#so I might not see if anyone sends another ask unless I log in to this acc

[whityoungangstblog]

Or or or

Whit tried to uh- hang himself before and researched how to do it but still failed in the end.

I hc that :D

!!

[respectable-username]

🔐 Why You (Probably) Don't Need A VPN

A rant by a software engineer sick of VPN ads from her favourite YouTubers

TL;DR:

Here are some legitimate reasons the average internet user might want to use a VPN:

To connect to their company's internal network

To bypass the Great Firewall of China (or other types of website blocks at country or organisation level)

To watch Netflix etc as if you were in another country

Here are absolutely rubbish reasons to use a VPN:

Privacy

And today, I'll tell you why.

Hang on, won't a VPN stop hackers from stealing my passwords?

I mean, it does encrypt the web traffic coming from your device.

You know what else encrypts web traffic coming from your device? Your browser.

Yes, in the year 2021, pretty much all websites on the internet are accessed over HTTPS. The "S" stands for "secure", as in "your request will be securely encrypted". If your browser is using HTTPS, nobody can capture the data you're sending over the internet. More detail in the "I like too much detail" section at the bottom of this post.

It's very easy to check if you are using HTTPS by looking at your URL bar. In most browsers, it will have a lock on it if secure:

(From top left to bottom right: Chrome on iOS, Safari on iOS, Chrome on Windows, Edge on Windows, Firefox on Windows, and Safari on Mac. Screenshots reflect the UI at the time this post was written. Oh gosh this has taken over 4 hours to write.)

But isn't moar encryption better? What if somebody breaks HTTPS?

For starters, nobody's breaking your HTTPS, and there isn't any benefit from double encrypting. This is because of the maths behind encryption/decryption!

Encryption works kinda like a lock and key, except the lock is maths and the key is a special number only known to the person allowed to unlock the information.

The important thing is, without the key, all the locked data looks like complete and utter garbage. Completely unusable. Barely distinguishable from random noise. There's absolutely no way to tell what the original data was.

The other important thing is that the key is nearly unguessable. As in, with current technology, will generally take more than the lifetime of the universe to guess by chance. And when technology gets faster, we just make the numbers bigger again until they're once again secure.

For any major website you use, they will use a strong encryption algorithm (ie lock) with big numbers so your keys will be strong enough to withstand an attack. This means your data is safe as long as that lock icon is in your URL bar.

A VPN will not make the existing garble any more garbled. The extra $10/month or whatever you're paying for does not buy you any extra protection.

If you want to know more about how encryption and HTTPS in particular work, see the "I like too much detail" section at the end of this post.

Something something viruses

How's a VPN going to stop viruses? It controls the path your internet traffic takes, not the content that gets sent down that path. I guess it could block some known virus-giving hosts? But if it's known to the VPN provider, it's probably also known to the built-in antivirus on your computer who can block it for you.

(Oh yeah, 3rd party antivirus is another thing that's not worth paying for these days. Microsoft's built-in Windows Defender is as good as the third party options, and something something Macs don't get viruses easily because of how they're architected.)

Honestly though, keep your software up to date, don't click on anything suspicious, don't open files from sources you don't trust, and you'll be right most of the time.

And keep your software up to date. Then update your software. Hey, did I mention keeping your stuff updated? Update! Now! It only takes a few minutes. Please update to the latest version of your software I'm begging you. It's the number 1 way to protect yourself from viruses and other malware. Most major software attacks could have been prevented if people just updated their damn software!

But my ISP is spying on me!

Ok, it is true that there are TWO bits of data that HTTPS can't and won't hide. Those are:

The source of a request (your IP)

What website that request is going to (the website's IP)

These are the bits of information that routers use to know where to send your data, so of course they can't be hidden as the data is moving across the internet. And people can see that information very easily if they want to.

Note: this will show which website you're going to, but not which page you're looking at, and not the content of that page. So it will show that you were on Tumblr, but will not show anyone that you're still reading SuperWhoLock content in 2021.

It's this source/destination information that VPNs hide, which is why they can be used to bypass website blocks and region locks.

By using a VPN, those sniffing traffic on your side of the VPN will just show you connecting to the VPN, not the actual website you want. That means you can read AO3 at work/school without your boss/teachers knowing (unless they look over your shoulder of course).

As for those sniffing on the websites end, including the website itself, they will see the VPN as the source of the connection, not you. So if you're in the US and using a VPN node in the UK, Netflix will see you as being in the UK and show you their British library rather than the American one.

If this is what you're using a VPN for and you think the price is fair, then by all means keep doing it! This is 100% what VPNs are good for.

HOWEVER, and this is a big "however", if it's your ISP you're trying to hide your internet traffic from, then you will want to think twice before using a VPN.

Let me put it this way. Without a VPN, your ISP knows every website you connect to and when. With a VPN, do you know who has that exact same information? The VPN provider. Sure, many claim to not keep logs, but do you really trust the people asking for you to send them all your data for a fee to not just turn around and sell your data on for a profit, or worse?

In effect, you're trading one snooper for another. One snooper is heavily regulated, in many jurisdictions must obey net neutrality, and is already getting a big fee from you regardless of where you browse. The other isn't. Again, it's all a matter of who you trust more.

For me personally, I trust my ISP more than a random VPN provider, if for no other reason than my ISP is an old enough company with enough inertia and incompetence that I don't think they could organise to sell my data even if they wanted to. And with the amount of money I'm paying them per month, they've only got everything to lose if they broke consumer trust by on-selling that data. So yeah, I trust my ISP more with my privacy than the random VPN company.

But my VPN comes with a password manager!

Password managers are great. I 100% recommend you use a password manager. If there's one thing you could do right now to improve your security (other than updating your software, speaking of, have you updated yet?), it's getting and using a password manager.

Password managers also come for free.

I'm currently using LastPass free, but am planning to switch after they did a bad capitalism and only let their free accounts access either laptop or mobile but not both now. I personally am planning to move to Bitwarden on friends' recommendation since it's not only free but open source and available across devices. I also have friends who use passbolt and enjoy it, which is also free and open source, but it's also a bit DIY to set up. Great if you like tinkering though! And there are probably many other options out there if you do a bit of googling.

So, yeah, please use a password manager, but don't pay for it unless you actually have use for the extra features.

No I really need to hide my internet activity from everybody for reasons

In this case, you're probably looking for TOR. TOR is basically untraceable. It's also a terrible user experience for the most part because of this, so I'd only recommend it if you need it, such as if you're trying to escape the Great Firewall. But please don't use it for Bad Crimes. I am not to be held liable for any crime committed using information learned from this post.

Further reading viewing

If you want to know more about why you don't need a VPN, see Tom Scott's amazing video on the subject. It's honestly a great intro for beginners.

I like too much detail

Ahhh, so you're the type of person who doesn't get turned off by long explanations I see. Well, here's a little more info on the stuff I oversimplified in the main post about encryption. Uhh, words get bigger and more jargony in this section.

So first oversimplification: the assumption that all web traffic is either HTTP or HTTPS. This isn't exactly true. There are many other application layer internet standards out there, such as ssh, ftp, websockets, and all the proprietary standards certain companies use for stuff such as streaming and video conferencing. Some of these are secure, using TLS or some other security algorithm under the hood, and some of them aren't.

But most of the web requests you care about are HTTP/HTTPS calls. As for the rest, if they come from a company of a decent size that hasn't been hacked off the face of the planet already, they're probably also secure. In other words, you don't need to worry about it.

Next, we've already said that encryption works as a lock and a key, where the lock is a maths formula and the key is a number. But how do we get that key to lock and unlock the data?

Well, to answer that, we first need to talk about the two different types of encryption: symmetric and asymmetric. Symmetric encryption such as AES uses the same key to both encrypt and decrypt data, whereas asymmetric encryption such as RSA uses a different key to encode and decode.

For the sake of my writing, we're going to call the person encrypting Alice, the person decrypting Bob, and the eavesdropper trying to break our communications Eve from now on. These are standard names in crypto FYI. Also, crypto is short for cryptography not cryptocurrencies. Get your Bitcoin and Etherium outta here!

Sorry if things start getting incoherent. I'm tired. It's after 1am now.

So first, how do we get the key from symmetric crypto? This is probably the easier place to start. Well, you need a number, any number of sufficient size, that both Alice and Bob know. There are many ways you could share this number. They could decide it when they meet in person. They could send it to each other using carrier pigeons. Or they could radio it via morse code. But those aren't convenient, and somebody could intercept the number and use it to read all their messages.

So what we use instead is a super clever algorithm called Diffie-Hellman, which uses maths and, in particular, the fact it's really hard to factor large numbers (probably NP Hard to be specific, but there's no actual proof of that). The Wikipedia page for this is surprisingly easy to read, so I'll just direct you there to read all about it because I've been writing for too long. This algorithm allows Alice and Bob to agree on a secret number, despite Eve being able to read everything they send each other.

Now Alice and Bob have this secret number key, they can talk in private. Alice puts her message and the key into the encryption algorithm and out pops what looks like a load of garbage. She can then send this garbage to Bob without worrying about Eve being able to read it. Bob can then put the garbage and the key into the decryption algorithm to undo the scrambling and get the original message out telling him where the good donuts are. Voila, they're done!

But how does Alice know that she's sending her message to Bob and not Eve? Eve could pretend to be Bob so that Alice does the Diffie-Hellman dance with her instead and sends her the secret location of the good donuts instead.

This is where asymmetric crypto comes in! This is the one with private and public keys, and the one that uses prime numbers.

I'm not 100% across the maths on this one TBH, but it has something to do with group theory. Anyway, just like Diffie-Hellman, it relies on the fact that prime factorisation is hard, and so it does some magic with semi-primes, ie numbers with only 2 prime factors other than 1. Google it if you want to know more. I kinda zoned out of this bit in my security courses. Maths hard

But the effect of that maths is easier to explain: things that are encoded with one of the keys can only be decoded with the other key. This means that one of those keys can be well-known to the public and the other is known only to the person it belongs to.

If Alice wants to send a message to Bob and just Bob, no Eve allowed, she can first look up Bob's public key and encrypt a beginning message with that. Once Bob receives the message, he can decrypt it with his private key and read the contents. Eve can't read the contents though because, even though she has Bob's public key, she doesn't know his private key.

This public key information is what the lock in your browser is all about BTW. It's saying that the website is legit based on the public key they provide.

So why do we need symmetric crypto when we have asymmetric crypto? Seems a lot less hassle to exchange keys with asymmetric crypto.

Well, it's because asymmetric crypto is slooooow. So, in TLS, the security algorithm that puts the "S" in "HTTPS", asymmetric RSA is used to establish the initial connection and figure out what symmetric key to use, and then the rest of the session uses AES symmetric encryption using the agreed secret key.

And there you have it! Crypto in slightly-less-short-but-still-high-enough-level-that-I-hope-you-understand.

Just realised how long this section is. Well, I did call it "too much detail" for a reason.

Now, next question is what exactly is and isn't encrypted using HTTPS.

Well, as I said earlier, it's basically just the source IP:port and the destination IP:port. In fact, this information is actually communicated on the logical layer below the application layer HTTPS is on, known as the transport layer. Again, as I said before, you can't really encrypt this unless you don't want your data to reach the place you want at all.

Also, DNS is unencrypted. A DNS request is a request that turns a domain name, such as tumblr.com, into an IP address, by asking a special server called a Domain Name Server where to find the website you're looking for. A DNS request is made before an HTTP(S) request. Anyone who can read your internet traffic can therefore tell you wanted to go to Tumblr.

But importantly, this only shows the domain name, not the full URL. The rest of the URL, the part after the third slash (the first two slashes being part of http://), is stuff that's interpreted by the server itself and so isn't needed during transport. Therefore, it encrypted and completely unreadable, just like all the content on your page.

I was going to show a Wireshark scan of a web request using HTTP and HTTPS to show you the difference, but this has taken long enough to write as it is, so sorry!

I could probably write more, but it's 1:30am and I'm sleepy. I hope you found some of this interesting and think twice before purchasing a VPN subscription. Again, there are legit good uses for a VPN, but they're not the ones primarily being advertised in VPN ads. It's the fact that VPN ads rely so heavily on false advertising that really grinds my gears and made me want to do this rant. It's especially bad when it comes from somebody I'd think of as technologically competent (naming no names here, but if you've worked in tech and still promote VPNs as a way to keep data safe... no). Feel free to ask questions if you want and hopefully I'll get around to answering any that I feel I know enough to answer.

Nighty night Tumblr. Please update your software. And use a (free) password manager. And enable two factor authentication on all your accounts. But mostly just update your software.

[copperbadge]

[Hogs Killing A Snake by John Steuart Curry; American Gothic by Grant Wood]

I’ve been thinking about the digital experience of art since going to the museum yesterday. My mother loves to see art, and she loves it when I go and send her photos. Any museum I go to now, I’m not only there looking; I’m snapping photos of art I like and sending them to her, and she sends back commentary. It slows me down to look for longer, and it also allows me to have a dialogue with someone even when I’m there alone. For example, she knows I love Hogs Killing A Snake, and I loved that it was across a gallery room from American Gothic so that it looked like the woman in American Gothic was watching it happen. So I sent her this picture to express sadness that it had been moved. I am now at once both museum guest and amateur curator. 

It got me to thinking that if I had the coding ability or the sheer time or the fundraising ability, I would build an app that connects people who are going to museums with people who want to see art but can’t, for whatever reason -- particularly senior citizens who are maybe a bit frail to get out, or aren’t near art and have no good way to get to it. Or even just, I’d love to see Guernica and while clearly I can look at it in books, I feel the experience of someone texting me a live photo of the painting would be exciting, and my odds of getting to Madrid anytime soon are low. Like yes, most museums have their collections online and many have virtual tours you can take, but it’s not the same as having another person there to offer their opinion and ask yours. 

The idea would be that if you’re going to an art museum, you log into the app and tell it the time, date, and museum you’ll be going to, and it matches you with someone who, at that point in time, is free to receive photos and descriptions of the art you see and respond to them -- maybe even request a specific piece or subject matter (my mother likes birds and sculpture). You could also build a “tour” that someone could explore later if they wanted. You could even find someone who wants to see a museum near you and go just for them. 

There are logistical problems of course -- the whole “dick pic” issue being probably the worst, and it would be devastating to expect an art tour and then the person never logs on -- but I feel those could be got around. I don’t think funding would be much of an issue, lots of philanthropists want to support the arts and museums could kick in or even become participants (for example offering discounts on tickets to people who are going there to give a “tour”). You could program it to know when you arrive at the museum and prompt you with a reminder to take lots of pictures and send them to your “guest”. And since the messages would be in-app nobody would have anyone else’s phone number unless they hit it off and wanted to tell each other so they could do future “tours”. 

IDK, I don’t know how people build apps or even how they pitch them to potential funders, but I might investigate. I think it’s a fun idea. 

[criminalmindzjunkie]

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)

masterlist playlist

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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years. 

A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”

Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”

“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”

“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”

Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”  

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.

You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.

There goes my deposit.

You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.

The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.

You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”

Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?

He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.

“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”

You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.

“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”

Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.

“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.

By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.

“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.

“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”

Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.

“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.

The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”

Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”

All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”

You flash Damien a nervous smile.

“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Damien snorts and pushes open the door.

“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”

As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.

“Believe me, she tried.”

Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.

“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”

Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.

“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”

Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.

“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.

“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.

Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.

“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”

A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.

“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”

Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.

“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”

Salt, meet wound.

“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.

The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.

Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.

You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.

“I should probably take this – it might be work.”

Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”

You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”

An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”

Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”

You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.

You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.

“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”

“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”

You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”

“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”

You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.

“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.

“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.

           You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

           A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.

Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.

He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.

--

Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.

You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.

Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.

Spencer positively abhors the thought.

The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.  

The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.

“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

Fucking ouch.

Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?

He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.

Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.

The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.

“Hi.”

Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.

“Hi.”

More silence. Spencer gulps.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”

It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?

Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.

“It certainly has.”

“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?

Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.

“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.

Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”

It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.

“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.

You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.

Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.

Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.

Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”

He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.

The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”

All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”

The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.

“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –

Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.

Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”

You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.

The book feels heavy in his hands.

-

-

-

-

taglist:  @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck​ @m0rce1ddd​ @bauhousewife​ @whxt-to-write​ @spencerwaltergubler​ @lovesicksofi​ @idgafayiowf​ @shadyladyperfection​ @mercy-burning​ @sapphic-prentiss​ @itsmytimetoodream​  @m0rce1ddd​ @bauhousewife​ @whxt-to-write​ @spencerwaltergubler​  @enchantedcruelsummer​ @no-honey-no​ @inkstainedwritergirl​ @tnoh13​ @xxconfettiitsaparade​ @calm-and-doctor​ @muffin-cup​ @fortheloveofcriminalminds​ @arcticrory​ @holl2712​@themanwiththreephds @blameitonthenight21​ @stellabelle​ @me-a-hopeless-romantic​ @musicxlover97 @anightflower​ @andiebeaword​ @annesauriol​ @haylaansmi​ 

[petri808]

Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

This chapter came out a little longer than usual. lemony teasing

Natsu’s secretary called her boss from the front office. “Mr. Dragneel, Mr. Avatar is here.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kinana. Send him in.”

Because no one in the organization was a computer whiz, he contracted with an independent IT person who was recommended by Yura. The guy, Jerome Avatar wasn’t skittish, didn’t care who he worked for as long as it paid well, and generally had a pleasant demeanor. As the accountant, Yura was in contact with Jerome the most, but for any major issues or changes, those had to be cleared with Natsu first. It was mostly quick, in and out of the office dealings.

Jerome shook Natsu’s hand over the desk before taking a seat.

“So,” Natsu questioned, “what brings you here today? Is there something I need to approve?”

“No, nothing new. I asked for this meeting because I came across some intelligence you might be interested in.”

“Oh?”

“I learned that your rival Heartfilia had been in contact with a new cyber security client, Mikage Kaishā who’s into a lot of shady dealings with government contacts.”

Natsu shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like just a typical client for her, probably has her launder money for them. I don’t really pay attention to her clients because we deal with different things. But I do appreciate you telling me.”

“Should I keep an eye on them?”

“That’s fine if you believe it’s worth it. And if you learn about anything that could hurt us let me know immediately. By the way, how did you find out this information?”

“A friend in the field told me about it, then I hacked into Heartfilia’s computers to authenticate the information.”

Natsu sat forward in his chair. “You hacked into her computer? I’m surprised her employee didn’t catch that, cause I know she’s good at this stuff too.”

The man grinned. “Well, not as good as me.” He pointed to Natsu’s laptop. “If you’d like, I can set it up so you can access her system from your computer too.”

“Oh, I don’t want to tamper with her company—”

Jerome waved a hand nonchalantly to stop him. “I wouldn’t advise it either, if you touch things, that’s what’ll get attention, but you can watch what’s going on. Keep an eye on her calendar, meeting dates, whatever you want.”

Natsu sat back, rubbing his chin. The offer was a very tempting one indeed. A chance to stalk his ex through cyberspace… someone must have mentioned to this Jerome guy their history. It wasn’t exactly hidden, but not something talked about either amongst lower ranking employees. This wasn’t the first time Jerome had brought them intelligence info, so maybe he was looking to increase his usefulness, climb the ladder so to speak? Being connected to a powerful Yakuza house was certainly handy, and what better way than to tap into such a personal subject.

“That could be interesting,” Natsu finally responded. “Alright, what do you have to do to set it up? And make sure it’s nothing I could screw up accidentally cause I really don’t want her to find out.”

Jerome looked at his watch as if calculating his options. “I could do it now. Might take me about an hour if you can go without the laptop for that amount of time.”

“You have to take it back to your office or something?”

“No,” the man shook his head. “I can do it right here, so I can explain along the way.”

“Perfect.” Natsu then called his secretary and requested she double his lunch order due to an extended meeting.

While the computer tech fiddled, Natsu just sat back with his meal, watching him work. Math wasn’t his strong suit— nor academics for that matter. Growing up, his father had always told him he would be next in line as boss, so he only learned what he needed to for that world. One needed strength, cunning, street smarts, not book smarts. Though he had to admit the things these hackers could do was scary when you thought about it. Lucy was lucky in that her best friend was just a wiz at language— including computer languages. It all looked like gibberish, but the woman interpreted it almost like a savant. According to Jerome, from what he’d seen so far, Levy was not yet at his skill level, but that could easily change with time and experience like he’d been through.

“Natsu you—” Gray paused his knock on the doorframe. “Sorry, I thought the meeting would be done by now.”

“It’s fine, Jerome is hacking Lucy’s system for me right now.” Natsu responded with a grin. “Now I’ll see what she’s up to in real time.”

Gray groaned and ran a hand down his face in disgust. “I’m not even gonna respond to that. But I will tell you I told you so when it blows up in your face later.”

“Tch. She won’t know, right Jerome?”

“She shouldn’t unless you touch something.” The man answered while continuing to type.

“See. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re an idiot. Anyway,” Gray waved a hand nonchalantly as he left, “call me when your free to go over the new orders.”

“It will be fine, right?” Natsu asked Jerome a second time with a bit of anxiety in his tone.

Jerome stopped typing. “As long as you just observe they shouldn’t see you, just don’t get excited and touch something.”

“I don’t plan to; not like I’ll know how to do that anyways.”

“I’m almost finished, but do you want me to turn on her web camera so you can see through it?”

“But she won’t see me?”

“No, for you it’ll just be like watching a one-way video feed with image and audio.”

After a momentary pause, Natsu’s eyes narrowed with a mischievous grin. “Do it.”

Being able to see Lucy every day and feed his addiction was just too tempting, ‘I’m turning into a junky.’ But Gray’s words entered his mind. What if the man was right, could this bite him in the ass later? Probably… Though how bad could it really be? He really had no plans to interfere with Lucy’s business, just her personal life— and yes, he knew it sounded horrible. What right did he have to stalk his ex? None. ‘I just worry about her, is that so wrong?’ Lucy’s tough, but she’s just a woman and their world didn’t always treat women fairly. His desire to protect her bordered neuroticism, but could anyone blame him considering the underworld they worked in. ‘I’m just doing it to protect her,’ Natsu justified it to himself. Guys like Gray who haven’t fallen in love yet, ‘they just don’t understand.’ If anything were to happen to Lucy, he didn’t know what he would do. Probably move Heaven and earth and kill any in his way for what they’d done.

It took just over an hour before Jerome finished installing the spyware and making sure the systems were still secured. Just a one-way mirror that Levy shouldn’t catch unless really digging for it. Another 20 minutes were spent explaining to Natsu how to do the accessing part, including pulling up the webcam whenever he wanted to. “Or just leave it running,” Jerome noted. “It’ll just show up in this window,” he pointed towards the screen, “and as long as you don’t log out completely from your computer it’ll stay open.”

“Who turns off their computers?”

“Actually, it’s a good idea to turn them off now and then so any software updates can be completed, but since I manage your systems, there’s not really a need to.”

“Great.” The two men stood up and shook hands. “Thanks, Jerome.”

“It was my pleasure.”

When Natsu arrived each day at headquarters, the first thing and last thing he did was check to see if there was anything new or interesting going on Lucy’s side. It was like being hooked on one of their products, because the high it gave sucked him right in. But so far, he also stayed away from the video feed. Looking through her calendar or emails were cold and impersonal, but maybe the video was too close, too real, too much of a moral dilemma in crossing that line of a peeping Tom. That didn’t mean his addiction may one day require more feeding…

October had rolled around, and the air outside grew crisp and cold. It was a beautiful time of the year with the color changing leaves, reminding that winter was soon upon them. How quickly the time sure flew. The Dragneel Yakuza clan had already started preparing for their end of year Bonenkai to happen in mid-December. This plus the Shinnenkai in January were the two biggest parties the clan threw for all their members. The first is to forget the stresses of the past year, while the other was to welcome a successful new year. Natsu spared no expense on the food and drinks to take care of the loyalty and hard work their members contributed. From the emails, he knew that Lucy’s group had also started preparing for theirs. ‘Maybe I’ll crash her party,’ he mused to himself. ‘Oh, what’s this?’ His eyes fell on a new email of an appointment reminder for the next day. It was for Lucy’s monthly massage at an upscale spa. Natsu checked his own calendar and noticed he had nothing booked, no meetings, no shipments arriving— a perfect opportunity.

The next day, Natsu went to the spa early and spoke directly to the owner, paying them a nice chunk of change to allow him access and to play along. Lucy was scheduled for 2pm and arrived right on time. So, as he waited behind the scenes, the receptionist acted like normal and directed her inside. She had a regular masseuse, something Natsu knew he couldn’t fake upfront, so that person stood inside the room to greet her.

“Welcome, Ms. Heartfilia. I’ll step out while you get ready. Please lie on your stomach like normal.”

“Thank you, Kenji,” Lucy smiled. She’d been coming here for a couple years and was aware of the routine. The male masseuse had strong, but gentle hands and knew her body well by now.

Natsu had to admit he wasn’t happy to find out Lucy’s regular masseuse was a guy but held back from lashing out. He didn’t want to do anything to mess up this adventure— and oh, he planned to have his own revenge. It wouldn’t be as sexual as the soapland incident but knowing many of her trigger points meant he could do a bit of damage well enough. Now, Natsu had noted that Kenji’s voice was a bit deeper than his own, which would be difficult to fake, but the man explained he didn’t do much talking while working and played relaxing music during the session. Perfect. Natsu could just hit play and not talk at all.

“Ready, Ms. Heartfilia?” Kenji called out through the closed door.

The muffled yes was heard, and the man stepped away, leaving Natsu to his business. He entered the room and immediately turned on the pre-set music, a light instrumental with Asian undertones. It was quite pleasing to listen to. And there Lucy was under a silk sheet to cover her naked body, with her arms up and crossed, head perched on the relaxed hands, and hair up in a loose bun, revealing her beautiful neck. Natsu almost shuddered at the sight and knowledge he would get to touch her skin… it was the one thing she didn’t allow him to do at Soapland— touch. His grin grew as he rubbed his hands together to warm them before making the first move.

He moved the sheet to uncover Lucy’s lower half, up to the thighs, then applied a film of scented massage oils to his hands with a few drops over the taut muscles along her long legs, chasing the dripping liquid along her skin to smooth them over. His hands glide through several passes to the swell of her ass, then back down again all the way to the ankles, fingers applying pressure against the tendons and ligaments to gently work out any tension it encountered. Lucy sighed wispily as his hands massaged each foot, squeezing, smoothing, paying attention to each digit and every curve. His thumbs applied pressure at the arches, kneading the tight knots there from wearing heels all day long. He stayed focused on the area, her toes curling and flexing as the mewls leaching from her show their pleasure, until Natsu felt the knots give and relax away.

“Mmm, you’re getting good at that Kenji,” Lucy purred with a little huskiness in her tone.

Natsu grinned to himself as he lowered the sheet back down, so she stayed warm and moved onto her supple ass. Using both hands, he took his time to knead each cheek through the silken fabric, using his fingers to follow the gluteus muscles, starting near the leg, and following the swell of her curve upwards, slowly riding the fibers looking for any knots or tense areas. One cheek, then the other paying loving attention to and listening to the sounds Lucy made to clue him in on where to go. Every sigh a notch in his belt, each mewling purr a win. Natsu grew bolder, fanning out his thumb each time it got closer to her thighs to touch…

“Oh, Kenji,” Lucy whined, “you’re being a naughty boy today— keep it up.”

‘What?!’ Natsu’s hands paused and tensed for a split second before catching himself. Does Kenji mess with her too?! He shook his head and finished up in the area quickly trying not to let such thoughts stop him. ‘Just focus…’ Natsu grumbled in his head.

After applying more oil to his hands, he moved the sheet down to reveal Lucy’s back and for a second time, Natsu paused on what it contained. Her tattoo… It symbolized… he took a deep breath and dropped more oil on to the skin, willing away the memories breaching his mind. He didn’t want to think about it, not now. It was too painful.

“You okay, Kenji?” Lucy questioned as if noticing the slight pause or tremble in the man’s hands.

Natsu mumbled a soft Mmhmm and dived into the massage so Lucy wouldn’t grow more concerned, missing the uptick in the corners of her lips. He slowly smoothed along the skin using the base of his palms for pressure, each hand following the muscles, moving out from the waist, up the center of her back, and flaring out towards the sides just below the shoulder blades, repeating the same movement, each time increasing the speed while lessening the pressure. Next, he targeted the upper back and shoulder blades, an area he knew Lucy held a lot of tension from carrying the weight of her voluptuous bosoms. With precise ministrations, Natsu applied careful pressure with his thumbs and follows the curve of the blades up and around to the top of the shoulder. He then searched with the pads of his fingers for any knots along her trap muscles, moving up along the spine and fanning out to the top of her shoulders.

“Oh, yeah, right there,” Lucy mewled when he reached a specific spot.

The area around her spine, between the shoulder blades held the most tension and knots from constantly holding the upright, flexed posture that wearing heels will create. Her wispy sighs signaled the release of her tense muscles, bringing another wave of pride swelling in him. Natsu continued onto her neck, his strong hands kneaded the supple flesh, fingers palpating and soothing all the knots. Her neck too, held a few tense areas, especially around the base of the head, so he did his best to melt them away. He worked through Lucy’s mewls and moaning sighs, almost sexual in nature, aroused and a little heated in the face knowing his handiwork brought forth such sounds. Ugh, how he wanted to hear more of it! Lucy putty in his hands and spread between his thighs, calling out his name…

“You’ve gotten better at this… Natsu,” the cocky teasing tone, snapped him out of his dream.

“Natsu?” He tried failingly to disguise his voice. “I’m Kenji, Ms. Heartfilia.”

“Uh-huh. You think I can’t tell the difference Natsu?” Lucy quipped back with a chuckle. “Kenji’s routine is very different. Plus, I knew the moment I smelled your cologne.”

Busted.

“Tch. Well, if you knew it was me all along, why’d you let me do this?”

“Making you work is my payback.” She settled back down, relaxed on her arms. “Now, chop, chop, finish the job.”

This little minx! He was the one supposed to be torturing her this time, not the other way around! “Fine, kitten.” Natsu gritted out a smile and took hold of her neck again to placate and lull Lucy back into thinking he would go along. He massaged the sides with the tips of his fingers Both hands wrapped around, and his thumbs pushing up through her hair against the muscles on the back of her head.

“If only you’d taken care of me like this before,” Lucy mumbled.

Natsu paused and leaned over her ear. “Why not let me take care of you now?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“No, I don’t know the answer, that’s part of the problem!”

Lucy sighed. “Natsu, I don’t want to fight right now. I’m here to relax, not fight. If you’re done, then leave and send Kenji back in.”

“Oh, yeah. Why? Because he’s another one of your boy toys? He gonna be naughty again with you once I leave?!”

“Pfft, I said that knowing it was you, idiot.”

“I think you live to torture me, Angel. But you’re right. I don’t wanna fight right now either, so—” Natsu leaned down quick and latched his mouth onto the area between her shoulder blades, sucking hard.

Lucy squealed and reached back frantically trying to claw at his face, but he grabbed her hands, knowing if she struggled any harder, she risked completely exposing herself. He held her for a few seconds, and once satisfied he’d achieved his goal, let go.

“Natsu! Did you put a hickey on me?!”

“This Angel,” he trailed his fingers over Lucy’s tattoo as he spoke, “belongs to me. Will always be mine,” he whispered close to her ear. “You know it, I know it, and your boy toys will know it too.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah,” Natsu stood up and covered her back up with the sheet. “You hate that you don’t hate me. It’s okay. I still love you too. See ya around kitten.”

Natsu heard the woman’s sigh as the door closed behind him and smiled to himself. He knew she didn’t actually hate him, their relationship was just complicated at the moment, never love the actual problem between them… Though, it had been a dick move to give her a hickey, but that’s what Lucy gets for leading him on like that. She could’ve just stopped the massage immediately if she knew it was him all along, so to let him go through the entire process, it was tit for tat— and hey, at least it’s only temporary.

‘It’s your move next kitten…’

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

Sonic X Theory: the other Ultimate Lifeforms

In Sonic X’s adaptation of Sonic Adventure 2, they make an interesting claim about the Ultimate Lifeform prototypes on the ARK. When Rouge hacks into the base, she informs Shadow of one thing- he wasn’t the only prototype from Project Shadow that escaped the ARK massacre. 

[ID: screenshots from Sonic X: one of Rouge looking up Project Shadow, surprised and reading “Shadow? Secure and dispose?” Another shot of two escape pods falling towards a planet, with the caption from a GUN soldier: “Our mission ended when we sealed away the prototype of the ultimate lifeform.” End ID.] 

Rouge makes the claim that neither of these escape pods was Shadow... so in X Canon, is Shadow even who he thinks he is? And just as importantly... who are the other prototypes? 

Full theory under the cut. 

So first off. Let’s look at Rouge’s claim that Shadow isn’t who he thinks he is.

Part One: Is Shadow from the ARK?

[ID: screenshots from Sonic X of Rouge and Shadow talking, with the following dialogue:

Rouge: This is the progress report for Project Shadow, a plan to create the ultimate life form. The body they created is still held there.

Shadow: I know. That’s a prototype. I’m the Ultimate Lifeform they created afterwards- 

Rouge: Two capsules were ejected when the ARK was shut down. But neither was found. They couldn’t lock up in prison what they couldn’t find. Do you understand? I wonder who you really are.

Shadow looks troubled. End ID.] 

So two capsules were ejected and neither was found in the fifty years it’s been since the accident-- except I think Rouge is wrong about one thing. Shadow is who he thinks he is- because his capsule was sent out alone. It must have somehow not been logged. 

How do we know this? Shadow’s flashback of being sent away and the man who worked for GUN are completely different- first of all, the GUN soldier doesn’t remember her saying anything to Shadow, or Shadow even being there- it seems that she died to send away something or someone else. Second- Maria is in a different position around the lever in both flashbacks. See the GUN soldier’s first-- 

Though we don’t see the full room, we get the sense that it’s small from the other shots that I don’t have the time to screenshot. She’s around an elevated platform not attached to a wall, and either facing the pod she’s sending away or in a completely different room. 

But, both of Shadow’s alternate memories of Maria sending him away-- the first one more stylized, the second one we can assume more real-- neither looks like this. 

In both, she’s in a differing position. In the sepia flashback, she’s not facing him, and pulling a lever attached to a wall. In the second flashback, she’s already on the floor, and the lever pad we see would cause her to be facing away from Shadow. In neither of these do we see any evidence that anyone other than Shadow and Maria are in the room or even nearby. 

Shadow also has enough evidence he’s who he thinks he is- he has the right powerset, the GUN soldier says that they did, indeed, seal away an Ultimate Prototype, Gerald mentions Shadow enough in his monologues, and... honestly there’s really no evidence that he isn’t Shadow, other than the two pods. And two pods? Shadow was sent out alone, we saw no evidence of a second pod in either flashback. So he wasn’t with anyone else. 

So what’s the conclusion? The conclusion is that these are two different events- one where Maria releases Shadow, and one where she releases another- or, possibly, the others, the two pods that were logged as escaping. 

Maria either freed Shadow first and then the other two, or she freed the first two, got shot, and then managed to survive long enough to send Shadow away. Either way-- these events are separate.  

So what was in the other two pods? Two other prototypes of the Ultimate Lifeform, clearly, but nothing like the Biolizard, they’re too small. 

Now let me ask you something... wouldn’t it make sense for the Ultimate Prototypes to look similar, if they were similar lifeforms? 

And who do we know who looks similar to Shadow? 

Part Two: Sonic is an Ultimate Lifeform

[ID: Shadow looking down at Sonic, and saying, “I see. We actually do look alike. It’s like looking in a mirror.” End ID.] 

Okay so like. Unless you’re very colorblind I think you’ve noticed that Shadow and Sonic are completely different colors. But let’s ignore that for now-- they do have a very similar silhouette... in fact, Shadow’s silhouette is incredibly close to SuperSonic, which is Sonic at full power. And in-universe, they look similar enough that in low lighting pretty much nobody can tell them apart. 

And not just that- Sonic has a lot of power for a seemingly “normal” mobian. [Yes, I know they don’t use the term “Mobius” in Sonic X but let me simplify this somehow.] His superspeed, ability to survive so much shit... he’s powerful enough that he presents a rival for Shadow without chaos emeralds (though Shadow is nerfed a little by the Inhibitor Rings- more on that later). 

[ID: Sonic and Shadow racing; they are keeping up with each other. Shadow says, “It seems your appearance isn’t the only thing that’s similar to me. Who are you?” Sonic responds, “I’m me.” End ID.] 

Shadow’s right- their appearance isn’t where the resemblance stops. And of course there’s probably the most damning similarity-- they are the only two characters we see go Super and have the ability to control the Chaos Emeralds.

[ID: First image is SuperSonic and SuperShadow, having absorbed the power of the chaos emeralds. Second image is from the Third Season, where a MetaRex shouts, “There are two individuals [referring to Sonic and Shadow] who can draw out the power of the Chaos Emeralds?” End ID.] 

Oh and SPEAKING OF Sonic/Shadow similarities-- there’s a scene in Season Three where Sonic is being lectured by the villain about how all life ends eventually so why bother etc. and Sonic says that life is worth the good bits, all that jazz. Here’s the scene:

And exactly 1:25 in.... guess what starts playing

This song is scarily similar to “Recollection of the Ark”... Shadow’s sad song about his memories of the ARK... while Sonic is being lectured about still having faith in humanity. You know. Like MARIA WANTED.

Interesting how we know absolutely nothing about Sonic’s past, huh-- pretty much all we have before he meets Tails is that he says he’s fifteen years old, but honestly... are we even sure about that? First of all, if Sonic was revived alone, there wouldn’t be a way to tell his age, he’d probably just accept the first age someone assigned him. 

Alternatively, we know from the end of Season Two and the beginning of Season Three that time works in a very wonky way from Earth to Mobius- in the ~2-3 days Sonic’s alone with Chris, a week passes on Mobius, despite the fact we know he can chaos control at any time. In the third season? Six years pass on Earth while six months pass on Mobius. So time doesn’t really work in a reasonable way, meaning it’s possible that Sonic is fifteen... and he lived fifteen years on Mobius after awakening, while fifty years passed on Earth. 

And we know for a fact that travel between Mobius and Earth was possible even before the events of Season One... because Eggman was born on Earth.

[ID: Eggman looking shocked and turning around in a chair, announcing, “I was born in this world!” End ID.]

Eggman was born on Earth and somehow ended up on Mobius-- but he was young enough he didn’t realize until he saw that Gerald lived on Earth. So was he in the second escape pod? It’s possible, but I don’t think so-- he’d have to have information on Gerald, and it seems he had a picture of Gerald and Maria, so it’s likely he traveled with a parent or guardian, or at least some kind of family history, which I doubt Maria would think to store in an escape pod while everyone was running for their lives. This plot element was probably just to set up that travel between the dimensions happens more than we think. 

Neither escape pod from the ARK was recovered, probably because they ended up on Mobius. 

It’s most likely that they Chaos Controlled into the other dimension-- I know I said Maria probably wouldn’t think to store anything other than the lifeform themselves in the pod, but if the lifeform needed Chaos Emeralds to practice/control their powers, or the Chaos Emeralds were already stored in an escape pod for safekeeping-- or if, possibly, GUN was attempting to capture the Chaos Emeralds as well, and the Robotniks knew that they would use them in a destructive way-- all that combined could mean that the emeralds would also be important enough to send away in a pod. 

If even one of the pods had Chaos Emeralds, it’s possible that the lifeform inside could have sensed danger and unconsciously teleported them to the most safe place from GUN-- another world where GUN didn’t exist and couldn’t reach them. And even better-- a world where mobians like them lived. 

From Sonic X lore that I don’t have the time to find and screencap, we know that the two worlds used to be the same but split at some point in history. If this was after, say, the events of Chaos destroying the Echidnas-- which, sidenote, interesting how they disappear and nobody knows where they went, so it’s possible that Chaos straight-up split the dimensions just to get rid of the Echidnas-- then enough of their lore could remain. Old cave paintings, wall carvings, etc., could show enough mobians that scientists could probably think “oh, wow, that looks like a god figure. might as well design our ultimate lifeform after that, esp since they had this god that could control chaos and the chaos emeralds came from here.” 

Wanna know what’s interesting about those ancient echidna temples? Guess who’s there-- if we go by Sonic 3 & Knuckles, a game that ofc had been released by the time X was being written...

SuperSonic. 

Both the ultimate form of Sonic, and the silhouette of Shadow. 

So let’s say they find this on the ARK studies, and they’re like “okay so our ultimate lifeform goal is a hedgehog. Got it.” There’s two options after this:

They make Sonic, but deem him a failure for reasons and cryo-freeze him until they need him or can release him. They then proceed to make Shadow, who they believe actually is their ultimate lifeform. 

They made Shadow first, but after a while kept experimenting and making more prototypes, just in case, or possibly because they decided Shadow wasn’t powerful enough. However, the prototypes weren’t ready to awaken before the ARK massacre, Shadow never met them. 

So as I’ve made clear, I’m pretty sure that one of those prototypes was Sonic-- who, of course, has no idea. Either he only entered consciousness after arriving in Mobius, or his memories of the ARK were so vague, traumatic, early, or a combo, that his mind blocked them out. Either way, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that he and Shadow are both prototypes, which is what gives Sonic his power. 

And Sonic’s power, btw, isn’t limited like Shadow’s. Because he doesn’t have inhibitor rings. 

If prototype!Sonic was sent away with inhibitor rings, he ditched them. Which would make sense, especially if he woke up with no memory of the ARK and didn’t know why these weird bracelets were on his arm. He would notice that the rings slowed him down and ditch them fast. And that’s assuming they even stuck rings on the prototype. 

But if we do assume they stuck rings on the prototypes... maybe we can find the other lifeform that was sent away along with Sonic. 

Part Three: Who is the Third Ultimate Lifeform?

Okay. Let’s do a headcount. 

Who, in Sonic X, 

Existed on Mobius at the same time as Sonic, 

Doesn’t appear to have a lot of power but has a lot of incredible strength if you pay attention, 

Sometimes shows strange abilities, such as far leaps into the air, a speed great enough that they can sometimes catch up to Sonic (though not as great, possibly because of the inhibition), even potentially the ability to summon weapons out of thin air, 

Looks similar to the Mobian Hedgehog-- or, perhaps, with influences from a Mobian Echidna, who were the ones who had the SuperSonic glyphs in the first place, and thus could potentially serve as a design point, 

Wears rings around their wrists at all times?

[ID: Amy Rose being absurdly powerful in several screencaps, often glowing; though this is normal anime expressionwork, it is something that exclusively happens to Amy in Sonic X. End iD.]

And, of course, this beauteous moment: 

[ID: A scene from the season two finale of Sonic X. Eggman’s ship, on which Amy’s hammer is stuck, is high above her, and Eggman taunts “It doesn’t matter if you’re angry because your hammer is stuck up here!” In the following image, a moving gif, Amy summons a hammer out of thin air, a puff of smoke coming from it, as she is still glowing with a fire-like energy. Eggman’s robots shout “She has another one! How many does she have?” End ID.]

That’s right! This was all an excuse to spout out my “Amy Rose could kill God” propaganda! But it’s not propaganda if I’m right!

Part Four: The Lifeforms

So. It’s been a couple months since I made this post, but I was rewatching Sonic X with my sister, and we did notice that you do see prototype lifeforms for a flash in the GUN soldier’s story.

[ID: Screenshots from Sonic X; The GUN soldier narrates his story, as we see GUN soldiers arresting scientists, while standing in front of empty tubes of bubbling green liquid. The caption reads, “There were many rumors about ARK. Such as doing research for eternal life or creating the Ultimate Life Form.” The GUN soldier steps to a tube that has something in it. End ID.]

We see a brief flash of an experimental lifeform in this memory, as seen above; we also see two more, the ones that were explicitly stated to be the ones Maria was freeing.

[ID: Screenshots from later in the same episode of Sonic X, the first showing two tubes with dark figures inside, surrounded by dark blue bubbling water. The next screenshot shows Maria preparing to free them, with the captions reading “An experimental life form? She’s planning to free it!” End ID.]

So, these silhouettes. Let’s uh. Let’s take a look at those huh

Now, the bodies are too thick to be standard mobian bodies- but we can also see wires attached to the prototypes, as well as, you know, whatever that liquid is. It’s entirely possible there’s something wrapped around their bodies, to keep them safe/asleep/etc.

But..... ok so I might be reaching here but analyzing the face silhouettes, using red lines to mark quills and green to mark potential laid-back ears, it really could be long-quilled sonic and short-quilled Amy.

As well as this, in the shot of the GUN soldier looking at a prototype, I swear I can see a mobian ear.

tl;dr this is all fascinating me and I think we should let the Sonic X crew return to making this show as if they never left so that we can get answers to this

[bigolbadblog]

finally making a pinned post!  more detailed stuff to go under the cut, but first things first: if you are a minor, stop scrolling and get off my blog.  please find a different, less risky way to explore your sexual interests.  your public library may have erotic or informative books you can check out for free without crossing any boundaries. if you are pro-ED, stop scrolling and get off my blog.  please seek help and do better. if this kink makes you uncomfortable, please stop scrolling and get off my blog.  i know it can be difficult to look away from things that upset you, but intentionally exposing yourself to upsetting or triggering content is a form of self-harm.  please take better care of yourself.

oh, also, my main blog is @bobb-on-main.  Nothing exciting there, but I started this as a sideblog so a sideblog it must remain.

Hi!  I’m tumblr user bigolbadblog, but you can call me Bobb (or Bobby) for short.  I am nonbinary, gay, straight-size, and happily taken.  I am aesthetically attracted to fat people (which is a preference, not a fetish), as well as other body types, and I have a thing for scenes involving food, eating, and overeating (which is a fetish).  I write things sometimes and reblog things other times.  I’m asexual for all intents and purposes, but kink-positive.

I consider this to be a holistic feeding kink blog, by which I mean that although this blog is kink-centric, it is not exclusively sexual.  I will also use this space to talk about other topics, including fat politics, kink ethics, body positivity / neutrality, and food positivity / neutrality.  These topics are not sexual to me, but I feel they are important to include alongside sexual topics.

My inbox is open and anonymous asks are enabled.  If you have a writing prompt you’d like to see me take, feel free to submit it!  I may ignore it if I don’t like it... or I may see it and go “oh man i’d LOVE to write something about this” and then never muster the focus and energy to take it... or I might actually write something.  Only one way to find out.  Another great use of my inbox is letting me know if you’ve enjoyed my content.

You can also send me IMs!  Just... nothing overtly sexual about yourself or about myself.  I’d love to make more friends who are into the stuff I’m into, just to have people to chat with, but I am not looking for any sexy business with anyone other than my one and only.  Also, I may not always respond, especially if it’s just something generic like “hi” or “hey.”  I’m not always the best at carrying on conversations, but give me something to go on and I’m funny when you get to know me, promise.  Unless you hit me up during one of the periods I’m not logged into this blog, which does happen.

If you see me reblogging content that you know was stolen or produced without consent from all involved parties, please let me know so that I can delete it.  I do check out the stuff I reblog before I reblog it, but I know there are things that might slip by my awareness.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a lovely day!

[mariaiscrafting]

i saw you talk about “blocking etiquette” in one of your posts and i was wondering if you could briefly explain that? my blog is a baby (i joined in march) so i really don’t know any of the unspoken social rules haha. i feel i should know this before i say anything ever thats dream critical lmao

also saw you have a ton of asks so feel free to answer or not there’s no obligation ! take care of urself it seems like a lot to handle rn

I'd like to preface this by disclaiming that I've been on Tumblr since 2014, so I think I have a good sense of blocking etiquette as it's evolved with Tumblr culture, but I might still be presumptuous/wrong about some things.

Anyways. So, on Tumblr, there's generally always been a "block first, ask questions later" mentality. No matter the fandom, people kinda just unfollow or block people at will because Tumblr's algorithm is so shit at recommending things for people that unfollowing/blocking are really the primary ways to tailor what you don't want to see. So, if you frequent a search term/tag search, like "dream smp," you'd likely block someone who posts things frequently to that tag, but whose content you dislike. Blocking is, obviously, still used as a means to stop interacting with just plain assholes, as it is on every social media site. But more times than not, Tumblr users block blogs for neutral reasons related to how they want to tailor their social media experience, rather than a personal vendetta against someone.

Frankly, from my perspective, this was the main use of block lists back in the day. They weren't so much ways to truly hate on anyone's blog since anyone deemed a true asshole would likely spur a reporting campaign against them, rather than an addition to a blocklist. No, Tumblr blocklists were almost always so people who frequented certain tags simply... didn't have to put up with some people. If there was a wave of problematic shippers inundating a fandom/character tag, of TERFs inundating trans/feminism tags, or something similar, they would likely be put on a blocklist simply because Tumblr users wanted a comprehensive list of people they might come across, but didn't want to have to see posts from. Along a similar vein, a lot of mcytblr blogs advocate simply blocking people who post imagines in the main mcyt/dream smp tags, rather than harrassing each and every one of them into fixing their tag habits. Like, they're just annoying, really, and this social media site is so big that just blocking the ones who frequent the tag is so much easier than anything else.

One notable difference about Tumblr blocking as compared to Twitter blocking is the malintent behind Twitter blocking. Twitter fandom subtwts will advocate for blocking someone particularly if they're being cancelled/a Twitter user simply dislikes them enough. In addition, I've seen more than one Twitter user unironically say that they block people who unfollow them, as if following/unfollowing them were a personal affront, and blocking people were some component of this social game that reeks of cliqueness and high school levels of maturity.

That isn't to say that Tumblr blocking etiquette doesn't have pitfalls, because it has many. The main one I've noticed is that, especially in smaller fandom spaces, someone who's considered problematic might be enmassed blocked by lots of users in that fandom, and effectively be shut out of that fandom. If they're put onto a blocklist, a problematic post is circulated enough, or they're blocked by enough "big blogs" in the fandom, these users can be kept from reblogging, liking, or sending asks to a large part of the fandom they participate in. Vague posting doesn't really get you anywhere on Tumblr because of how insular each blog is, as opposed to Twitter, where screenshotting someone's profile who's blocked you and/or complaining very obviously about someone blocking you without naming them is commonplace and can be easily spread throughout a subtwt. This means Tumblr blogs who were mass blocked end up reaching much less members of their fandom, cannot really stand up for themselves in the face of mass blocking unless they're infamous enough for people to recognize their name, or participate in the discourse that promoted their blocking in the first place. While I haven't really experienced this, all of this is taken from what I've observed mutuals and recognizable blogs going through over the years.

Another note is that this website is kinda fucked, coding-wise. We all know this. This means that there are a million holes in the blocking system that make it even more annoying to navigate when people have blocked you, and that ends up getting more people blocked than maybe should be.

First of all, those imagine blogs aren't just posting in the main tags for shits and giggles, or to be cumbersome and clutter the main tags. They're doing it because Tumblr is dying, and even in a fandom as big as mcytblr, it's almost impossible to boost/promote your original content. The Tumblr algorithm sucks at spreading awareness about popular posts, more and more Twitter refugees means less and less people who fucking reblog > liking posts, and basically the only way posts can blow up anymore is by being found through a tag that is trending or frequently browsed through the "most recent" setting. This includes dream smp and many smp character names, so obviously imagine blogs are going to take advantage of this and maintag. It's the reason mcytblr constantly tags "m*necraft" despite being told off, time and time again, for doing so by mineblr. And it's the reason I've likely been blocked by many people- because I had to make the decision between spreading awareness of a post that took a lot of effort and that I thought was important enough to main tag despite being critical/negative, or keeping mcytblr happy by not cluttering their bias's tag with a crit post. Sure, some of mcytblr likely blocked me because they thought I was annoying/disagree with me, and that's fine. But I'm sure many blocked me for the same reason I block imagine blogs and mineblr blocks dream smp stans- because they wanted to peruse their fave's tags, and they simply blocked a random blog that posted something they didn't like, without really thinking much of it.

Second of all, side blogs kinda fuck up how blocking works. It's annoying as hell to see a post you really like in the main tag/search, only to find that the person blocked you upon trying to reblog. Because of sideblogs, people will oftentimes block a sideblog because it's that user's fandom blog, without blocking their main, so the user is left kinda seeing their stuff time and time again, without being able to interact with it.

Speaking of how fucky the code is because of the blogging system, reblogs make it even worse. Most social media sites simply make it so a blocked user cannot see another user's profile, posts and all. But Tumblr not only allows this, it kinda fucks up the search function by sometimes allowing people you've blocked/who've blocked you to show up in main tag searches, it didn't take into account the fact that you can still see an OP's post when someone else reblogs it, and Tumblr didn't think to just fucking fix all these holes and just wholly omit someone's posts if they've blocked you, or you've blocked them. So, despite blocking people, you can still be logged in and see all their shit, and they can see yours. It's kind of annoying as fuck.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Where you should be

Chapter 5: Latibule

Kinda a shorter one today, but the most important thing about today is it’s two people’s birthdays! Shoutout to Kim Taehyung (idk if you guys have heard of him) and @taylorroe3​! 🥳

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 2.7k

Latibule(n.): a hiding place, a place of comfort and safety

I’ve learned three very important details since exiting the building.

First, the man’s name is Jihun.

Second, Jihun worked for Source Entertainment’s CEO, So Sung-jin. He was his bodyguard.

And lastly, Jihun has since been fired.

Oh, and one bonus fact: he’s not very happy about it.

“-There is nothing worse than coming home to your wife - who’s six months pregnant, by the way - and telling her that your supposed steady job was suddenly bought out by another company. Except for one thing, maybe.” Jihun glares down at me, continuing to walk around the building. “Would you like to know what’s worse?”

I’m sure he can see me swallowing down the lump in my throat as I slowly nod my head. My hands are shaking and numb from the cold, but I refuse to put them in my pockets in case I need to somehow defend myself.

“What’s worse,” Jihun spits out, “is telling her that your job won’t be under fire. Telling her that So Sung-jin will still keep you, because he’s still the CEO, isn’t he? Why wouldn’t he need a bodyguard anymore? Well, I suppose he does. Just one.”

Everything begins to make sense with that statement. “...but before he had-”

“Eight.” Jihun stops, coming to stand in front of me. “Eight full-time bodyguards for him and the other officers of Source. How do you tell the man you’ve been protecting for years that he should fire everyone else except for you? Tell me, how would I go about going behind my friends’ backs like that?”

I blink up at him, taking a small step back and cursing myself when Jihun notices and steps closer. “I- I don’t know-”

Jihun laughs loudly, the sound harsh. “You don’t know? You?” He bends down just enough so we’re eye-level, and I flinch at what I see behind those eyes. “Don’t act innocent with me, Jung Ha-rin. Did Bighit promise you that all the jobs would be secure for those of us left at Source? Or did you not even bother asking when Jung Hoseok flashed his smile-”

“What do you want from me?!” I shout, seeing red. “I didn’t do anything-”

Jihun smirks, straightening back up as though feeling quite pleased with himself. “80% of the little people at Source lost their jobs thanks to you. Source may not have lost their company, but we lost jobs. Bodyguards, caterers, program coordinators, all gone. Source didn’t need all of us anymore, not when Bighit started taking care of them.”

He’s nearly panting now, but there’s a gleam of victory in his eyes. Like he’s got me right where he wants me.

“I...I’m sorry.” I choke out, my heart thumping like a rabbit. “I really am. I had no idea...I didn’t know. I didn’t think about everyone else. But, I don’t understand. What do you want me to do?”

Jihun’s eyes focus on me like a hawk. I’m sure I’m the little hare now, running for my life while he swoops in with his gleaming talons.

“You know what So Sung-jin said to me when I told him that I couldn’t afford to lose my job?” He pauses for a moment, but continues on with spite dripping from his tongue. “He told me to take it up with her. He said that if I needed a job so badly, I should take it up with the girl who started this whole mess.”

Jihun steps back, laughing a little as he looks to the skies. I take a step backward, but he looks back down at me with a snap of his head, silently daring me to try to run.

“It took me so long to find you, Jung Ha-rin. Bang Si-hyuk was smart, he made sure your ‘promotion’ seemed natural. Who in their right mind would buy out an entire company for one little producer? But there was always something about it that confused me. As it turns out, there were a few of us that were a little suspicious. So while we struggled to find new work, we found each other. And we began to look into things a bit more.”

I remember with a start the other two intruders who had left notes at my studio. They must have been other previous employees at Source. It would appear that Jihun found some friends to investigate with him.

“By the time we began to formulate an idea, you had already disappeared. ‘Sunny’ appeared in your place, but we couldn’t find anything to prove our point. That is, until I saw you outside of your apartment.”

Chills run up and down my spine as I remember all those nights I saw Jihun wandering up and down my street like a hound following a scent.

“It was the only good thing that came out of this mess. You see, my wife left me not long ago. I can hardly provide for our small family, turns out fired bodyguards aren’t in high demand. So now if I want to see my daughter, I have to travel to the other side of Seoul. Luckily for me, that’s where you live. Imagine my luck when I saw that you were not only still around, but that you had Jung Hoseok wrapped around your little finger!”

Jihun takes a moment to glance around, making sure we have no unwanted visitors listening in on our conversation. “So what do I want you to do?” He tilts his head, sizing me up. “Fix this. You’ve proven your ability to worm your way into whatever you want; now it’s time for you to think about somebody else for once in your life.”

“But how-”

“Oh, there you are!” Hajoon sticks his head out the door, smiling at me. “Adora’s looking for you. Everything alright?”

Staring at Hajoon with wide eyes, I shake my head as lightly as possible. “Hajoon, would you mind coming out here for a second?”

As Hajoon steps outside, Jihun chuckles. “It was nice catching up with you, Ha-rin. I’ll email the details to you later, ok? Unless you want me to just send off the photos?”

Jihun looks comfortable in his act, but as he tilts his phone to me I understand why. Right there is perhaps the most incriminating photo of all: me clinging to Hoseok as we sit in his car the night Jihun approached us. How he got a photo of us I have no idea, but I have a hunch that one of his little friends might have been present and with a camera handy.

“No!” I shout, Hajoon faltering in his steps as he nears. “I, uh...I’ll take a look at the email first.”

“Sounds great!” Jihun turns on his heel, waving at me over his shoulder. “See you later!”

I watch as he walks away, his back straight and shoulders back. Hajoon comes to stand beside me, utterly oblivious.

“Adora’s on the-”

“Hajoon.”

“Yes?”

I turn to him, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. “I...I need to talk to Bang PD. Now.”

♟

“What do you mean-”

“I mean,” I say through gritted teeth, “that this is worse than we thought! And it’s all my stupid fault!”

Bang Si-hyuk stares up at me from his desk, Hajoon standing just outside the closed door to deter any visitors. As soon as I uttered the words ‘blackmail’ and j-hope, he was quick to invite me in.

“Ha-rin, I need you to sit down and breathe for a second. Can you do that?” I begrudgingly take a seat, staring down at my hands. “Thank you. First off, this is not your fault. If anyone is to take the blame, it should be between So So-jin and I. Not you.”

“But he said-”

“Are you really about to believe what some maniac stalker said to you?” Bang Si-hyuk gives me a look that perfectly explains how crazy he thinks that makes me.

I shrug, fighting the tears that have been threatening to fall for a while now. “I...I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Bang PD’s eyes soften for a moment as he takes in my shaken state. “We’ll work through this. I promise. For now, we need to work through this with Hoseok.”

Nearly choking on my spit, I glare up at him. “What? Why? This is about me-”

“And him! He is in those photos as well, Sunny. He’s being exploited too, and he deserves to be aware of the situation.” He leans forward, looking at me with an analyzing stare. “What do you have against Jung Hoseok?”

“...nothing.”

“Good.”

♟

By the time Hobi’s knocking on Bang PD’s door, I feel like I’ve successfully turned into a stone. My neck refuses to move as I hear the door open, my eyes remain trained forward as I offer up a prayer to whoever’s listening.

This is a dream, this is a dream this is-

“Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice,” Mr. Bang says, gesturing for him to take a seat. “How’s it going?”

I can hear the confusion in Hobi’s voice as he takes a seat. “I - great. Things are great. What’s all of this about?”

In my peripheral I can see him looking at me, but I refuse to look at him. The second I do, he’ll see right through me.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed in recent months that Sunny has acquired a bodyguard?”

Hoseok is silent as he processes the information. “Is everything ok?”

If this were a perfect world, I’d be sinking through the floor and disappearing right around now. However, it isn’t, and I’m still stuck here with my cheeks burning red as I dread what’s about to come next.

“We’ve dealt with similar situations in the past, but this time around there are certain factors at play that I must admit we’ve never encountered before. The two of you are close, are you not?”

Our shocked silence answers his question.

“It would appear that a few people with a grudge against Bighit and Sunny have noticed that. Now they are using that information against us.”

Hoseok sits up straight, his gaze jumping between the two of us. “Who? And how? We don’t hardly see each other as is. This is probably just some weird threat, don’t you think?”

Bang PD shakes his head, looking grave. “Sunny, would you mind logging into your email for me?” He motions for me to come around his desk. Rising on shaky legs, it’s a miracle that I’m able to make it over to his side without collapsing.

Hoseok’s gaze is like a hot brand as I log into my email, but I refuse to look at him. Not as the memory of that night in his apartment is playing over and over again in my mind.

Of course all of this had to blow up right as things were finally getting better between us.

“There you go,” I mumble, going back to my seat.

“Hoseok, take a look at this.”

Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to stand beside Bang PD, shuffling past me as he makes his way over to him. I instinctively hold my breath as he leans down to see what’s on the screen.

Hoseok’s eyes shutter as he sees the photos Jihun sent along with the email as a nice little reminder of why I should follow his instructions.

I watch as Hobi shuts down, his worried demeanor slowly turning cold and distant until he strides back to his chair and sits with a determined expression.

“What’s the plan?”

Bang PD leans back in his chair, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Well, first off, I need to know what all of this is about. I understand that photos like these can be misinterpreted, but I can’t help but think that the two of you haven’t been completely honest with me. Is that correct?”

Silence reigns in the office as neither one of us deign to answer him. Bang PD sighs, pulling his phone out and searching for something while we drown in the silence.

My eyes are burning holes into the wooden desk before me, and I wonder for a moment if this is what people standing before the guillotine felt like as they awaited their execution. Bang Si-hyuk sits before us, the unwavering executioner with his list of convictions. As he finds what he was looking for on his phone, I know for a fact that there is nowhere left for me to run. For a year now, I’ve hid everything away. I’ve done it well, I think.

I suppose I could only run for so long.

“Thirteen months ago I received a message from you, Sunny.” Hoseok stiffens beside me as he undoubtedly does the math in his head. We both know what happened thirteen months ago. “You were very worried as you had been spotted with Hoseok. You were quite convincing in asking me to not retaliate against Hoseok, and I didn’t even stop to ask myself why you were so quick to worry about him. You stated, ‘Hoseok is my close friend and has acted as a mentor for me during my time as Bighit. Please do not blame him for his kindness. I understand the terms of my contract, and I still respect them. I do not have feelings for him.’”

The small office has suddenly turned into the unforgiving tundra as Bang PD fixes me with an icy stare. Hoseok remains closed off and cold beside me, although I can see the way his hands have turned into fists against his thighs.

“I need you to realize all that is at stake here, Sunny.” Bang PD looks at me with a hawk’s glare, but I refuse to squirm in my seat like some child. “Were you telling me the truth that night?”

I’m pretty sure Hobi has stopped breathing as he waits to hear my answer. For so long now, I’ve known that I was lying.

For thirteen months, I’ve been living that lie.

I’m so tired.

Were you telling me the truth that night?

For the first time in what feels like ages, I shed the mask I’ve held onto so tightly.

“No.”

Bang PD’s eyes widen. “Am I correct in assuming that at the time of this message, you did indeed harbor feelings for Hoseok?”

So quiet in here. I wonder for a moment if they can hear my heart beating like a hammer. My mouth opens, but no words come out.

“I need an answer, Sunny. If we’re going to make it through this mess, we need to untangle your web of-”

“That’s enough.”

Hoseok’s eyes appear to be aflame as he sits up in his seat, slowly rising until he’s glaring down at Bang Si-hyuk.

“What do you mean-”

“I mean,” Hoseok hisses out, and there I can finally see it. That side of him that I’ve heard people whisper about. “That if you want to get ‘through this mess’, as you so beautifully stated, you don’t need to interrogate people for information you already know. This is a ploy for money and to take down your company, so I’d suggest that you take the necessary action to defend it before it’s too late.”

The frozen tundra has suddenly burst into flames as Hoseok turns to me, a sound that almost sounds like a sigh of relief pushing past his lips as he nods at me. “I think you should head home, it sounds like you’ve had a long day. I’ll have someone bring a car around for you.”

I get up and follow him out, hardly daring to look at him as he holds the door open for me. Band PD sits as his desk in silence as we exit.

Hajoon stands beside the door with a wide-eyed gaze, looking between the two of us as though expecting an explanation.

“Would you please retrieve Ha-rin’s things from her studio and bring them out to my car?”

Hajoon scurries away, and I look up at Hobi to see him slowly starting to calm down. “Your car?” My voice is scratchy as I ask the question, almost sounding like I haven’t spoken in years. 

Hobi’s gaze turns soft as he looks down at me, and I find myself able to breathe easier as I glimpse the kind friend that always showed up with a bag of food at my studio door.

“Can we talk?”

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Previous - Next

taglist is open! 

taglist: @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah @diorhoba @eusticenatalie @ddaeng-i-need-help

[words-for-holland]

Happier (3) | T.H.

Summary: Harrison is looking for answers. More unknown text messages and blackmail. A phone conversation takes place. Wait...who’s the new guy?

A/N: Don’t be shy let me know all your theories! Again, thank you for the support on Happier! The story continues!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Puzzle

This whole thing was just a giant puzzle that needed to be solved, but the closer one got to solving it, another complication comes around. The story wasn’t clear for anyone, but for Harrison it was a mess. He had so many questions that needed to be answered, so many clues he wish could have been solved at the snap of a finger.

Tom was too lost in himself to even comprehend the puzzling reality, Y/N while also lost in heartbreak had been awefully quiet since she left London, Kate was lying to Harrison, and Natalie had been too friendly with Tom.

Harrison replayed the conversation with Kate over and over again in his mind, trying to remember every little thing she said that night. He knew Kate was aware of something. Her tone said it all.

“Listen I dont know who you are, but if its the same person that sent my best friend a threatening message that she’s better off breaking up with her boyfriend”

“She received a few messages...from Tom.”

“Oh my god.” Harrison said to himself in realization. How could he have been so dim to not recognize what Kate had said in the first place? He paced around as he continued to think it through. But a threat message? Who would send a threat to Y/N? And what did they threaten her with? Tom and Y/N’s relationship has been secretly hidden from the public for as long as they’d been together. No one knew she even existed...right?

For a moment, Harrison stopped in his tracks, thinking of Natalie. Though he quickly shook the idea off. Natalie may have wanted Tom, but she wouldnt go as far as threatening Y/N. He had been friends with her since they went to primary school, and knew she wouldn’t go that far. “Maybe a stalker fan?” He questioned himself. Though he also quickly ruled it out, but something about it just didnt feel right.

In the kitchen, Harrison took out his laptop and started googling Y/N’s name. If her name didn’t show on the News or one of those Tom Holland fan accounts, it would at least answer one theory. As he scrolled through pages and pages, nothing showed up until...he found on account. He logged into the site and browsed the history, realizing it was all about Y/N and Toms life. Not as a couple but seperately. It all seemed too strange. Only very few accounts followed it and yet no other accounts in the world had mentioned Y/N. Harrison quickly shut his laptop when he saw Natalie enter the room.

“Oh don’t mind me just...grabbing a water.” She giggled, making her way to the fridge.

“Hey mate...uh..I guess everyone got hungry at the same time?” Harry asked, a bit surprised to see Harrison and Natalie in the kitchen.

“Yeah. I guess.” Harrison muttered.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine. If i didn’t know I’d say you were the one more affected by the break up then Tom and Y/N themselves.” Natalie commented.

“No. It’s just that I dont think Y/N broke up with Tom just because of some rumors about you and him.” He explained rubbing his face from exhaustion. Natalie’s smile dropped, when she heard Harrison mention his potential theory.

“Well...did you talk to Y/N about it?” Harry asked him, also intrigued by the theory. “Now that I think about it she —“

“Oh come on. Just leave the poor girl alone. Im sure she knew what was best for the both of them. You’ll only make it worse.” Natalie interrupted, taking a sip from her water. “Well since you boys are all talk, Im gonna go find something more worth my while.”

Out of sight and out of mind, Natalie made a quick call about what she heard. “Harrison’s getting suspicious, and so is Harry.”

“Time to clean up then.” The unknown number spoke out before hanging up on Natalie completely.

Meanwhile, Kate had managed to get Y/N out of the apartment and walk the streets of the city. Her heart and spirits were still low, but she appreciated the efforts. Kate and Y/N went around stuffing their faces with crepes and ice cream. It was the cure to any bad days, but it wouldnt have been a Kate and Y/N date if they didn’t hang around the New York Aquarium. It was also the perfect time to crack out what Y/N really knew about the unknown text message, and who was harrassing the both of them. “Look, I know I promised you a stress free outing, but I saw a text from your phone the night you came back home.” Kate confessed.

Y/N’s face became pale almost as if she’d seen a ghost. She knew, and now there was no point in going back. “So you know then.” She says quietly looking at the fishes.

“I only know they threatened you.” Kate states, leaving out that she, herself, was also threatened. Y/N had enough on her plate to worry about, and it wouldn’t be the best time to being up how her message also threatened their friendship. “How long?” She continues.

“Weeks maybe. They started around the time I was fighting with Tom.” Y/N vents, she takes a deep breath before she continues. “Each message was worse than the last. They threatened that if I didnt leave, Tom would lose career, and I...I couldnt do that to him.” Tears were falling slowly, but Y/N was quick to pick them.

“Why didnt you tell him?”

“Yeah, Kate let me just tell him the truth of why I left him because the messages weren’t offensive nor threatening enough. And let’s just assume that the person texting wouldn’t blackmail either of us if they knew I said something. Anyways, maybe it was for the best...I could never fit in his world and those past few months just proved that.” Y/N’s words continue to spill out every fear and thought she had bottled up within her. It felt good..for a moment, but nothing can really erase a heartbreak of losing the one you loved.

As the pair walked through the shark tunnel, Y/N bumped into a tall figure. “Oh my god, Im so sorry...Matt?” she asked in confusion. The moment Y/N looked up into those familiar brown eyes hidden behind the thin glasses, she knew. How could she forget? 

“Y/N? Wow, it’s been so long how are you?” Matt greeted as he wrapped her into a hug. “Kate, it’s good to see you again too.” 

“Yeah, we’re great, just you know...navigating life.” Kate responded to him. “We haven’t seen you since what?  High school?”

Matt smiled and nodded at Kate’s response, his focus remaining on Y/N. He didn’t remember much with Kate back in high school, but Y/N was a different story. They were good friends at the time, always competing in classes, but as junior year rolled by things got awkward. Y/N was falling for Matt while he didn’t return the favor at the time. Though he’d be lying if he didn’t say he may have felt the same at one point, but just never committed. Now all grown up, he didn’t realize how pretty she turned out, but her personality wasn't there. He must have figured something was wrong. After all, a girl with that kind of spunk back in the day, didn't seem like the one to lose hers so easily. “Yeah, look. I know it’s kind of a spur in the moment, but maybe we can all hang out sometime? I’d love to catch up.” 

Kate was all for it, but Y/N felt a tension she wasn’t sure if she wanted to act upon. After all, breaking up with your boyfriend after 2 weeks, because of threatening messages and still loving him deeply, it wasn’t an easy thing to move on from. Then again it’s not like Matt was asking for a date, it was just to catch up after not seeing each other for 6 years. “Uh, maybe. I have to check my schedule, and see when Im free, but I can let you know” Y/N answers him. 

“Great, well..here’s my number, and hopefully I hear from you guys. I gotta get back to my brother, so hope to see you around.” he quickly says as he walks away. 

“Wow. Matt Brynne, who would have guessed?” Kate says, breaking the silence. 

“I know...Funny I used to be so head over heels with him at the time, and now I barely feel a thing.” 

“Well yeah, cause you still love...you-know-who.” she teases, though it probably wasn't the best time to be making that type of joke with everything going on.

“And I don't think I’ll ever stop.” Y/N mutters to herself. As Y/N and Kate make their way forward, Kate’s phone began to vibrate. 

Unknown

Set up a date and take a picture of Y/N and that boy you posted on your insta story. Or Y/N finds out the truth about what you did. XOXO

Kate looked up as she cursed herself, realizing she forgot to keep her story private. It was supposed to be a harmless post of old friends reuniting and now the unknown number has used it as blackmail. It would have been easy to find the culprit, but her view count was up in the thousands with unfamiliar faces. It’s what she gets after gaining a decent following on TikTok. Kate couldn’t let Y/N know what she did, and she’d make sure she would hide that truth from her for as long as she can. “Hey, Y/N...I think we should hit up Matt.” she says, running after her best friend. 

At the same time, another texted popped from Y/N’s phone. She picked up thinking it might have been a group chat with her close friends, but it was from the only person who could make her heart flutter and break simultaneously. 

Tom

I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. I still love you. 

Y/N almost called him..almost, but she knew better. She couldn’t...not unless she wanted to continue to hurt each other. 

Meanwhile, back in London, Harrison was ready to come clean to Tom about what he’d found out. He watched as Tom finished typing on his phone, and throwing it on the side of the bed, rubbing his face. This was the new normal. Tom being alone in the dark, reflecting on his sadness and exhaustion. Only stepping out when needed and keeping up smiles for appearances. 

It was then Harrison was ready to knock on the door, when his phone received a notification.

Unknown

Don’t even think about it. Or I’ll make sure you and your lads careers are over for good.

Harrison sighed deeply, as he put his phone down, and walked away. Until he came to a most probable conclusion. “Natalie.” he says anger. “I should have fucking known.” At this point he no longer cared, about who she was before and how they were friends. The timing of it all seemed too perfect. Her arrival, the eavesdropping, the flirting. It had to be her but with what proof other than unknown numbers and good timing? Another part of him feared...what if it wasn't her?

Meanwhile, Tom was still unaware of what was really happening behind his door, but he did know, he had to take a chance now and try to contact her instead of sending these useless messages. In the moment, he showed no signs of regret, only praying Y/N would pick up so he could hear her voice. 

“Tom?” Y/N answers hesitantly.

Tom closes his eyes, as he takes in her soft and gently voice. “Y/N.” he speaks softly into the phone. 

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl​ @ifilosemyselfagain @hevjadams @averyfosterthoughts​ @fangirl-with-a-mission @drishtisikarwar @eridanuswave​ @ifntelyinspirit​ @trumpettay @astridcommings

[crispyjenkins]

Can you do more of that mandalorian obiwan jangobi fic? It was so good!

(i’m very feckin attached to this obi and i’m so happy y’all want more. blood and injury warning for this one! jangobi is very soft but obi is very bad at keeping himself alive, and ruusaan is the only one with a braincell. part 1 here!

umm. this got really long. it just... kept getting longer. fills will not be this long consistently i just. i really love this obi.

**ruusaan’s name and design from this! thank you to @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone for letting me write her, i love her dearly)

 Ruusaan remembers a time before the Supercommando Codex, even if her sisters do not, and as soon as she’s old enough to follow Mereel, she crashes the Duke’s council meeting discussing the cutting of the budget for the poorer levels of Sundari. In front of every one of her father’s supporters, she recites the shuk’la buirok and leaves every Kalevalan piece of herself behind.

  The Haat Mando’ade welcome her with open arms in spite of her origins, Mereel trains her to fight and helps her build her beskar’gam, and she hopes someday her sisters will grow to make their own decisions as she had. 

  Ruusaan walks her path alone unless Mereel calls on her, traveling the stars as Haat'ad, nameless still, but infinitely free. She has no right to Mandalore as her dar'buir believes, but she can live the Truth, and if that's good enough for her Mand'alor, then it’s good enough for her. 

  When she accepts the call to Melida/Daan seven years after joining Mereel, she does so with caution —she will not pull the Haat'ade into their war— but when she lands just outside the capital of Zehava, she’s greeted by a small party of children. A girl that can’t be much older than Satine approaches Ruusaan immediately, red hair greasy and in disarray, but exuding determination.

  “You’re the commando?” she demands without preamble, hiding her shaking hands by forcing them into fists. 

  Ruusaan removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm so the kid can see her raise her eyebrow. “I am. You put out the contract?”

  The girl clenches her jaw and nods. “I’m Cerasi. I need you to get someone to Coruscant.”

  Immediately wary, Ruusaan looks around the girl to the other children, who stand around someone that positively hums in the Force. “Your contract said transport of goods.”

  “He belongs to the Jedi,” she says, spitting the word like it’s poison. “But they aren’t answering his communications, and we— Force, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Her confidence falters, darting a quick look behind herself before gripping her arm. “Listen, I don’t have much, we only just won and Nield isn’t— He helped us, he’s the reason we won, no matter what the rest of the Young say. He doesn’t deserve to die here.”

  “Kid, I’m not taking your money,” Ruusaan cuts in, Cerasi’s face falling before she continues, “Mandos have creeds about children, I’ll take him for free. Where is he?”

  It takes Cerasi a moment to realise what all that means, but then blinks and dashes back to the little group of children. With a growing sense of foreboding, Ruusaan follows, watching the kids part to show a tiny padawan in dirty tunics laying in a makeshift litter, and Ruusaan has to close her eyes for a moment to calm herself. The Force around him wavers like a heat haze, and Ruusaan isn’t trained enough to know what that means; nothing good, if the flickering of the boy’s Force signature is anything to go by.

  There’s dried blood on his lips and chin, and she can hear his breathing from here, ragged like it hurts, and it probably does. Cerasi bites her lip and moves to pick the kid up, but Ruusaan quickly steps in and kneels to check the kid’s ribs first. Nothing seems broken, he barely even seems bruised, which certainly doesn’t fill her with confidence, but at least it’s safe enough to lift him.

  She puts her helmet back on before carefully scooping the kid into her arms, and he actually feels an alright weight for how thin the other children look. Ruusaan turns back towards her ship and jerks her head for Carasi to follow her.

  “What’s his name?”

  Cerasi quickly moves to catch up, chewing at her lip again. “Obi-Wan, but that isn’t what the Jedi he was with called him.”

  Hm. “How long has he been sick?”

  “He came to us like that. He would just— cough, all the time, and the Jedi didn’t know what was wrong with him.” She follows Ruusaan up the ramp into her little ship, heading for the medbay. “He— After he promised to help us, the Jedi left him here.”

  Rage nearly smothers her, and Ruusaan locks it into her chest for later, after she leaves atmo; Obi-Wan twitches in her arms in response to her sudden spike of emotion, and she can’t have that. “They left him?”

  “Look, I don’t— I don’t know how it all works. But Obi-Wan gave up being a padawan to help us, I think, and I think that’s why the Jedi aren’t responding.” Cerasi watches her set Obi-Wan on the far-too large bed, her lip starting to bleed under her teeth.

  Ruusaan hands her a tissue, but sets aside her helmet to quickly cut the boy out of his tabards and tunics. Just as she had thought, Obi-Wan is wearing a compression shirt under it all; Cerasi looks terrified when she cuts him out of this too, and Ruusaan sends her a reassuring smile.

  “Peace, kid, Mandalorians accept all. Has he been wearing this often?”

  “All the time,” she says uncertainly, ducking forward when beckoned to help Ruusaan get Obi-Wan’s dirty clothes out from under him. “Is that what caused this?”

  “It certainly didn’t help.” They fall into silence as Ruusaan gets a ventilator hooked up, Cerasi jumping in to help as instructed, but there isn’t much Ruusaan can do with her sparse medical equipment. She doesn’t even have bacta. 

  “Are you... Are you going to take him to the Jedi?”

  Ruusaan snorts, making sure Obi-Wan’s vitals are being logged before turning to Cerasi. “Absolutely not. I would never return a child to those that abandoned them.”

 Obi-Wan makes a small sound, eyelids flickering for a moment, but he doesn’t wake, and Ruusaan realises her heart is in her throat. Well, that settles that, then. “I’ll take him back to my people, decide where he best belongs,” she adds, as if the gai bal manda isn’t already burning her lips. 

  It seems to satisfy Cerasi enough to return to the Young, and she leaves Obi-Wan with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered apology. She races out of the ship before Ruusaan can ask her anything else, and she does not follow. Ruusaan’s contract is on the bed behind her, and you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved.

-

  Jango doesn’t know if it’s Ruusaan or Jaster’s machinations that has him covering contracts with Obi-Wan more than any other commando, but he’d appreciate it if they stopped before Jango has an actual heart attack.

  Because Obi-Wan, for all his new calm and easy demeanor, is even more reckless than when he was a child, and Jango hadn’t thought that was possible. He jumps into fights without checking escape routes, and uses his rifle in close combat as well as his fists, he doesn’t travel with a jetpack, and he removes his helmet any time they’re not in an active right.

  “It’s easier to breathe without it,” Obi-Wan tells him on another mercy mission to Concordia. “Buir tried to hook an oxygen tank up to it, but they were all too heavy.” And he shrugs like it's fine, and Jango decides he has a death wish.

  Ruusaan either joins them on missions, or takes contracts nearby, never too far if... anything went wrong. Luckily, things rarely do, and Jango only has to see Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs once after that first mission back, and even then Obi-Wan had been fine within the day.

  They make it a year and a half of missions together before things go wrong, stranded in a rusty hut on Yutha during a dust storm, with Ruusaan somewhere on the other side of the canyon to the North taking a different job. 

  Theirs had been a simple contract to retrieve some Neimoidian’s data disk that he’d left with a lover, and Jango is only there because Obi-Wan had asked him to be, and if it weren’t for the dust storm, it might have been as easy as it sounded.

  Obi-Wan is at the one window, the barrel of his rifle propped on the sill as he watches the red dirt road outside for anyone trying to take advantage of the storm, though they’re pretty sure their hiding spot has been abandoned for a while. Jango had taken up leaning on the wall on the other side of the window frame, watching Obi-Wan more than he’s watching the outside, and even after almost two years back working with other Haat’ade, he has trouble contending this Obi-Wan with the fourteen year-old that had once tried to set his cape on fire.

  Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to Jango with a tiny, barely-there smirk and readjusts his rifle on his shoulder before returning to his vigil. Shaking his head, Jango is almost thankful Obi-Wan had removed his helmet as soon as they’d secured the hut; how else would he have seen the Yutha sunset painted on his face? 

  Hm. He should probably look into that affection that’s becoming harder to ignore. 

  “Jango,” Obi-Wan rasps, yanking his attention away from the rising dust storm as Obi-Wan’s hand darts up to his bleeding nose. 

  His entire body jerks, his blaster rifle clattering to the floor, and Jango has to dive forward to catch him before he hits his head on the windowsill. He starts coughing before Jango can even get him laid out, struggling against Jango’s arms and splattering blood across his chestplate.

  And these coughs are worse than the last time, shorter, harsher, and Jango has been in enough battles to recognise someone going into shock.

  This is all wrong, though, it never goes this fast, where Obi-Wan is already choking on his own lungs, eyes wild as his body attempts to shake apart, and Jango’s never had to deal with this alone, and oh Force, Ruusaan “the Jedi Killer” Tra’Galar is going to lose her foundling on Jango’s watch.

  The dilapidated furniture starts to rattle as if shook from below, anything left on shelves or counters levitating for a moment before crashing to the ground. Jango yanks off his helmet and has to grab Obi-Wan’s wrists to stop him from clawing at his own armour, Jango feeling him pulling the Force in around them until it’s an almost unbearable weight. 

  And Jango can’t get him into shock position, not with him thrashing around with far more strength than he should possess with at least one lung collapsing, if his wheezing is anything to go by. His skin is cold and clammy when Jango manages to get a free hand onto his forehead, and despite years of having to patch up vode on the battlefield, Jango can’t tear his eyes from the blood that bubbles from his nose and drips down his face, staining his hair and making something dislodge in Jango’s chest. 

  “Hey, hey— Kid, hey, you with me?”

  Obi-Wan blinks and his face scrunches, but he can’t seem to focus on Jango as he tries to jerk himself free from Jango’s hand. Holding him down is going against everything Jaster had taught him about shock, but every commando he’s had to treat for it has been unconscious by now, and even when Obi-Wan’s strength gives out, going limp against the floor, he doesn’t pass out, instead staying aware of his own rattling wheezes. 

  His fingers twitch in Jango’s hand, blinking again and jerking under the palm on his forehead; somewhere behind them, a piece of furniture crashes. Jango can’t honestly remember the last time he’d seen Obi-Wan use the Force, for anything: they keep it on the downlow even around the Haat’ade, even with Ruusaan broadcasting her own sensitivity as a point of pride. And Jango has never asked, why Obi-Wan will paint his beskar’gam silver but then refuse to acknowledge his past with the Jedi.

  Something else crashes and Jango winces, moving to try and loosen Obi-Wan’s chestplate one-handed. It’s halfway through the process, with Obi-Wan’s jerking chest even more obvious, that Jango realises he isn’t going to survive it, if Obi-Wan dies like this. Force, he can’t take it if he dies like this.

  The faint hum of a jetpack is the only warning Jango gets before the door to the hut explodes under blasterfire, Ruusaan shouldering through the remains and looking like a vengeful goddess with charred armour and a slice on her cheek. 

  She drops on Obi-Wan’s other side, tossing her rifle away to put one palm over Obi-Wan’s heart, and the other on his right side over his ribs. Jango makes to pull away and let her take over, but as soon as he does, Obi-Wan starts to thrash again, and Ruusaan’s hand flies out to stop Jango.

  “Keep him calm,” she orders, brooking no argument, and Jango listens, grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrists again to settle in for seven of the worst minutes of his life — where Obi-Wan stops breathing entirely on them twice, and Ruusaan growls like a rancor before she manages to inflate both of his lungs properly. 

  Obi-Wan gasps on the sudden ability to inhale, eyes regaining some of their clarity, but he still can’t focus on either of them.

  Ruusaan is unsurprised, grabbing up her rifle to swing the strap back over his shoulder. “How far is the ship?” she demands, and Jango’s been a soldier since he was fourteen, he can fall in and defer to Ruusaan’s command, even accept her lead with relief. 

  “Just over the ridge,” he says, slamming his helmet back on and shouldering Obi-Wan’s blaster as Ruusaan picks him up like he weighs nothing, even in full beskar’gam. Bewildered and a little intimidated, Jango helps put both her and Obi-Wan’s helmets on as well — the dust storm clearly isn’t stopping, and they can’t stay here.

  He grabs Obi-Wan’s chestplate and follows Ruusaan back to their ship, and even though Obi-Wan is unconscious by the time they reach it, Jango is all too thankful to be able to close the hatch behind them. 

  In the medbay, he helps strip Obi-Wan of his armour, and then works on getting the blood off his face enough for a ventilator while Ruusaan rolls Obi-Wan’s flight suit down to his waist so she can get at his ribs.

  Jango can hardly look at him, at the patchwork of darkening lavender bruises and the way his chest scars stand out against his heated skin. Carefully lifting Obi-Wan’s head to slip on the ventilator mask, he wishes he could wash Obi-Wan’s face properly, there’s still so much dried and drying blood under his nose and down his cheeks, and he just wishes he understood what the kark is wrong with him.

  Instead of asking, Jango moves to get the bacta vaporiser set up while Ruusaan goes about checking Obi-Wan’s ribs for breaks. 

  Obi-Wan stirs when Jango is hooking up the second set of tubing to his mask, blinking blearily up at Jango as he freezes above him. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment, until Obi-Wan seems to get his bearings and relaxes under Ruusaan slowly dancing Force healing across his torso.

  Panic lodges in Jango’s throat as Obi-Wan makes several attempts to lift his hand, grunting in frustration. Ruusaan glares, but allows it when he can finally raise a loose fist to Jango’s chest, tapping over his beskar’ta in proxy of his own, thanking Jango like he had actually done anything, and Jango has to lean on the head of the bunk with both hands. 

  “K’atini,” Obi-Wan whispers, voice sounding like it’d gone through a woodchipper, and Jango thinks kriff that, this is worse than pain, and they shouldn’t have to watch this kriffing kid die because of it.

-

Mando’a:  shuk’la buirok — lit. “broken parent bond”, made up term for the real ability for a child to “divorce” their parent, legally labeling them as dar’buir or “no longer a parent”, which i’ve based on the term for spousal divorce shuk’la riduurok. Haat Mando’ade — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e)  beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy gai bal manda — Mando’a adoption ceremony, lit. “name and soul” buir — “parent”, gender neutral  vode — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers” beskar’ta — “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called kar’ta beskar or “heart of the iron”. K'atini — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.”

would gffa’s advanced medicine be able to perform mastectomies without scarring? yes. obi chose to keep his.

[andaxay]

Preservation of Self

My entry for February’s @telltalemonthlychallenge. February’s theme: Black History Month.

Hyperion has been cutthroat since the day she accepted the offer of employment. Yvette does what she thinks she needs to. To thrive. To survive.

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

One last coffee before they left.

Secreted away in a quiet room, away from prying eyes that would question why Vaughn the mild-mannered accountant had an important looking Hyperion briefcase chained to his arm. Best to avoid such questions.

"You're really doing this?" Yvette wrapped one slender leg around the other as she sat, sipping a latte, looking from one best friend to another with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

"Oh, we are doing this," Rhys leaned forward with a smug smile and raised eyebrow. Vaughn rubbed the back of his neck as he stared, wide-eyed, at the table in front of them, perhaps questioning every life decision he'd ever made that had led him to this point. "We are doing this so much. Who else is going to screw over Vasquez?"

"Vasquez is more than capable of screwing himself over, given enough time," Yvette said dryly, folding her arms.

"And how long will that take? Are you willing to wait for years for that to happen?"

"He might get eaten by a skag the second he sets foot on Pandora," Vaughn chimed in, wearing an expression that said 'and the same could happen to us'.

"And he might not," Rhys countered, "in which case, enjoy being middle management saps for the next ten to fifteen years. I, however, am not willing to clean up Vasquez's damn trash three times a day, just so he can drink in how much power he has."

"Fair point," Vaughn conceded and Yvette nodded solemnly.

"Well, then," she said after taking the last sip of her latte, "you have everything you need." She paused, looking at both of them. A twist in her gut. "Good luck. Try not to die - there's an awful lot of paperwork to fill out if you do."

"We'll miss you, too."

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

Vasquez's furious shouting reached Yvette's ears before the man himself stormed into her office. She steeled herself, remaining cool and calm, tapping away at her keyboard as he stalked up to her desk.

"Mr. Vasquez?" Polite, despite her gut curling at the sight of him. Slimeball.

"Yvette!" Vasquez glared down at her, breathing heavily, before he appeared to relax slightly, stepping into the persona he often reserved for buttering up management. "Yvette. Just the lady I was looking for." He stepped around her desk and sat on the edge of it, looming over her. "Urgent business. Confidential, of course. Management... I, need to meet with Rhys. Only he, ah, seems to be difficult to pin down." Vasquez stared down at her, his eyes burning. She stared right back, innocently, collected. "You had lunch together, shared plans for the afternoon..."

"As far as I'm aware, he's working," Yvette offered coolly. "I haven't seen him, or spoken to him, since lunch."

"Oh? Working on his next eridium mining contract? Or, maybe, stealing ten million dollars of Hyperion's money and taking it to a Pandoran named August to buy a Vault Key?" Vasquez folded his arms as he leaned in slightly. Trying to intimidate her. Yvette had dealt with much worse in her time at Hyperion.

"I have never heard of August and, like I said, I assumed Rhys had gone back to work after lunch," Yvette said firmly, "so, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Trying to cover for him? Or, have you washed your hands of him already?" Vasquez leered down at her. "He'll be so happy to hear it when we pick him up and drag his soon-to-be-dead ass into a cell for stealing Hyperion property." He smiled, an ugly, sinister curve of a thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Speaking of which, exactly how did he get hold of the money? He isn't an accountant, doesn't have access to funds. Unless... he had help. If I recall, you're both good friends with the man who just happens to manage valuable Hyperion funds and assets. What was his name again? Vinny? Vance?"

Yvette remained poker-faced, raising her eyebrows slightly, questioningly. A vein in Vasquez's temple was twitching.

"I won't deny that I'm friends with them," she said calmly, sitting back into her chair and folding her arms, "but that's all I can tell you. Whatever this is? You're asking the wrong person."

"Mmm-hmm," Vasquez fixed her with a firm glare. "So, that's how it's going to be. Alright, then." He stood and turned to leave, but paused. "I would think about where your loyalties lie, Yvette. Hyperion can set you up for life." He turned again to face her. She remained impassive. "And it can also end it. We can trace everything. Think about that, while you decide your future."

She only allowed herself to exhale once the heavy blast doors closed behind him. Some chewing of her thumbnail, the only show of anxiety she would allow herself.

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

Rhys and Vaughn had lost the money. They were as good as dead.

Hyperion didn't yet know. It didn't matter. They would.

Rhys and Vaughn would either die on Pandora, or die the minute they stepped foot on Helios.

Climbing the ranks of Hyperion was a colossal challenge that very, very few could ever hope to rise to. The toxic culture, knives in so many backs - sometimes literally. Yvette had dared to hope, when she and Rhys and Vaughn had become friends. One person alone couldn't even begin to chip away at the Hyperion machine, but the three of them, working together?

It was over. It had been silly to think it could have happened in the first place.

Her office phone rang. The caller ID read 'Hugo Vasquez'.

She sighed heavily, then answered it.

"The situation has changed. Meet me in my office. Ten minutes." He hung up before she'd even said a word.

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

"Your involvement in the stealing of ten million dollars can be... erased, Yvette. Nobody higher up needs to know. ID logs can be manipulated. Traces erased."

She folded her arms. "... If?"

Vasquez was the most serious-looking she'd ever seen him.

"I'll be honest. We need the data in Rhys's systems far more than ten million dollars."

Systems. Like Rhys wasn't a walking, living human being.

"Let's just say that Hyperion is willing to pay a lot to recover this data. To the person, or people, responsible for recovering it" Vasquez folded his arms as he leaned against his desk. Behind him, Pandora was framed nicely within the window of his office. What had once been Henderson's office, before he'd been... terminated.

Henderson had been a racist prick, she didn't miss him, mourn him or even feel sorry for him, but it was a nice reminder about what Vasquez was capable of.

"So," Vasquez continued, "you help me, I help you. You track Rhys, keep tabs on his location and give me all of the information you know. And I'll make sure you're not implicated in anything... unsavoury. And, give you a cut of the reward."

Yvette stood, calm on the outside and reeling on the inside.

Her best friends.

Her best friends who were likely dead regardless.

Likely. Ha. They were toast.

Could she live with being an active part in their demise, though?

Vasquez glared, impatient.

"You make a very compelling argument, Vasquez," Yvette plastered a snakelike smile on her face and part of her died within. "You have a deal."

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

She gasped as the cold water she'd scooped and thrown into her face hit her skin. The swanky bathroom of her cushy Helios apartment was dimly lit, but she could still see every feature of her face in the mirror. Every line of the troubled expression marring her features.

Vasquez had gone down to Pandora to find Rhys and Vaughn. On the back of information that she had given to him.

Rhys and Vaughn were going to die anyway.

Assuming Vasquez was successful and brought Rhys, or whatever remained of him, back to Helios. The next steps were glaringly obvious. Vasquez would claim all of the reward for himself. Yvette would be exposed, her role in the disappearance of ten million dollars and two intrepid, naïve Hyperion employees with it, one of whom was hiding some incredibly important program in his head, apparently.

She'd be thrown out of an airlock the second Vasquez stepped back onto Helios.

This was about survival, now.

Yvette had quietly been gathering evidence on Vasquez's involvement in this mess. Bribery, incompetence. She was ready to strike. Ready to claim the reward for herself, to survive something else that Hyperion had to throw at her.

But she had to play along, for now.

Which meant leading Vasquez right to Rhys and Vaughn.

Maybe Vasquez would lose. Maybe her best friends would outsmart him, work their way out and escape into the sunset. Yvette couldn't see it happening. Much as she loved them, they'd be hopeless in any kind of fight-or-flight response.

As much as she had loved them.

Because now she'd struck a deal with the devil and anyone who truly cared for their friends wouldn't serve them to their deaths on a silver platter.

It was them, or her.

Welcome to Hyperion.

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

Vasquez had rolled up in some old, hulking build-it-yourself spaceship that would have looked more at home in a scrapyard and, what was more, had failed to bring Rhys, or any part of him, back with him.

To say Yvette was furious would be an understatement.

She'd stormed into his office, her office, ready to blast him to hell for failing to uphold his part of the deal. Shafting them both, not that she cared about what would happen to him, following his unauthorised trip to Pandora. Without the data in Rhys' system, he was as good as dead anyway.

Something was missing. Vasquez had been unreachable for weeks after landing on Pandora, which had driven her mad. She'd been feeding him information in all that time and he couldn't even be bothered to send her a 'thank you'. But now he was back, something was... off.

Not... not in a bad way, honestly. The malice she normally associated with him was lacking. It was disarming, but Yvette didn't have time or resources to worry about such a thing. What did it matter, in the grand scheme of things?

"You had one job," she spat out, glaring daggers at him. He was... strangely vulnerable?

"I'm on it," he said quietly. "I just need more time."

"Time's up, Vasquez. It's over. I'm calling management."

"Don't," he said, desperate yet calm, collected. "It will only end badly, and not just for me. You think I don't have evidence to back myself up? And so, so much of it points to you, Yvette." Hurt. What a strange thing to witness in his expression.

"Then I guess we're at an impasse." She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I can fix this. I know what to do. To save both our asses."

Yvette remained silent. Like Vasquez cared about what happened to her.

Still, they were stuck. Play along for now, then shaft him later, once she knew what this plan of his was.

"You have the rest of the working day to fix this," Yvette snapped, "and then I'm handing you in. Consequences be damned."

"I don't think you mean that," he said, voice low, almost deadly.

"You don't know anything about me," she countered, equally as deadly. "Get out of my office."

To her enormous surprise, he left.

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

The escape pod rattled unsettlingly as it plummeted to Pandora. Yvette stared, dully, out at the rapidly approaching planet.

She should be dead. Maybe that would have been the better alternative.

Rhys' face as she'd gone for the escape pod... As he'd told her to go to the escape pod.

She'd sold him out and he'd repaid her by saving her life. Essentially sealing his own death warrant as he'd done so. Even after her pathetic attempts at an explanation and apology while she'd been locked in the cell.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists until the nails drew blood. Helios was breaking apart behind her. There was no way he'd survive.

Ha. Hadn't she written him off, anyway?

She didn't deserve a friend like him. She didn't deserve friends at all. Because, as it had become blindly obvious throughout the last few weeks, she was more than willing to sell them out to save her own skin.

Maybe the pod would crash with such a force that she'd be torn apart upon impact.

At least it would put an end to the burning, lead guilt that weighed down every cell in her body.

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

"Thanks, Vaughn."

"Don't mention it."

The emergency blanket felt scratchy against her skin. The soup in the bowl in her lap could barely qualify as 'warm'. It was more than she deserved.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Vaughn stopped in his tracks, turned to face her. Exhausted. Dark circles underlined his eyes and aged him well beyond his twenty-seven years.

"You went through hell, too. I just... want to help."

She didn't know what she could say. Apologies were worthless.

"Eat the soup, Yvette, it will help."

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

"To... surviving."

"I'll drink to that."

"Mmm-hmm."

Three glasses clinked together in the candlelit room, one of the more... intact ones that had mostly survived the fall from orbit.

"I'm so glad you're both ok," Rhys said quietly, staring into his chipped glass filled with an unspecified alcohol.

Yvette stared into her own glass. Both. Even after everything.

"Rhys-"

His head snapped up and mismatched eyes met her own. Alarmed, almost. He knew what was coming.

"Yvette, you don't have to-"

"I do," she said firmly. Vaughn glanced between the two of them. "I'm sorry. I really am." She sighed heavily. "I guess... I was just trying to survive. I was scared." She scratched at the side of her head. A small scar had formed there, a remnant of her crash-landing into Pandora. She felt the smooth texture underneath her finger. "It was a shitty way of doing it. You guys were - are - the best friends I've ever had. I should have done better."

They were both silent for a moment, exchanging glances.

"We've all experienced Hyperion," Vaughn finally chimed in solemnly. "'Surviving' was about all we could do."

Rhys made a noise of agreement. "You think we didn't do terrible things, too?"

"Still..."

"Yvette, it's ok," Rhys smiled at her. "It hurt, at the time. I won't lie. But I also know what it's like to be in fear for your life."

"Yeah. Who at Hyperion didn't do something shitty at some point? It was practically in the job description." Vaughn also smiled.

"I guess we all learned something," Rhys continued quietly and Vaughn nodded in agreement. "But, that's what it's all about, I guess. I think as long as we acknowledge where we go wrong, and do something to be better... No reason we can't be ok, right?"

A weight, a terrible, oppressive weight that she'd carried for so long, now. Some of it eased.

"I'll drink to that," she offered, smiling, and the three clinked their glasses together again.

[little-red-toyota]

Final good bye to the fandom

TW//Trauma, triggers, nsfw, sexual themes, rape, domestic abuse e.g.

This is gonna be a long ass post…

It has taken me a while to get emotionally strong enough to do this, as I will have to think back at some traumatic events from my past to address some of these things. That's why I waited until I got home from vacation with my family, as it will seriously affect my mood and mental health, and I want to be near my doctor and therapist, just in case.

And also, I know that the majority of those reading this will invalidate me and tell me I am making things up to clear my name. So, I literally have to torment myself to write a blog post people will just brush off as bogus anyway. But I will do it now that I am in safe surroundings. Then it will be off my chest, and I can finally move on. If people will continue stirring up the past, it will be their problem, not mine.

I think I should write one last blog post where I address everything. I have left the TTTE-fandom, but I will write that one as my final goodbye to the fandom. I just have to find out everything I've been accused of so I can properly address them all in order. I might leave out details of my life that is too hard for me to open up about. I know most of you will just invalidate me anyway.

1. The Stepney fic and glorifying rape.

2. My mafia-AU.

3. The Darin incident.

4. Being a pedophile. (Where do they get this from anyway??)

5. Running the NSFW-blog.

6. Drawing penises/boobs on trains. Drawing age-regression art.

Is there more?

Ah... yes! Faking my own suicide, of course!

7. "Faking" being suicidal.

8. Having the audacity to survive and go on living.

9. "Making up" my past trauma to justify writing fics to cope with it.

10. Being a nazi for being interested in WW2 history and for being Norwegian and having so-called nazi-letters in my last name (actual letters of the Norwegian alphabet).

11. Putting a white-supremacist flag (the actual flag of Norway) on my porch on family birthdays and our national day.

12. Being a danger to my daughter.

Anything else that needs to be addressed? What else am I being accused of? Send me a dm and I will add it to the post.

 Okay, I will bump the Stepney fic down a bit as it is the most traumatic thing for me to address, I will save that one for last.

2 and 3. The dark au/mafia au where I gave some TTTE characters some rather dark and unpleasant character traits, and the whole incident with Darin and the pedo-Salty was addressed in this blog post written by my husband last year, so I am not opening that can of worms again: https://little-red-toyota.tumblr.com/post/623743183795470336/in-light-of-recent-events

Even the thing about Toby cheating on Henrietta is addressed there.

As for the au, I never fully explored it as I started losing interest in TTTE around the same time. I found other things to enjoy and TTTE faded into the background and the au was dropped before I even wrote any stories, apart from the one about Toby and Henrietta.

Some people claim, like this lovely individual, that most of the characters were rapists and pedos. No, not most. Only one of each. And I did not write more than one story about rape and suicide. Where does this person even get that from? Someone who told someone who had heard from someone who might have heard….?

Don't spread rumors unless you are sure that they are true.

Anyway, it's all addressed in that blog post in that link. I don't see how this mafia au is any worse than other dark post-apocalyptic or violent aus. It mostly was about the diesel mafia and their illegal businesses, not about sex, even if it did occur now and then. I find the substance abuse in it to be more problematic tbh…  

 4. Being a pedophile.

I don't even know how to defend myself against this one, as I don't even know why people think I am pedophile. They only throw the accusation out with no backing evidence, so I have no idea where it comes from or what it is that makes people think I am one.

Apart from one claim that I had faved "porn" alongside "strangers'" baby photos on DA. I addressed that earlier though. As DeviantArt doesn't sort what you click "like" on, it all ends up in the same folder unless you actively go through it and sort it into categories, which I don't bother most of the time. It also doesn't say WHEN it was added to your faves. So, I can have faved an artistic nude on Saturday, and then faved my friend's family photo on Thursday. It's not like I actively search for porn, get all steamed up and then look at pictures of children. WTF.

The few children I have faved are not from complete strangers, but long-term friends of mine. Yes, it is possible to have friends on the same website. I have actually met a lot of my RL friends through DeviantArt. I posted photos of my daughter when she was a baby, they would fave it and congratulate me. So, I did the same when they had a baby. As simple as that. Nothing weird or perverted about it. Due to people doxxing me last year however, I deleted the photos of me, my husband and my daughter from DeviantArt, so it's no longer there.

Porn isn't allowed on DeviantArt anyway. The nudes there are so-called artistic nudes, and for the most part I use them as pose-references when I draw as it is easier to draw a pose using a nude base and then dress them up once you got the pose right.

"The very naked" centaurs I have faved. Well, I like the mythological creature Centaur. And as far as I know… they do not wear clothes, so how are they NOT nude? Look it up, it's a horse body with a human torso instead of horse head. I don't see them as sexual, but what do I know? Maybe YOU do?

I have no sexual interest in children whatsoever.

 5. Running the NSFW-blog on Tumblr and Twitter.

Yes. I was one of six people modding that blog. ONE of six, so I refuse to take the full blame here.

MerciResolution has openly admitted to being the founder, and she recruited me and some others to modify as the confession load became too heavy for one person to handle alone.

The original blog on Tumblr worked as follows: People would anonymously send a confession to our askbox, we would add a picture (sometimes photoshopped) to the text and post it on the blog. Always tagged as NSFW and with proper trigger warnings if necessary! The blog itself was also marked as explicit, so it didn't appear in searches and such.

For us, this blog was nothing but a joke. We did it for shits and giggles. If anyone took it seriously and thought we got off to the stuff that was posted, we apologize for that, but to us it was just for laughs. And we DID laugh a lot, you guys should have seen the weird shit people sent us sometimes!

We had fun and we never thought anyone would take it seriously, so we never thought of writing "joke" in the description or anything. It never occurred to us that it could be anything but a joke.

We also made a Twitter account for it, also locked for minors. But it was quickly hacked, and someone changed the password so we could no longer access it. We made another account and forgot about the old one…

After a while, the original mods started losing interest and the blog (both on Tumblr and Twitter) became less active. That's when a person I had known for years, and wrongfully trusted, came forward and wanted to take over ownership. So, the ownership was handed over to Russalita/Charlie.

That turned out to be huge mistake!

Me and the other mods had more or less forgotten that the blogs existed, when suddenly someone started bashing me and getting up in my arms over it. I got seriously confused as I hadn't been active on it in almost a year. But as it turned out, Russalita had removed the mature filters and made the accounts open for all the see. Even minors.

And as people knew I was one of the mods, they fired their guns at me. I can see why though, so I'm not pointing any fingers here.

I tried contacting her by phone, asking her to lock the accounts again, but she gave me a less than polite response, hung up and then blocked my number…

So, I decided to try to shut the blogs down on my own, trying the old passwords. It worked on the Tumblr-account, and I managed to password protect it, for some reason it couldn't be fully deleted. But the Twitter account had gotten its password changed by Russalita. I was however able to get a new password by logging into the e-mail we had used to create it. I deleted the Twitter blog fully. It can't be re-activated even if we wanted to. It's gone.

But it turns out the old, hacked one is still up and now open for everyone. And this one poses a huge problem as we have no way of getting into it to delete it. Only thing we have been able to do so far is reporting it and hope it will be removed by Twitter. So I only have one thing to say about it: report it.

I am no longer running any NSFW TTTE blog anywhere, nor do I have interest in doing so. So, if you come across one, claiming to be me or any of the other mods, it is false.

 6. Drawing penises/boobs on trains. Drawing age-regression art.

People seem to believe I have drawn genitals on trains. I have never done such. Any art on the NSFW-blog with genitalia on the trains were sent in by confessors and was not drawn by me. Most of them seems to have been drawn by someone who goes by the name "The Lance".

I HAVE drawn things for the NSFW blog, but there were no genitalia in those drawings. I drew Frank of Arlesdale looking grossed out by (I don't know what the part is named in English, but it is connected to the brakes of the engine) that stick-like thing on his bufferbeam being wet from whatever the confessor did to him. I drew an over-exaggerated comical pic of a horrified Peter Sam getting his face licked by his driver, who had an enormous tongue. I also did a couple of manips. Mostly maniping engine faces on humans, like the one where Gordon's face is on a less than fit guy flailing his shirt around, and the Arlesdale smallies' faces on a movie poster from Magic Mike. One with Mr.Conductor in a giant bun while Pinchy is applying ketchup on him, for a confession about eating him, I think?  I've done some more, but I forgot what it was, I only know I loved making them comical rather than erotic, as I saw the blog as a joke overall.

I HAVE also drawn aheago faces on engines because it looks hilarious. Though I have only drawn them on my OCs and the NRS engines, not TTTE characters.

Point is I have never drawn genitalia on trains. Ever. And I likely never will. It's not THAT much fun drawing NSFW stuff.

I see from this screenshot that a certain MK-Instrumentalist claim that all my personal art is age-regression art and infantilism…

Whose art have you been looking at? Because it's definitely not mine. I have drawn a couple of baby/chibi diesels… But claiming that all of my 700 or so artworks are depicting infantilism and age-regression stuff? I suggest people go have a look for themselves. I haven't drawn that. That MK-guy has been desperately trying to cancel me for ages for reasons only himself know. I don't even know the guy, and he doesn't know me, yet he wants to see me beheaded. Go figure.

I was for a long time bothered by some age-regressor on Tumblr who just wouldn't leave me alone with their weird asks, who tried to force themselves on me and some other artists here. They claim age-regression isn't a fetish, but the shit they sent to my askbox certainly looked like a fetish to me.

I don't want anything to do with that stuff. It weirds me out.

And no. I have never drawn pedophilia or rape art either. This guy can't even make up his mind on which one to accuse me of.

 7 and 8. Faking suicide and having the audacity to survive and go on living.

As many know, after the intense shitstorm against me last summer, thanks to Darin, I attempted suicide. I didn't succeed as my husband came home early. I was gone for a few days but returned when a young boy reached out to me for help as he was being groomed and didn't know who else to turn to.

Recently I saw a screenshot where someone claimed me to have faked suicide, and that I just came back after a few days when everything had died down.

Wow.

I am truly sorry I survived.

I don't remember much from those days to be honest, but as the load became too heavy and the bullying too intense, piling up on 30 years of old trauma… I decided to end it. I must warn you guys who might get triggered now; there are detailed descriptions of a suicide attempt. Proceed with caution. People told me I was a bad mother among other things, having had those same thoughts myself (according to my husband, I am a good mom) and people just confirming them, I thought that my daughter would be better off growing up without me. I could have chosen a more effective suicide method, but I was afraid my daughter would be the first to find me, so I wanted it to be clean and look like I was just sleeping. That way it could be explained as natural causes.

So, I decided to overdose on pills. I downed all pills I could find in the house that had a warning triangle on it (strong pain meds etc.) and then went to my computer to delete my online existence, especially the personal data.

As a former paramedic, I should have known better. Because after half an hour, my body started reacting. But not the way I had hoped and wanted. I started retching and almost vomiting. That's when my husband came home from work and found me. He immediately saw the empty packages and knowing my past suicidal tendencies, he reacted instinctively. He put his fingers down my throat and had me puke everything up, then he called an ambulance and had me admitted to the hospital.

I don't remember anything from the days I spent there. But I have been told they emptied my stomach and gave me lots of fluids. I was then assigned a psychiatrist which I am still seeing today.

I was gone for those days because I was in hospital, not because I was pulling some kind of trick and pretending to have ended myself.

So… I am sorry I "faked" my suicide.

I'm sorry my husband saved me. I am sorry the medics and doctors succeeded in saving my life.

I am sorry I survived and proceeded to live on. If I ever make another attempt, I promise to do better.

Why are you guys so persistent in trying to push people to suicide anyway? Do you get a kick out of it? Why do people have to be pushed to that point before you care?

What did we tell our daughter? Simply that I got sick and had to go to the hospital. She took that well.

I've seen a lot of people wonder why I am still around. Why shouldn't I? Does my daughter deserve to lose her mother over some online crap she doesn't even know about? I owe her to live and watch her grow up, to help her with her homework and whatever else a parent needs to do. I also owe my husband to stay by his side, like I promised him the day we got married. Even if I do not wish to live.

I'm sorry I survived, guys. Really, I am.

 9. "Making up" my past trauma to justify writing fics to cope with it. And 1. The Stepney fic and glorifying rape.

 First… why would anyone make up trauma? It's not like it's a competition to have the worst life, is it?

Sadly, I don't have to make up anything. My life HAS been rocky up until the birth of my daughter. I have been through so much trauma I couldn't even fathom it myself before my therapist listed it all up to me. Until then, I had just been casually talking to her about it, like I would talk about the weather. I didn't cry or get in touch with my emotions even once while telling everything, because I was taught from an early age to never complain, to suck it up and go on. So, no matter what people did to me, I would just smile and go on, even if it killed me inside. I did not want to show any sign of weakness, because then they would attack me. A habit I developed through years of being bullied in school. Never show feelings, just pretend nothing could hurt you, then they would eventually grow tired of it and stop.

Except they never did. They kept going through all my years at school. To such an extent, my boyfriend didn't dare to show himself hanging out with me out of fear of being bullied himself… And as we grew older, he would start cheating on me too. And I kept smiling…

My next boyfriend was a bit older than me, and while that didn't bother me, as we were both well over legal age, it bothered him. We only lasted one year before he bailed out and ditched me out of the blue via an sms.

The next guy… was the one who scarred me for life. Both physically and mentally. A charmer at first of course, until I was trapped. He was unemployed, so he moved in with me, and I paid for everything from food to phone bills. All while he was dating several women behind my back, calling various pay-phone services and in general acted like a manwhore. As I worked as an electrician (also being subject to massive bullying and sexual harassment at work), he would be jealous of all my co-workers and if I ever came home late or worked overtime, he accused me of cheating and was extremely violent about it. He would also isolate me from my friends and family, making me think I couldn't get any other than him. If any of my male friends (almost all my friends are male…) came over, he would give me such hell afterwards, it was easier just to tell them it was a bad time to visit. And after a while, they stopped asking. This guy also demanded sex. Every single day. If I refused, he would punish me, mostly by flogging me with lampcords, belts or whatever else he had at hand. My back is a criss cross map of old, faded scars even now nearly 20 years later. I would have shown you a photo, but I am so self-concious about my body after all the bullying, I hardly even show my face in photos. Maybe one day… but I certainly need more therapy before being able to show naked skin to strangers, even if it's just my back. So I had non-consensual sex with him more often than consensual. It has taken me hours in therapy to even take the word in my mouth and call it by its proper name: rape. I was raped, almost every single day for little over a year, before I found the strength to break out of the relationship and finally throw him out of my house. It all ended when I found some revealing texts on his cellphone, which he was extremely protective of… Texts that revealed that he had engaged in a relationship with a 12 year old girl, and it had been going on for a while. Not only was he cheating on me, but he was a pedophile too. Needless to say, I didn't even let him pack his stuff before I fetched my shotgun and chased him out of the house. I don't know where I got the courage and strength from… but I was furious.

I thought I had gotten rid of him, but no. He started stalking me in public. Hiding behind shelves when I was shopping, his car following mine everywhere I went. I received weird letters in the mail with cut-out letters from newspapers, glued together. On top of all, his creepy, old uncle called me with some rather disgusting suggestions and tried to come on to me really hard. I had to change my phone number, and after coming home to my house and finding out someone had entered my home using a key, only to empty the drawer of my night table, I also had to change the locks of my doors as he had clearly copied the key.

He didn't stop until I got the police involved.

So, when I finally met the guy who would become my husband (or rather, we found out we were made for each other, we had known each other since we were 11 years old), I had major trust issues towards men especially and it took him endless patience and love to break me out of that shell.

But the trauma doesn't stop… or start there.

In the year 2000, on January 4th, I would experience something that made me unable to even look at a train for over 10 years. The Åsta accident (google it). I was a volunteer in the Norwegian Red Cross then, and a paramedic in training. Back then, you were allowed to start training the year you would turn 16. So, I was still 15 when I witnessed the most traumatic event of my life. The day started out calm, we were stocking up the ambulance after delivering a patient to the hospital when we got a call with the code "500", which means "catastrophe". Normally when we get that code it is a rehearsal… so we drove towards the coordinates with the thoughts that this was just an exercise, nothing real… we didn't prepare ourselves mentally… And we ended up in the closest thing to hell I have ever been… The sight of the burning trains, the smells, the sounds, the screaming… I still wake up by nightmares to this day. Though the moment that haunts me the most is when the screaming stopped… because we all knew why… I don't want to go into details, but 19 people died that day. But we also saved 67 people. I try to hold on to that thought. The age limit for starting paramedic training was raised after this, as I wasn't the only one who was too young for an accident of that scale. Today it is 18. A memorial stone has been placed on the site, but I still haven't been able to bring myself to visit it, even if we drive past the site every year on our way to visit family further north in the country. I needed hours of therapy to even be able to ride a train after this. To have gotten to the point where I now volunteer at a heritage railway and is in training to become a driver, is a HUGE step for me. My next goal is to visit the site of the accident.

On to next trauma… A previous employer, a rather large electric company in Norway, whom I worked for 8 years. The first five years were great, we were a close-knit bunch of electricians, and we had a great relationship with the bosses and higher-ups. Our labor union was strong.

It all started changing in 2009 when we got new leaders… and those decided to get rid of everyone who were a member of the union. One by one, they started harassing workers in various ways, trying to get them to quit. In Norway, they need a legal reason to fire you, it's not enough to not like someone. There has to be a good reason to fire someone e.g. theft, neglecting work… Since they didn't have any reasons to fire us, they started making our work lives gradually harder and harder until we would break and find another job. Sadly, one of my co-workers couldn't stand the pressure… He bid us all farewell as normal one Friday and hung himself the following day.. But as I was a girl in a male-dominated profession, I had been taught at an early stage to ignore anything that would hurt me emotionally, just arch my neck and plow through. I kept doing that, despite starting to feel more and more mental and physical pains… even my co-workers pointed out how I was being mistreated before I acknowledged it myself. I tried to tell my boss, but he reacted by treating me worse. So, I went to his boss… and that's when things went to hell. Instead of doing his job and listen, he started harassing me too. He deemed my over-weight a problem, and he started demanding I gave him detailed lists of what I ate and how much I worked out… Completely illegal of course, but by this point I was broken down to the point I thought I was useless and couldn't get another job… so I accepted. He started accusing me of lying about my exercise, so I started training at the gym in the basement at work instead. One day, while I was there, he locked the doors and turned the lights off. There were no windows, no cellphone reception and hardly anyone walking by in that part of the building… I sat there in the pitch dark for 3 hours before I was let back out. I still get badly triggered by narrow, dark rooms and rooms with no windows. To such an extent, I jumped out of a small window on the second floor of a gym when I was in boot camp. I was allowed to train downstairs in the bigger gym with windows on all walls after that incident…

The harassment at work went on for years until I finally snapped, ended up at the hospital and got into therapy for the first time. I don't want to go into depth about what more happened, I just can't… I can't bring myself to write it all. Luckily, I had gotten more education while working, so when I graduated, another company called and gave me an offer I just couldn't refuse. So, I quit my job and never looked back, even if the traumas I suffered there still haunts me to this day.

Sadly, even after switching jobs, now getting a safe job with sane leaders… I started to relax, and that's when all my past trauma came washing over me. And one day, on while driving to work, I had my first serious panic attack. It started as this feeling I used to have at the old company; getting sick to my stomach and having the sense of someone being out to get me… then it developed to breathing problems… and I had to pull the car over. I broke into tears, struggling to breathe, stumbling out of the car to read the logo on its side just to reassure my body and brain that I worked for a different company now and there was no reason for panic. I called my boss and let him know, because he also was a "refugee" from that other company, so he knew what me and several others had gone through. He managed to talk me down enough for me to come to the office to talk to him. That helped.

I got back into therapy. A better therapist this time. But sadly, it got apparent that I could no longer work as an electrician as there was too many triggers. I was diagnosed with PTSD, severe depression, and social anxiety. I'm still working on these and get better slowly.

I have been in therapy for a long time now, and it was my therapist that suggested I wrote fics to cope and "write it out". I tried to make up my own characters for this, but never felt any connection. I was by this time in the TTTE fandom and had met people with similar trauma and pasts like myself, and I started roleplaying with some of them. Me and a girl from UK then agreed to try to rp/co-write a fic to cope with our trauma. We both found it easier to write about pre-established characters we had a connection to, even if it was an au that made it barely recognizable from the original source material. Only the names and some minor things were similar.

That fic was Stepney's Virginity Gets Lost.

Do we regret writing it? No. It helped us write out our traumas and helped us overcome some mental obstacles in out therapy process. Our therapists cheering us on, because we finally managed to break through the hard shell surrounding us. We both cried for the first time in years while writing it, some of it through roleplay, because some parts were extremely graphic and brutal and very mentally exhausting. We had to take long breaks between each writing session, so the fic wasn't written in just a weekend. But we got a lot of darkness out of our minds by writing all this. And we were definitely NOT aroused by it, like this pervert here claims.

It's when you dare to touch and feel the difficult and dark emotions, you can finally move along in the grieving process.

Should it have been posted online?

In retrospect, no. But at the time, we thought it might help other trauma victims, as we also found reading about other people's experiences and fictions touching painful subjects helpful to ourselves. So, we posted it, never expecting it to cause such a controversy 3 years later. In fact, we had more or less forgotten about it until it came back to bit us in the ass. Or rather, bite ME in the ass, as I am getting the full blame alone.

Also, despite what people claim, it was not posted openly for children to read. It was tagged properly and hidden behind mature content walls. If a minor chooses to break that wall, that's not the author's fault. It's the same as watching a movie with an age restriction way above your age, not the filmmaker's fault.

I think MerciResolution puts it nicely here:

"If your problem lies with you KNOWINGLY entering adult spaces when you’re a minor, ignoring all mature warnings that are literally SCREAMING at you “hey, this is what you’re getting into. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

That’s ENTIRELY on you. YOU are the fucking problem.

We’re marking mature things as best as we properly can. If you decide to ignore them, that’s your own damn fault. We’re not your fucking babysitters."

Also, I never posted the story on Wattpad, so if anyone has done that, it's not me. I posted the story on Fanfiction.net, DeviantArt and AO3, that's all. If it's posted anywhere else, it's not done by me.

I had honestly moved on from it when people pulled me back into it.

Other people who have done questionable shit in that fandom are easily forgiven because "they have moved on" or "changed". Yet, nobody believes I can move on or change…?

I had moved on; my interests had changed. But people won't let me, so here I am… Having to defend some crap I did years ago. A fic I no longer have any interest in.

I'm not even interested in TTTE anymore. I have moved on with my own book project now and I would like to focus on that.

So, deleting my TTTE content, whether it was the SFW or NSFW stuff, didn't cost me a penny. It actually felt like a relief. The only downside with it is that people now can't read it and make up their own opinion about it, but will solely believe in what others say, and those things are often seriously bent out of shape and blown out of proportions to such an extent it's barely recognizable.

If people claim that Arry and Bert rape Stepney in the fic, they have never seen it or read it. That's not what happens. That's just an assumption made by looking at the title and knowing there is a rape/torture scene in it. But I'm not gonna tell who the victim is or who performed it, because this is the only way I am able to tell who has actually read the fic or not, who is just trying to spread bullshit and who is actually telling the truth. The person in that screenshot, has no idea what he's talking about.

Does SVGL romanticize rape and abuse?

No, not in the least. It's described as the horrible, heinous acts it is and is in no way meant to be cute or romantic and definitely NOT something anyone should get off to. If anyone finds it sexy, that's their problem, not the authors'. If anything, SVGL might romanticize suicide, because one of the characters isn't able to cope with his trauma and chooses to end their life. Which is something I considered doing myself when I was in the darkest pit of depression. So, I apologize for maybe romanticizing suicide. The following chapters describe how friends and family handle the loss and grief.

It also describes a toxic relationship, where one of the parts struggles to get out of it. They eventually manage to break free, but it is not easy. This can easily be translated to my previously mentioned relationship, as it was my way of writing out my experience about how hard it is to break out of a relation when your partner has broken you down to the point where you no longer believe in yourself and your self-worth.

The last chapters start to gradually become brighter, as both our lives started getting better too. But we never really wrote the end because we both lost interest in writing TTTE content by that time and just left it hanging.

I'm not the only one who has written NSFW TTTE fanfics out there. But it seems like violence and murder is more acceptable than sexual things? I do wonder how brutally mutilating children's show characters are more tolerable than sexually abusing them. Neither should be okay.

Some content creators hide behind "it was a joke". I have been told that such topics that SVGL touches upon shouldn't be joked about… so I didn't do that, and yet it was wrong? So how should such topics be treated? Be hidden like it's a shame, like in the old days when rape victims were told to suck things up and keep it to themselves? When those subject to abuse didn't dare to speak up because people would judge them?

I think it is important to talk about these subjects and why they are so problematic. Victims shouldn't have to hide their trauma; they should be allowed to talk openly about it without fearing judgement.

Some of you claim that writing isn't a good way to cope… You're trying to dictate how trauma victims deal with their trauma, and that's a dangerous path to walk down. Nobody handles trauma the same way. You might have your thoughts on how you would react, but you'll never know until trauma hits you… and you might not react the way you had expected or planned. Trauma messes with your head and you won't be able to think clearly. It makes you do thinks you normally wouldn't have done and can make you act out of character. So, do not judge people without having been in the same situation yourself. Ever.

Someone wrote that I have "more problems that just a rape".

Read that again.

Just a rape.

This person does not know how damaging a rape can be. And if you made it this far in this post, you know I didn't only go through one, but several. Not just by my ex, but also being ambushed while I was walking home from a party, and later; a co-worker forcing himself onto me at a building site. I can't go into depth about them all, I just can't.

Just a rape…

"Just" the feeling of not being in control of your own body and your own decisions. "Just" being robbed off your dignity and self-worth. "Just" having someone intrude into your private zone, tear your clothes off and claim your body against your will. "Just" feeling how your life force leave you as you realize that fighting against it won't help you, and you silently give up and just lay down waiting for it all to be over. "Just" spending hours in the shower, scrubbing your skin until you bleed because you can't wash the filth away and you keep feeling dirty no matter how much you clean yourself. "Just" waking up at night, after having relived the scene again in a nightmare. "Just" looking over your shoulder wherever you walk because you heard something or thought you saw something or simply because someone is walking behind you. "Just" the fact that you'll never feel comfortable walking alone at night again or have someone walk behind you. "Just" never being able to relax because your body constantly think you're in grave danger. "Just" a rape…

That's such a neck-beard thing to say. Someone who clearly think of other people's bodies as property or things. Not taking into consideration that we are living, breathing individuals with feelings. And that having another person violate us isn't something we like or that we'll easily get over. We want to choose who we give ourselves to, nobody should be forced. We didn't ask to be raped. We didn't want it. We didn't like it.

Rape is trauma.

Yes, we should have chosen other characters for the story, but we did what we did, and it cannot be undone now. So, if the only thing I will be remembered for in the fandom is that ONE fic, instead of all my other content, that's what it will be. That's what people chose to. I'm moving on.

10. Being a nazi for being interested in WW2 history and for being Norwegian and having so-called nazi-letters in my last name (actual letters of the Norwegian alphabet).

*sigh*

This is something that could only happen in America, isn't it?

Some people don't bother educating themselves. The "nazi-letters" you guys are talking about is actually part of the Norwegian alphabet and has nothing to do with Nazism or white-supremacy to do at all. The Norwegian alphabet has 29 letters, the three extra is æ,ø,å or in capital letters: Æ,Ø,Å.

We can't help it if some morons over in the US abuse these letters as symbol of their twisted mindset.

Yes, my name contains one of those letters. It is my name… and I didn't choose it. It is a common Norwegian name.

As for me being a Nazi?

Those who knows me knows that I am as far from a Nazi as one can get. I despise Nazism with all my heart.

But the reason some people choose to believe so… was that some guy who has no hobbies or life went through every single fave I've made on DeviantArt since I joined the site in 2006, which is well over 20000 faves. And he found a few Nazi-characters from a web series I was following about ten years ago. I am very interested in history and especially WW2-history, so I found that particular web-series interesting and faved some artwork related to it. What this guy failed to notice is that I also faved the Allied characters… That's ALL there is to that story.

I has also faved a pic someone made of Joseph Goebbels (I think it was?) as a Pixar Car. That's not because I have any nazi-sympathies, but I simply found the concept of turning historical persons, both good and bad, into Cars as an interesting project. I would have faved any other historical Carsified person as well.

As for me being a Norwegian and have a natural pale complexion, that's not something I can help. That's nothing I choose. And it doesn't make me racist or Nazi. Period.

11. Putting a white-supremacist flag (the actual flag of Norway) on my porch on family birthdays and our national day.

Again. Get educated.

This flag… is the actual flag of my country. The Kingdom of Norway.

There is nothing Nazi about it. It is not a symbol of white-supremacy. IT IS THE FLAG OF NORWAY.

During WW2 it was even illegal, so people would paint it everywhere in a protest against the Nazi-occpation and the SS. We even decorated our Christmas trees with it, and that is a tradition that has followed us into the modern day.

Again, if some idiots in the US choose to use it as a symbol for their disgusting logic, it is not Norway or the Norwegians' fault.

12. Being a danger to my daughter.

I need people to elaborate here.

What exactly do you think I do to my daughter? What is the cause of your concern here?

The fact that I have made NSFW content? How is that harmful to her as long as I keep it away from her? You DO realize that even authors, pornstars and moviemakers have children and that they can be good parents, right?

Do you think I read pornographic content for her as bedtime stories? Or show her porn instead of kids TV? How sick are you guys, really…?

Some people even wanted CPS to take my child away from me… Have a look at these screenshots…

You want a happy, healthy, innocent child to be taken away from a stable, safe home with loving parents just because you don't like the content the mother made? You want her to be placed in foster care, where there is no guarantee that she will have a happy upbringing rather than have her stay with her parents who love her and care for her, for reasons she'll never understand and wasn't even aware of?

"Think of the children!" a lot of you say when it comes to my content. May I ask why this doesn't apply to my daughter?

Why do some of you go as far as to wishing her dead or wanting her to be removed from the home she feels safe and loved in? How is that thinking of the children?

As for the douchebag in that screenshot. You claim that if your mother did something like that you would want nothing to do with her… I have a question: Do you know EVERYTHING your mother do? Does she include you in each aspect of her life? Even her sexual life? No?

How do you know she doesn't do thing you don't approve of when you're not around? She could be a rabid pornmag reader for all you know. But stuff like that is something adults hide from their kids. So, you wouldn't know, unless you go snooping around in her business.

Everyone is entitled to privacy. What I and my husband do when our kid is not around is our business, not hers, and certainly not yours.

Porn and parenting are to be kept separate from each other. Period.

And we do.

There is absolutely no reason to be worried about my daughter. She is a happy, healthy child in a safe, stable home with family that loves her and cares for her. Not just me and my husband, but also grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

If you want to remove her from that over a stupid fanfic behind a mature content wall, you're the deranged person, not me.

 This is all I have to say about all this and my time in the TTTE fandom. I have left by my own, free will. Yes, I am aware that many people don't want me there. That's fine. I don't want to be there.

I am a bit disappointed in those people who just blindly unfollowed me and unfriended me without any questions asked, just followed the leader. Big users tend to dictate who and what is worth following in that fandom. They will even protect real predators, but I'm not going to open that can of worms now. I'm done with the fandom.

Some of those people, I have been talking to regularly, even supported when they faced hardships in the fandom themselves. But when I got in trouble, they ditched me without a word…

If anything, this whole ordeal showed me who to trust and not, and who were true to their word when it came to how deep our friendship was. True friends at least give you the chance to explain before they drop you. I hold no ill feelings to those who did, at least they asked me before judging.

And those who still stayed with me, are the ones who truly know me and who I really am.

Some of the worst libels posted about me might be reported to the police, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I am not mentally strong at the moment, so I don't know if I have the strength to legally follow it all up. I will ask the cops at work for advice on the matter.

All I ask for now is some peace.

You don't have to like me. You don't have to follow me. You don't have to like my content. Feel free to invalidate me, I know a lot of you will.

But please, stop bullying me and my family.

Please stop sending me horrid messages and death threats.

Please stop doxxing me and calling me.

Please leave my family alone. If you don't care about me, at least care about them.

Please just ignore me. I have already left the fandom, there is no reason to keep hunting me.

I just want to move on and go on with my life and the content I am currently working on. After years in therapy, my life has gotten better, and I want to move on.

Please let me.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Steve Rogers x Reader: The Nutcracker (AU) Part 2

Log cabins came into view.  Steve led you to a particularly large on.  Despite being covered in snow, you could make out the word “inn” on the hanging sign out front.  Steve opened the door and stepped aside so you could trudge in first. 

   Warmth surrounded you as you entered, and you almost wanted to cry. There was a cozy fire in a stone fireplace just as you had imagined.  There were several vintage chairs with floral-patterned cloth perched around it.  A woman from behind the counter approached.

   “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, concern etched on her face.  She was wearing an old brown dress with a tan apron - sort of like a maid- and had a bonnet over her red hair.  Despite this garb, when you looked up at her face, you recognized her.  She looked over at your traveling companion.  

   “What did you do, Steve?”

   “Well, Nat, it’s a long story…” He sighed.  “The Mouse King found me, and there wasn’t much I could do to leave her out of it.  We were transported back to the Kingdom miles away from any shelter.”

   “Who is she anyway?” Natasha, also known by many as Black Widow, asked. She knelt down to help remove your icy slippers.

   “She lives in the Other Place.”

   “Wow, I know you were on the run, but I didn’t think you’d go that far,” Natasha said.  “Anyway,” she looked at you.  “You don’t have to worry.  You’re safe here.”

   “Thank you,” you replied with a smile.

   Natasha had a few other ladies who presumably worked at the inn run and fetch some dry clothes and some tea while she led you upstairs to a room where you could change.  Before long, you were given a cozy nightgown and shawl and a new pair of slippers.

   “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable by the fire,” Natasha told you. “Someone will be by with tea.”

   “Thank you so much,” you replied.  “Is there anything I can do?  To pay you back?”

   She cracked a smile.  “Pay us back? Absolutely not.  Anything for a friend of the rightful princ-”

   Suddenly, Steven coughed quite loudly.  You and Natasha looked at him, and he coughed again, but seemed to be giving Natasha a look.  You had no idea what was going on, but you elected to ignore it.

   You took a seat in one of the chairs near the fire.  There were no other guests around, probably since it was so late.  You were sort of glad to be able to enjoy the fire without weird stares.  Another woman wearing the same uniform as Natasha came over with a cup of tea.

   “Thank you,” you told her gratefully.  Oh my cannoli, she looked like Shield Agent Maria Hill.  

   “No problem,” she replied.

   The teacup was very charming with lovely flowers along the outside.  It was the ultimate cozy scene, and you could even glance out the window and see the blizzard roaring outside in the dark.

   Steve and Natasha were talking in hushed voices near the front counter.  A small part of you was curious about all the secrecy, but you figured this was Natasha Romanoff.  She wasn’t exactly Nick Fury, but you were sure her secrets have secrets.  The other part of you didn’t care at all; you just wanted sleep.  It had been quite a night.  You set the cup of tea down beside the chair and curled up with your blanket and shawl.

    “___________.”

   Someone was talking to you… But ugh, you were so tired.

   “____________, you have to get up.”  It was Steve.  You opened your eyes, blinking from the bright sunlight, and saw your nutcracker standing in front of you with one of his wooden hands on your shoulder.

   Oh, so none of that craziness last night was a dream after all.

   “What?” you yawned.  “What’s going on?”

   “The Mouse King and his minions are on their way.  They’ll be here any minute.  You and I need to hide.”  He took your hand and helped you to your feet.  “If he finds us here, we’ll be arrested on the spot.  And trust me, we do not want to be arrested by this guy.”

   “You don’t have to tell me twice.”  You yawned again.

   Natasha hurried over.  “We’ve got a place for you to hide.  If you’re quiet enough, they won’t find you.”

   “Thanks, Nat. I’m sorry about this…”

   “Shut your star-spangled mouth, Steve.  We’ll always be here for you no matter what.  Now, hurry up and hide.”  She pulled back the boards on the one wall to reveal a compartment.  It might be close quarters, but it would fit you and Steve.

   “Ladies first,” Steve said.  

   “Ever the gentleman,” you joked, climbing in.  You squeezed against the side as much as you could to make room for the nutcracker.  He got in, and Natasha put the boards back in place, leaving you in darkness.  “Well, this is cozy.”

   Despite the tense situation, Steve chuckled.  “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

   “Oh yes, it’s always been my dream to be squished in a secret compartment fearing for my life.”

   At that, Steve went quiet.

   “Hey,” you nudged him, to no avail since he was made of wood.  “It’s alright, really.”

  ��“No, it’s not,” he said.  “It seems wherever I go, I bring danger.  It’s why I ran away from the kingdom in the first place.  I went so far where I thought no one would find me.  But somehow after meeting you I ended up back here again.”

   “Oh, well, I’m sorry.”  His comment sort of stung.  It made you feel that you were the reason this happened.  You were just minding your own business at your grandparents’ house until he stumbled in your life!  “Why did you rescue me, then? If it was going to be a big problem?”

   “I didn’t mean it like that, __________.”

   “Well, it kind of sounded like it.”

   Steve grew quiet again, and you wondered if the two of you would speak again for a while.  This was quite a side of Captain America and his character…how troubled he was in his concern for others and how his actions affect them.

   “I rescued you for a few reasons,” he spoke up.  “One; because I couldn’t let the Mouse King hurt anyone. And two; there’s just something special about you.”

   You wanted to laugh.  “Me? Special?”

   “Yes,” Steve looked at you.  “Remember when your brother broke me?  When he told you he’d replace me, you said that you don’t give up on people just because they’re broken? That was the most beautiful thing I’ve heard.”

   Your cheeks grew warm.  “You heard all that?”

   Steve chuckled softly.  “Yes.”

   “All of it?”

   “Yep.  Apparently you think I’m hot?”

   “Oh my gosh…I wish I was invisible right now.”

   Just then, there was a sound of someone shushing you from the inn lobby. Most likely Natasha.  How convenient for you.

   “He’s here,” she said quietly.

   The front door flew open violently, and chitauri let out screeches as they entered.  The footsteps of the Mouse King were last to enter.

   “Greetings,” he said.  “Have any of you fine citizens seen a nutcracker and a woman come through here?”

   “No,” Natasha replied calmly.  “Nothing like that around here, unless you mean that nutcracker over on the shelf.”

   There was as sly chuckle.  “I suppose you think you’re very amusing.  Well, unfortunately, I am not in the gaming mood.  This is the town closest from where the nutcracker and girl were transported.  They’d have to be quite unintelligent not to have come here.”

   “Nutcrackers are made of wood.  I’m sure he was lacking a brain,” Natasha shot back.  “Because we haven’t seen anyone with that description. Right, Maria?”

   “That’s right.”

   It grew silent for a few, and then there was the sound of wood being broken. Glass shattered.  Books fell off a shelf.  

   The chitauri were tearing the place apart, probably looking for you and Steve.  You had to keep from crying out when a chitauri broke something near the secret compartment.  Steve could probably tell because he put an arm around you.  Fortunately, none of them found the compartment in the wall.

   In fact, it wasn’t too long after the chitauri searched upstairs that they left. The Mouse King bid the ladies good day and left the place a wreck.  Natasha opened up the boards so you and Steve could climb out shortly after.

   “That was messed up.”  You shook your head.  “I’m sorry about the inn, Natasha.”

   “It’s alright,” she commented with a smirk.  “It was getting pretty boring around here anyway.  I’m just glad The Mouse King didn’t recognize any of us.”

   “Recognize you?” you repeated.

   “Indeed,” a new voice joined the conversation.  There he was.  The big guy himself.  Nick Fury. “Things would have gotten….interesting, to say the least.”

   “Wait, what’s going on?” you asked.  “I feel like I’m missing something.”

   “___________, this is Fury,” Steve informed.  “He is Captain of the elite force known as Shield.  It’s his job, and all of these fine ladies and gentleman who you’ve seen around the inn, to guard the, uh Prince.”

   “Since the Mouse King took over, we had to go into hiding.  I became owner of this inn to help him go into hiding,” Fury explained, gesturing to Steve.  “And we provide assistance to anyone who resists the Mouse King’s rule.”

   “Wow, that’s just…wow.  I’m officially amazed.”  

   Fury folded his arms, turning to the nutcracker.  “So, your highne-”

   “Steve.”

   “Steve,” Fury echoed with a touch of sass.  “What brings you back to the Royal Garden Inn?”

   “Well, I had a run-in with the Mouse King.  __________ here helped me, and the Mouse King shrunk her down from her normal size.  I brought her here to find the Sugarplum Princess who will change her back, and maybe change me back from a nutcracker.”

   “The Sugarplum Princess?” Fury echoed, raising a brow.  To be completely honest, it was hilarious to hear Fury say that.   “The Sugarplum Princess is said to be a myth,” he continued, so serious.  You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh, and he looked at you with his one good eye.  “Something funny?”

   “No, Sir.  Please continue.”

   “Anyway, the Sugarplum Princess is a myth, but if she did exist, our records indicate she’d be on an island across the frozen lake.  It’s quite a journey.  Not to mention you are on the Mouse King’s ‘most wanted’ list.”

   “I know, but what choice do I have?” Steve questioned.  “__________ and I can’t stay like this forever.  She belongs at home with her family.  She can’t do that if she’s not even a foot tall in her world.”

   “Understood.”  Fury nodded. “We can give you some supplies, and I’ll send one of my best with you.  Romanoff?  You up for a mission to find some Sugarplum chick who may not exist?”

   Natasha shrugged.  “Sure thing.”

   “Then it’s settled.  Hill, make the preparations.”

   Maria nodded and hurried away.  

PART 3

[rainofaugustsith]

Rain Plays SWTOR: Surviving Toxic Players

One of the good things about SWTOR is that it is an MMO, and offers possibilities for players who want to interact with others.  One of the bad things about SWTOR is that it is an MMO, and some of the other players can be extremely toxic.  Whether it’s verbal abuse on the Fleet, or someone being a ‘ninja’ and stealing your objectives from under your nose, toxic players are no fun to deal with. Here are some tips on trying to make your experience as non-toxic as possible. 

Guard your screen names.   I have encountered people who have casually asked for my screen names and servers. You do not - do NOT - have to give your characters' names to anyone you don't want to. You do not have to play with anyone you don't want to. And if someone finds you in game and you feel creeped out, you have every right to block them.

Do Instanced Heroics and Flashpoints.   A lot of heroics are entirely or mostly instanced - that is, behind a green barrier that is your space and your space alone. You are the only player in your instance unless you actively invite someone else in with you. Flashpoints are always your own instance as well. If you are getting frustrated by other players or just want to play alone they're good options. There is a list of entirely instanced heroics here: http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=856069   Get a stronghold.   Even if you put nothing in your stronghold but a mailbox and a Legacy hold, it can be a nice place to take a breather without worrying about other players. The Dromund Kaas and Corsucant strongholds run 5000 credits each so they should be doable for you. You can also add a lot of the Fleet perks and services to your ship by buying those decorations - everything from an appearance modification station to the Jawa scrap vendors.    Put everything on your ship.   Your ship comes with a cargo hold. You can also buy access to a mailbox, Legacy hold, guild hold, GTN terminal, repair droid, practice dummies, and modification station. Once you buy these perks they are there for all your toons. IMHO they are invaluable, especially during the class story when you spend a lot of time on your ship. Buy these, along with the 40,000 credit perk that allows you to teleport to your ship instantly (click on the ship on the lower left of your galaxy map) and you won't have to be on the Fleet as much.

Get the Objectives First.   So. You’re questing. You walk into an area, clear the NPCs and then click the thing you need, right? Not unless the area is instanced. One of the most frustrating toxic player behaviors comes from those who deliberately grab your objectives from under your nose.  Keep in mind that this can be accidental - in a lot of open world areas there are a lot of quests happening at once, and someone might not even know you need the blue clickable thing 10 meters from your toon. On the other hand there are players who will literally race you when they see you’re going to click the thing, so it’s not always an accident.    If you're questing in an open world area, grab the objective as soon as you get to it, if you can. This may mean you take a little damage, but if your companion is leveled high enough, they should be able to help you stay alive and defend you while you're doing this.

Beware of followers.   So there's another player who seems to be keeping pace with you. When you stop, they stop. They may have put their toon on follow. The modus operandi is that they'll follow you, let you do all the work, and then jump in to click the objectives first.   If another player has you on /follow you can do one of two things: either leave, or get them to leave. You can log out, change instances, stand there and do crew missions until they give up, run in circles, use any toys you have, or simply press x and have your character sit down.   Don't help.   So you jump into a mob, and someone leaps ahead of you. Suddenly all the NPCs are grey.   It's entirely possible that this is an accident - you didn't see another player coming, it's happened to all of us - but I've also seen players deliberately, repeatedly jump in front of other players on every mob. Your companion will still try to help them if you've attacked, so put them on passive, pull them back and walk away. Do not help someone who is grabbing your mobs.   Switch Instances.

Open your map. Look on the lower right hand side and you can see how many instances of a current planet are open. If the instance you are in has a lot of troublemakers, switch to a different one. Be careful about NOT switching into a PvP instance. They are marked, and those are the places other players can kill your toon, so if you are looking to avoid trouble, don't go there. 

  Turn off duel invites.   Click on Preferences. Go to the "social" tab. Turning off the duel invite option will mean that other players can't bother you by requesting duels again and again. 

  Ignore the high level players on starter worlds.   Unfortunately it's pretty common to find high level players congregating in common areas on the starter planets, bothering lowbies who are just starting new characters. They may duel spam you, try to get you into their guilds, try to rope you into ERP (erotic role play) or kill NPCs you need. Ignore them. Keep walking. There's nothing they can do to you. You do not need to commit to a guild when you're a Level 3.   Be wary of guild invites.   There are a lot of very good guilds out there...and some bad ones, too. You will get a lot of unsolicited guild invites. You do not have to feel pressured to join any of them. If you don't want to join a guild at all, that's cool. If you do, you can get to know other players and see which one feels right to you.   Don't fall for referral deals.   Another common scam for newbies is that someone will offer you millions of credits to click their referral link. So you do, and...suddenly they are ignoring you and there are no credits in your mailbox. It happens all the time.   If you want to use a referral link, use one from a player you trust. A lot of the SWTOR guides and websites' creators have referral links; using their links is a nice way to thank them for the game help and info.   Turn off the chat channels.   Go to the top left, where your chat box is. Left click. You should get a drop down with "chat settings" as an option. Click. You can turn off every single chat channel if you so wish. This will prevent you from a) hearing garbage other players say and b) stop other players from verbally harassing you. Some people keep the whisper and group channels open, as well as those providing system information and conversation captions, and turn off the others.   In particular general chat (gen chat) can be brutally awful, and closing it IMHO is not a loss.

Screenshot, block, report.   If someone has targeted you with abusive language on a chat channel or is griefing you in the game, you can report them. Take a screenshot. Put the person on ignore by typing /ignore player'sname in your chat box. Then report them. If you are F2P or Preferred you will need to email the support team at support@swtor.com. If you are a Subscriber you can use the in-game support system to send a report.

Don't take it to heart.   Dealing with Players Behaving Badly can be as frustrating as dealing with bad drivers in traffic - but getting mad won't change anything. Use as many tools as you can to avoid the worst of the worst, and be part of the solution by being a polite and considerate player yourself.

[saokpe]

HDLW Sibling Week 2020 - Day 2: Pillow Fort

More siblings! I’ve always wanted to write a political drama, glad I was able to fit it in. Enjoy!

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

Comfortable Negotiations

The synchronized steps, bouncing across the overwhelmingly muffled walls of the McDuck Manor, follow the figures of an arrogantly joyful Louie Duck and a stoically serious Huey Duck. Their trenches lead them to one of the few areas of the house yet to fall victim to the rampant colonialism these shrewd visionaries spear head, a solitary wooden desk, two equally simple chairs stationed on both sides. They take their seats.

“Hubert Duck, President of Pillowvile.” The hoodie wearing triplet acknowledges. 

“Llewellyn Duck, holder of the title of Current and Forever After Ruler of Cushion Island.” Huey responds. “How have you and your partner’s endeavours fared following your sudden departure from Pillowvile? A severing I did very little to oppose, might I add.”

  “Yes, very little.” Louie’s previous smile turns into an almost sarcastic imitation of thoughtfulness. “Well it seems that my business partner’s ingenuity and my business savviness has brought us quite a bit of success, as clear when you compare our charts here.” The confidence oozing duck raises both his arms to reveal two staunchly different pieces of cardboard. Both demonstrated crudely drawn line charts, one with an elegant example of calligraphy spelling out Cushion Island while the other, spelling Pillowvile, could be described as anything but. The former diagram demonstrated a staunch uptick following a point labelled “When we got smarter and left Pillowvile.” The former followed a similar pattern, the line taking a steep dive after a period called “Our smarter halves leave Pillowvile.”

“Uhm…” The self-appointed president of Pillowvile attempts to assess the borderline illegible data. “Very… interesting. But, you can’t run a country like a business dear sibling of mine, way more goes into it.”

“Yet you’ve called ME to discuss negotiations.”

Huey bites his lip, the concise retort robbing him of his high ground. “Well, I wanted to talk to both of Cushion Island’s political powers, yet I see only one.”

“You seem one partner short as well.” Louie correctly assesses. 

“Dewford had other businesses to attend to.”

“I’m sure he does.” A grin carves itself forcefully onto a self-assured Louie. “So what did you want to discuss?”

“Well I thought-”

“Pfft- Sorry I just can’t keep it a secret!” The previously reserved negotiator bursts, his body slamming and rolling as his lung expands into a chuckle, “We caught Dewey sneaking through our blueprints, Webby’s currently trying to get a confession from him. I was supposed to lead you on for a cooler reveal but it’s just TOO funny!” He continues between his glee infused snorts.

“Oh…” Huey attempts to speak, left paralyzed in his brothers all consuming laughter.

.

.

.

.

“You better start talking unless you want to go on another trip into Mr. Cuddles’s play place!” A high pitched demand pierces. 

Dewey hung from a collection of patched together blankets, one end tied tightly on his ankle and the other on the insurmountably tall ceiling of this pillow comprised room. Poorly lit and suffocatingly warm and dry, the restrained friend cackles and hacks, coughing wildly as the rope pulled tighter on his body. His feathers filled with lint and tangled plushies, all courtesy of the deep and dark alleyways of the play place. A pool of dolls and toys which hide their bloodlust in their disarmingly soft fur.

“NO! NO! PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO MR. CUDDLES ANYMORE!” The prisoner whines wildly. 

“Are you sure? Cause he sure wants to talk to you!” Webby, her expression contorted with malice, drops her prey closer to the pit. 

“I’LL TALK, I’LL TALK, PLEASE JUST DON’T DROP ME ANY CLOSER!”

For a second the tensed and thick air is complemented with horrid silence. But slowly and surely the rope is reeled back higher. 

“Man I’m good at this job.” Webby congratulates herself.

In between his terrified gasps for air, Dewey is able to speak, “I don’t remember exactly what I came here to do, but if you give me my phone I can read off what Huey wanted me to do.”

“Hmm…” The prison guard contemplates the statement a bit longer. “Yeah that seems believable. Here you go.” The girl chipperly walks to the hanging duck, allowing him to clutch the device before retreating. 

“Thanks.” Still hanging upside down, Dewford lets the bright light of his electronic’s screen envelop him, slamming his finger across it until opening the previous chat log he had shared with Huey. He scans through it, reading the last message. “Did u find the weak point? Waiting for your signal” Dewey sighs as the options placed before him thin out. Without thinking, the cornered duck types as fast and haphazardly as someone could, sending the following message: “THE STRINGS BEEN TIED, DO IT, DO IT!” Just as his thumb forces send, his body clutches, his eyes slamming shut waiting for the sudden impacts and his inevitable fall into the pit. Instead, the shime of a new message received echoes.

“What was that?” Webby notices, a particular doll turning in her hand, causing the tied duck to flinch.

Panic stabs through the already hindered operative, his eyes darting to the message which oh so terribly inconvenienced him. “You’re still inside, the plan was for you to escape.” 

“It looks like you DO want to spend more time with Mr. Cuddles!” The threat curses with the power of a million witches.

“DO IT NOW, JUST DO IT NOW!” The message sends in the moment of panic, his finger pushing over the final button just as it’s stolen from his hand by a ravenous Webbigail. 

A moment of anticipation follows as the messages are read back to Webby’s unknowing eyes. Them widening in horror as the realization washes her.

“You deal with him Mr. Cuddles! I have to go!” She hardly finishes her sentences as her feet trail off.

“NO! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM!”

.

.

.

.

.

A notification rings across Huey’s phone, his body still stunned from the sudden reveal his youngest triplet cast over him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to replicate Cushion Island, it’s perhaps the most perfect pillow fort ever created.” Another, of the plentiful, boasts Louie has thrown in the last couple minutes. “I mean look at it.” He directs attention behind him, walls upon walls of multi-colored furniture and cushions hoard the view. The wooden walls that previously housed now rest infected by the stuffing of these misused decorations. 

During the monologue, Huey lends a peek at the message Dewey had left for him. Dread befalls the brother, all of his soul used to avoid any sorrow. “You’re the bravest man I know, Dewford.” He whispers.

“What was that?”

Hubert readies his left arm, an arm which had yet to be seen by anyone since arrival. He sighs. “You say that Cushion Island is perfect?”

“As perfect as they come… why?” The creeping suspicion the question arises prevents any hubris.

“I ask because you and Webby actually left your blueprints back in Pillowville, and I wouldn’t really call it perfect.”

The snarky response Louie had planned catches itself at his throat, a worried gulp tossing it back under.

“There was a little design flaw I doubt you knew about in your infrastructure. Poor Webby had a tall order building the whole pillow fort by herself. Especially when you left such a glaring issue in the foundation. All of Cushion Island is being supported by a single sofa cushion.” Huey raises his right hand, revealing a beautifully drawn blueprint, a red circle signalling the sad truth that, yes, one cushion balanced the whole country wide fort. “You’re a shrewd businessman, sure, but when it comes to ruling a country…” Huey finally raises the elusive left hand, clutched between his fingers was the end of an elongated piece of string. “-you need a little bit more.”

A combination of shock and hatred form in the previously egocentric Llewellyn, that manic gaze following the string which, as he feared, led directly into his beautiful Cushion Island. Additionally, as he stares bitterly to the entrance of his magnum opus, the distant figure of his business partner runs frantically towards him. Her arms flail as she attempts to catch the attention of Louie, who already knew it was too late. 

“FOR PILLOWVILLE!” Huey screeches as he pulls the string, the movement creating an orchestra of falling pillows and walls. Destruction as far as the eye could see, pain resonating in the echoing screams of those that lived in its warm housing. A domino effect of crumbling dreams and desires. As the final blanket floats over, Louie crumbles to his knees. 

Pity does enter the victor’s heart, his body moving in satisfied strides towards his grovelling competitor. Huey lays his hand over his fallen brethren. “May this be a warning to all others who dare defy the power of Pillowville.”

Louie stares back towards him before solemnly returning his view to the ground that used to house his home. “I spent my whole allowance building that.”

“In war we all lose.”

Huey’s illustrious Pilloville was soon discredited and destroyed as punishment for its president’s multiple breaches of the Geneva Conventions. 

 His second in command, Dewey Duck, was eventually found retreating in the remains of Cushion Island, hiding in the rubble. When asked on the matter, the former ruler informed our reporter that he was fleeing from one “Mr. Cuddles.” This figure has yet to be found.

When asked about the demolition of what he had previously called “the love of his life,” Louie inquired “The what?”

 Webbigail, the labeled business partner of Llewellyn Duck, has since been spotted waterboarding various stuffed animals. Some theorize she is training for something bigger.