#safe space investor

[dc418writes]

|Hiding in Plain Sight|

✨Pairing: CEO!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

🪄Summary: Curtis has had enough

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!, soft!dark Curtis maybe???, cheating (do not condone in real life, however for this plot…👀), mention of past adult happy fun times (everyone please be safe!), fingering (female receiving), verbal abuse, language

🎤: this is my submission for Siri’s Birthday Bonenanza! Happy belated birthday @stargazingfangirl18 !! I hope you had an amazing bday with lots of cake, presents, love, and any and everything else you desire💐🎂!!

Prompts:

Scenario: Babe is doing this for your own good

Dialogue: “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Kink Prompt: possessive!babe, squirting

Trope Prompt: scary,dangerous babe who is only soft with you (Curtis isn’t really dangerous tho, but you’ll see)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF PICTURES USED as they were found via Pinterest*

At the sudden ‘click’ of the door closing, you’re startled; quickly turning towards the sound to find one of the reasons you felt the need for space from the festivities downstairs. Dressed in all black - from the button up spanning his firm chest to his impeccable slacks and polished designer shoes - it’s as if he walked straight out of GQ how dashing and handsome he looked.

Then again, when did he not?

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His deep voice never fails to send tingles shooting down your spine. Have you embarrassingly willing to move at his command if he gave it.

“It’s okay. I-I should probably get back anyway.”

“To get ignored by your husband some more?,” he asks just as you pass him. His words make you pause with your shoulders just mere inches apart.

“Curtis..”

“He’s so busy smiling in everybody’s face and trying to be buddy-buddy with my associates, he hasn’t even noticed his own wife is gone. Then again…maybe he doesn’t want to.”

You didn’t want to come tonight. Tired from work and not in the mood to fake laugh at middle aged men who thought they were funny, you practically begged your husband to leave you home.

“You’re so fucking selfish you know that? This is my chance to make necessary connections to very important people.”

“Then you go Wes! Me being there won’t change that.”

He only kissed his teeth, tossing one of your purses at you and not caring of the scattered contents he left. “Be ready by 6 or I’ll get you ready myself.”

It was foolish to hope things would be different this time. You should know Wes would never arrive at anything having to do with business without his self proclaimed ‘good luck charm’. His trophy wife he used to sell this illusion that he was the man that had it all, so rejecting him would only hurt you.

And that’s not to say your husband didn’t deserve success - he was brilliant in his own right. It’s why Curtis himself decided to invest in Wes’ company and was his highest investor to date. But he saw past the illusion, and quickly saw the man he really was.

Which is how your complicated pairing began.

As he steps closer you hate how your body responds: eagerly ready to cave at the closest feeling of home. The bourbon - his favorite - practically being tasted in your own mouth as the smell wafts from his pink lips so close to yours. It mixes well with the spice from his cologne only making your head begin to swim and want to suffocate yourself in his neck.

His thick finger reaches out to trace the delicate gold chain on the necklace perfectly sat just below your collarbones. The small diamonds not equally spaced apart, but set in such a way it reminded you of twinkling stars in the night sky. It’s simple, but fitting for you. You were never the type for lavish jewelry that could blind someone a mile away, and from your short time together Curtis knew that.

“Knew it’d look beautiful on you,” he whispers letting the pad of his finger carry further until he was skimming your collarbone and causing you to shudder.

“I’m still married,” you practically have to force from your soul trying to stop your body from pressing against his. Stop your brain from turning to mush so he could have his way with you. Again.

His jaw ticks. “Why, I don’t know.”

“Curtis please, okay? Besides, you’re supposed to be celebrating.” He gently nods letting the rest of the brown liquor drain down his throat - your eyes shamefully following the bob of his Adams apple and missing how it felt under your lips.

“Fine,” he breathes closing the remaining space so you have no choice but to clutch his shoulders to stop from losing your footing in your heels. Not that he’d let you fall from his muscular arm around your waist. His mouth lowering impossibly closer that depending on what either of you said, your lips would brush. “Celebrate with me.”

“I-I don’t think your date would like that.” Were you angry when you saw the onyx haired beauty on his arm? Far from it. Did you guiltily wish her butt length, model-esque hair would catch fire when she passed one of the candles on the various tables so she’d have to leave? Maybe.

“Here I was thinking I was the jealous one.” And there was that smirk that briefly showed the hidden mischief in this man carved by God himself. “Yes, she’s my plus one, but would be more interested in you than me. Not that I blame her.”

“I still can’t,” you whisper letting your nose tap against his. Slowly but surely you feel yourself becoming drunk off his presence and that will to stand strong diminishing.

“Can’t or shouldn’t?”

At that you’re stuck. Now solely focused on his lips and so badly wanting - needing - to taste them again. Curtis grins realizing this himself. “My eyes are up here sweetheart.”

“Wha?” You should feel embarrassed, but as the air from his nostrils fan your face it only seems to make you needier. And when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek, there’s nothing that can stop you from leaning into his touch. Even between your legs you feel that pulse begin to grow in urgency.

“Look me in the eyes,” Curtis begins slowly, “and tell me you don’t want me. That you’re done. You’ll never hear from me again.”

You try, genuinely try to maintain eye contact but his stormy blues dilated with lust and longing only overwhelms you. Overwhelms you in that you should be good and say you don’t, leave, and act as if none of this has happened but you don’t want to. Curtis has easily become a part of you that you can’t let go and truthfully refuse to do so.

In a blink, your lips are frantically crushing against each others. His tongue smoothly, yet still eager, to reclaim your mouth after being away for so long. Your mind quickly enters that haze you only seemed to experience with him, unable to realize your body is being guided somewhere until you’re perched on the edge of a wooden desk. Your hands gripping the back of his neck while his push your pastel blue mini dress up past your hips leaving your lower half exposed to the cool air of the room.

Finally needing to breathe, his lips descend to your jaw then your neck causing you to whine his name wanting more of his mouth on yours. A quiet “shh” is the only warning you get before his hands are spreading your thighs to find a steady growing wet spot on your panties. His fingertips immediately reach to tease along your waiting slit watching as you squirm and moan.

“My needy girl. Probably been forever since he’s touched you like this huh? Made you feel good..”

The back of your head softly thuds against the wall as you lean back on your elbows. Letting yourself get lost in his touches and how his thumb circles your little button through your thoroughly soaked underwear.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Know how much I’ve missed you and those little noises you make when you take anything I give you,” he huskily states nipping your earlobe. “My fingers. My tongue. Fuck, and when you take my cock..?”

“Curtis,” you gasp nearly ready to guide his fingers inside you yourself to get that relief you now crave. As always, he knows what you need bringing your delicates swiftly down your legs to circle his middle finger around your dripping hole before plunging deep. The extended moan from your lips directly hitting his cock and making his pants feel tighter.

His ring finger soon joins as they steadily pump in and out. Not having been intimate with your own husband for a while now, you feel pathetic already being so close. Curtis can feel it too, as you clutch and squeeze.

“Should be ashamed of himself not taking care of you like you need. You deserve to be filled all day, every day. Filled to the point you can barely walk without feeling me drip down your legs. That what you want? To be filled with me?”

Your hips buck and grind on their own nearly riding his hand as your skin heats and sweat pricks your forehead. “Y-Yes! Yes Curtis please!,” you moan. His words hitting some deep seated, feral part you didn’t recognize but welcomed while palming your breast.

His mouth catches your scream when he adds a third finger. The room filling with your little “ah ah’s”, squelches, and the knock of the desk against the wall how you bucked to keep up with his fingers.

“Shit, might not ever leave the house. Just keep you by my side always wet and ready. Take you in every room and have you screaming for me.” He palms at the front of his slacks picturing your nude body bent over the counter. Or spread on the table for him and him only. “Or let you ride me and take what you want. Like that night after dinner.”

The way your toes curl and back arches he knows you’re seconds away now. Just needing that extra push to have you a twitching, trembling mess.

“Curtis I-I…please Curtis…Curtis!” Twisting his wrist just slightly to the right, he easily finds your spot as he firmly rubs his palm against you swollen nub making you gush down his hand and onto the hardwood below - a splash or two even finds the top of his shoe. It’s almost like a steady stream as it keeps flowing with every push of his fingers and Curtis can’t help but curse before finding your mouth again.

When you whimper and try to back away he knows it’s too much, slowly halting his movements before removing his hand. Automatically, you’re reaching out for him - needing some grounding force after what felt like your body floating to space - and he gladly lets you wrap your arms around his middle. Your face diving to his chest trying to hide your overwhelmed tears while he rubs your back with his clean hand.

“Did so good for me sweetheart. You feel alright?” You nod, turning your head just enough to catch him suck your release from his fingers; moaning from the taste. “Still so sweet,” he mumbles to himself and you swear you feel a small trickle of release escape your hole from that alone.

Your little bubble of ecstasy is quickly popped when the door opens reminding you of the party downstairs. Curtis shields you the best he can, but your dangling legs can easily be seen.

This makes it easy for Wes to recognize you. His face turning from amused shock at finding the always stone faced Curtis Everett with a woman to anger now realizing you were the moans and screams the men whispered about downstairs.

“The fuck are you doing up here?!,” he shouts making you scramble to get off the desk. Curtis still shields you with his back as you right your dress. Not only for your modesty, but to silently warn Wes he wouldn’t dare stand down.

“W-Wes I can explain-,”

“This was your plan the whole time huh? Use me to get to someone better..”

“No, I..I just-,”

“Just what? Accidentally ended up here with him?! Accidentally let him do whatever?” Now you were gathering a bit of a crowd, only increasing your anxiety.

“Wes please..”

“Please what?! Move on from you being a whore who opens her legs to any man she can get ahead with?!”

“Hey! Watch it,” Curtis warns stepping closer to a slightly drunk Wes.

“And after everything I did for you? Gave to you?!”

“You act like I asked for those things.”

He simply shakes his head before focusing on Curtis. “You know what, good luck with that one. Just a lazy sack that only wants to lie on her back. Can barely do that either always complaining-,”

Curtis didn’t let him finish quickly gripping Wes by the back of his neck making him kneel before you and everyone peeking through the open door. He tried to wiggle free and thrash, but Curtis just tightens his grip controlling Wes as if he was an animal handler trained to do this. Like he’d done it plenty of times before.

“You say you’re the one who gave her everything? Way I see it, you wouldn’t have had everything to give without her. Without your lovely wife, I would’ve already cancelled our partnership leaving you high and dry probably on fry duty at some fast food place. So I suggest you humble yourself pretty fucking quick.”

He seemed to get the message, remaining mostly still besides his back rising and falling from his unsteady breathing. “Matter of fact, I say you thank her.”

Wes is quiet, until Curtis jabs him in the ribs causing him to howl in pain.

“She’s waiting!”

“Th-Thank you! Thank you!,” he shouts sighing in relief when Curtis lets him go.

“Cmon,” he mumbles grabbing your hand to lead you past your husband. Past the vast crowd of people who dared not get in his way.

“W-Where are we going?,” you ask trying to keep up with his longer strides.

“Home.”

“But..but I-,”

Swiftly, he turns catching you against his chest with fingers gently gripping your chin so you’d be sure to hear him. “Home can be my place or yours and he gets put on the street, you choose. Either way from this point on, I’m not letting you stay away from me.” How could you argue with that? Especially now when he was using that commanding tone paired with that intense gaze making your core spasm. “Which one?”

“…Yours.”

He simply kisses your forehead leading you outside to retrieve his car from valet.

As for Wes, he was in for a rude awakening Monday morning when he’d be served an eviction notice saying his office space now belonged to Everett Co., minutes before he was served divorce papers already signed by you and your wedding ring.

-

Not gonna lie, I’m a little iffy about the ending but still I hope everyone enjoys! Also check out the other stories from this challenge as well💕!

[snuffysbox]

I'd encourage you not to feel bad about posting art because of AI. If people repost your art- they could already do that. If people make their own art in your style- they could already do that. Reposting and straight ripoffs were shitty things to do then and still are, but AI didn't really change anything.

Making good AI art, like making any good art, takes a good idea of _what to make art of_ and _what makes it look good._ you're very good at those things and you make great art! so nobody can just replace you with AI. whether an AI learns from your stuff only matters as much as whether other humans learn from your stuff.

This is truly very kind of you and I do find it encouraging to hear, don't get me wrong, but I wanna clarify that this is less about me feeling down about potentially having my art style be trained on and honestly more about just like... lamenting the general shittiness of the late-stage capitalism of the internet in 2024. I've shared my art online since the early 2000s, I've seen every previously safe space for artists get restructured in order to satisfy partners and investors who don't actually give two shits about creatives.

And I also wanna note that I don't think you can't really compare reposts/ripoffs with AI. Scraping content for datasets is theft on a massive scale. The turn-around time for generating AI images is lightning fast, that's why it's flooding the internet so rapidly right now. Even if the majority still holds the opinion that AI images can't compare to human-made art, enough people and corporations out there are soooooo eager to cut corners and sooooo ready to tell artists that it's an inevitable evolution and we should all just ignore the unethical practice this shit was built on.

So, it's just mostly venting. I have nothing to add that hasn't already been said. I'm just tired.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

So Many Questions Part 3

Prompt: You’re pulled in for questioning by NCIS and are quickly surprised to see your ex-boyfriend as your interrogator.

Notes: Some characters are post season 11. Some smut ahead! @kittenlittle24

Part 2. Part 1.

“I’m here to see Agent Gibbs,” you told the security officer. Making a quick call, he nodded and let you through, now adorning a spiffy visitor pass on your chest.

You entered the big orange room with a small smile, grateful this time you weren’t here to be interrogated. You spotted Agent McGee and Bishop sitting at their desks but no sight of Jethro.

“Miss L/N. Everything alright?” McGee asked as you rounded the corner and chose a chair to sit in.

“Oh yeah, everything’s good. Except for the whole phsycho investor trying to kill me. I felt too vulnerable at my office so I came here to see if I could help in any way.”

Both agents gave you a look that you could only describe as part fear part awe.

“What’s the problem?” you asked, looking around to see if there was a big spider somewhere.

“Uh, you’re just sitting at Gibb’s desk. No one sits there except Gibbs,” Bishop answered, laughing nervously. Jeeze. Is Jethro really that intimidating that his agents are scared of a desk chair?

“Well I saw an empty seat and took it. He won’t mind I’m sure. He’s not even here.”

“Oh but I am,” you heard, turning to see Jethro walking over with a cup of coffee in hand. He stopped to stand in front of you and for a few seconds you both just stared at one another, a silent fight for dominance happening. If the chair was so important, you’d let him have it.

You stood up, now close enough to him to smell his aftershave and gave him a smirk. You always loved challenging him, but loved it more when he challenged you back, as it usually ending with him on top in the literal and figurative sense.

Stepping aside, he took a seat and you moved some of his papers so you could sit on the corner of his desk. His team looked thoroughly shocked but didn’t say anything as Jethro barked at them.

“What’d you got?”

“Well Torres and Quinn are interrogating Cheryll Reznik. She told them Ian Chandler had been talking with a man named Dominic. Bishop and I were able to connect an electronic payment he sent for 10k to a Dominic Waters. Turns out Dominic had just been released from prison about a week ago for armed robbery and aggravated assault. Perfect man for a small hit job in need of cash.”

“Then go bring him in McGee. Take Bishop with you.”

They both quickly scurried off, not wanting to be in the awkward space that you had made. Once the elevator doors closed behind them, you spun around, legs now hanging over Jethro’s side.

“Well you certainly have them trained well.”

“Yeah, they listen. Unlike you. I told you to go back to work, we’ve got this handled.”

You leaned in slightly, watching as his eyes briefly glanced down at your slightly opened blouse and then back at your eyes.

“You know how much I love pushing your buttons Jethro. Plus, I’ve been at work all day and haven’t been able to get anything done. I didn’t feel safe there without you there.”

You picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. You forgot he liked his coffee plain.

“I’ve got an agent assigned to you when I’m not there,” he explained, taking the coffee out of your hands and taking a sip of his own.

“It’s not the same. Plus, I was thinking maybe we could get a bite to eat. Im starving and I’m assuming all you’ve had today is coffee.”

“No time. Got a killer to catch.”

“Yeah well you’ll be no good to anyone when you pass out from lack of food and an overdose on caffeine.”

He gave you the familiar look that let you know that he let you win the argument. He only ever gave it to you when he also secretly agreed with you.

Without a word, he got up and you hopped down to follow him with a triumphant smile.

————

“I don’t know why we couldn’t have gone to Duke’s. They’ve got the best beet salad,” you complained, sticking an overly cooked fry into your mouth. The little diner was cute but you were sure they weren’t known for their food.

“This place has good coffee.”

You watched him sip his probably 5th coffee of the day and rolled your eyes. Just then, your phone began ringing and you saw the caller ID as your next door neighbor.

“Hey Greg, what’s up?…What? Right now?….Can you see what he looks like?”

You listened to him give you a description and motioned to Jethro that it was important.

“Ok, no don’t confront them! We’re on our way!”

You hung up as Jethro had already gotten up and paid for the dinner.

“My neighbor just called saying someone was breaking into my place. His description was vague but it looked like they were looking for something.”

You both left the diner and sped off to your house. When you arrived, Greg was waiting out front and he gave you a hug, receiving a look from Jethro.

“They left just after I hung up with you. Took off in a blue sedan. I’m so glad you weren’t in there. I think I saw a gun.”

“Stay here,” Jethro ordered, pulling out his own gun and Greg’s eyes got wide.

“Don’t worry Greg. He’s a federal agent.”

The two of you waited as Jethro cleared the house and came back outside.

“What do you think he was looking for? Does this have anything to do with that crazy lady shooting you Y/N?” Greg asked as we all walked up the house steps.

“I’m not sure Greg, but I appreciate you calling.”

“Yeah no problem. I enjoy looking out for you,” he replied with a smile. Jethro gave him his classic hard stare and Greg cleared his throat awkwardly, smile fading.

“Alright. Well as long as you’re safe. Have a good-

The front door shut on him before he had a chance to finish his sentence and you looked at Jethro.

“He was just being nice Jet.”

“Mm-hm.”

You went around the semi trashed house, trying to figure out if anything was taken as Jethro picked up a little wooden boat from your shelf and inspected it.

“Your first gift to me. Made out of an old piece of driftwood I think you told me.”

He put it back and walked over to you as you finished putting back the couch cushions together.

“Well I don’t think anything was taken but honestly, I could be sure-

You were promptly interrupted by Jethro’s lips on yours and almost froze in shock.

When he didn’t make a move to pull away, you quickly matched his energy and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer.

You both took steps until you felt your back touch the hallway wall. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck as you pulled his jacket off.

“Bedroom. Now,” he spoke huskily, sparking a fire within you. Grabbing his hand, you led him down the hallway and into your bedroom that had also clearly been tossed. You could’ve cared less as the both of you got undressed, Jethro setting his gun and badge down on your bedside table and pulling you into bed.

He didn’t stay on top too long before grabbing you so that you sat atop of him, easily sinking down onto his more than ready length. You both moaned at the contact and you made quick work, rocking back and forth with Jethro’s big hands gripping your hips.

“Just like that baby,” he grunted, looking up at you as you let your head fall back in ecstasy. His hands traveled so that your breasts were being squeezed and pinched, quickly bringing you closer to your climax.

“I can’t last much longer Jet,” you panted, clenching around him, making his eyes close.

He sat up and pulled you in for another kiss, hands helping keep up your rythmic pace until you fell apart, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t far behind, groaning and holding you still as he filled you up, knowing you loved it when he came inside of you.

Breaths heavy as you both came down from your high, you stayed together, embracing each other. He tiredly peppered kisses on your shoulder and gently ran his fingers across your back, making you shiver.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss against your ear. “You were always so easily overstimulated.”

“Yeah well you make it so easy with your talented multi-tasking.”

Eventually, you two separated, you heading into the bathroom to clean up. When you came out, Jethro was on the phone but handed you your clothes.

“Yup. We’ll be right there.”

He hung up and finished tucking and buttoning up his dress shirt.

“That was McGee. They’ve got Dominic in interrogation. He wants to confess.”

“That’s great,” you said, getting dressed and walking over to him as he clipped his badge on and gun on. Fixing his dishelved hair, you smiled and pecked his lips.

“I hope you’ll still come by even after we nail this bastard.”

“Well someone’s gotta make sure Greg keeps his distance.”

You laughed and followed him out.

[crissiebaby]

Bonnie's Scaregiver

“Ooh! I didn’t know there was gonna be a haunted house!” shouted Bonnie, tugging on Daddy’s arm as she led him through the crowded conference room of costumed adults. It was the eve of CrissBaby Diaper Co’s annual Halloween party, and Bonnie was having an absolute blast prancing around as her favorite Didney character, Snow White.

Daddy, on the other hand, was feeling a tad self-conscious for a change. Dressed as Prince Charming in a poofy-shouldered jerkin with grey tights and a red cape tied around his neck, it was safe to say he was regretting his deal with Bonnie to let her pick their costumes in exchange for a horror movie marathon later that month. “Oh, sweetie. I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Remember what happened last time…” he said, reminding his baby girl of their last trip to a haunted house that saw her punching a scare actor before sprinting through the rest of the route.

“Shush! It was my fight-or-flight instincts! Also, this isn’t the same thing!” said Bonnie, pushing out her bottom lip and folding her arms across her chest. “That haunted house was trying to be extra scary. This one is hosted by a diaper company. How scary can it be?”

Raising an eyebrow his Little’s way, Daddy knew Bonnie’s capacity to handle jumpscares was less than zero. That said, he felt a tad vengeful of her refusal to let him wear regular pants. “Well, if it’s not scary, then you shouldn’t need me to hold your hand through it. Head on in. I’ll wait right here,” he said, spotting the momentary fear behind her eyes before she pivoted to a defiant scowl.

“Fine! I’ll show you,” said Bonnie, leaving Daddy in the dust as she stomped into the haunted house on her own. Unfortunately, her bravery wasn’t built to last once Daddy was out of sight. It wasn’t too bad at first as she passed through a maze of mirrors with relative ease. However, she was instantly unnerved as she transitioned into the next room; a dimly lit nursery space with tatter wallpaper that was filled with a large collection of creepy dolls. “It’s gotta be over soon, right?”

Tragically, Bonnie wasn’t even halfway through when she entered the third room, which was an open space with several styrofoam headstones scattered about. Tiptoing through the room, a loud crash of thunder drew her attention toward the back wall.

This gave the scare actor wearing a headless Miss Snorington costume and holding a plastic, toy axe plenty of time to get into position. “Don’t lose your head, baby girl! It’s just a bit of thunder!” said the actor mimicking Miss Snorington’s hoity-toity accent.

Caught off-guard by the sudden intrusion, Bonnie spun around and proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs as she gazed up at the six-foot-tall, decapitated teddy bear. Without Daddy there to protect her from the evil stuffy, she found herself twice as frightened as she was at the last haunted house. Only this time, her reaction was neither fight nor flight…

BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOORT!!!

Standing by the exit of the haunted house, Daddy’s trademark cheesy smirk returned as Bonnie trotted out with a loaded diaper and a tearful expression. “So…I’m guessing no more haunted houses?” he said, pulling his baby girl in for a warm hug and softly patting her on the bum.

“No mo haunned houses,” grumbled Bonnie, hiding her shame as she pressed her face into Daddy’s chest. At least she had plenty of Halloween candy to sulk her sadness into.

💜 Artwork By CodiBaby 💜 💕 Story By CrissieBaby 💕

SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

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

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlushyBen DD JFN Nike Pansy Jason Sissikins PrincessKittenLizzi Rosie Princess SissyDina Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca Tony & Two Anonymous Investors

[ohanny]

so i saw this picture and like any normal person my first immediate thought was

change host club show when

and as a totally normal person i immediately set to plot one out so... enjoy, i guess?

part 1/3

bear with me ʕ◉ᴥ◉ʔ

benz as the manager

he is rich, a little spoiled and a lot bratty with divorced parents. after finishing his masters and graduating at the top of his class from a very exclusive business school, his father expects him to come work for some multinational evil corp and fulfil his destiny as the heir. instead, he shows up at his estranged mother’s door, asking to take over the host clubs she owns. what are his motivations, exactly? what is he getting out of this? who knows. but he has a vision and no one is going to be standing in his way.

nut as the investor

benz and nut went to school together and during their freshman year they were - you guessed it - roommates. he is rich, very spoiled and a little bored so once he hears benz has acquired a host club of all things to manage, he simply must check it out. as a man of refined tastes, his first reaction is “you pissed off your daddy for this dump?” which rubs a lot of people the wrong way. not benz, though. benz shrugs and says “if you want better furniture, go buy it.” and when you have more money than sense, might as well, right? nut becomes the club’s new investor and takes a very hands on approach to making sure his investment is going well. aka booking the vip lounge every saturday to entertain himself and his friends and running sassy commentary while refusing to lift a finger to actually help.

pavel as the ex-manager

before benz came along… pavel used to run the place. the club might be one of many in benz’s mother’s nightlife portfolio, kind of forgotten about, but for pavel it is his passion project, his safe space, his. he put his blood, sweat and tears into keeping the place from shutting down and now this rich bitch and his even richer, bitchier friend show up to tear the entire place down and change everything? he gets demoted and sent to work the floor and there is nothing he can do about it. but he sure as hell isn't going to quit - he won't give them the satisfaction and someone needs to make sure they won't turn his home into some tourist trap strip club or drag the staff into shady dealings. not on his fucking watch.

pooh as the boyfriend

pooh is pavel’s boyfriend and they live together in the small apartment above the club, two broke boys style. pooh used to work part-time at the club because he’s studying and well… scholarships don't cover everything and it quickly adds up. however, after benz takes over, pavel wants him nowhere near the place. the vibes are off and he really didn't like the way benz zeroed in on pooh when pooh came down on his way to night class. the thing is, with pavel already so stressed, pooh might have failed to mention how the university decided to cut back on his financial aid and he really, really needs to find a way to make money fast.

part 2

part 3

[pillowfort-social]

Pillowfort now has over 150,000 registered users!

Hi everyone. We are very excited to announce that as of June 2023 we now have over 150,000 registered users who have made our little platform their home.

Pillowfort launched in 2017 and we weren’t sure where the journey would take us. What we did know, however, was that we want our platform to be known as a user-friendly safe space on the internet for creativity, communication, and content-sharing. 

Pillowfort’s success and existence would not be possible if it wasn’t for your continued support. By funding us, telling your friends about Pillowfort, signing in to Pillowfort, or even just giving us feedback: You have made a difference. You have made a direct impact in keeping us online. Thank you so much. 

As each day passes we are watching in real time more platforms become restrictive. The censorship of BIPOC, LGQBTIA2S+, NSFW artists, and sex workers in social media spaces continues. Some platforms have even disappeared without giving their users notice. 

We realize now more than ever our platform needs to be the counterbalance. We are one of the few platforms available that is staunch about moderating bigotry and hate speech, and we will continue to provide an outlet for fans and creators to have freedom of expression. We’re not going anywhere– as long as we have your help. 

For those new here, Pillowfort has been entirely user funded since the beginning. That means we have received no assistance from large investors or venture capital funding. While it is much more difficult to operate & grow a platform with limited funding, it keeps us accountable to the desires of our users instead of investors or shareholders. Your support has helped us continue to compensate our teams working on the platform, begin development of a progressive web app, and finally release our optional subscription service: Pillowfort Premium.  

In the next few weeks we will be sharing how we are going to tackle abandoned/modless Communities, provide an update to our discussions regarding AI Generated Images on Pillowfort, and release a Site Update with several bug fixes. We are also still tackling our 2023 Development Goals. 

Development Goals 2023

Goals with priority release / currently under development: 

Additions to subscription service: credit-only subscriptions, applying custom credit amounts

Post Drafts

Post Queue & Scheduling

Goals for completion by the end of this summer:

Progressive Web App for mobile with push notifications (!!)

Rebuild the post image uploader widget to be more good and less bad

Rebuild the way notifications are logged & retrieved in the back-end to be more efficient & reduce errors

Onboarding Guide for new users

Goals for completion by end of 2023:

Paid post promotions

Multi-account management/linking

2-Factor Authentication

Community Membership Applications

Community Topics/Organization Options

From the bottom of our hearts thank you again! We hope our community continues to grow and we are excited to share as many updates as we are able to. Stay tuned.

[goodfish-bowl]

What Little Remains

Chapter 1: Finding the Pieces

Ectoberhaunt 2024 Day 3: Archeology

AO3 Link

Summary: The Terra Zero Archeology Project has received funding to locate a laboratory of both historical and technological importance. What they actually end up bringing back is something of much greater significance.

Warnings: Dissection, gore, blood

Words: 2,374

They had found it on the planet once known as Earth, now known as Terra Zero. It had been buried in a laboratory of historical and technological importance. The laboratory was the target of their mission and this had merely been something they had discovered along the way, but it was likely a much more significant find than their original goal. It was a miracle, really, that the jar protecting this particular specimen was fully intact, and an even greater wonder that they found a second one to go with it. Despite the atypical building practices found at that location, it had managed to survive the several planetary disasters that had befallen Terra Zero since the lab had been constructed. It was truly an amazingly complex and baffling in its own era. The laboratory itself had been buried under tons of sediment, ash, and debris that had built up on the planet's surface over the centuries, yet it managed to preserve the space from the very passage of time. 

The Terra Zero Archeology Project, shortened down to T.Z.A.P, had only been able to discover it through a related digital archiving project, following mentions of its existence along with digital records from the time, particularly a set of patents that were of interest to the team's investors. They read like utter nonsense, completely indecipherable despite running them through every algorithm available and having sloughs of intergalactic experts look them over. The only hope of figuring them out lay in the lab where they had been created. A myzack-chase through several databases and many long message chains and holos later, the mission was underway. The promise of new technologies was what got the T.Z.A.P. its funding in the first place. This lab was sure to have them keep their funding for a while longer. 

The lab itself had been odd, with unknown radioactive elements non-native to the Terra Zero planetary area found in unusual amounts with a positive correlation with the proximity to the lab. Special suits were created just for this excavation, and entire collections of journals were being written based off of the findings. The interior of the lab looked untouched, only a thin coat of dust covered every surface. It was in a general state of disarray like it had been abandoned in the middle of something, but the walls were intact (except for the portion they had drilled through) with minimal rust and decay setting in. It was an astronomically amazing find. 

Then there were the samples. 

Most of the samples, which looked to be biological samples from a dissection, were degraded beyond use, a millennium beyond expiration. They appeared to be humanoid in nature, which ended up being one of the most unnerving portions of the discovery. It wouldn’t be confirmed until they were actually processed and tested. It wasn’t safe to assume, they had found ones made of ‘rubber’ before. One jar, containing a singular, whole hand, was preserved properly, in what appeared to be an isotopic solution tinted green. The next samples of interest were a set of small vials containing a viscous green liquid that actively rested in a set of a dozen, three of which were intact, the rest exposed to the heavy, damp atmosphere of the lab. It was an unnaturally bright green substance with a dull glow, flecked with red. The intact vials wouldn’t be opened until after the samples of the broken ones were processed first. It would give them a good idea of the decay rate of the substance. There was a heavy containment unit, made from glass that could rival modern war spacecraft windows, with a glowing crystal orb inside, floating in a similar solution to what the vials must contain. All of the other samples were labeled “Phantom” with a time and date on their collection date. This one was marked with the name “Danny”, instead. They were all within two days of each other, with the orb being last. 

The most valuable thing T.Z.A.P. managed to collect from the lab, other than just recording of the finding of an intact lab from the early 2000s era, was the intact digital files located on the ancient external hard drive. Someone on the tech team had managed to reconstruct and restore the files on it and found hundreds of files containing everything from lab journal entries to video recordings, to entire papers. It was an almanium mine of information, shining light on many of the patents themselves, though the blueprints and the construction of the technology remained theoretical at best. Whoever had designed these was using a language all of their own that no one else could decipher. 

The samples and digital files were brought into the in-orbit lab and processed while the systems scanned the antique files for relevant information, matching the patents and the surviving samples. The computer pinged a collection of lab recordings almost immediately, curiously matching the time stamps of the sample collections. 

Zavier, one of the many interns assigned to this project, absently clicked on one at random, sound on, in the middle of the main research room. 

Corroded, the audio snapped and popped, showing its age, but it caught the attention of everyone else in the room. Grainy footage of a woman in a teal jumpsuit, with red goggles covering her eyes, and black gloves covered the screen. A large figure in orange moved in the background. 

“This is Doctor Madeline Fenton, it is June 4th, 2006, at precisely 14:23. I am joined by Doctor Jack Fenton in collecting a whole-piece sample from the ecto-entity known as Phantom.”   

Ecto-entity. It was a term that popped up frequently in the study of this particular laboratory and the related patents. There were at least a dozen sets of eyes on the monitor at this point, several different people scribbling down notes of interest. 

“As mentioned in Recording 632006-334 samples collected from Phantom seem to rapidly degenerate once removed from the central entity. To correct this, we have diluted a solution made from the entity’s own ectoplasm mixed with an isotopic preservation solution in an attempt to preserve the sample for further, future study.”

The woman moved the camera to show a prone figure, heavily strapped down to a mental table, distinctly human, despite their odd features for the time. They appeared young, prepubescent in age, uselessly crying and thrashing on the table they were strapped to. They were covered in past incisions, and missing several fingers from their other hand. Several harsh breaths of horror were taken around the room. Zavier should’ve paused the video there, but he hadn’t. 

“Our intended sample is going to be the entire right hand.”

The child on the table let out a heart wrenching whine, barely picked up through the harsh muzzle on their face. 

Something in the room broke, it sounded fragile, but no one moved, transfixed by the screen. 

The woman, Dr. Madeline repositioned the camera over the child’s right hand. They visibly struggled, straining against the restraint. 

“Jack, the bone saw?”

“Here you go, darling!” The man said with a large smile. 

The boy screamed and it echoed around the entire room, the video filled with bright colors of green and red as the bone saw ate through flesh.

The video was abruptly stopped before it could finish, and someone immediately rushed to the trash unit in the corner. A few people did. The scream still seemed to linger around the room anyways. 

“What in the void of space are you all doing?!” A new voice interrupted.

“H-head Doctor! I didn’t mean to! But it started playing and I didn’t want to stop it so I let it play!”

“And?”

“A… a-and?” the intern stuttered. 

“What did you learn?”

“That… that I shouldn’t click on a random video without permission…” Zavier admitted reluctantly. 

“I meant about our subject.”

“OH! Oh… um. Young, possibly male humanoid, unusual features… they cut off their hand with a bone saw…” Zavier’s voice trembled, unable to focus on the words coming out of his mouth with the scream echoing even louder in his own head than it had in the room. 

The Head Doctor’s eyes darkened. Her grip tightening on her tablet, before snapping down the tech and sending out several messages all at once in a furious efficiency. 

“If continuing on this particular project makes you uncomfortable, please report to the main deck for reassignment!” The Head Doctor announced it to the whole room. “I understand that we’re dealing with humanoid experimentation in this discovery. You will not be punished for wanting to be reassigned.”

Several people left the room almost immediately, practically fleeing in terror. Zavier found himself agreeing, but was firmly rooted in place. Others thought about it, before following the rest out. From the two dozen researchers and interns in the room, less than a fourth remained. Zavier rediscovered his ability to move for a moment, and contemplated joining them before staying in his spot. He couldn’t. 

“Intern. I need you to find the video of the collection of the orb. The video should be labeled 642006-1746.”

“Yes, ma’am. May I ask why?” 

Zavier really didn’t want ot have to watch another video when this one was going to be haunting him for the next decade.

“The sample associated with it refuses to be identified, but it has responded to external stimuli, including sounds and being moved about. Several of our preliminary scans have identified something similar to brain waves emitting from it. We need to identify it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zavier swallowed thickly before clicking on the video labeled just as the Head Doctor had specified. The video pulled up just like the first, popping and snapping before settling in place. The same woman from the first video appeared in the camera, slightly worse for wear. Her suit was splattered with green and red. Zavier cringed and looked away, but refrained from covering his ears with his hands. He had to at least listen, even if that was the worst part. 

“This is Doctor Madeline Fenton, it is June 4th, 2006, at 17:46. Dr. Jack Fenton and I have just finished our full dissection of the ecto-entity once known as Phantom.”

The camera panned to show the same child from earlier, cut up into pieces, a large vivisection cut splaying their chest wide open, cavity practically hollowed out, and several stained jars littered the free space on the table. They boy wasn’t moving anymore.

“We have made an… interesting discovery concerning its biology.” 

The scientist paused for a moment, glancing behind her before she seemed to hesitate. 

“Not… not only did it possess a perfect copy of human biology, it was a functioning one. However, after considerable loss of ectoplasm and substantial damage to its internal organs, its facsimile of life ceased. We were able to locate its core,” she held up the jar containing the small glowing orb. It seemed so tragic floating in that solution. All that blood and viscera for something the size of a pinging ball. She placed the jar on a table out of frame.

“And have successfully removed it and placed it within an isolating containment unit. Reasons for this have been stated in my husband and I’s previous papers on the nature of cores. However, Phantom’s seems to be behaving differently than expected. It’s fallen completely dormant after drawing in all available ectoplasm. Theories on this will be further elaborated in the paper currently being constructed on the ecto-entity Phant-”

There was a flash of light in the background that glitched out the camera for a moment, before the video returned. There was much more red than there was before. The boy was noticeably different, his appearance much more in line with the humans of the era, black hair and red blood. 

The woman swiftly turned around, a weapon she reached for off screen suddenly in her hand. It clattered to the ground soon after. She made a horrible choking noise, like she was being strangled. Zavier didn’t think she had the right to react like that. She and her partner had done this after all.

“Danny..?”

The Head Doctor reached over Zavier and turned the video off, gripping the bridge of her nose and letting out a harsh breath of her own. Zavier himself sunk further into his seat to process the information that was likely going to continue to plague his nightmares. He didn’t know why he felt so terrible, or why it was all knotted up in the base of his throat. That kid had been dead for over a millennium at this point. There was no saving them, just the bits of what little of them that remained, as samples, recordings, and data. He shouldn’t be this horrified and torn up over someone long dead. 

“Intern, what is your name?”

“Zavier, ma’am.”

“Zavier, go make yourself something warm to eat and distract yourself. I don’t want to see you until it looks like you’ve had at least a full cycle of rest. Senior members,” she signaled the three of the older researchers who had remained, one of which was trying to light a smoke in the corner, “We are going to be having a long night to figure out the nature of this research. If… If this lines up with some of my current conclusions, then we may have a much more… interesting project on our hands.”

“Ma’am… what do you mean by that?” 

One of the researchers asked, coming in closer to relieve Zavier from his seat at the monitor. Zavier hadn’t been expecting his knees to be so weak when he tried to stand and the world spun around him for a moment before he managed to steady himself.

“Simple. We have the current approval and supplies to use the D.R.C.R.A. on a suitable… sample of interest,” The Doctor claimed. 

“You don’t mean… by the void,” The researcher with the smoke cackled. “Oh, this is going to get us in so much trouble!”

“Well, it would certainly line up with our objective to study the era. What’s better than a first-person witness?”

Ectoberhaunt 2024 Masterpost

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 9 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: If graphic depictions of violence and abuse are triggering for you, PLEASE SKIP THE ENTIRE ITALICIZED SECTION. It is a flashback and it is graphic.

A/N: Please heed the above warning if you need it! It gets worse before it gets better for our girl :(

Shallow pants filled the hallway as Charlotte clutched the side of a concessions stand. Her heart felt as if it was going to beat right out of her chest. 

She had no real coherent thoughts, only flashes of his smirk, his menacing eyes. And all she felt was panic and terror, as if he awakened true fear in her body that she thought was long buried. 

“Hey!” Charlotte immediately straightened up as she heard Malcolm’s voice. She dusted off her clothes and cleared her throat, desperate hoping her panic and heart rate would decrease. “Chris sent me to find you. You good? You look like you’re having a panic attack.” 

She nodded, her hand still pressing into her chest. “Y-yea, y-yea. I j-just f-freaked out… with… t-the audience,” she forced out. “J-just panicked f-for a sec.” 

She could not tell if he believed her, that it was just the audience, his eyes were filled with concern but there was a thread of skepticism there too. 

“Ok, well take a beat, take a breath. I’ll tell Chris you need a minute.” 

She took a few deep breaths, forcing all that fear and panic back to a figurative box. She could not figure this out right now. She had a job to do and she would have to push through. 

“I’m o-ok, I’m ok.”

“Ok, you ready to head back in? Chris wants to start.” 

She nodded, “Yea, yea. Let’s… let’s do it.” 

Charlotte barely remembered her lines, songs, or cues as she moved through the rehearsal like a robot. She was by far the weakest link among the cast, which was surprising to everyone, since she was typically running circles around everyone. She was thankful that none of the investors, including Shaun, stuck around long after rehearsal. He did not have a chance to speak to her or get close to her as she immediately exited the stage once Chris dismissed them. He merely threw her one last grin before he walked out the door.

Charlotte raced to the nearest bathroom, her quick lunch soon staring back at her. By the time she made it back to her dressing room to change and head home, she was barely standing, emotionally and physically drained. For a few moments, she just sat there, unmoving, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. 

She wanted to scream or cry or rage or break something. But instead, she just stared into space and at her reflection, spiraling into a deep despair she had not experienced in a long time. 

This was her own doing, she realized. She underestimated him, however he had managed to weasel his way into her world. She, foolishly, let herself believe time had dulled whatever impulse he had with her. His desire to control her new no bounds, defied the very laws of human nature in her opinion to move on. She had moved on, moved her life forward, and he was still frozen in time. That sort of relentless drive, he’d never stop. And that meant, she did not know if she could stay there. 

She knew as soon as Michael learned he was floating around, or worse, her family, they would encourage her to leave. And she did not see a world in which she could convince them it was safe for her to stay. Nor did she even believe herself it was safe. He did not do all of this to get close to her for no reason, and she knew the reason could not be good. She felt as if this was an impossible situation with no outcome that worked in her favor. 

However, despite the scenarios running through her head, the likelihoods and odds she knew to be true, the knowledge that her safest bet was to get on a plane and go home, she could not find any of them reason enough to actually do it. 

She stared around this dressing room and she saw it, everything she had dreamed and worked for her entire life. When she left the first time, that was a means of survival. What were dreams when your only goal was keeping blood pumping through your veins? Her life quite literally hung on that decision so she never regretted it, not much. But she knew, if she abandoned the dream again after breathing new life into it, she would never forgive herself. Her soul would never be at peace again. That’s why she was even driven to come back, her soul needed this. She had jumped and grasped at this dream and she refused to allow him or the mistakes of her past dictate whether she seized it. 

Reason fought her. She was courting fire, playing right into Shaun’s game. He wanted to be in her life, however he managed it. And she would never win against him. Those thoughts were loud, the realities pushed against her dreams, her human instinct to protect her physical body demanded she see reason. 

It was a tough decision. And one she knew she had to make alone. Because the moment Michael or any of her family, people she trusted for sage advice, found out, they would make the decision for her. Her brothers would sooner hogtie her and force her on a plane before they allowed her to be in his presence ever again. And she understood that impulse, knew the pain and trauma they all went through when she was with Shaun. But still, was even that reason enough? 

She shed her clothes of Ashley as her brain battled for the path forward. She had no idea what to do.  

“You got a sec?” 

Charlotte turned to find Malcolm waiting for her in the doorway of her dressing room. Internally, her entire body sagged. She knew he was likely there to inquire about her lackluster performance but she had no words or excuses. She was terrible and everyone knew it. However, still she dug as deep as she could to force a smile on her face. 

“All the seconds in the world for you. What’s up?” She could hear how labored and tired those few words sounded, how fake the pep she infused into them felt in the space. 

“Wanted to see if you were feeling better? You seemed out of it up there?” 

“Y-yea. Sorry, I know today wasn’t my best. I’ll be better for tomorrow night. Think I just need some rest.” 

“Ok well, before you go, can I show you something?”

She nodded, grabbing her coat and bag to follow him. They weaved through the backstage, which was almost empty save one or two people. She had not realized how long she sat in her dressing room. They finally stopped when they were center stage of the theater, the lights were dimmed but she could still see all the seats and boxes and all of its glory. 

“Just thought you deserved a minute of quiet here without everyone. Starting tomorrow, this room is gonna be filled with thousands applauding for you every night.”

She let out a breathless sigh as she stood in the middle of the stage. She closed her eyes and if she thought back hard enough, she could remember what that was like. The thrill, the joy, it was truly intoxicating. 

She only opened her eyes when she heard his words. 

“Don’t let him take this from you again, Charlotte. You’ll never forgive yourself.” 

She stilled before turning on her heels to face him. How could he know? She thought to herself. He couldn’t possibly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Yea you do. Look… I won’t claim to know what he put you through. But I do know that you survived. You left and you survived and you came back here to claim what’s yours. That’s a hell a lot more than many women can say. Don’t let him run you outta here like he still has power.” 

She shook her head. “H-How’d you…” she did not know what she even wanted to know… how’d he know her secret when she never told anyone and how’d he know she was considering leaving. 

He scratched his head. “Let’s just say I’ve seen women in the same situation you were. Took me a while to notice the signs with you, I’ll admit. And one interaction with him to confirm those suspicions. You really are a damn good actress. But it’s always in the eyes… That's the one place the facade could never quite reach. No one else knew or suspected from what I could tell.” 

Charlotte cast her eyes down at the weathered stage, her hands picking at the soft fabric of her black leggings. “You never said anything.” 

He nodded. “And when you quit and left so abruptly, I wondered if that was the right choice. My aunt’s ex was like him and one time, she told me that the one thing she needed but never had was a friend who just could be there. Wasn’t trying to tell her things she already knew or preach to her or force her out of a situation she wasn’t ready to leave. She just needed someone to create a space for her to be her. The show always seemed like that for you… the one space to be you. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

She chuckled, wiping the tears that streamed down her face. 

“Not much of a safe space anymore. I don’t even know what he’s doing here. H-He hated musicals and shit like this.” 

“Yea but he’s obsessed with money and you so this gives him both,” Malcolm mused. “W-when I recognized who he was, I spoke to him after you went back to your dressing room… before he left. He manages Issac Simmons’ investment portfolio. He’s invested in six award winning musicals and plays. But you know rich white folk, they never do the overseeing themselves. He hires an investment firm to manage all of his investments, monitor, and make sure they’re profitable. Shaun’s overseeing his portfolio. Issac attends meetings for the show as a producer and he gets to attend for the financial piece of it. How he managed that, I have no idea.” 

Charlotte let out a humorless chuckle. “That was always m-my problem with him. I u-underestimate him the extent of his cruelty every time… at my own peril. Probably planned this the moment I left, knowing I’d be back.” She let out a strangled sigh. “I can’t leave a-and I can’t stay. I don’t know what to do,” she laughed, the laugh filled with exasperation and fear and frustration that she felt in her dressing room, the battles that existed in her head.

“You don’t gotta keep making the same mistakes. And you don’t have to let him win.” 

She shook her head. “I’m not letting him win! He just wins… he’s bigger and stronger and smarter and faster. I c-can’t…” she paused. “I can’t fight him and I can’t beat him. I never could. A-and it's not just me I have to think about… Michael and my family… I can’t put them through what happened last time.” 

“In all this, I haven’t heard one thing… what it is you want. What do you want, Charlotte?”

“I want this!” She spun around, gesturing at the theater. “I know I talk big shit about awards b-but I-I can live without ever winning a single award for what I do. I d-don’t care about that part of it. I… I can live without all that. But I-I c-can’t live without this. Without knowing that I had what it took to perform on t-the stage as a lead and that I t-took the steps to achieve something I’ve wanted m-most of my life. For as long as I could want to be a-anything, I wanted to be this. A-and if I never get nominated, fine. If I never win, f-fine. That’s ok because, at least, I achieved this.”

“Want my advice?” 

“Please.” She settled on the edge of the stage, her feet dangling into the orchestra pit.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it today because seeing him brought up old shit. But you are a totally different woman than the last time he saw you. What’d you do when you were in LA?” 

She shrugged, unsure of where his advice was headed. “I j-just tried to find myself again and happiness… I guess. Found hobbies and just tried to live again. I dunno.” 

“Did you?” 

A small but distinct smile settled on her features as she thought about her friends and family, Michael, and her career. 

“Y-yea I did. But…” 

“No. No buts. You found you again. The only reason he had power over you back then is because you thought you had nothing without him. You thought you were nothing without him. But then you left and you took it all back. You took the broken pieces he left you with and made something new and stronger. You are stronger than he realizes or you even realize. He’s betting on you cowering, he’s betting on you giving up. What would happen if you actually got in the ring this time and fought for what you wanted?”

“What about Michael a-and my family? They’ll never accept me staying here with him back in the picture. My dreams or not.” 

“Look…” he sat down next to her. “Your family wants to keep you alive and healthy. So do I. But I… I’m selfish,” he admitted. “I know it and I’ve always owned that about myself. Because I care more about whether my decisions bring me peace at night, not whether others can accept them. You could call Chris tomorrow and tell him you quit and run back to LA. No one would fault you for choosing safety over this. Your family will breathe easier, the man you love will breathe easier and in some ways you will too. But,” he paused, glancing at her. 

“Will your soul breathe easier? Will your heart allow you to rest at night knowing you had a chance to fight for the future you want and you didn’t take it? If the answer is yes, then maybe you don’t want this and what it represents. And that’s ok too. No judgment. But the Charlie Chris told me about… the Charlie he met as an annoying freshman, his words not mine,” he added as a caveat that made Charlie grin. “The Charlie I met on my first day in Chicago who exudes star power from every pore of her very soul, the Charlie Chris staked his reputation to bring back… he told me that that girl would claw her way through mud, glass, and landmines to get what she wanted. He said she was unapologetic in her pursuit of her dreams. So if you got any of that girl left in you and have any doubt about your answer, then have that boyfriend of yours teach you some boxing moves and get in the ring. End this your way. Not his.” 

“I really hate that everyone uses boxing metaphors with me now,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. She pulled her legs into her chest. She knew he was right, this was what she wanted. But she did not feel strong enough to do what he was talking about. She was not equipped for this, the fight. She had never done it before. “I don’t know how to fight him and if I lose, there are no redos this time. I got a second chance… doubt I’ll get a third,” she admitted, what she was truly afraid of. That she was about to gamble her life on this dream.  

“You want a hard truth? No one knows how to fight until they have to, Charlie. Until one day, you realize something in you will die if you don’t. Whether it be your soul, your heart, your dreams, your purpose, or your physical body. Whatever. So you fight for that, for that thing you know you can’t live without. And you fight like hell because there’s no other option.  You’ll get hit, you’ll get knocked down. And it’s gonna hurt like hell. Sometimes you might get knocked out of the ring altogether. But you stay in the fight until you have nothing left. That’s life, that’s the gig. You ain’t the first person to feel ill-equipped for the fight and you won’t be the last. But I don’t know anyone who regrets fighting, just a lot of people who regret running, even with all the odds stacked against them.”

“And if I lose?” 

He pushed up his shoulders in a shrug. “You have to decide what’s more important, Charlotte. Do you want survival with a dark cloud over you or do you want to fight for the life you actually want? No one can decide if the risk is worth it for you. Not me, not your family, and not that man of yours. It’s your life… make the choice that gives you peace.” He patted her knee before pushing himself up to stand. He dusted off his pants before helping Charlotte to her feet. “I should head home, kids’ are with my parents so it’s date night. See you tomorrow?”  

She could hear the hopefulness in his voice, the silent prayer that curved around every word that her answer would be yes. 

Her eyes followed the gold trim on the walls, imagining her family and Michael cheering for her in the front row. She was tired of running away from this, tired of letting him steal good things from her. She wanted a good thing, she deserved and earned this good thing. And she was going to take it. 

“Yea.” She smiled as his whole body visibly relaxed and he let out a sigh of relief. “And I’ll be better… stronger than I was today. Thank you.” She hoped those two simple words conveyed her thanks, her appreciation for pulling her back from the edge of a decision she would have regretted her whole life.

He laid his hand on his lapel of his jacket and winked at her before exiting the theater, leaving Charlotte alone. 

She sighed and glanced around before nodding. This was her choice and her life. She knew what she had to do and it would not be easy but it would be worth it. It had to be. 

When she finally made her way home and up to their apartment, she was not surprised to find Michael already lounging in bed, shirtless, watching anime. 

“Wasn’t sure when you’d be back so I just got pizza. You didn’t respond to my texts? You ok? You look beat.” 

She watched him for a moment before sitting down on the bench at the end of her bed to take off her shoes. She took a deep breath and lied. She was fighting to have it all… her life and her dream. And the only way she could see to achieve that was to keep the amazing and protective man lounging in their bed at an arm’s length, for as long as she could. 

She knew this plan relied heavily on luck and prayer. Prayer that all the chips fell exactly as they should so Michael and her family’s path never crossed with Shaun’s. There were so many ways this could unravel and she knew it. But even if she had to hold it all together with scotch tape and luck, she would do it. She didn’t need luck forever. She needed it for a few months. 

“Yea, everything’s good,” she said sweetly as she walked around to kiss him. She perched on the edge of the bed next to him. “Rehearsal was j-just brutal. Day before previews, everyone’s just on edge. Wasn’t anyone’s best I don’t think. How are you?” 

“Good, I went to the comic book store and did some research. Think I got every issue featuring Killmonger they had. I remember some of it from when I read it the first time but lots of good info. Why don’t we run you a bath before dinner and then you can tell me all about rehearsals?”

“Sounds heavenly but I’d much rather you join me so I can hear about your day. I don’t even want to think about the show. Tell me everything you learned.” She rubbed his leg before getting up to retreat to their bathroom. 

“Want some wine?” 

“You know me so well,” she moaned. “You get the goods and I’ll start the bath.” 

She watched him for a moment as he rolled off the bed to go to their bar. Charlotte retreated into the bathroom and slumped against the vanity. 

“This is a terrible idea,” She whispered to herself before walking to their tub. But it would work. It had to. 

***

“Great show everyone! Found some minor things to tweak for tomorrow but it was truly stellar.”

The entire cast cheered, Charlotte hugging everyone she passed as they made their way backstage, their first official night of previews done and dusted. 

As soon as the curtains fell and the applause died down, Charlotte finally let out a sigh of relief she did not know she was holding in. She did it and it was amazing. She had thought rehearsals were thrilling but she had forgotten how truly otherworldly performing in front of a sold-out crowd was. And for the house to be so packed on their first night, she had no regrets. 

She was not surprised to find a certain actor waiting for her when she returned to her dressing room, a bright bouquet of flowers in his hand. Charlotte immediately threw herself in his arms, Michael lifting her off the ground. 

“Els! Baby girl! You were fuckin’ phenomanal. That was amazing. You were perfect.” 

“Thank you, baby.” She only had eyes for Michael while she performed. Every time she looked out into the crowd, she zeroed in on him, performing for him. And his reassuring smile gave her all the small boosts of confidence she needed to make it to the end of the show. She pulled back to look at him, her eyes searching his. “Y-You really liked it??” 

He laughed. “I loved it. It was a really great story, the songs were perfect. You and Malcolm’s energy was insane. I’m excited to see it again once it opens officially.” 

Charlotte’s entire body seemed to light up and glow, his opinion the only one she truly cared about. “Really?” 

“Yes.” He captured her lips. “I see why he fought so hard to get you to join, that role was made for you. Congrats. Let’s go out and celebrate. Take you to dinner and then we can continue the celebration at home.” 

She leaned into his embrace, her arm lazily wrapped around her shoulder. “Can we just go celebrate at home? My only idea of celebrating right now is being in your arms.” 

“Anything you want.” Charlotte quickly changed out of her clothes and headed out the back door, surprised to find a few people waiting back there for a glimpse of them. She stopped and took a picture or two before heading into their car.

Michael continued to show her with praise the entire car ride and as they entered the apartment. She listened to his favorite parts and his one or two small critiques that she found incredibly insightful while getting ready for bed. 

When she climbed into bed, she straddled his hips, her favorite spot to have true heart to hearts with him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing him softly. 

“For what?” His tone told her that he didn’t know what he was being thanked for. 

“For supporting me. I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did tonight without you. Every time I looked at you in the crowd, I felt th-this surge of confidence and reassurance. I-Its just… t-thank you.” She cupped his face. “Thank you for loving me.” 

His hands pulled her into his chest to kiss her deeply. “You never have to thank me for that.” 

He flipped her onto her back and pulled off her nightgown, his body settling between her legs.

“I think the star of the night deserves a bit of extra attention?” He whispered as he pushed a finger inside her, 

Charlotte’s back arching off the bed in pleasure. 

And for one night, she didn’t think about all the notes she had for herself on her performance, she didn’t stress over what everyone else thought, and she did not think about Shaun. She just enjoyed the bliss of a good night with her boyfriend. This is what she was fighting for and it was worth it. 

***

Charlotte pulled lasagna, Shaun’s favorite out of the oven, his birthday cake she spent all day making sitting perfectly on the glass display on the kitchen island. She had made all of his favorites, put on his favorite dress, all to ensure his birthday was perfect and special. His gift was neatly wrapped on the dining room table, an expensive watch he had dropped a million not-so-subtle hints that he wanted. She glanced at the clock as she continued finishing everything up, expecting him to waltz through the door at any moment. 

She did not have to wait long as she heard his key enter the door. She immediately and quickly checked her hair and make-up in the hall mirror to ensure she looked perfect for his special day, just as he would want her, before greeting him at the front door. Her bright smile faltered as she saw his friends in tow behind him. 

“H-hey babe. Happy Birthday! I didn’t know we were having company?” She offered, her voice remaining bright and sweet so as to not frustrate him. 

“The boys decided they wanted to watch the game tonight.” She glanced at the takeout bags in their hands of burgers and fries.

She glanced toward the kitchen, the meal she had spent all day preparing, unable to stop the way her lips tugged downward. 

“I cooked? Just like you wanted.” 

He gestured toward the living room, his four friends filing out of the entryway and getting settled. His best friend, Marcus, turned on the tv and basketball game loudly. 

“I don’t want that shit.” He threw at her, frustration coursing through her. But still, she could not let it show. She merely smiled and nodded.

“I-It’s your day, love. Whatever you want. I’ll just put the other stuff away for us tomorrow.” 

She hesitated before kissing him on the lips, hoping it would ease his anger. She doubted it. She used to be able to soothe him, early on, with physical affection and more intimate activities but not anymore. It was rare when there was anything she could do to make him forget he was angry, forget to rain those blows down on her, forget to hurt her in other ways. 

“You look fuckin’ terrible in that dress.” He did not bother to whisper that one, all of his friends pretending they were more engrossed in the game than his rude comment. 

She glanced down at her outfit, suddenly she could only focus on her flaws that it accentuated and how it was looser than she remembered. She had lost so much weight in the last couple of months as things between Shaun and her continued to deteriorate. Her weight had always been one of his favorite things to criticize. She was down to a size 2 and he still thought she looked fat… and so did she.  

“O-Oh I thought you liked this one,” she offered, her hands running down the front of the dress, which used to hug her soft curves and ass. It was revealing, low cut and shorter than Charlotte’s usual taste. But he had picked it out and often demanded she wear it. So she thought it was her best option for the day.

“It just makes you look like a fuckin’ whore. But maybe that’s good.” The word stung but she kept her face neutral, as neutral as she could. “High time my friends saw what type of woman you really are. They think you’re so perfect and pristine.” She tried to stop it but she couldn’t stop the way she flinched as he brought his hand to her face. However, the sharp bite of a slap never came. Though she could tell he found it amusing that she was expecting it. He did grip her chin though, painfully but not excruciating, forcing her eyes to his. “Maybe we could put on a show for them.” His voice dropped again, ensuring that no one but Charlotte could hear his threats. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?” 

“No,” she asserted defiantly. 

He merely looked her up and down and offered a small “hm” and sinister smile before demanding she got them plates and utensils for their food. 

She quickly retreated to the kitchen, her hands shaking as she rummaged through their kitchen to find everything they needd. 

“That cake looks great, Charlie!” Donovan called from the couch. 

Charlotte could not help but beam a bit, the first nice word said to her all day. She knew she would get no such praise or compliments from the man she made it for so she would take it wherever she got it. However, when she glanced up and found Shaun’s eyes piercing into hers, her small glow dimmed to darkness immediately. Her thank you was barely audible over the loud tv. 

She wished she could return to their room while the boys hung out, escaping his glare. However, she knew she would not be so lucky when he summoned her into the living room and pulled her onto his lap. His grip around her waist was tight, nearly painful as he kept her there, forcing her to watch the game with them. She did not even understand basketball. He only let her go once to get him another drink before he forced her back on his lap again. 

She hated it and he knew it. Knew how uncomfortable it made her and he savored it. It was not just being on display, but feeling the simmering anger beneath the surface that no one else could see or feel. It was like being forced to watch someone build the stake you were to be burned at, knowing every moment it grew taller and taller meant certain pain and death for her. He wanted her to feel it, know punishment was coming. Sometimes she knew why and others she didn’t. But it was the fear he enjoyed, he wanted her to sit in terror every second while they laughed and cracked jokes.

“Shaun told us you’re playing the lead in your show tomorrow night?” His friend, Jason, offered as the game went to commercial. “Chicago right?” 

Charlotte did not take her eyes off her lap but she offered him a strained smile and nod. 

“That’s what’s up!” 

“Congrats!” 

All of his friends’ congratulations rang out around her. She just said thank you before turning her attention back to the game, hoping the attention would not cause the rage already simmering to turn to a boil. 

“Damn Shaun, you gotta a superstar on your hands there. Ready for that trophy husband life?” Donovon joked, all the boys laughing and joking about how they’d gladly become stay at home husbands’ to a powerful woman. 

Shaun’s laughter filled her ears but she was the only one who heard the fakeness of it, the fury that colored the edges and stole any genuine amusement from his tone. She desperately wanted to find something else to do, somewhere else to be. But she knew he could sense that, her fear that made her want to flee, through the tightened grip around her stomach. 

“Yea, baby girl is something alright…” he placed a gentle kiss to her spine and Charlotte recognized the secret message in it immediately, that it would be the last stroke of gentleness she felt that night.

She had hoped to make it to tomorrow’s show without a bruise so she could perform at her best. It was her first night as the lead, taking over for an actress who had to have emergency surgery. It was her dream and she wanted it to be perfect. But tonight had been one misstep after another, despite her best efforts. She would not make it to the stage tomorrow unscathed, she could only pray he showed her mercy and exercised some control so she could still perform. 

“So what about that cake though?” Donovan asked, glancing at the kitchen as the final quarter winded down. 

“Y-Yea, I can cut y-y’all some,” she made a move to go into the kitchen when he held her tighter, halting her movements.

“No baby, let me.” 

He stood and Charlotte settled in his seat, her eyes trained on the tv and none of the men seated around her.  

“Babe! Can you help me for a second?” 

She immediately excused herself, rushing into the kitchen to find him staring down at the cake. She noticed that he had scooted it closer to the edge of the island from its original spot in the dead center. He had a knife wrapped in his hand, waving it around casually as he examined Charlotte’s day’s work. 

“It does look great,” he whispered, Charlotte not sure whether to accept the compliment because she could detect the faintest amusement in his voice. “But I’ve seen better.” 

However, before she could respond, she understood why he looked amused. She took a step forward just as he moved and pushed the cake and its holder, a glass cake stand Charlotte received from her grandmother, to the floor. She gasped as the holder shattered into a million pieces and the cake splattered across their pristine white floors. 

She glanced from the newly made mess on the floor to his eyes, the menacing pair daring her to say a word or cry. She forced the tears that sprang to her eyes to stay where they were as the other men came rushing to the kitchen at the sound. 

“Damn. What happened?” 

One short glance at Shaun and she knew what lie she was to tell. “O-Oh I… um… just tripped while I was carrying it and d-dropped it. Y-You know h-how clumsy I-I am… Sorry guys… sorry, baby,” she offered, turning to Shaun. And even though she had not done a single thing wrong, she found that her apology to him was genuine. Her eyes repeated that apology as he stared at her, apologizing for not being what he wanted, for not trying hard enough, for ruining his special day. He had a way of making her mind believe she was the guilty party even when she knew in her soul she had done nothing wrong. 

“It’s ok, babe. I know you tried your best.” He gently kissed her on the top of the head, Charlotte bowing her head and caving in softly. “You know what fellas, let’s call it a night. Wanna spend some time with my lady,” he kissed her on the cheek this time, Charlotte hoping none of them could see how her whole frame trembled beneath the seemingly sweet gesture and in his embrace. 

His friends snickered and immediately gathered their stuff. She knew they merely figured they were being kicked out so they could fuck. Oh how she wished they could see it, see her terror, or that she had the confidence to scream at them to save her. But he had stomped all of that out of her. No voice to ask for someone else to help her and no energy to save herself. Besides, she knew it was useless. With everyone else, he hid the beast so well and so perfectly that they would never see the truth. Sometimes she, even still, fell for the facade that hid the monster so how could she expect anything else from them? 

When she heard the door finally click closed, she braced herself. For what? She did not know. Part of her yearned for the days when it was a mere slap across the face every couple of weeks. Now, he avoided her face as it caused too many questions. However, what he could not do to her face, he seems to desire to make up for it everywhere else. 

“Get on your knees,” he demanded when he returned to the kitchen, Charlotte still paralyzed in the same spot he left her. Charlotte’s eyes fell on the broken glass and cake, which made her hesitate for a millisecond, a millisecond she would quickly regret. 

“You are really stupid, you know that?” He shook his head before he backhanded her, her body falling into their table. He quickly followed it with two punches to her abdomen that forced her to her knees. He kicked her over and over again, even though she was down where he wanted her, Charlotte screaming and begging him to stop as she felt several of her ribs crack.

He grabbed her by her hair, using his fist to create a ponytail to force her upright despite the pain. 

“See we gotta have a long lesson tonight. When I tell you to do something, you fuckin’ do it. Got it?”

She nodded fervently, her body unable to determine what pain to focus on first: The pulling in her scalp, the sting on her cheek, the soreness already spreading through her stomach, the agony of every breath, or the shards of glass she could feel breaking her skin on her knees and chins. 

“I-I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry” she strained to offer. “I-I’ll m-make it… up t-to you.” 

However, he did not release her, Charlotte’s heart sinking as she watched his hands go to unbutton his pants. Her whimpers and pleas for a reprieve went unanswered as he forced himself down her throat. 

She just pretended she was elsewhere as he made her to service him, forcing her panic to calm enough to focus on other things. She thought about the director’s notes from rehearsal today, she thought about her schedule for tomorrow and where she could fit in a quick run to an urgent care, she thought about what lie she would tell to explain the bruises that she most certainly could not hide in her character’s revealing costumes. She thought only of actions, tangible actions she could take. Not her fear, not her panic, not her despair. Actions. That seemed to be the only thing that worked when he hurt her. Thinking of the things she needed to do to keep the one thing in her life that brought her any joy was the only way to endure it. After all, no was not a word he accepted in any regard, but particularly not in the bedroom. 

When he was done, he released her hair, causing her to collapse into the mess on the floor, her coughing and sobbing filling the kitchen.

“Clean this up, bitch. The floor better be spotless when I get back.” 

She sat there for a moment as he retreated, her head buried in her hands as she cried. The agony of every sob was only amplified by the pain radiating through her ribs. Her hands shook violently as she tried to clean, accidentally cutting herself over and over on shards of glass she could not see through her own tears.  

She had gotten the floor fairly clean before she noticed a steady drip of crimson staining the floor. She glanced down to see a rather deep cut from the glass on her leg, her blood falling from it. She immediately looked over her legs, both of them and her hands smudged in her own blood. She let in a sharp breath, which quickly turned to pants of panic as she fell forward to the floor. 

It was not that she had not seen her own blood before but the sight felt like reality hitting her like a train. This would be her life… for the rest of her life. Day after day of killing herself to be perfect for him, to do every action by the letter of his law, only to end up in the same spot: broken beneath him. He’d never stop, he’d never change, and she’d never be perfect enough. Because he didn’t want her to be. He wanted her to be this broken, bleeding shell of a woman until he grew tired of her. 

And that reality, the first time she forced herself to contend with the prospect of such a bleak future, made her insides twist in agony, adding to the pain she already felt. Pain… that was it for her. That was all she had known and would know: pain. She could hold tight to frivolous dreams like being the lead in a show but none of it even mattered. Her life was just one series of blows after another. He had taken everything else, it would not be long before he took that last sliver of light in her life with him. 

“Charlotte! Charlotte, baby…” 

She moaned into the floor, shaking her head, which she had buried into her arm on the floor. She was in too much pain, everything ached and hurt and she would not survive another thing. She knew it would only make it worse, more painful but she resisted, resisted his touch as he turned her over and straddled her. 

“No! NO! Let me go, let me go!” She pushed and fought against him, using her last bit of energy to buck his body off of hers even as he pinned her hands to the ground, which felt softer and like she was sinking into it… 

“Charlotte! Els! It’s just me! Babe! Wake up!” 

Michael’s calls were frantic as he straddled her out of control limbs to subdue her. His eyes filled with unshed tears and trepidation as he tried to force her out of whatever nightmare had its grips on her mind. 

However, he quickly realized grabbing her only amplified the issue, her erratic movements to escape his touch only intensifying as he tried to help her. However, he was terrified to let her go, terrified she would accidentally hurt herself or topple over the side of the bed. 

This was not the first night Charlotte had woken him up with nightmares lately. Every night for the last week in fact. Most were soft whimpers and pleas that ended fairly quickly. He would inquire about them the next morning but she never seemed to remember what plagued her. However, tonight, when he woke up to those whimpers, it was far worse. It took mere minutes for them to turn into all out screams and pleas for mercy to an unknown assailant. 

Her eyes were open but utterly unseeing, filled with pain and terror he wished he had never seen on her. Her body was active but her mind was still trapped in whatever hellscape her subconscious conjured. 

“P-Please,” she whimpered. “D-don’t… I-I c-can’t… t-take a-any… m-more. Please. I-I’ll be b-better, I-I pr-promise.” 

Her pleas to a person who was not there sent splinters through his soul, he wished he could do more to help her but he was utterly helpless. Even as she begged, her body continued fighting him, unaware that he was not her enemy. 

“Els… love. H-hey, it’s me… it’s Bakari. It’s Bakari… y-you're safe, you're safe. Wake up for me,” he opted to match her tone, soft whispers that conveyed all of the love he held for her, hoping that would infiltrate the terror that whipped her into this frenzy. 

He loosened his grip around her wrists and settled next to her as her body relaxed, his words and gentle touch seeping through slowly but surely. He kept one hand on her, loose but gentle as he caressed the inside of her wrist. He just had to wait for her mind to catch up, to realize the threat she felt was fiction, not reality. 

“B-Bakari…” she whispered, his name coming out as a sob of relief. She sobbed as she realized where she was, Shaun was gone and her boyfriend sat beside her, his face in utter shock. She threw herself into his arms and cried into the nap of his neck. The visions from her nightmare, no not a nightmare she realized. A memory, one she had buried so deep, she had almost forgotten it. She glanced down at her hand, her normal one replaced with a vision of her dirty bloodied one from that night. 

She could not control it as she felt her stomach immediately turn. She pulled herself away from Michael and leaned over the bed and retched. She groaned in pain as she heaved and flinched as Michael went to touch her back to comfort her.

“I-I’m sorry,” she kept repeating in the darkness as she realized what she had done, how she had embarrassed herself in front of him. 

“Don’t apologize, love. Can you stand?” 

She nodded faintly. 

“Ok,” he helped her out of the bed on his side and led her to the bathroom. He sat her on the closed toilet, Charlotte’s eyes still a bit distant and clouded, though he knew she could hear him. He crouched down to be eye-level with her, his fingers whisking away the tears that continued to stream down her face. His tone was gentle as if he were talking to someone made of glass, anything other than a soft word would cause her to shatter into a million pieces.

 “You ok for a few minutes? I’ll clean up as best I can out there while you shower and brush your teeth. And I’ll get the housekeepers here tomorrow. We can sleep in the other room for the rest of the night.” 

She nodded, squeezing his hand before he left her. She did not move for a few moments, she just sat there, in shock. She had never experienced a nightmare quite like that before. She hated the wreckage he was still able to create in her life, how one glance had shredded through her subconscious. 

She knew her house of cards was close to toppling, her web of lies would unravel. Michael was perceptive, noticed every change in her behavior. He would wait until the morning because he knew she was too fragile right them but then he would demand answers. And she did not know if he would accept “I don’t remember” this time. 

When she finished, Michael was waiting for her with her favorite tea, a sweatshirt, and underwear. He helped her get dressed and led her to the couch. 

“Wanna j-just crash on the couch so you can watch a bit of tv to calm down?”

She nodded quietly. He helped her snuggle up in her favorite thick blanket and rest with her head in his lap. His fingers gently massaged her scalp through her scarf. He could still feel her body tensing beneath him, none of her usual relaxation methods working to ease whatever plagued her. 

“What’s wrong, Els? You’ve had a lot of nightmares but that one was… You sure you’re gonna be ok when I go to LA tomorrow? I can  reschedule or come back early? Maybe you can ask Chris for a day off.” 

“Y-yea, that’s it. I promise,” she whispered, clenching her eyes shut. “And no, you’re staying an extra couple days to see your family. You should do that.” She forced herself up and kissed him softly. “I’m ok, really. I t-think j-just the longer I’m back here, the more old shit it brings up. Besides, we only have two shows before opening night… two more days. Chris would k-kill me if I miss one. It was j-just a dumb flashback. I’m ok. G-get on your flight tomorrow, I'll keep you updated and I'll be fine."

He nodded and she fell back onto his lap. She immediately felt racked with guilt. Of course he believed her, she had never given him a reason to distrust her until now. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep as Michael’s soothing hands comforted her. But her inability to sleep this time had little to do with fear and a lot to do with her own guilt. 

These nightmares were her punishment for lying, she knew that. All of the stress and panic she was hiding just manifested in her dreams, but amplified.

It’s for a good reason, it's for a good reason, she reminded herself. Though, she could not dismiss the nagging concern that when this house of lies finally fell, Michael would certainly not see it that way. 

***

“So are you gonna miss having Michael there tomorrow night?” Chris asked as they watched everyone mingle at the cocktail hour one of the producers hosted. Tomorrow was the big day and everyone was excited and on edge, there was no inbetween. 

She shrugged. “A bit. But he sent the most gorgeous flowers and got a massage for Sunday morning. He’ll be back mid next week and already bought a ticket to see it again when he’s back. I told him he’s gonna get tired of it.”

“He definitely will. A month in and Jason,” he gestured to his partner who was chatting across the room, “Barely wants to hear a note from one of my shows ever again. Let alone see it for the 100th time. Anyway, cheers,” they clinked their champagne flutes against each other’s. “Tomorrow’s your big night. You're gonna be a star once the reviews hit and this is all said and done."

Charlotte bowed her head. “All thanks to you.”

He shrugged. “I just know talent when I see it. Oh shoot. Isaac and his financial guy just got here. I should go say hi. Be right back.” He squeezed Charlotte’s arm before disappearing into the crowd, her eyes following him until they landed on Shaun and Isaac. Shaun, thankfully, did not notice her yet. But she did not linger long in the spot to give him the opportunity.

She quickly turned and moved through the crowd, making conversation with other investors and actors. It was a decent enough crowd that she could avoid him artfully. She and Shaun did a skillful dance the entire night. Every time he got too close, she spun away or Malcolm or Vanessa swooped in and artfully redirected his attention. It was dizzying but by the time she left to head downstairs to her car, she thought she had made it through another Shaun sighting without incident. And to think, she was going to tuck her tail between her legs and run home. 

However, she should have known one cardinal rule: luck always runs out eventually.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Her steps down the hallway halted as she worked to slide on her coat. He was perched against the elevator as if he had been waiting for her.

She glanced around, the hallway was a ghost town as everyone else was still partying and having a good time. She could faintly hear Chris captivating the entire room with a third story of the night. His second one was Charlotte’s cue that it was time to head home. She had tried to sneak out unnoticed but now he blocked her path down to her car.

She studied him for a moment, her eyes trailing over his body from head to toe. He was still as handsome and captivating as she remembered, his brown skin was flawless, his suit reeked of wealth and high-quality tailoring. His appearance had not changed one bit. However, whatever captivated her about him the first time was long gone. She had been the moth to his flame, he drew her in effortlessly back then. But now, she only saw the facade for what it was: a mask to hide who he really was. She could not believe she fell for it the first time.

His stature remained tall and wide, making her feel physically powerless and inferior with her shorter stature. It was David and Goliath reincarnated but she had no rock and slingshot to save her. He could still squash her like a little bug and he knew it. Her confidence wilted like a flower with no water with every passing second underneath his glare. She hated the effect he still had on her, how her soul and bones seemed to recognize him and fall back into those patterns to protect herself. However, she remembered her mantra, she was fighting back. No more cowering, even if her fear wafted off of her like she was prey and he was her predator. 

“It's good to have you back, baby. Miss me?” 

“I-I…” her voice faltered for a moment before she drew herself to full height. It did little but she felt more assured when she answered him. “No. And I’m not your baby. I left you and I moved on. W-what are you even doing here?” 

She hoped her voice sounded more confident to him than it did against her own ears. She sounded like a helpless child to stand up to their bigger and stronger bully.

He smiled, still that menacing smirk that sent chills down her spine. He circled her as he spoke, a hawk surveying its dinner. 

“I manage all of Isaac’s investments. He was one of my rivals’ clients but when I found out his big investments were in Broadway… It was the fuckin’ long game, I’ll admit,” he reasoned. “But I figured I could get two things I wanted. I manage his portfolio, make recommendations, and I could keep my eye out for the Charlotte Bennett’s epic return. Worst case scenario, Issac makes a lot of money, so I make a shit ton of money. And best case scenario, I’m in the perfect position to see my favorite girl again. You know when I read that you were gonna be in this show, it wasn’t even a hard sell. As soon as I mentioned it, he said ‘every show Chris writes turns to money in my pocket.” He stopped in front of her, his finger grazing her cheek. His eyes seemed to light up as he watched her flinch beneath it, despite how hard she tried not to. 

“How’d you even know I’d be in the show? I don’t remember you having a love for Broadway.” 

“Oh I don’t give a fuck about any of this,” he waved his hand. “But I do still care about you. And like any good investor, I like to keep a close eye on my best investments. And you were my greatest one… so much time and energy I put into you. I know you better than you know yourself. Didn’t know what show or when, but this was always your dream. People leave but they always come back home eventually. It just required patience and time. You surprised me though… I’d thought you’d make me wait a lot longer than two & a half years.” 

She tried to school her breathing. At this point, she would consider winning this fight to be ensuring he did not see the terror that raged beneath the surface. When she made this choice to say, she had forgotten what this part felt like. To feel his simmering anger up close, to feel primal fear like this. She now remembered why she had considered running in the first place. 

With every step he took toward her, Charlotte took one step back until he had her pressed against the wall. 

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, one arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close while the other inched up her thigh beneath her dress. She wanted to flinch, disgusted at how his hands felt against her skin. “Did you miss me?” 

She shook her head vehemently, one arm pushing all of her weight into his chest to push him off while the other pushed off his wandering hand. She hated that he still felt entitled to her body and her. Her mind drifted back to Michael and one of the boxing moves he showed her when someone had you pressed against the ropes. She did not even give it a second thought as she jabbed her shoulder and entire weight into it and shoved him off of her. 

She quickly moved from the wall and faced him. She knew she was only able to do that because she caught him off guard, the surprise in his face told her that much. 

They don’t expect you to fight, Malcolm’s words came back to her. She would have to thank him again for that tidbit. 

But she was merely happy to get his disgusting hands off of her, that was enough for now. She also made a mental note to thank Michael one day for teaching her that move before she turned her attention back to him. That one maneuver infused her with a new spark of confidence. She was not the same woman, she had grown and moved on and she would not be so easily intimidated ever again. 

She squared her shoulders and stared at him as he blocked her way out.

“Move, Shaun. I don’t miss you and I never want to see or speak to you again. Y-You don’t get to waltz in here after years and act like you own me. Whatever game you’re playing, enjoy playing it alone. We’re done. Let me go,” she demanded, her voice sounding as strong as it had been since she spotted him earlier. “Now.” 

However, Shaun seemed unperturbed by her change in demeanor and stronger voice. He merely laughed at her show of strength. 

“Let you go? After I spent years turning you into the perfect woman? And don’t kid yourself, Charlie. That woman is still in there, underneath this bullshit facade you show to the world. You’re mine, Charlie. My perfect girl. You can move across the country, date other people… and you’ll still always be mine.” 

Charlotte shook her head vehemently. “I-I am not yours! I don’t want you, Shaun. I’m in love with someone else. And he…” she sighed. “He doesn’t hurt me like you did, he doesn’t scare me, or talk down to me. He loves me. I didn’t come back for you. I came back to do this show and to start building a life with him. That’s it. There is no us ever again.” 

She cowered slightly as she saw anger flash across his eyes. 

“Oh you think you’re better than me now?” 

“I think… I know I deserve better than you. And that I don’t love you… and that you can never hurt me like you did again.”

She barely had time to get the last word out before she doubled over as he threw a jab at her ribs. She immediately crumpled to the ground in shock, pain radiating through her abdomen. He followed it up with a kick to the same area that made tears spring to her eyes. It took everything to keep from screaming, she knew everything else was drowned out by the loud music of the party down the hall. It was quick, over before she even had the chance to attempt to defend herself. All she could do was whimper as she tried to push herself onto all fours, one hand immediately shielding her side from another kick.

“D-don’t, don’t…” she pleaded, her apologies flowing with each heaving breath. “I-I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry.” 

He crouched down low beside her. “There she is,” he beamed. “The real Charlotte. It seems like you forgot who the fuck has power here. Cause it sure as hell ain’t you or that nigga you with. You breathe because I allow it, you’ll get up there and sing that bullshit every night because I let you. You lived carefree in LA because I allowed it. You don’t deserve shit. Still the worthless whore I remember. Don’t let the fans in there fool you, Charlie. You’re still nothing without me. Understand?”

When she didn’t immediately answer, he gripped her face tightly, forcing her eyes to him. 

“I said, do you fuckin’ understand?” 

“I-I u-understand.” 

He immediately let her go, her face falling down as tears stained her cheeks.  

“Get up,” his voice was so filled with disgust, she almost flinched again. “You don’t want people to see you like this, do you?” 

She did not even watch as he sauntered back to the party, leaving Charlotte alone and broken on the floor. She sat there for a moment before she forced herself to her feet and dusted herself off. She pressed her hands into her eyes and wiped away her tears. 

She gingerly tested her range of motion, a sharp exhale escaping her. It hurt when she moved but it wasn’t unbearable. If she could dance through broken ribs, she could certainly get through bruises. But she knew there would be no way to hide the bruise that would form from Michael when he returned from LA. But she decided that was a problem for later. She would just have to spin a larger web.

Charlotte quickly rushed into the elevator to ensure no one saw her. When she slid into her car, she demanded their driver drive around the city for 20 minutes before he took her home. She anxiously looked over her shoulder every 30 seconds as if she could pick Shaun out of the sea of cars behind her while she held back tears. 

When she finally made it up to her apartment, she did not even change her clothes. She crawled into a ball on the couch and turned on the tv. She had finally dozed off when her phone rang. 

“H-Hey babe,” she whispered as she answered Bakari’s FaceTime.

“Oh, I’m sorry love. I figured you were still out at that event. You ok?” 

She smiled and nodded. “Y-Yea, yea. I j-just wasn’t feelin’ great at the party. Long day a-and t-too much to drink I think. Stressing for tomorrow. I didn’t even take off my make up,” she chuckled. “Tell me all about your first couple meetings while I get ready for bed.” She pushed the conversation back to him, hoping she had said enough to ease any concerns he had. 

Michael did not keep her on the phone long as he could tell she was exhausted. But he did share highlights from his meetings and screen test with Chadwick, gushing - in the most manly way possible - about how excited he was to work alongside Chadwick and a couple of the other actors who were there. There was another day of reading and screen tests with a couple other cast members the next day but it seemed as if everyone had loved him.  Though she was tired, his words were a breath of fresh air, the thing she needed to tip the scales of this day back in the right direction. 

“I knew it. I’m so happy for you, love. The last couple will go great. Sounds like they’re just a formality?”

“Basically. Team’s gotta talk numbers but I think it’s a done deal. Ryan said the role is mine and he ain’t auditioning anybody else.” 

She mustered up as much energy as she could to let out a couple of enthusiastic cheers. 

“Good. Well I’ll call you tomorrow to tell you how opening night goes. Enjoy the time with the fam and we’ll celebrate when you get back?” 

“Sounds good. See you on Wednesday, love. Get some rest. You sure you’re alright?”

“Y-Yea,” her voice cracked as the weight of the day and all her lies got to her. She so desperately wanted to fall and break down and sob. But she couldn’t. And she knew if she lingered under his stare, he would push. And one more push and she would crumble. “Love you, bye.” She said quickly before hanging up the phone. 

She clenched her phone in her hand angrily and banged it on the counter, a slight sob escaping her. 

She slid out of her dress and curled up in one of Michael’s sweatshirts before returning to the couch. Her eyes stayed trained on the tv all night, not falling asleep until the wee hours of the morning. 

Thousands of miles away, Michael could not relax either. He was in bed and could not stop thinking about Charlotte. 

Something was not right. He searched social media and the news to see if something had gone wrong at the last night of previews but all was quiet and the few posts he saw were extremely positive. He felt like a stalker but he checked all of her co-stars' social media accounts, studying every picture and video they posted , studying the rare glimpses of Charlotte in backgrounds. And still nothing. She looked tired but otherwise happy and joyful like he left her. In every photo he could find, she was smiling and laughing and clearly joking around. 

After staring at the wall for an extra hour, he remembered that he had another option to get answers that did not involve Charlotte at all. 

He scrolled through his contacts until he found Rob’s number. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel while the phone rang. 

“Mr. Jordan, what can I do for you?” The man sounded groggy as if he had been asleep. 

“Hey Rob. Sorry for waking you up. But you took Charlotte home tonight from the party right?” 

“Yes sir, about 3 hours ago… around 1:30 a.m.” 

Michael nodded. “Did she seem ok to you? Was she feeling alright or looked upset or hurt in any way?” 

A distinct and pregnant pause filled the phone, a pause that filled him with dread, his protective side immediately kicked into overdrive. 

“Rob. What happened?” 

The older man sighed. “I don’t know, sir. And I mean that. When I dropped her off at the party around 11:30, she seemed just fine. Tired as she had been all day but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She texted me to meet her downstairs at 12:45, which was a bit earlier than she told me to come back. She came down and she seemed frazzled and upset. She had me drive around the city for 20 minutes before she told me to head home. She kept looking out the back window like someone was following her but she wouldn’t say what the issue was.” 

“Was someone following you?” 

“No, not that I could tell.” 

“Was she hurt?” 

“This is purely speculation, sir. But she did sound like she was in pain when she got in and out of the car. I asked if she needed help or was alright and she told me she was fine. I wish I knew more.” 

“No, no. That’s plenty. What time does she have to be at the theater tomorrow night?” 

“Around 3, sir. Curtains open at 7:30 and then she said the after party is nearby at midnight.”  

“Good. I’ll send you the details but plan to pick me up sometime tomorrow afternoon after you drop her off. I’m getting on the first flight I can back to New York.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“And Rob, don’t mention this to her. If anything happens tomorrow when you pick her up, let me know.”

“Yes sir.” 

Michael sighed and thudded his head back onto his headboard. He turned over the last couple weeks in his head and realized that tonight or her nightmare were not the first instance of odd behavior. The recent increase in her nightmares, the lack of sleep, the overall jumpiness she seemed to have. Something was going on, something more than just nervousness about performing. And whatever it was, it ended tomorrow. He would make sure of it.

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh

***

A/N: Now… before everyone gets mad at me lol, I just want to assure everyone that this is a love story! Happy endings are coming lol we just gotta get through some muck first. Also what do you think of Charlie's decision to keep this all secret from Michael? Definitely is weighing on her heavily. How do you think that'll affect their relationship long-term? Michael is on his way back to his girl (I love how he immediately knew something wasn't right) andddd how do y'all think he's gonna react to what he sees?

Thanks for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged!

[coimbrabertone]

I Guess We Gotta Talk About Andretti...

So, I've been rather negative when it comes to modern F1 on this blog, and unfortunately, we gotta go there again this week.

So, this week, at Indycar's Long Beach Grand Prix - which turned into a pretty good race at the end - Mario Andretti was interviewed when it comes to his son, Michael's, bid to bring Andretti to Formula One as an eleventh team.

Mario, the 1978 Formula One World Champion, said that he's offended and finds it ridiculous that F1 has rejected the application, that Andretti has worked hard to create a deal with GM, has promised to support drivers in F2 and F3, and that value is added to Formula One by having an eleventh team. Basically, Andretti has met every hurdle that FOM has put ahead of them, and what have the FOM and the teams done in turn?

The teams are trying to get a ten-team limit put into the new Concorde Agreement.

Do I think that Andretti would instantly fix all my problems with modern F1? No.

Do I think F1 would be more interesting with another team? Yes.

Why? Because first of all, so many drivers have been stuck on the outside because there's too few seats in F1. Felipe Drugovich is doing fuck all this season because he couldn't get an F1 drive as a runaway F2 champion. Theo Pourchaire, the next F2 champion, is about to do his second Indycar race this weekend with Arrow McLaren. Mick Schumacher, Callum Ilott, and Robert Shwartzman are all in sports cars after super promising F3 and F2 careers. Marcus Armstrong is in Indycar, Louis Deletraz in IMSA, etc, etc.

Even Oscar Piastri, who has one of the most successful junior careers of recent memory, had to take a year off and ended up debuting with McLaren instead of Alpine.

All of these guys who could have F1 seats are instead doing amazing things in other series. Meanwhile, Lance Stroll has an Aston seat because his dad owns the team, Yuki Tsunoda has an Alpha Tauri seat because Honda wants a Japanese driver, and Daniel Ricciardo is his teammate for reasons that even Red Bull seems puzzled about at this point.

Adding two seats in F1 could improve that situation.

At least one of those seats would likely go to an American, and maybe Logan Sargeant has soured some people's tastes towards that, but hey, if you're going to have three races in the US, you're gonna need American talent to help support that interest.

Haas sure as hell isn't doing a good job of being an American team. Hell, Haas isn't doing a good job of much of anything. They have no ambition, they have two safe, boring, older drivers who will score a few points every once in awhile and let the team collect its prize money check at the end of the season. There's nothing exciting about that, Haas isn't going to have some young charger to breathe life into the back of the grid, Haas isn't going to master the 2026 regulations and give some amazing Brawn storyline, they don't even make their own cars - they have Dallara do it.

Andretti is going to have more ambition than that, I can guarantee that if nothing else. Andretti has three full time cars in Indycar, a bunch of cars in Indy Lights, two cars in IMSA in association with Wayne Taylor Racing, and is potentially laying the groundwork for a move into NASCAR as well.

Marco Andretti is in Trucks while Gainbridge, a major investor in Andretti, has been popping up on the Spire cars, along with rumors that Gainbridge and Andretti wanting to buy into the team.

All of this along with a share in an Australian Supercars team, a Formula E team, and Extreme E. They're a global team that isn't afraid to spend money. They're trying to win championships in series across the world.

F1 doesn't think all of that is good enough.

Why? Because that would mean the teams have to split money eleven ways instead of ten. That's it. That's the entire reason.

Paddock space? Space for twenty-six cars is written into the rules.

Value added? Look at all that stuff above, Andretti isn't coming to F1 to fuck around, and even if it was, half the grid is doing the same thing.

It's all about the money.

As much as I fully believe Andretti is overqualified for F1, I almost want them to say fuck it and abandon F1, put the money into the rest of your series. Marcus Ericsson, Kyle Kirkwood, and Colton Herta are competitive each and every week in an Indycar series where being a few tenths off could put you at the back of the field. The #10 and #40 WTR Andretti cars in IMSA are major championship threats. Plus, if Andretti can get that Spire deal and get into NASCAR, that's a sport that's experiencing its own resurgence in popularity.

I know NASCAR is very much focused in the US but having 4.3 million viewers for Talladega this last weekend is four times the ratings that F1 pulls, and everyone's talking about how big F1 is becoming in the US. F1 is getting all these American sponsors and American races, but whenever it comes to letting more Americans into the sport, there's always this hostility.

Motorsports is more than just F1, and the more F1 turns up its nose at the rest of motorsports, the more it alienates fans like me.

Which is a damn shame, because F1 was my first love in motorsports.

[omg-snakes]

Thoughts on Crab Day

I support this idea and I'll be participating on July 29th.

I see a lot of folks saying things to the effect of, "don't reward Tumblr for making things worse/not listening to their userbase/not adding features I need-want-like." I also see a lot of posts saying that the organizers of Crab Day are TERFs, neo-Nazis, and/or ultraconservatives.

While I agree that TERFs and Nazis (neo and paleo) need to be yote into the sun, whoever started this idea was not wrong about the site needing money to continue operating. Tumblr is a business. That's how businesses work.

Now, they can get money from advertisers and monetization partners, or they can get it from users. If they get it from advertisers/investors, those parties have the opportunity to weigh in on features they think will generate more revenue... like Tumblr Live... which is objectively trash. Tumblr Live is powered by LiveBox, an add-on service provider that enables sites to host live streaming content to generate revenue. Tumblr is also trying to attract users from the X-Twitter exodus by making the interface more familiar to these users. Was this a bad idea? Yes. It's a desperate attempt to attract more users so as to increase ad views and generate more revenue. But, remember, Tumblr is a business. That's how businesses work.

For YOU (and me!), Tumblr is a community. It's a platform for our art. It's a meeting place for friends and like-minded individuals. It's a safe space for self-expression. It's the last mostly-unmonetized bastion of social media in a landscape dominated by influencers, hustlers, and data-miners. For TUMBLR STAFF, Tumblr is a service that they are trying to sell so that they can obtain money that they can then exchange for food, housing, repayment of student loans, etc. If they can't afford those things by selling you their services, then they will literally go do something else. Yes, Tumblr is indeed a business and not just a passion project. That's how businesses work.

So by buying things directly from Tumblr, like a $3 crab-summoning gift, and especially as part of a coordinated effort like Crab Day and/or Crab Week, you are telling Tumblr Staff that YOU are a CUSTOMER, not just a monetizable data point. We are, in a very distant sense, establishing ourselves as a body of influence. If Tumblr sees that we can and will do this en masse, they are more likely to treat us as contributors and potentially shareholders who need to be kept happy. We each have a vested interest in the continuation of this site, and we have a rare opportunity to show the specific value of that interest.

Also, for those who want more accessibility tools, this is a great way to get those implemented. Accessibility for web applications is a big, big business and toolkits and training for accessibility standards tend to cost quite a lot. Training for a single accessibility plug-in toolkit can cost around $2000 per user*. That's about 667 crabs. By participating in Crab Day, even just a little bit or even just spreading the word about it or even just allowing others to participate as they please without pitching a ragequit tanty about it, you can tell Tumblr staff that you're here as a customer, your voice needs to be heard, and your needs are important.

If this doesn't work, and Tumblr doesn't take their userbase seriously after we make a concerted effort to support them, then please by all means go back to whatever version of complaining makes you feel most satisfied. But just for now, let's try something new!

*based on actual costs of a web accessibility training program offered by the agency for which I work

[verdemoth]

i cant post Tune without also posting Odyssey. do not separate.

Odyssey is an engineer, formerly the director of Mission Control, and before even that e did field work. Now, e’s supposedly retired from all duties, but Odyssey refuses to leave. E wont let the new owners run the team into the ground. (and e’s still holding onto some distant hope of finding es best friend alive, or at least closure)

-> Originally Odyssey was a field researcher alongside es queerplatonic partner Tune in their 20s, until the risks of such work became apparent. E then went on to develop systems to communicate with and coordinate the research team and monitor the Otherworld from safely on the ‘reality’ side of the portal. E established Mission Control, and led it for decades.

-> Tune and Odyssey were very close for a very long time, having met in their school years. They were best friends, partners for life, two halves of a whole. It’s been some years now since Tune’s disappearance, and Odyssey’s mostly come to terms with it, but still feels his absence keenly.

-> Odyssey’s a generally kind individual but not particularly nice. E’s gruff, immensely stubborn, with a mean sarcastic streak. Some coworkers might describe em as cantankerous. But at the end of the day e’s well-intentioned and altruistic.

-> Odyssey is very, VERY bitter about the investors who bought ownership of the team from the original founders a couple years back. E hates them. E’s just WAITING for the chance to prove there’s something unscrupulous happening, e can FEEL it. E hasn’t had results yet but the vibes are rancid.

-> Though formally retired, Odyssey continues to do much of the same work e’s been doing for decades, out of spite and because e trusts few people with the systems e built. E adamantly refuses to cooperate with anyone associated with the company, which is probably directly related to es early ‘retirement’. Odyssey’s not happy about it and won’t do them any favours.

-> Odyssey is only middle aged but e feels so much older. E’s so tired. And so worried. E hopes for the best but is always prepared for the worst.

-> Odyssey’s role as director was succeeded by Maven, who e mentored. Odyssey treats them as a ward and as a friend. E respects and trusts them, but…… When the Storm hit, it was one of Maven’s first missions directing with little input from Odyssey. It was supposed to be that, anyway, before that disaster. Odyssey doesn’t blame them for what happened, but but can’t seem to talk them out of beating themself up over it. Directing the EEG is no longer Odyssey’s job so e tries to step back and let Maven make their own decisions, but they’ve obviously not dealt well with the pressure, and Odyssey can’t leave well enough alone. E has a tendency to step in and take over es old duties at the first sign of trouble in a misguided attempt to shield Maven from the trauma of handling another crisis. E doesn’t mean to imply that they’re not capable, but unfortunately they are not helping Maven’s shattered confidence and fear of making mistakes by taking control from them.

-> Odyssey is legally blind, and though es glasses can help em make out some shapes in the right conditions, in unfamiliar spaces and bad lighting e utilizes a cane to get a feel for es surroundings. While es poor eyesight is likely hereditary, e became an amputee following a severe injury on es last field mission. E opts not to use any prosthetics, finding them uncomfortable and unwieldy. E’s often accompanied by one or both of the spider shaped robots e designed and programmed to assist the exploration team, which have been retired from the field as well since suffering some damage in the Storm. Odyssey is very fond of them.

-> The larger robot, Marie, was named after Odyssey’s cousin Mariner, who also worked for the EEG for a time. The two used to be close, but have had a falling out coinciding with Tune’s presumed death and Mariner’s retirement. Xe pushed for Odyssey to quit as well, but despite xer desperation xe wouldn’t confess why xe was so adamant about it.

-> The loss of Tune hit Odyssey very hard, and e’s become quite reclusive. E tends to stick to es room when not doing other work, and would spend a lot of time alone if not sought out by the other people who are close with em.

-> Spirit, Tune’s sibling, can probably best understand what Odyssey’s going though. The two have always gotten along well, having met through Tune. When Odyssey was injured, they requested Spirit join the team in es place, providing a glowing recommendation to the then owners. E’s always thought highly of Spirit, as a skilled and reliable member of the team (and someone e could trust to keep an eye on Tune where e couldn’t).

-> Spirit’s been different, recently. Odyssey has slowly tried opening up to them to talk about their shared loss, after es initial attempts to distance emself from the team in es grief. But any attempt seems stilted and awkward, so usually Odyssey never gets around to that part, and sticks to shallow small talk and talking At them about other problems. Honestly e just wants their company, and e feels they could use it, too. Odyssey worries for Spirit’s physical wellbeing in the Otherworld, and their mental wellbeing in the wake of losing their sibling. But they’re still capable of looking after themself, so e doesn’t push too hard. E just figures… well. Spirit probably needs the same kind of help e does, and e’s trying to be that for them.

-> If there’s a coworker that Odyssey really Does Not get along with, it’s Curiosity. In the past they’ve had a standard and respectful relationship. But with Tune M.I.A. and the EEG’s new ownership, Odyssey’s being phased out of the team though circumstance and es own actions and e’s feeling quite frustrated. E projects a lot of those frustrations into Curiosity, the new de facto leader of the field team and symbolic of the changes Odyssey rejects. Curiosity, for her part, isn’t keen on sitting around and taking flak from Odyssey.

-> Mostly they try to avoid each other, and that turns out fine. But when they do interact, Odyssey is… difficult about it. E will nitpick any plan of hers to test how it holds up, always double-checks her work, tries to pull rank/seniority regardless of relevance.. all in all, nothing malicious, but instead unreasonably hypercritical. E claims e’s only making sure she’s up to handle whatever the Otherworld throws at them next.

-> Phoenix on the other hand is a long time friend of Odyssey and Tune, having also met them through school before he dropped out. They’ve been a sturdy pillar of support for Odyssey through es grief, and regularly checks up on em to make sure es looking after emself. Though Phoenix, like Curiosity, is ambivalent about the new ownership, he is unlike Curiosity in that he is in good standing with Odyssey and is privy to sooo many rants about it. They talk often. Phoenix is really the only other person Odyssey trusts with maintaining the systems e built.

-> Phoenix and Odyssey had a brief romantic fling as young adults, which Odyssey now finds very amusing. Even moreso because Phoenix is kind of embarrassed about being ‘something of a headstrong dumbass’ at that age, in their own words. It’s one of the few things Odyssey and Curiosity (who also once dated Phoenix) can agree upon. It’s all in good fun.

[aidoubackster]

Twitter's ToS update summary

It's a bit of a long post, but there's also spacing and it's divided in sections. There's a TL;DR at the end. Recently (around the 17th of October of 2024) Twitter has changed its Terms of Service (ToS) and announced a change in how the blocking feature will work now. Updating and changing a platform's ToS is normal; the problem comes from what changed, specially for users from outside the European Union, in regards of how the content they upload on Twitter can be used. By using the platform you agree that your content can be used to train Twitter's AI and there's no way of opting out. For now, any Twitter's users in Europe are safe of their content automatically being used as data training for AI due to data protection laws. This article explains the situation better and links to Twitter's current and coming ToS: https://www.socialmediatoday.com/news/x-formerly-twitter-updates-terms-service/730223/

But there's also another update, about the blocking feature. "Soon we’ll be launching a change to how the block function works. If your posts are set to public, accounts you have blocked will be able to view them, but they will not be able to engage (like, reply, repost, etc.)." From here: https://x.com/XEng/status/1846605254864888180 or see it from a Twitter front-end like Nitter to see the full thread and replies without having a Twitter account: https://nitter.poast.org/XEng/status/1846605254864888180 This makes it easier to stalk someone, it makes impossible for NSFW accounts to block minors and it raises questions about what use has now blocking. If I block a user does that mean that the algorithm will show me their posts too?

If these changes are not something you want, you might be considering changing platforms. But there are some things to consider or plan before doing it:

An alternative to Twitter (in the format sense) can be Bluesky or Mastodon. There are more but these two seem to be the most popular ones so they will have more users to interact with.

If you plan to migrate, it's better to not abandon and delete your Twitter account immediately or even delete it at all. Instead, announce your decision and give a chance to your followers to follow you again on the new platform.

Also pin a post on Twitter saying why you left. By declaring why are you leaving there's record of why the platform is losing traffic and engagement (losing money for the business and investors), so it's something that it might be noted in future and get reversed.

Before leaving, due to the new changes on the blocking feature, you can report the app on the Google Store and possibly the Apple Store. This user explains how to do it on the Google Store: https://nitter.poast.org/RepinWolf/status/1846802988318224876

You can always use a RSS feed to check accounts on Twitter or other social media without making an account to subscribe or follow the user. Feeder is a good RSS feed aggregator app for mobile

Consider what you want to delete. Maybe key content or maybe mostly everything (besides the statement and "Where can you find me" posts).

There are scripts and apps that help you mass delete tweets, replies and remove likes. Note: I am linking two of each that seem good and are free, but I haven't been able to confirm if they are 100% trustworthy. Proceed at your own risk and investigate further before trying them: Scripts to delete Tweets and more:

https://github.com/lucahammer/tweetXer

https://github.com/Lyfhael/DeleteTweets Apps that delete Tweets with a free plan available (with limitations!)

CircleBloom: https://circleboom.com/twitter-management-tool/plans-and-pricing

Redact: https://redact.dev/pricing

TL;DR: There are two main changes in Twitter as of the 17th of October of 2024. By using the platform you agree that your content can be used to train Twitter's AI and there's no way of opting out, except for European users. The blocking feature will change. Users that you block will still be able to see your content. If you want to leave Twitter, there are alternatives like Mastodon or Bluesky. It's also good to not do it right away; instead, let your followers know that you are leaving, make a pined post saying why you left and other places to find you. Also consider what you want to delete (so the AI doesn't have training material). There are scripts and apps that can mass delete your account's content for free. This post is a summary from another post, (that can be found here), without the screenshot and extra information. The wonderful star dividers are done by @enchanthings

[cleaverbacon]

I had a fucking wild dream last night, one that’s as long as it is strange.

It was basically a dream about a dystopian future that is shown to me in different strange vignettes. It started with me working as a news videographer covering a protest against a massive faceless fascist organization, which doesn’t end well. I basically have to run for my life as police come out and start “detaining” protesters. It was a blood bath, one that I was spared from by resistance members who grabbed me and pulled me into a bunker of theirs. They pretty much told me that I should consider myself dead to the fascists. They do their best to make me feel welcome and safe.

After that, my perspective shifts to someone who died in what was referred to as a scorch engine, which is essentially a large underground vortex that acts as a power source, a transmitter for communications. The problem with these engines is that they are unstable and could expand to consume the earth. The person who I suddenly saw through the eyes of was trying to shut down an engine in the hopes to at least stop that particular one, but then that person was shoved into the engine and was spread across time and space. For a while, much of my time in this part of the dream was trying to find whoever pushed me into the engine. After some time, I found that it was a resistance member that I had been working with, they accidentally bumped me into the engine after freaking out at security walking in. The person who killed me didn’t really recover from the guilt of my death. I used my strange time and space powers to place my hand on their shoulder and say that I forgave them. The strangest part about this vignette is that I was guided by the grime reaper after that and he decided to show me all of the lives I would live before the end of the world.

My dream takes me to the day the first scorch engine was shown off, long before any fascist organization took root or anything like that. I was still the person that fell into the engine, though now I was experiencing the story through the eyes of an earlier life of mine. Here is the wild thing about that: I was Kermit the frog. You see, Kermit is a father to a human baby (a scientist at the facility straight up checked and it is the child of both Kermit and Ms Piggy) and Animal had taken him to the facility to play hide and seek without Kermit knowing. Kermit found them in the chamber of the scorch engine after they sealed the chamber with all of the investors and press who are strapped to their chairs in case of a catastrophic event. Myself as Kermit, while holding a human baby, grab a guardrail and hold on for dear life as the engine kicks on, it nearly pulls us into the machine but it evens out at some point. After the entire presentation, security spots us and grabs animal and my baby. I tell them I was trying to find my baby and animal and that we didn’t mean to wander into this event. They were immediately unconcerned with us trespassing and more curious how a frog and a pig make a human and then quickly let us go. After that, I see that my baby’s pacifier was left on a counter, so I grab it, not knowing I accidentally put a dvd called “the evil republica plans” into the transmitter, which was the catalyst for the dystopian empire. After that, my perspective shifts to third person as I watch my dream try to make sense of Kermit the frog holding his human baby and giving him a bottle. You can actually see a person right under Kermit hold up the baby with two hands as the perspective tries and fails to hide him. Kermit starts singing to his little baby as the ceo and security coo at the little guy and my perspective shifts again this time to an overview of the land I was in going from mostly modern looking to an uneven land of hellish landscapes, run down dwellings and extremely advanced sectors of living.

After all of that, I woke up. Yeah, weird dream all the way through.

[shadowmaat]

Open Letter

Dear @photomatt,

I am depressed. I'm discouraged. I am exhausted and burned out and so dang tired all the time. And you really aren't helping.

Look, I know tumblr is deeply in the hole and needs to make money. I know the upcoming Crabageddon isn't going to help as much as people hope it will. But watching tumblr cannibalize itself as it tries so hard to produce a blank, homogenized experience with a blank, homogenized interface just makes me want to cry.

Tumblr has been a refuge for me since 2011. It has changed a lot over the years (like, a LOT), but one thing it has always been- and one thing that has kept me coming back- is how unique it is. Sure, some things are clunky and if you kick the tires too hard they might fall off; or shower you with tubby custard; or start blasting Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley, but it was still a fun hellsite (affectionate) and I was glad to call it home.

These changes you're making? The ones you claim are necessary for the future of the site? You're killing everything that makes tumblr a fun and unique experience. You may be making it "easier" for everyone else to use (¹citation needed), but at the cost of the comfort of the long-time userbase. We are here because we like tumblr. Not tiktok, not twitter, but tumblr.

I know tumblrites have traditionally screamed about every little change since the site was founded, but there's a difference between making cosmetic tweaks and trying to change the fundamental nature of the site.

This isn't about a misplaced concern regarding the reverse-chrono feed, it's about having to manually go in and turn off "tumblr live" every seven days or risk seeing random tits at the top of my screen with every refresh. It's about making the dash look like twitter. It's about disregarding folks who've expressed issues with the lack of accessibility features. And trying to force sign-ups in order to view posts. It's about taking away a safe space and turning a hellsite (affectionate) into a hellsite (despairing).

You knew tumblr was a money pit when you bought it. The site has a reputation for being a money pit that sucks in investors and spits them out again poorer than they were. Now you're using that debt as an excuse to make sweeping changes without caring about feedback from the folks who actually use the site.

So many people have articulated the problems better than I could. People who know about social media and web infrastructure and all the other elements that go into managing a site like this- and the people that come along with it. They've pointed out the flaws, the misinformation, the corporate doublespeak. Some have even suggested alternatives that would maintain the integrity of what tumblr is while still offering a chance to make up the debt. But I get the sense that no one in the upper echelons is listening. That no one cares.

A few weeks ago I was sure we'd be able to outlast you and survive, but now I'm wondering if you're going to pull an Elon and make this place so uninhabitable (at least to long-term users) that we'll feel forced out. And that breaks my heart. I've been here for so long. I don't want to leave. But if you keep pressing forward with your efforts to make tumblr into metatwit-tok, I'll leave. And I'm sure I won't be the only one.

But I guess if all you care about is money then it doesn't matter; we'll be easily replaced by kids and influencers who want everything to be the same everywhere they go.

May your choices reap the dividends you deserve.

shadowmaat

[gentil-minou]

Has anyone done a Secretary Kim wangxian au but with wwx as the genius but clueless CEO and lwj as the extremely competent secretary with a crush he's resigned to never getting anywhere so he quits leading to wwx realizing his feelings and trying to win him back?

--

Stygian Tech's CEO Wei Wuxian is acclaimed for his innovative work in clean energy especially since he was forced to drop out of college early due to poor funds.

What most don't know is that his BFF from uni, Lan Wangji dropped out with him and took on the role of his secretary

Thanks to lwj's unsurprising talent for organization and his surprising knack for creating space to network, ST was able to get the funding it needed and wwx was able to put his focus on his projects.

He really couldn't have done any of it without lwj, and now at ST's 10 year celebration he means to commemorate lwj for all his help with a plaque in his honor, to go with all the other ones lwj keeps on the wall behind his desk.

They all proclaim him as LAN ZHAN THE BESTEST FRIEND EVER.

Lan Wangji loves them almost as much as he hates them.

Because you see lwj has harbored a crush on wwx since their very first meeting during a heated debate in their entry level environment sci class.

A crush is putting it lightly. He's known he's been in love with wwx for the past decade. Why else would he drop out of his prestigious university against his family's expectations to work as Wei Ying's secretary? For Wei Ying, of course.

Wei Ying's ideas from the very start were unfounded and actually realistic, able to settle debates about clean energy from all sides in ways that made both happy while still being good for the environment. It wasn't fair that his ideas would have to be shoved away because of a lack of money. Lwj couldn't do that to him, to the world.

So, the day after Wei Ying dropped out, so did Lan Wangji

He's spent the last ten years taking care of the tasks Wei Ying could not, so that he could focus on his inventions and marketing them. They made the perfect team, with LWJ happily working behind the scenes to keep the operation organized and running smoothly, and Wei Ying at the the front charming investors and launching his business off the ground.

Lan Wangji doesn't mind his secretarial duties, he used to find solace in them, in fact. Knowing he could take care of the small things so that Wei Ying could put his brilliant mind to use, it was all the satsifaction he needed.

Until now, that is.

He's put his life and career on hold for so long. He has his own dream of creating his own start up, and he can't keep playing the secretary role forever.

And more importantly he can't handle his heart breaking with another plague about their undying friendship, and just their friendship, again.

So, on the night of ST's 10th anniversary, as he drives wwx home (he only trusts himself to get wy home safely; he will need to work on that) he tells him is quitting, putting in his 2 weeks notice.

Wwx thinks he's joking. Is Lan Zhan quitting some secret smoking habit? A prank?

He laughs and laughs, but lwj doesn't laugh with him. His grip tightens on the steering wheel and he looks straight ahead at the road in front of them.

Oh, Wei Wuxian realizes. He's serious.

The rest of the drive is uncharacteristically silent though the tension cuts.

Lan Wangji stops in front of Wei Wuxian's home, providing details about his plan for offloading his duties in the coming weeks in short clipped sentences. He's already scouted the secretarial department and selected a promising woman named Luo Qingyang who will take his place nicely and he thinks will fit wwx's rather eclectic style of running his business.

But wwx doesn't want anyone to take lwj's place. Lwj had been his partner for so long through all the devastating hurdles and endless nights working. How can he possibly go on without him?

But he will, he has to. Because Lan Zhan wants to leave. So he swallows his tears and smiles, as wide as he can make it stretch.

He says good, and he thanks Lan Zhan.

He holds that smile in pretty plastic place, all through his goodbyes, even as he chokes up when he says his usual farewell, "See you tomorrow Lan Zhan"

Then he goes inside his home, and and collapses into choked sobs right there in the entrance as he hears Lan Zhan drive away.

(threadfic here where i'll probs continue this or i'll make an actual oneshot idk anymore)

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 28: Deal with the Devil

Writing this chapter was... interesting to say the least. Creating such a disgusting character with @baelpenrose was both more and less of a challenge than expected. But hey, Bael got to brush off his knowledge from his troll hunting days, so that came in handy.

Guy still gives me the creeps, though.

I don't need no arms around me

And I dont need no drugs to calm me.

I have seen the writing on the wall.

Don't think I need anything at all.

No! Don't think I'll need anything at all.

All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.

All in all you were all just bricks in the wall.

Pink Floyd, “Another Brick in the Wall, Part III”

Lash

A couple days later, after Nils and I had agreed to take some space and get some social ‘fresh air’, I was in my parents’ apartment, listening to Baba snore gently when my phone buzzed.  Nils’ name popped up on the screen, which wasn’t unusual since we did check in each day.  I ignored it for the moment, deciding to clean the one or two dishes from Baba’s lunch.  However, no sooner had the water started to heat up in the sink than my phone started buzzing more urgently.

I sighed, dried my hands, and answered. “This is new. You never call.” 

“Neither do funny AIs, but times are changing.” Nils’ voice contained the self-satisfied tones of a man delivering an inside joke. “I think we really might want to check our place of business to work on the breakthrough.” 

“Exciting times,” I murmured, trying not to wake Baba in my shock. Our little pestilential question mark had already made contact. “Let me leave a note for Baba.  Mori should be home in about an hour, but I don’t want him to wake up and panic if I’m not here.  Or, you know… do something stupid in a fit of toxic masculinity.”

“No worries. We have a little time before the meeting with the investors.” Nils’ voice was quiet, and he sounded for all the world like an insufferable young man going into a tech startup with his girlfriend. “Let’s sell it, babe.” 

He disconnected, and I took a deep breath.  First, finish these dishes or I’ll never hear the end of it from Mori, I decided.  Mama was still in the hospital due to a respiratory infection - nothing major, the doctors swore, but they wanted to keep a close eye on it to be safe.  Less than fifteen minutes later, I had a note left by Baba’s bed and was out the door.

Getting to the abandoned mall was a journey in and of itself, both as a consequence of public transport and because I took a few unnecessary routes out of sheer paranoia.  I finally got there, and Nils was waiting for me with a surprise.

“Bishop!” I gasped in excitement, trying not to scream.  The gruff-looking older man took the bag out of my left hand and hugged me with his free arm.  “Hey, Baklava.  Good to see that face in one piece.”

“He’s been briefed, and he’s spent the last several hours helping us set up the VPNs - far as our mark knows, we’re not in the same country. He’s here to monitor the connection and make sure the fucker doesn’t start tracing us through it as we talk.” Nils spoke, quickly. “You play yourself but more grandiose, I have to play the asshole as we sound him out, but if he’s wise to the game, we drop the act a bit and try for more subtlety, and we can play a little more open and hook him in. Stay noncommittal and keep our cards close to the chest no matter what - Bishop and I already physically debugged the place, but if there’s digital bugs we didn’t get or coming from his end, we can’t give them anything that’ll hold up as a confession. When in doubt, look at Bishop, or glance to me, I’ve been reading my mother’s legal shit nonstop for days now.” 

Anxiety immediately spiked through me. This was happening. I nodded. “Okay, got it.  Let me drop off some of this food, and we can get on it.”

Bishop made a mockery of a fake pout. “You mean this isn’t all for me?”

I glanced at the huge bag of food he had, and the one in my other hand. “Sure. I am completely certain you can eat twenty pounds of food. Especially since it’s mostly veggies and carbs.”

That made him do an about face. “My plumbing thanks you for the warning.”

The guys helped me drop off food to the storefronts where people were most likely to camp out, and we made our way to the breakroom in the old Sears.  I flopped on the same beanbag I used last time with a puff of dust and started unpacking my laptop.  “Let’s get me through all the VPNs, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Nils and Bishop helped me get set up, with Bishop exaggeratedly and pointedly looking away at Nils’ whispered apologies to me for his snipiness, and him holding out a hand for me to take.

We had just barely finished getting my audio set up when Nils looked at me. “We got this, Lash.” 

“We got this,” I agreed, adjusting my mic. “Time to turn ‘on’ our online mad hacker personas.”

He walked over to his computer and hooked in his audio. As I saw his signal, it was the familiar black chess king icon, but the “ANothing49BC” was gone. Beneath the icon was the screenname “Nihilus Rex.” 

I looked at him, quizzically, and said, “New handle?”

“Same old, really. Just a bit more gravitas. If I’m gonna be the king of this shitshow, I have to remind everyone I’m still King of Nothing.” His voice sounded manic, nervous, but with an underlying tension to it.

“Nihilus Rex.” It did have more gravitas than his original handle, and it suited him better, if I was being completely honest.

Then the call started. 

The pfp I was looking at contrasted both with my highly stylized Phoenix and Nils’ Black King - it was a skull with a dagger spiked through it, vertically. Underneath, the handle - MostDangerousPlayer. 

Didn’t that say lovely things about the person we were going to be meeting with. 

No one spoke. No one spoke, and I was half convinced there was some sick white people power play going on. 

Then Nils finally spoke, and I was absolutely certain. “Hello, you asked for a meeting to discuss certain…collaborative opportunities?” His voice was light, easy.

“I have questions about your work with the banks.” The voice on the other end was calm, flat. It almost sounded fake, and I was inclined to think it was.

“That’s interesting. We have questions about any potential partner - our work with banks is a bit sensitive. Clients worried about confidentiality for obvious reasons.” Nils was obviously playing multiple angles - if this was a fed, it would look like Nils was being careful to avoid being fished, as we’d discussed, but if this was for real this would look like an abundance of caution. I heartily approved, especially in light of my previous gaffe with the FBI agent.

“Alright. Then can we talk about roles within the…organization, I’m looking at? I feel that that should be safe enough to discuss, without violating client confidentiality. And I’d like to hear both of you speak.” The voice on the other end seemed bemused - and like it understood what was happening. What we were concerned about. 

Nils glanced to me and mouthed, “give just a little.” 

I put on my customer-service voice, pitched down slightly. “Apologies. I am dealing with some delays in the audio, but I am here.” That should be safe enough.  If anything, it would emphasize the theoretical distance between us. “What roles were you most interested in?”

“Oh, I think I would be interested in determining if your enterprise is real. If it is, I have…interests, in the field of corporate discipline. Helping targets get met, helping logistics be organized, all that.” He emphasized the word discipline ever so slightly, with stress on the wrong syllables to give no mystery as to what it meant. He’d already twigged we were playing, that the Disciples weren’t entirely real, but that he was offering to help make them a real thing.  “But I think you misunderstand my question - what roles do you two play?” 

I turned to Nils with wide eyes, just in time to catch Bishop shaking his head at his screen. Not a good sign, and Nils clearly caught it as his expression darkened.

Then he carried on, undeterred. “I’d say that the phoenix is…unorthodox, one might say, but something of a diversity coordinator and invaluable to our efforts, and that I am more or less the corporate executive. Thus far everyone pitches in on the technological side - there is also a chief of system security.” Nils’ voice at the end took on a mocking edge. 

The guy at the other end of the call chuckled. “Ah, that’s the way of it. This seems like a project built on a dream. And unless I’m missing my guess - you’ve already had some results.” 

“One could say that.” 

I chose that moment to speak up a little. “You seem to have at least some idea of our…goals.  It only seems fair to ask a bit about your background.”

“Did human intelligence for the military for a while, got out back in 2013, realized that for all the military promises to teach you marketable skills the two skills they taught me that’re more marketable than anything else in this day and age aren’t something I can put on a resume. You guys’ marketing campaign for new talent said you were looking for security, cyber and physical, and I can do both. You want smart, I already proved I can run you down and crack the codes you came up with that were cyphered across a bunch of different communities and worldviews. You guys seem smart and capable, and willing to work from a bunch of angles, and I want to get in on the ground floor of something like that, rather than getting caught with a bunch of useless eunuchs stuck in an echo chamber.” 

I gave Nils a skeptical look. To my knowledge, our ‘campaign’ hadn’t said anything about physical security - we had Nils’ fucknuckle minions for that.  But the level of crazy this guy was giving made it clear we definitely needed him on our side rather than against us.

“Our campaign didn’t say anything about physical security, but I don’t have complaints about your application.” Nils said, slowly. “That was clever. Question, though: what echo chamber did you leave to find us? And why did you leave them? Be honest.” 

“I appreciate the question, actually. So, I was stuck with a bunch of white supremacist dipshits for a while. I kinda got the “white power” thing, but they were wrong about the reasons - white people didn’t rule the world because we’re better, we ruled the world because we conquered it and that’s how power works. When they started talking about white genocide or great replacement I started losing my goddamn mind that I was putting up with them. If they really thought they were better, they should have relished the chance to prove it by competing rather than try to use the government to crack down, and if they couldn’t do that, then obviously whites aren’t the master race and it's our turn to be subjugated. Natural selection, rules of nature. Essentialists are idiots.”

My eyes got wide again. Oh, he’s crazy crazy. I looked at Bishop again, and he looked just as concerned as I was.  Nils, on the other hand, looked like this is exactly what he had expected.  Which, again, tracked.

“I won’t pretend that isn’t deeply concerning to me. I have a question: if our aim is partially to prove that the ‘rules of nature' don't apply along racial lines, but along different axes entirely, do you see yourself objecting?” 

“I’m open to not supporting or disputing your theory until I see it in action. And I’m open to helping convince the idiots who aren’t good for anything else to do what you tell them if you’re correct.” 

I muted my mic and gestured for Nils to do the same.  When he nodded to confirm, I was still barely above a whisper when I spoke. “This is really feeling too easy,” I wondered. “For someone who has spent weeks undermining us and trying to get your army out from under you, he’s caving entirely too fast.”

“He did fail to get my army out from under me,” Nils mused. “Think about his offer. He wants to be the lieutenant that helps coordinate my army for us, and at least for right now, our interests and his genuinely align. Throw the government into chaos, right? Let the world return to ‘rules of nature - predator vs. prey, social darwinist, not…actual rules of nature’ - and see who wins. But he’s spent the last several weeks getting dribbled by me in those spaces because I’m smarter than he is overall. But give him that access…what’s to stop him from taking his orders until our interests diverge and he can take the army we handed him and Order 66 us?” 

I held up one finger and unmuted my microphone. “What are you willing to offer as a gesture of good faith that we can believe you?” I muted myself again and shrugged at Nils while Bishop stifled a laugh. “Worth a shot.”

“The current screen name attached is my more used handle - trace it back and you’ll find more about me. Well within your skills from what I’ve seen. I also have cold evidence of something you’re very interested in. I’ll send you a sealed file in a drop if you provide a place for me to drop it. If you find it interesting, you know where to message me.”

Nils paused, muted his mic, and looked at the trace for the screenname. “Wow. This is…not well sealed.” Then he unmuted. “I want it perfectly clear that you cannot begin to imagine the level of hate I will rain on your motherboard for the rest of time if I open a malware packet.” 

“I would still scrub whatever you find like it has STDs,” I murmured.

Nils gave the code for a blank webdrive we had access to. Then a file was dropped in. Contained in that closed file was a zipped video of a molotov attack on a cafe with two semi familiar individuals and one stranger  cursing at each other to run. The cameraman’s arm was visible, with a very familiar swastika tattoo.

“Opinions?” Nils voice was quiet. 

“Christ…” I swore, rubbing my face. “That’s… Scary, but definitely a show of good faith.  Were there any strings?”

Bishop stood and started pacing and cursing under his breath. “There’s a fourth one.”

“That is neither here nor there,” I forced out, as much as it was killing something inside me.  “Was there anything attached to the file? Tracker, virus, anything suspicious?”

“No,” Bishop replied, slowly. “It was clean. For what it’s worth, this guy is interested in joining up.”

“I’ll be honest, he gives me two heebs and a jeeb, but it’s pretty clear Bishop’s right,” I admitted. “Nils?”

“If we can use him, and he’s not trying to fuck us over, we can make do, yeah.” his response was terse. 

Bishop took his seat again, combing his beard with his fingers. “Then it’s unanimous. Reluctant, but unanimous.  But I do plan on keeping tabs on this guy with as much time as I possibly can carve out, just so the two of you know.”

Nils nodded, so I unmuted my mic. “Package received and reviewed. Thank you for that.  Everything looks good on this end.  I think we can do business together, pending a second review.  I’m sure you understand.”