he been in full possession of his memories, the Doctor would never have allowed himself to cross over that line that he had carefully drawn between them, the one that would change them from being best friends into something more. And she was sure that a snuggle like this would be perilously close to crossing the line for him.

On the other hand, John was the Doctor, even if he didn't know it, and she'd been in love with him practically since they'd met. And he was holding her in a way she had always longed to be held by him.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his soft T-shirt under her cheek and the comforting weight of his arm around her while she debated between getting up and staying put. She finally decided to get up, but not due to any highly principled, unselfish motives. The deciding factor was that she now desperately needed to use the toilet.

She began to squirm out from under his arm, trying not to wake him up in the process, and his grip on her tightened, holding her in place.

"Mmm." The sound reverberated deep in his chest, and she froze. When she realized he hadn't woken up, she slipped out from under his arm and carefully climbed over him. As she tried to get off the sofa, she got tangled in the blanket and landed on the floor with a loud thud. She winced at the sound, but to her relief he still didn't wake up.

She covered him up again with the blanket and then headed to the bathroom. After doing what was necessary—and discovering that toothpaste on her index finger didn't work as well as a toothbrush but would work in a pinch—she headed into the tiny kitchen. The tea and a small covered bowl of sugar were on the counter, along with a partial loaf of bread and a couple of bananas. No coffee maker, but there was an electric kettle and a toaster.

She filled the kettle and turned it on before rummaging for something to make to breakfast.

There was almost nothing in the fridge: a little milk, a little butter, some beer, a couple of half empty takeaway containers. Then she turned to the cupboards.

As she had expected, there was almost nothing in them either. A few ancient pots and pans. Some cutlery. A set of four plates, four bowls, four glasses and two mugs, most of which were chipped and none of which matched. For a moment she wondered why there were only two mugs and then remembered there were two more in the living room.

She pulled the clean mugs out and placed tea bags in them before continuing her search of the cupboards. In the last one were several tins of tuna. She cocked her head, puzzled. There was nothing else. Just tuna.

She didn't think the Doctor even liked tuna.

Well, obviously John did.

She sighed. Well, there weren't any eggs and there wasn't any jam, but there was bread and butter. So buttered toast, she thought. She put bread in the toaster and took the butter out of the fridge.

The water in the kettle began to boil, so she turned back to it to make the tea… and almost jumped out of her skin.

There was a small black cat sitting in the sink.

"Now, I know you weren't there before," she said. "Where did you even come from?"

The cat blinked at her.

She ran a hand along the cat's head and received a loud purr in a response. "Well, you certainly are a pretty boy." She tilted her head, considering. "Or girl. Whatever you are, I'll bet you're hungry."

She opened a tin of the tuna, dumped it in a bowl, and placed it on the floor along with a bowl of water. The cat immediately jumped down and began to eat, continuing to purr loudly.

"You know you're not supposed to talk with your mouth full," Rose mock-scolded as she poured the water from the kettle into the mugs. She frowned. "Although I suppose purring doesn't really count, does it? How do you do that anyway?"

"Some people think they use their vocal folds and the muscles of the larynx to make the glottis resonate back and forth while they breathe in and out."

She glanced at the door. John stood in the doorway to the kitchen holding the two missing mugs. He had a small smile on his face.

"I actually meant, 'How do cats do that and eat at the same time?'" she told him.

"Ah. Well, that I don't know."

"You have a cat," she said.

"No, I don't," he answered.

"Really? Then what's that on the floor eating your tuna?"

"A cat."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"'S not mine," he told her as he placed the mugs in the sink. "She comes and goes."

"And eats your tuna."

"You're the one feedin' it to her."

"And you're the one who bought it. For her, yeah? She's here, and you're feedin' her. That makes her your cat," she said teasingly.

The toast popped up in the toaster. John put it on a couple of plates and began to butter it. "Just because someone's in my flat doesn't make her mine."

She stopped breathing. She stared at him, wondering if he was still talking about the cat. He didn't look at her, seemingly intent on what he was doing. Before she could stop herself, she said quietly, "Maybe in this case it does."

He froze.

Damn, he had heard her.

"Uh, so, what's her name?" she asked lightly, trying to change the subject and unable to think of anything better to say.

"Doesn't have one so far as I know."

"So what do you call her?"

"I don't call her anything."

"Well, you've got to call her something."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because you do."

"All right, what about The Cat?"

"Seriously? 'The Cat.'"

"Why not? What's wrong with calling the cat Cat?" he asked.

As smoothly as if it had been choreographed, they picked up their plates and mugs and returned to the lounge.

"What's wrong with a normal name? Like Blackie or Midnight or Fluffy or something?"

John snorted as he sat down on the sofa. Rose sat down next to him.

"'Fluffy'?" he said incredulously. "What kind of name's 'Fluffy'? Besides, the cat's a shorthair. She's not even fluffy."

"Well, maybe not, but you've got to admit it's better than 'The Cat'."

"The cat doesn't seem to mind," he said.

The unnamed cat walked past them, headed towards the front door. "Dunno about that," Rose said with a laugh. "Looks like she's leaving."

John chuckled.

As they ate, they fell into a comfortable silence. After they finished, John sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You stayed," he said.

She bit her lip nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. "Couldn't exactly help it," she said, "being asleep 'n all."

"No, I meant after you woke up," he said. "You stayed after you woke up."

"Wasn't I supposed to?" she asked hesitantly.

"Only if you wanted to," he told her.

She smiled shyly. "I wanted to."

A grin spread across his face.

"So… when I was falling asleep, why didn't you wake me up and send me home?" she asked.

His face warmed. He looked away, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Well, you seemed so comfortable…"

"I was," she said, just a hint of amusement coloring her tone. "Were you?"

He looked back at her. She was giving him that smile again, the one where he could see the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth. She was going to be the death of him, he just knew it. Her flirting was going to kill him. Possibly literally.

But two could play at that game. He met her eyes and raised an eyebrow as his mouth twisted into a smirk. "Very comfortable. Thanks for asking."

Rose opened her mouth to respond when a loud meow startled them both. She shook her head.

"Still can't believe you've got a cat."

"She's not my cat," he said automatically. "But why can't you believe it? You got something against cats?"

"No. I like cats. We used to have one. But having a pet… it's a bit domestic, yeah? You just don't seem like the type."

He was about to ask what type that was when the cat meowed again, this time louder than the first. He frowned.

"Y'know, I've never heard her meow before, and now I've heard her do it twice."

"She probably just wants out and doesn't want to use the cat flap. Our cat did that. Would sit and meow at the door until we opened it for her."

"'S probably it," he said.

Rose started to tidy up when the cat meowed a third time. She laughed. "You'd better go and let her out. If she's anything like our cat was, she'll go on for hours." She picked up their dishes and headed into the kitchen.

John walked down the short hallway to the door. As Rose had predicted, the cat sat at the door, staring at it.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "You've got your own flap. You don't need me to open and close the door for you." As he began to let her out, he saw that there was something jammed in the cat flap, preventing it from opening. "So, this is why you couldn't get out." He bent down and pulled it out. It was a rolled-up piece of paper.

"You gettin' your mail here now?" he asked as he smoothed it out. He raised an eyebrow when he read the brief message on it.

Mind yer own bizness, ya twat.

"Well, I know you didn't write this," he said to the cat. "Your spelling would be better."

~oOo~

Across the courtyard, Jackie walked up the stairwell in Bucknall House, her stomach churning and her head pounding. Her hair hurt. Her teeth hurt. She definitely shouldn't have had that last whiskey sour last night, she thought. Or probably the three before that.

As she approached the door of her flat, she spotted a bright yellow scrap of paper shoved between her door and the frame. She glanced at the doors of the nearby flats. None of the others had them.

Yawning, she pulled it out. It was an advert for a local pizza place. The corners were ripped as if it had been posted somewhere else first and then roughly pulled off before being stuck in her door.

She carried inside with her, but just as she was about to throw it out she noticed there was writing on the opposite side. She turned it over and read the brief message.

Bitch, you are ruining my life.

Jackie sighed wearily. "This could be from anybody."

[fartandsoul]

this would b rly cute w sonyamary: "I almost asked you to the Winter Ball in high school fifteen years ago, but chickened out, but now we’re both home for Christmas and single and maybe we’ve got a second chance?"

is kj.....answering asks again......(the answer is kind of)

~

“sofia? sofia rostova?” 

the voice sounds familiar, but in the midst of the coffee shop chatter, sonya can’t quite place it. she looks up from her coffee and tries to keep her mouth from falling open in surprise. is that...? 

“hi, i don’t know if you remember me...mary bolkonskya? we went to high school together.”

shaking her surprise away, sonya gets to her feet and hugs mary. “yeah, hi! i didn’t expect to see you here--how are you? how’s andrei?”

“he’s fine! actually, i’m here getting coffee for him before i pick him up at the airport.” mary checks her watch. “he’s home for christmas, like me. how are you?”

“i’m good, but don’t let me keep you if you have to get going,” sonya says.

“no, no, i have time. i wouldn’t have stopped otherwise.”

the silence lasts half a beat too long this time, and they both begin to speak at once. 

“it’s-”

“well-”

“sorry, go ahead.”

“i was going to say it’s great to see you again,” sonya says. “and here of all places.”

“what do you mean?” mary frowns, looking confused.

sonya realizes a second too late that there’s no good way to say i used to come here every day to study just because you used to stop in for tea sometimes and i still remember your order (medium lavender green tea, extra hot) fifteen years later. 

she adjusts her scarf while her mind flails for something to say instead. “oh, i thought you used to work here...maybe i’m remembering someone else. it’s been a while.” 

mary laughs. “that’s okay.” a shout from the barista calls her attention away. “oh, that’s andrei’s drink -- i have to go, but i hope you have a great holiday.”

“thanks,” sonya says, wishing she could disappear. “you too!”

mary leaves with a wave, and sonya sits to nurse her now-cold coffee. 

god. she’s still so pretty. she sighs, trying to go back to the article she was reading before mary showed up to derail her thoughts. but her mind won’t stop whirring, bringing up memory after memory that she hasn’t recalled in years but which now resurface easily.

***

winter ball posters blanketed the halls in blue and white. sonya tried to ignore them as she pushed through the crowds of students with her head down, but it was impossible not to think about it when a new Big Ask happened every five minutes. cheers at the end of the hall told her that another one had just said yes.  

sonya sighed. she would have just gone with nikolai as friends, but he was already going with vaska, and natasha was going with pierre, so she couldn’t tag along with them either. it was just her. no date. and no dress.

natasha had gone dress shopping a week ago and found something beautiful in minutes, of course, but sonya hadn’t tried anything on, no matter how many dresses natasha held up in front of her with a squeal of, “oh, you would look so pretty in this!”

she deposited books into her locker with a thud, but the sound of the next door locker opening sent a bolt of anxiety through her. shit. 

“hi, sonya!” it was mary. tall, willowy, beautiful as ever, and flashing that smile as she leaned over from her locker. 

sonya’s mind rocketed into orbit, unnecessarily conjuring a scene of mary in a dress, arm in arm with sonya as they stepped into the gymnasium, which was decked out for winter ball. sonya pushed the image away. mary wasn’t all that popular either, but she was far too smart for sonya.

“sonya? you okay?”

sonya blinked. “yes, fine.” her gaze flicked upwards, anywhere but mary’s face, and landed on one of the posters. “do you--i mean, are you going to winter ball?”

“i wasn’t planning to,” mary said, looking away. 

“oh.

“are you?”

“no, i wasn’t going to either,” sonya said. ask her! screamed her brain. with a deep breath, she opened her mouth again, but the bell rang and mary closed her locker.

“see you,” mary said, and walked away, head down. 

***

an hour has passed by the time sonya starts her car, and the sunset gleams behind the moscow rooftops. less than a week until christmas, and then...what? back to late nights alone with the cat and a book, back to early morning carpools to the nonprofit with pierre and natasha, back to matching her socks to her scarf every day even though nobody would know. 

not a bad life, really. she loves the last tendrils of sunrise that she gets to watch on the drive to work as she sips the hot drink natasha always presses into her hands when she slides into the back seat. and she loves the cat, no matter how much of its hair she has to brush off her uniform in the mornings.

“i just...i want somebody to know what socks i’m wearing,” sonya says to the air. somebody besides the cat who will greet her as she slides her shoes off at the end of the day. it’s a tiny thing, but it hurts sometimes. 

sonya parks and takes the stairs to her apartment. inside the door, she kicks off her shoes and stares down at her socks: black and white checks to match her black and white scarf. the cat obscures her view a moment later, winding around her shins. 

she reaches down to pet it absentmindedly, then, on impulse, pulls out her phone. it’s been fifteen years, but...

sonya (7:15 pm): hey, i know it’s been a while, but do you still have andrei’s number?

natasha (7:16 pm): yeah, of course! he was just texting pierre that he’s back in town for christmas. what do you need it for?

natasha (7:16 pm): attachment, contact card: Andrei Bolkonsky

sonya (7:18 pm): thanks!

natasha (7:19 pm): no wait you have to tell me what’s going on

sonya laughs and swipes natasha’s message away. if this works out she’ll have a lot more to talk about later. she inputs the number into her phone, types a message to andrei, and hits send. 

a quick series of texts later and she has it. the contact icon is depressingly blank, but sonya can still see mary’s smile in her mind’s eye. her thumb hovers over the keyboard, and she’s gritting her teeth in preparation to type when the phone starts ringing. an unknown number.

“hello?”

“it’s mary. andrei told me you wanted my number?”

sonya almost drops the phone. “yeah, i-uh, was just thinking i should have asked for it earlier when i saw you,” 

“i was thinking the same”

“would you-would you want to get coffee sometime? while you’re in town?”

“yeah! yeah, sure, i’d love to catch up”

sonya closes her eyes. after all, why not? why not? “yes, that would be great too, but i was thinking more of...a date.”

the silence lasts only a second, but in sonya’s mind mary takes years to respond. “i...i’d love to.”

the rest of the call is a blur. sonya hangs up minutes later with her hands shaking, the smile on her face beginning to hurt her cheeks. 

sonya (7:49 pm): tasha, i have great news

[sian265]

Legio autem Arcarius Legion of Archer Chapter 15

Alec picked up his phone. He sent an image only and waited until he had a returned rune from the New York Institute. Standing before him was all 12 of his Legion, the most experienced and most skilled of his archers. Alec had left Theo only behind and that was to look after their younger members. “Cat, the portal please.”

 Emerging from the portal into the heart of the New York Institute, Alec and his Legion spread out in the deserted Ops center. The only Shadowhunters that awaited them were Maryse, Izzy, and Jace. The rest of the Institute was on lock down, and only those the Legion deemed trustworthy would know what was going to be said and decided in this room. He did not know what picture he presented to his family as he stood in front of 12 Legion, all of them snapped at attention and looking deadly.

 Maryse eyed them all for a moment before she stepped forward. “Alec, I got the signal. What has happened for you to invoke the Code? I had to explain to your siblings what that even was. It’s been so long since it’s been issued.”

 Urgency rode Alec hard and he stepped around her answering over his shoulder as he moved to the computers and monitors and began punching information into them. “Magnus has been taken and we are going to bring him back. I need the Institute’s computers to help me do that.” He scowled, eyes firmly on the screens flashing before him. Alec’s frustration was evident as he swiped and typed into the machines.

 His family watched, finally having enough Izzy dared to step forward. She moved to brush Alec away from the Institutes system. “Move Alec, tell me what you are looking for. I can find it much faster.” Izzy ordered her big brother.

 Alec let out a sigh, moving aside and accepting his sister’s help. “I’m looking for the strongest convergence of Ley lines in the city. I need the exact location and time is definitely a factor.”

 Izzy nodded and her fingers frantically flew across the keyboards. After only a second or two she stopped. “Got it, it’s coming across the monitors now.”

 The group moved to the large flat table monitor and Izzy brought up a map of New York, the Ley lines appearing in blue. Alec’s eyes scanned screen after screen, his hand flashing furiously as he swiped past areas of the City. Finally, he stopped and pointed. “There! That’s the strongest convergence. What’s at this location?” he asked Izzy.

 Izzy got back to work and pulled up the city plans for that area. “It appears it’s an old manufacturing district. There are several large empty warehouses there.” She searched through drawing after drawing before stopping at one. “Here!” she pointed out. “It looks like this is the abandoned building at the exact point where those Ley lines merge.” Izzy looked back at Alec with a blinding smile. “This is it, Alec. It’s got to be.”

 “Ok, pull up the buildings plans.” Alec turned to look at Lorenzo, “You with us Rey?”

 Lorenzo stuttered out an excuse, mouth-hanging open. “I- I gave you all the information you asked for and now you want me to go into battle with you! I’m no warrior Commander!”

 Alec observed him coldly for a moment, every eye on them. “So you want to be known as the High Warlock who got duped by an imposter who kidnapped the High Warlock of Alicante? Instead of being famous as the High Warlock who helped capture a killer cult and save the most beloved Magnus Bane?” Alec turned away from Lorenzo and that action more than his words told everyone that he was done with Rey and that he had no more use for the Warlock.

 “Wait! What can I do?” Lorenzo stepped forward, realizing that his reputation was clearly at stake here. Brave he might not be, but prideful, yes!

 With a raised brow, Alec turned back around and observed the now eager Rey. “I just thought you might like to be present if nothing else so that you may avenge yourself of the Warlock who fooled you. As for what you can do, I am sure I can think of ways you would be helpful.” He turned back around and gestured for Underhill. When his second stood next to him, Alec widened his hands, spreading out the interior of the building for their viewing.

 Alec silently pointed out several points of the building. “Have the Legion prepare their arrows,” he ordered and Andrew nodded before heading to speak with their archers.

 Cat stepped up reached out and touched Alec’s sleeve. “I’m coming as well; Magnus might need my healing magic.”

 “I think what he would need more is to know you are safe.” Alec looked down at Magnus’ best friend as he continued. “Plus, what about Madzie?” At Cat’s stubborn look, Alec smiled softly. “We can’t risk you, Catarina. Magnus would never forgive me and then what would happen to your daughter, who’d look after her?” Alec could read the internal struggle all over Cat’s face. Patting her hand, Alec said, “Cat, stay at the apartment, that’s where we will bring Magnus back to and you can see for yourself what kind of shape he is in, ok?” Cat nodded and with a resigned sigh stepped back.

 Alec hadn’t seen Jace until he was at Alec’s side trying to see what Underhill was laying out for the Legion. “Where do you want us?” He asked Alec.

 He knew this had been coming, but even knowing the request was going to be made didn’t make what he had to say any easier. “No Shadowhunters will be needed on this mission.” As expected Jace and Izzy’s voices were loud with protest and in Jace’s case some outrage. “Enough!” Alec ordered, glaring at his siblings. Surprisingly his mother had remained silent. “You are not trained for this type of mission.”

 “That’s ridiculous Alec! You might be older but we have been training all our lives just like you!” Jace was so angry his face was turning red. Alec could only imagine the struggles he gave Maryse, he displayed so little control. Alec did not want to hurt him, but he had to make them understand. “That’s the thing, you haven’t been training all your life, not like I have. Shadowhunters are trained to rush in, save the day, kind of like bulls in a china shop. The Legion trains to get in and out, unseen.”

 “So you’re like some sort of Ninja’s?” Jace spat.

 “What’s a Ninja?” Alec asked with a frown and Jace flushed, mumbling something like Simon. “Bottom line is this, you are not going. I need to be able to get in without alerting them and take them out before they know we are even there. The Legion is sent in when Shadowhunters cannot complete the mission. My word is final.” They all watched silently as Jace stormed off.

 Alec looked at Izzy who shrugged and gave him a small smile. “I’ll talk to him. I understand, don’t like it, but I understand Alec.” She left, following Jace.

 Underhill interrupted his thoughts of how he was going to fix this once this was all over. He reached out and took the quiver full of arrows, meeting his second’s sympathetic gaze. “These are runed and ready, as are your Legion, Commander.” Alec took a deep breath, putting everything but the mission out of his head. Turning to look at his archers, he nodded. “Let’s go get Magnus.”

 Lorenzo portaled them in at the closet location he had been to. The spell they ask him to perform was easy; help the Legion seem like shadows. Alec held up one finger and made a circle and his archers blended into the night, they had their orders and Alec trusted in them. He, Andrew, and Lorenzo silently approached the warehouse. Alec gave Rey a nod and the Warlock spread his fingers against the wall of the warehouse, creating a view of inside. They moved down the wall until the window Lorenzo opened gave them a picture of the cult, and Magnus. Alec looked at Lorenzo, “keep watch here and when you see my signal, you can come in.”

 “What’s the signal?” Lorenzo asked.

 Alec hooked his bow over his shoulder, Underhill doing the same. “You will know it.” Alec said before he and Underhill both disappeared into the darkness. He parted ways with his second at a window on the North side of the building, Underhill slipping away to find his own entry point. Alec could hear the low muttering of voices as he slide first one leg, then the other through the hole that was once a window. Slipping behind the steel pillar he had entered behind, Alec listened for any movement near his point. Each archer had activated the runes they would need before entering the building, Alec was no different. Once he determined that no one spotted or heard him come in, Alec grasped the sides of the pillar and began to scale it, all the way up he went, until he pulled himself onto the steel ledges that ran across the ceiling.

 About 20 feet away to the left, Alec spotted their targets. Before he scanned them though he looked back across the miles of steel beams, spotting each of his Legion in their assign spots, they had the cult surrounded. Moving silently along the rafters, Alec got close enough to hear their voices. What had him fighting every instinct to kill them now was the sight of Magnus. They had stripped him of his robe, so that he sat, shackled in only his silk pajama pants. Magnus’ beautiful skin was covered in bruises and scrapes. They had sat him inside a pentagram one of them was drawing out with some dark substance. Alec could see Magnus’ face and the High Warlock was furious! Alec listened as Magnus berated the cult. Alec silently vowed that every scrape and bruise dealt to Magnus would be avenged.

  “This is the most ridiculous farce I have ever seen!” Magnus spat. “Have you told these foolish mundane what will happen to them if you are successful in summoning my father?”

 Jung stood in front of Magnus, covered in her white robe, but Alec recognized her voice. “Of course, they have been promised a share of the rewards Asmodeus will gift us once freed from the prison you bound him to.”

 Magnus let out a bitter laugh. “Oh they will be rewarded as you will stupid little girl! Haven’t you ever wondered why there are so few offspring of the Princes of Hell?” Magnus sneered at the other Warlock. “There are so few left alive because once a Prince of Hell learns of any offspring’s they hunt them down and suck all their power out until that child is dead! You think wrongly that first you are a child of Asmodeus and second that he will welcome you with what a fatherly hug?” Magnus laughed.

 Alec couldn’t see Jung’s face and he must have missed something, because she thought she was what Magnus’ sister? Her motivation did make a little more sense then. She thought she was going to free her Prince of Hell father and be welcomed and cherished by a Greater Demon, Magnus was right, she was a fool. Alec listened in again.

 Magnus was continuing to taunt and berate the cult leader. “This whole thing is ridiculous.” Magnus swept a hand about the circle he was standing in. “You have no clue what the hell you are doing and this little pentagram is not going to reverse the spells I used to banish Asmodeus.” Magnus turned to where the other cult members were gathered and addressed them “Honestly, tell me one of you has an ounce of common sense here? You joined a cult that was a joke and now want to greet a Prince of Hell? All because this foolish Warlock tells you he will appreciate your efforts and reward you? You do realize Demons do not have human emotions like gratitude and love. That is if this farce is successful, he will greet you will pain and death?”

 “Well then, if this will not release our father from your imprisonment, then I have no use of you!” Jung screamed at Magnus.

 Alec had enough. He raised a fist into the air and around him; archers drew their bows and nocked arrows. Alec drew his own bow and his arrow had one target, but he wasn’t shooting to kill, no Alec wanted Jung to answer to the Clave for her crimes, death was too fast. Alec’s arrow was the first to fly and it signaled the others. Thirteen arrows streaked across the warehouse, all successfully hitting their targets. Jung screamed as she was hit in the upper thigh. She crumbled to the ground. One after another, Legion dropped to the main floor of the warehouse, Alec descending last. Lorenzo entered right behind Alec, having watched and waited for the Legion to subdue the cult. The Crimson Hand was no more.

 Alec paid no attention to the crumpled, crying Jung. He moved quickly to Magnus and taking out his stele, released the shackles that had bound Magnus. Uncaring of any audience, Alec immediately drew Magnus into a tight embrace, Magnus’ arms closed firmly around Alec as well.

 Magnus pressed as close as he could to Alec’s body. With his nose tucked against the Commander’s neck, he finally could release some of the trembling he had been containing. “I knew you would come for me,” he whispered against Alec’s neck.

 “I’ll always come for you.” Alec replied, tightening his hold on the man who had come to be his entire world.

  TBC…

[k-brownsugar]

Secrets 1

I wanted to write a lot more, but I type a lot for work, so now when I type for too long it hurts. Idk why. I think I could have hit at least 10,000 words, but I’ll have to settle for 1600 today. I’m sorry guys. 

Prelude

Jungkook x Reader

Angst I guess..idk 

Words: 1644 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook was tired. He was busy. And he worked hard. ….Too hard. 

1:23am- I need you

This could mean one of three things. He was horny, stressed or both. He never texted much. He liked to keep things short and sweet. Real conversation was meant to be held in person, as he liked to put it. But he never said much in person either. I didn’t need to text back. He knew I was coming. I went to his studio about 15 minutes later. We always met at his studio. Never his place or mine. He liked it that way. I don’t know why.

Jungkook’s studio was located in a business building on the 26th floor. I walked in and waved to the security guard. His name was Beauty and he flirted with me often. I asked him once why he called himself Beauty and he replied with “Have you seen this face.” He was always a pleasure to talk to. After taking the elevator and navigating through the halls, I finally arrived at Jungkook’s door, but before I could knock, he swung the door open. His surprised face mirrored my own, until he realized it was me and smiled sweetly. The smile was fake though, something was wrong. I could already tell that his text was not because he was horny. 

“Umm” he started, he seemed awkward. “ I gotta pee, so make yourself at home” I nodded slightly. “Sure thing, captain” He chuckled as I made my way past him and he closed the door behind him. I set my things on his leather couch and took this time to snoop around. Jungkook never opened up to me. We’ve been seeing each other for about 8 months now and to be honest I barely know anything about him. I know that he’s a songwriter. I know he practically lives in his studio. I know he likes tattoos. The first few months of us seeing each other, every time I came around him, which was at least twice a week back then, he had a new tattoo. 

One of his arms had a full sleeve. The other arm was bare except for his hand fingers. 

The only area where I know him better than I know myself is with sex. He is definitely vocal and expressive when it comes to that . As I walked around his studio I noticed drumsticks sitting on the edge of the couch. There were instant ramen wrappers all over the floor and his little TV on the wall was displaying a blue screen. I walked over to wear his keyboard was and ran my fingers over it trying to picture exactly what he looked like playing it. I’ve never seen Jungkook play anything. He always changes the subject when I ask. I just assume he’s nervous. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his black notebook sitting on top of his fridge. I looked over my shoulder a few times, paranoid that he was behind me. Jungkook never would let me see what was in that book. Every time I caught him writing in it he would slam it shut and then set it somewhere out of the way. If I asked about it he would just look away and call it “music stuff”, but I knew it was more than that. 

I slowly started making my way to it and as I was about to grab it, in he walked. “What are you doing?” I turned around and there he was, eyebrows furrowed together, still standing in the doorway. “I was thirsty, just seeing what you had to drink.” I lied. “Oh, uh, I think I may have water or some chocolate milk. I’m not sure” He finally came all the way in and closed the door behind him. As he made his way to the couch, I turned back and opened the fridge. Nothing. Nothing but some empty ice cream wrappers. How can he live like this. “Nope, nothing captain” He chuckled again. “Sorry about that, I get so caught up. Want me to grab you something? The only thing good about this building is the convenient store downstairs.” I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.” I wasn’t really thirsty anyway. “Then, come here” His voice was husky and his eyes were dark, but when I got close enough, he reached out to grab me and sit me on his lap. Then he proceeded to maneuver us in way that we were laying down with my face on his chest. 

He never said a word, so neither did I. We laid there for at least 45 minutes, just listening to each other breathe and him caressing my back. I knew better than to ask what was wrong. It would only make him upset and he wasn’t going to tell me anyway.  It was better to let him do his thing, whatever he needed to relax. 

His phone finally buzzed. His timer letting him know to get back to work. He let out a long, heavy sigh and I rested my chin on his chest so I could look at him. His eyes were heavy and the circles around them were getting darker. He just stared back at me, man I wish I could know what he was thinking. Then he grabbed the back of my neck gently to lift my head and kissed me. He sighed into the kiss to make it deeper and it was so nice. We hardly ever kiss like this. It’s usually short and sweet or hard and rough. Never this needy. When he finally pulled away, he told me he needed to get back to work and to get home safely. I nodded, kissed his cheek and left. As I walked home, all I could think about was how could I be of more use to Jungkook. He had to know that I had feelings for him. He just had to. Part of me believed that he had feelings for me too, but there’s a million reasons on why I could be wrong. Jungkook had a past. He only liked girls that came around when he wanted them too, did what he wanted them to do and never question it. 

When we first started doing this, it was sex all the time. I came over about 4 days a week. He lasted about 10 minutes and then I would leave. Sometimes I would try to get to know him, ask some questions about his life, family, work, etc., but he never opened up to me. So eventually I stopped. The sex was good enough. 

Later, it turned into about twice a week. He would last longer, but it was still just sex and that was it. At our 4 month mark he disappeared. I heard nothing from him for about a month. And to be honest I was pissed. I had never thought about my feelings for him before, but when he left that really hurt me. When he finally contacted me a month later with his stupid I need you text, I had every intention on going over there to tell him off. I planned everything thing I was going to say on my walk over. I wasn’t going to go in, he could get me with just a smirk and I needed to be able to just walk away. When he opened the door, I was going to shove him, not too hard but hard enough to let him know I was upset. Then I was I was going to give him a piece of my mind. Call him a piece of shit for ditching without a word. Then calling me again like I’m some peasant. I was going to tell him about himself. I was going to tell him every reason I saw fit for why he couldn’t find true love and why he would settle for hooking up and how I was stupid for letting him do this to me. I was going to tell him that I was done and to never call me again. Lastly, I was not going to cry until I left. He couldn’t see me broken. 

But none of that happened. As soon as I got to his door I pounded on it and when he swung the door open, his eyes were rimmed with red and his face was pale. He quickly pulled me into a hug and just held me. It was maybe a couple of seconds but it felt like hours before I heard him whisper “I missed you.” I melted at that moment. I never said anything in return but he had me and he knew it. He pulled me inside, led me to the couch and we just laid there together. Him caressing my hair, my back and occasionally leaving soft kisses on my forehead. I tried to get him to tell me what was going on but he would just close his eyes and whisper a “please” and that’s how we left it. We laid there for over an hour. I knew our cuddle session was over when he started to stretch and talk about his new deadline. 

I had so many questions to ask. Where was he? Why’d he disappear? Why didn’t he call or text? Why is he back now? What the hell is going on? Instead I just picked up my bag and headed to the door to leave. As I was about to exit, he grabbed my shoulder to turn me around, kissed me and thanked me. “I really needed this” He said. I just nodded. 

For some reason on my walk home I was on cloud 9. I knew better than to think too much into what Jungkook had done, but it was hard not too. 

I loved him and I was no longer denying it.

[loyalflutist]

20 Minutes (YukoRena)

Imagine being abducted. Imagine disappearing from your apartment. Imagine being tied up. Imagine being in the same bed as your captor. Imagine the horror of not knowing what might happen to you the next day. Well, that wasn't how the cop felt. That was her girlfriend's predicament. Keys were heard, rapidly pressing on the keyboard from nearby. Arms crossed, Oshima Yuko stood by and watched an operator, Takahashi Minami, scan for nearby areas at her booth. A police department in Osaka, they were one of the few groups that become highly active after midnight. Usually, there would only be a small handful present. This base was the complete opposite. Just as if it was the start of the day, almost everyone was ready to go out when trouble arrives. Phones ringing, frantic yells, conversations with witnesses and victims, criminals brought into the interrogation room, and mad dashes were seen everywhere. A glance at the workplace's wall clock told the squirrel that it was 12:30 AM. It has been almost four hours since Matsui Rena's kidnap. Yuko had gone out to purchase ingredients for tonight. It was roughly 7:00 PM when she headed out from their shared apartment. A promise that the couple would recreate a cuisine they've seen on television just yesterday was made between the two. Thus she left the older Matsui behind. Once 9:00 PM rolled around the corner, that was when she stood in front of the door. Yet there was an oddity. Door opened. Doorknob damaged. Interiors were disheveled. Girlfriend nowhere to be seen. Oh, the panic the officer had to go through! Desperation overrode her sanity as she ran throughout their apartment, screaming for Rena’s name. Half an hour was spent. Yuko was unable to get anything out of this situation. The only conclusion she came to was that she was kidnapped by someone. Why would they steal Rena away? Why would they choose her? Why abduction? What are they planning to do with her? So many questions, not a single answer provided. Detectives are still trying to decipher the crime scene. Answers will be given sometime tomorrow. It’s just so frustrating being unable to do anything other than wait for clues. “Yuko... “ A gentle nudge was felt on her arm. The cop in black glanced over at the source. Matsui Jurina extended a filled coffee mug towards her. Although it was a simple gesture, Yuko appreciated the young lawyer’s kindness. “Thank you…” she softly said, receiving the caffeinated product. Jurina remained standing by her colleague’s side. Holding her own cup of coffee, she took a sip from it. “Rena doesn’t deserve this. Once you guys capture the kidnapper, I’m going to make sure they get the punishment they deserve.” “If only the law was more lenient, I would’ve murdered the person myself.” “Try that, and I won’t hesitate to see you in court too,” the puppy playfully smirked, brown eyes shifted and focused on the operator. “Just a heads up, I won’t be defending you.” Had this been a light-hearted atmosphere, Yuko wouldn’t hesitate to laugh. However, she grimaced and stared down at her coffee. “Of course, prosecutor. You help press the charges onto the guilty.” “You know me well--” There was a sudden ringing of the phone on one of the operator’s desk. That came from Minami’s. The short female ceased further typing and activated her black headset. "110, what's the address of your emergency?" she spoke into the mic. "Right across a shrine in Joto Ward..." That soft voice. That soft, sweet, gentle voice whispering on the other line. Her eyes widen. Minami knew this voice all too well. She immediately used her two-way radio to connect on the line with the active police. Information about the current call expanded to six randomly chosen officers, prompting them to do their job. Yuko didn’t hesitate to jump into action once the brown-haired woman mouthed, ‘It’s Rena.’ before running out of the room. Several more followed suit. As she listened in to the telephone conversation through her earpiece, the cop rushed out and into the parking lot where all of the cars are located. Her most trusted partner, Maeda Atsuko, sat in the driver seat with a novel in one hand. A single glance up caused the black-haired female to tuck the book back inside her jacket. Yuko slammed the passenger door shut as Atsuko switched the siren on. “What’s the case this time?” she asked. “It’s my girlfriend.” “All the more reason to hurry.” They were the first to leave the basement’s garage. About two more vehicles accompanied the wailing vehicle. A nearby security guard was able to lift the metal barrier upward, allowing the three cars to burst out into the road. The darkness that clouded their surroundings were broken through by headlights and flashing colors of red and blue. What could’ve been a silent, peaceful night shattered? Oshima Yuko clicked the police radio on within their car. Voices from the operator were switched from her earpiece to the vehicle’s device. At that same moment, the brown-haired female rapidly clicked on the keyboards, her eyes darting left and right on the bright screen. "What is it?" Minami questioned again, unable to hear the location very well. A soft, shaky sigh came from the older Matsui. "Shrine... Joto... Joto Ward..." Perfect. It was close to where their police department building was located. The only bad news was that it might take at least 15 minutes to arrive at the location. Five minutes would easily be eaten up searching throughout the premise. A shrine did allow the police and operator to narrow the search, but it’s still too vague. Was she inside it? Was she nearby? What happened to Rena? Is she still in captivity or was she free, wandering about in confusion? Whatever it may be, following Minami’s protocol, she continued the recorded conversation. "Okay, what’s the problem?”   "I've been abducted." This confirmed the fact that Rena has been taken away by someone. "Are you at the shrine?" "No... I'm in a house… In a bedroom with him." Another confirmation made. This time, it proved that she was still in captivity. Back in the police car, Yuko roughly rubbed the side of her head as Atsuko sped through the quiet road. The man who kidnapped her girlfriend is still by her side. What the heck is going on?! When the older Matsui mentioned the terminology ‘bedroom’, it infuriated the officer. “I swear, if I see this motherfucker lay one dirty hand on her, I’m going to murder him,” she ground her teeth. Her partner shot a glance at the squirrel. “Yuko, it’s too soon to assume. If you lose your cool right now, you won’t be able to save Rena.” Static emitted from the radio device once again as the conversation between caller and receiver continued. "Do you know what color the house is?" "No." A pause. "Please... hurry." Takahashi Minami felt the side of her face became moist as she frantically searched in the database. So little information, so little time. Pinpointing a location is difficult when it’s reached by a cellular device. Not receiving anything more on the older Matsui’s end increased its difficulty. She needs to gather information from satellites and signal towers, and that would easily eat up ten minutes just to get a rough approximation. An operator’s job on the police line is also to keep the victim as calm as possible. Thus, the young woman asked again. "Does he have a weapon?" "He's got a taser." "And are you injured?" "A little." A little injury. Any more than that and the uniformed officer would’ve gone berserk. How out of character for someone who always played the role of a clown. Another glare was shot at her from the driver’s seat as Atsuko made a sharp turn, avoiding a speeding truck. "Is there any way you can get out of the building?" "I don't know without waking him, and I'm scared." "Is there a bathroom in the house?" "His bedroom is closed, and he made it so it would make noise." "So if you told him you had to go to the bathroom, he would do something to you?" "Yeah, because he had me tied up." This criminal is smarter than any average culprit. Minami’s brows furrowed. "So are you tied up now?" "Well, I... yeah, but I kind of freed myself--" A faint gasp was heard on the other line. "Shit, I woke him up." Yuko felt her heart rate increase by two-fold. The adrenaline of fury was immediately joined by one of terror. The palms of her hands became clammy. She curled her hands into fists, eyes trained on the radio. Faintly, the two police officers could hear shuffling of the bedsheets in the line’s background. Minami was quick to make a decision for everyone’s sake. "Just set the phone down." Then, complete silence. Not a single noise emitted from Rena’s side. The weight of the tension grew heavier by every passing second, the most burden resting on top of Yuko’s shoulders. She couldn’t even squeak a response out of her own mouth, terrified that she might be the one to dig her girlfriend’s grave even deeper… even though she knew nothing would happen if the officer spoke. Atsuko glanced at her partner. She too didn’t utter a word. What seems like an hour ticked by once a minute passed. Nervously, Minami readjusted her headset back in the office. "Are you still there?" the operator called out. "How much longer?" Ah, an answer from Rena. That means her captor is still asleep. Yet her shaky, quiet voice made it difficult to comprehend what was mumbled. "What?" "How much longer?" A little bit louder this time. "Can you get out of the house?" "It's locked." "It's locked? Are you at the door?" "Yeah, I am." Progression. It looks like the older Matsui was able to carefully sneak her way past the bedroom and remain near an exit. Faint traces of relief washed over those who were listening as Minami proclaimed, “She’s at the door!” Just a little more to go till they were able to save her. However, this could mean life or death for the caller. If her kidnapper wakes up right now, then it’s over for everyone, especially for Rena. "Is there a window then?" "Yeah, I'm looking out of it. Tell them to come back." "She said--" "Hurry, hurry!" "She said to hurry up and come back." That was their cue to retrace their steps. With the added tone of desperation sprinkled in, Yuko cursed that they had just passed by their location at this time of the day. Atsuko, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate her partner losing control of her cool. As an officer, maintaining a calm composure is their utmost priority to performing their job. Vehicles with lights of blue and red flashed in the darkness next to their destination. Officer Maeda and Oshima hurried out from their car and rushed towards the front entrance. Soon they were joined by Yokoyama Yui, Yamamoto Sayaka, Akimoto Sayaka, and Miyazawa Sae, all standing right behind them. Sayanee had both hands on her hips with a stern expression as her partner, Yui, pulled out her handgun. Sayaka followed Yui’s action, fluidly sliding the firing weapon out of its holster. Sae, her comrade, allowed a faint smile to run across her face as she crossed her arms. The six strongest members of the station’s night shift were ready to tackle this urgent case. The possibility of failure was extremely slim with these folks. “Let’s get this rescue underway,” Sae remarked, uncrossing her arms… only to get hit on the side of the head by her partner. “Ouch! Why the Hell did you hit me--” “Sae, stop fooling around and help me and Acchan get this door down.” One of the two tallest duos laid her eyes upon Yuko. “Didn’t Rena mention that she’s near a window?” Yuko nodded. Then, brown eyes skimming the front windows, it didn’t take 30 seconds to find her girlfriend. Standing with an expression that was never seen by Yuko herself. Like a kitten who has been frightened by her surrounding, Rena trembled as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. The cellular device that was used to call for help slipped out of her grasp. As it loudly thumped on the old wooden floorboards, the female pressed her hands against the glass surface. Her lips moved, but no one from the outside could hear her cry for help. Seeing Rena in this state both infuriated and broke Yuko’s spirit. “I found her!” She blindly rushed forward. Oh, the sight of her girlfriend made her heart race even faster than ever! If it prolonged in this state, it might lead to a case of a fatal heart condition! Yuko felt the corner of her eyes become moist as she frantically searched for an opening of the closed window. “Shit…. Shit shit shit! Where the hell is an opening when you need it?!” Her leathered fingers fumbled around, eyes rapidly flickering around for any clue. Time was of importance. Being calm was pushed to the back burner as the thought of her girlfriend being caught again by the criminal psychological tormented the officer. That is until Atsuko’s voice rang out. “YUKO! Stop freaking out, and CALM DOWN.” God, Oshima wanted to snap back at her comrade-in-arm. Who was she to tell her what to do in this predicament? It’s her girlfriend, for crying out loud! How would Atsuko feel if it were Takahashi Minami?! Right when she opened her mouth, Officer Yokoyama placed a hand on the panicking member’s shoulder. “Yuko, you’re going to scare Rena if you continue to act this way.” A pause. Yuko stared directly at Yui, who proceeded to stand by her side and slip her own fingers underneath the window. Then, with a grunt, the Kyoto female pulled it upward. Muscles from within her exposed wrists and lower arm tightened as the object opened a pathway inch by inch. It was finally up all the way. A loud sigh came from the officer as she backed away from Officer Oshima. Then, she flashed a weak smile at her direction. “After all, you’re scaring your partner too. I don’t think this will go well if we have our leader panic.” That was right… Oshima Yuko is the head of this group. As the head officer of the station’s night shift, having her lose her composure strained the atmosphere into a whole new level of discomfort. The squirrel returned her gaze back to the now-opened window. There stood Matsui Rena. She currently has both hands pressed against her own chest, breathing rapidly with tears still streaming down her face. Yuko’s eyes widen. Yui wasn’t wrong. She was absolutely correct. How could she lose control of herself like this? She closed her eyelids, sucked in a deep breath, exhaled all of the carbon dioxides, and reopened her eyes. What was once a facial expression filled with despair and terror was washed over with calmness and seriousness. As Atsuko, Sayaka, and Sae worked on breaking down the door, Yuko extended both of her gloved hands towards her girlfriend. In a clear voice, she exclaimed, “Hurry, come to me!” When she saw her girlfriend remain cool and collected, she wasn’t as frightened as she was before. Still, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation. Rena scrambled to get through the parted window. Shaky hands gripped ahold of the edges as the woman made an attempt to traverse to safety. Her girlfriend took a step closer, the leather material from her gloves brushing on Rena’s shoulders the further the victim got out. Finally, Yuko managed to pull the terrified woman out of the house. Arms protectively wrapped around the older Matsui as the officer distanced themselves away from the premise. “Officer Oshima got her,” Sayanee radioed into their station. The black box representing the communication device was close to her mouth as she continued. “Officer Maeda, Akimoto, and Miyazawa are attempting break-in of the culprit’s hideout.” Minami immediately replied into her team's earpiece and communication device. "Okay, they got her." Finally, confirmation about the safety of Rena in the record. Though Yuko may not need it since her girlfriend was in her arms, it was great news for her teammates who were unaware. A gentle kiss was placed on the female’s head as they retracted. Both of her hands reached out to tenderly caress the tall woman’s face, thumbs wiping away the wet smears from Rena’s tears. She examined her girlfriend’s disheveled figure. Minor injuries were planted on some parts of her body. The wrists for being tied up. The light bruise on her forehead, possibly from either being intentionally hit or accidentally bumping against something. Nothing severe enough to call for an ambulance. Yuko’s eyes resumed to looking straight at Rena’s. She leaned forward to give another soothing smooch to the tip of her nose before asking an important question. “Where is he?” “Bedroom, sleeping.” “Still sleeping?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t know if I should praise you for being the sneakiest ninja alive or if I should thank God for dosing him with some ridiculous sleeping spell.” Then, not letting her girl respond to the remark, she lowered her gloved hands. When one of the two was raised, a revolver was in her grasp. Yuko deactivated the safety lock as she flashed another grin. “Don’t you worry anymore. You’re now safe with us… with me.” A command was given out that Yokoyama Yui and Yamamoto Sayaka stay put with Rena. Leaving her alone was far too risky, and everyone agreed that she needed to have two guards by her side. As she sat in one of the police vehicles, all the older Matsui could do was watch the other four members break into the house. The front door finally smashed in, Yuko and Atsuko were in the frontline as Sayaka and Sae followed from behind. All readied in an offensive stance, their weapons aimed at every nook and cranny as they progressed towards the bedroom. Flashlights from their chest had been clicked on, beaming brightly in the musty inside. The abandoned shelter barely had anything in it. Not to mention the creepy atmosphere that surrounded the dark home. Perfect for a criminal hideout. Up to the stairs, they went… and at the doorway of the only bedroom in the house. The door already slightly jarred thanks to Rena’s action from earlier, they were able to peer in. Based on their observation, the man was… still asleep? The sleeping fairy must’ve blessed them well to be able to catch a criminal this easily… Yuko glanced at her teammates. Two fingers up in the air, she motioned them all towards the door with a nod. It immediately became loud and noisy. The door slammed open, guns aimed at the kidnapper, and lights from their device illuminated the entire room. The slumbering man is no more. "This is the police!” Atsuko proclaimed as she took a step towards the now-startled man. Tip pointed directly at his face, index finger ready at the trigger as a sign of threat, Yuko added to her statement. “Show us your hands. Put up your fucking hands! Right now. Do it!" Hesitation. He hesitated, but considering his predicament, he has no choice but to oblige to their request. Had he not been defenseless nor dizzy from being forcefully woken, this might’ve gone differently. Both of his hands slowly raised in the air. Sae instantly used this chance to lower her weapon and handcuff him. Everything afterward came as a blur to Yuko. The arrest process. The man being stuffed into one of her comrades’ vehicles to the police station for interrogation. Returning back to the station for recovery… It all flashed forward. Rena sat next to Yuko, her arms wrapped around one of the squirrel’s arm as she was draped in a blanket thanks to a certain attorney. They were in an empty meeting room. Originally, no civilians are permitted to enter the premise, but… for tonight, since the boss wasn’t in the house, this is an exception. Silence filled the atmosphere. A bandage was patched on the older Matsui’s forehead as gauzes protected her bruised wrists from further damages. She laid her head on top of Yuko’s shoulder, brown eyes staring straight at the empty white wall. They haven’t interacted with each other since the arrest. Yuko nervously glanced at the raven-haired female. As an officer, she was prepared for anything in this line of work. It comes with being a part of serving the public. However, for an ordinary civilian like Matsui Rena, this was life-changing. “...neh, Yuko-chan…” “Hm?” She tightened her grip on Yuko’s arm. “I’m… really scared…” “Even when I’m around?” “No… It’s just… when you’re not around… I’m scared something bad like today… would happen again.” Yuko let out a soft sigh. She would want to proclaim that she won’t let it happen again. She sincerely didn’t want it to happen anymore, but it was a lie if she were to utter such promises. The Japanese knew very well that she can’t be around her girlfriend 24/7. If such a thing were to occur, things might’ve not gone as smoothly as this night. An exhausted exhale shakily exited out of her lips as she turned her body, adjusting Rena’s figure so she was able to properly embrace the woman. Eyelids lowered, she tightened her hold. “I see… In that case, I want you to know that no matter what, if anything like this happens, I will come and save you.” Rena raised her head. There it is again. The tears that were beginning to sprout from the lacrimal glands. Officer Oshima became speechless at the sight. She really was terrified… and there was nothing the authoritative figure could do. When Rena noticed that the squirrel remained silent, she pressed her face against the police’s chest. “But I don’t want this to ever happen again…” “Rena…” “...” “Rena, please… can you look at me?” It took some time until she finally heeded to her request. When she positioned herself so she was facing the squirrel directly, Rena… just realized how close they were. Their breaths easily felt with each exhale… It tickled her skin a little bit. Yuko decided to use this chance to reach up and cup her lover’s face with her hands. “I know you don’t want it to happen again, babe…” Oshima leaned forward. Lips pressed against the others, Yuko didn’t hesitate to close her eyes and give it her all with this interaction. Matsui was taken aback from the authority’s action but too closed her eyelids. A single tear fell from her left eye as they parted briefly, only to come together for another round. They panted after retracting from each other once again. Foreheads lightly touching, Yuko whispered, “That’s why I’m going to protect you. Even when I’m not there, I’ll always come for you. Can you trust me with that?” “...I…” Her answer was interrupted by the appearance of another individual in the room. With a new presence, their conversation came to an abrupt halt as the lawyer held two cups of green tea. Jurina, however smart she was, clearly couldn’t read the situation. It didn’t help that she initiated a totally different topic by talking about the kidnapping case and how it will be handled in court for the next week or so. The answer that Yuko wanted to hear… whether Rena could trust her or not… Oh well, she could ask again later. Hopefully, it’s a response that would implement the young female’s trust in the older officer...

[lbcybersecurity]

Your Holiday Cybersecurity Guide

Many of us are visiting parents/relatives this Thanksgiving/Christmas, and will have an opportunity to help our them with cybersecurity issues. I thought I'd write up a quick guide of the most important things.

1. Stop them from reusing passwords

By far the biggest threat to average people is that they re-use the same password across many websites, so that when one website gets hacked, all their accounts get hacked.

To demonstrate the problem, go to haveibeenpwned.com and enter the email address of your relatives. This will show them a number of sites where their password has already been stolen, like LinkedIn, Adobe, etc. That should convince them of the severity of the problem.

They don't need a separate password for every site. You don't care about the majority of website whether you get hacked. Use a common password for all the meaningless sites. You only need unique passwords for important accounts, like email, Facebook, and Twitter.

Write down passwords and store them in a safe place. Sure, it's a common joke that people in offices write passwords on Post-It notes stuck on their monitors or under their keyboards. This is a common security mistake, but that's only because the office environment is widely accessible. Your home isn't, and there's plenty of places to store written passwords securely, such as in a home safe. Even if it's just a desk drawer, such passwords are safe from hackers, because they aren't on a computer.

Write them down, with pen and paper. Don't put them in a MyPasswords.doc, because when a hacker breaks in, they'll easily find that document and easily hack your accounts.

You might help them out with getting a password manager, or two-factor authentication (2FA). Good 2FA like YubiKey will stop a lot of phishing threats. But this is difficult technology to learn, and of course, you'll be on the hook for support issues, such as when they lose the device. Thus, while 2FA is best, I'm only recommending pen-and-paper to store passwords. (AccessNow has a guide, though I think YubiKey/U2F keys for Facebook and GMail are the best).

2. Lock their phone (passcode, fingerprint, faceprint)

You'll lose your phone at some point. It has the keys all all your accounts, like email and so on. With your email, phones thieves can then reset passwords on all your other accounts. Thus, it's incredibly important to lock the phone.

Apple has made this especially easy with fingerprints (and now faceprints), so there's little excuse not to lock the phone.

Note that Apple iPhones are the most secure. I give my mother my old iPhones so that they will have something secure.

My mom demonstrates a problem you'll have with the older generation: she doesn't reliably have her phone with her, and charged. She's the opposite of my dad who religiously slaved to his phone. Even a small change to make her lock her phone means it'll be even more likely she won't have it with her when you need to call her.

3. WiFi (WPA)

Make sure their home WiFi is WPA encrypted. It probably already is, but it's worthwhile checking.

The password should be written down on the same piece of paper as all the other passwords. This is importance. My parents just moved, Comcast installed a WiFi access point for them, and they promptly lost the piece of paper. When I wanted to debug some thing on their network today, they didn't know the password, and couldn't find the paper. Get that password written down in a place it won't get lost!

Discourage them from extra security features like "SSID hiding" and/or "MAC address filtering". They provide no security benefit, and actually make security worse. It means a phone has to advertise the SSID when away from home, and it makes MAC address randomization harder, both of which allows your privacy to be tracked.

If they have a really old home router, you should probably replace it, or at least update the firmware. A lot of old routers have hacks that allow hackers (like me masscaning the Internet) to easily break in.

4. Ad blockers or Brave

Most of the online tricks that will confuse your older parents will come via advertising, such as popups claiming "You are infected with a virus, click here to clean it". Installing an ad blocker in the browser, such as uBlock Origin, stops most all this nonsense.

For example, here's a screenshot of going to the "Speedtest" website to test the speed of my connection (I took this on the plane on the way home for Thanksgiving). Ignore the error (plane's firewall Speedtest) -- but instead look at the advertising banner across the top of the page insisting you need to download a browser extension. This is tricking you into installing malware -- the ad appears as if it's a message from Speedtest, it's not. Speedtest is just selling advertising and has no clue what the banner says. This sort of thing needs to be blocked -- it fools even the technologically competent.

uBlock Origin for Chrome is the one I use. Another option is to replace their browser with Brave, a browser that blocks ads, but at the same time, allows micropayments to support websites you want to support. I use Brave on my iPhone.

A side benefit of ad blockers or Brave is that web surfing becomes much faster, since you aren't downloading all this advertising. The smallest NYtimes story is 15 megabytes in size due to all the advertisements, for example.

5. Cloud Backups

Do backups, in the cloud. It's a good idea in general, especially with the threat of ransomware these days.

In particular, consider your photos. Over time, they will be lost, because people make no effort to keep track of them. All hard drives will eventually crash, deleting your photos. Sure, a few key ones are backed up on Facebook for life, but the rest aren't.

There are so many excellent online backup services out there, like DropBox and Backblaze. Or, you can use the iCloud feature that Apple provides. My favorite is Microsoft's: I already pay $99 a year for Office 365 subscription, and it comes with 1-terabyte of online storage.

6. Separate email accounts

You should have three email accounts: work, personal, and financial.

First, you really need to separate your work account from personal. The IT department is already getting misdirected emails with your spouse/lover that they don't want to see. Any conflict with your work, such as getting fired, gives your private correspondence to their lawyers.

Second, you need a wholly separate account for financial stuff, like Amazon.com, your bank, PayPal, and so on. That prevents confusion with phishing attacks.

Consider this warning today:

Phishing warning! Fake emails are being sent out pretending to be from the US Postal Service, claiming that you requested your mail be held this week. Don't click on the attachment OR the links.

— Wendy Nather (@wendynather) November 21, 2017

If you had split accounts, you could safely ignore this. The USPS would only your financial email account, which gets no phishing attacks, because it's not widely known. When your receive the phishing attack on your personal email, you ignore it, because you know the USPS doesn't know your personal email account.

Phishing emails are so sophisticated that even experts can't tell the difference. Splitting financial from personal emails makes it so you don't have to tell the difference -- anything financial sent to personal email can safely be ignored.

7. Deauth those apps!

Twitter user @tompcoleman comments that we also need deauth apps.

Social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, and Google encourage you to enable "apps" that work their platforms, often demanding privileges to generate messages on your behalf. The typical scenario is that you use them only once or twice and forget about them.

A lot of them are hostile. For example, my niece's twitter account would occasional send out advertisements, and she didn't know why. It's because a long time ago, she enabled an app with the permission to send tweets for her. I had to sit down and get rid of most of her apps.

Now would be a good time to go through your relatives Facebook, Twitter, and Google/GMail and disable those apps. Don't be a afraid to be ruthless -- they probably weren't using them anyway. Some will still be necessary. For example, Twitter for iPhone shows up in the list of Twitter apps. The URL for editing these apps for Twitter is https://twitter.com/settings/applications. Google link is here (thanks @spextr). I don't know of simple URLs for Facebook, but you should find it somewhere under privacy/security settings.

8. Up-to-date software? maybe

I put this last because it can be so much work.

You should install the latest OS (Windows 10, macOS High Sierra), and also turn on automatic patching.

But remember it may not be worth the huge effort involved. I want my parents to be secure -- but no so secure I have to deal with issues.

For example, when my parents updated their HP Print software, the icon on the desktop my mom usually uses to scan things in from the printer disappeared, and needed me to spend 15 minutes with her helping find the new way to access the software.

However, I did get my mom a new netbook to travel with instead of the old WinXP one. I want to get her a Chromebook, but she doesn't want one.

For iOS, you can probably make sure their phones have the latest version without having these usability problems.

Conclusion

You can't solve every problem for your relatives, but these are the more critical ones.

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