#and/or running into the arms of ip laws

[rollercoasterwords]

like. i still wouldn't want someone to copy and paste my fics into a large language model like chatgpt but it's not so much bc i'm worried abt my work being stolen (seems unlikely that an LLM would spit back out my exact words considering how it works, and even if it did, i doubt any individual would be able to like. publish and profit from those words, based on the nebulous status of copyright law when it comes to LLMs like chatgpt. and having my words fed into the LLM really isn't going to make much of a difference when it comes to corporations profiting off the tool in the first place; plus in instances of corporate exploitation i think there are more effective ways to organize than like...arguing for strengthened ip laws or trying to like make ip laws for fanfiction spaces). it's more because i'm wary of what that says about how a person is like...approaching my fic specifically + fanfiction more broadly. in two main ways:

1. i think it is just. basic respect to check with a writer before u take their work off ao3(or whatever fanfic-specific place it's been shared) and put it somewhere else. and like, this applies to lots of things outside chatgpt--reposting fics to other sites, posting them on goodreads/storygraph, printing + binding fics, etc. if u are treating fanfic writers as people who u are in community with, who are generously sharing a gift with u, then it seems like basic kindness to check in and see if they're alright with u taking that fic outside the space it was posted to do something else with it.

with chatgpt and similar LLMs specifically, a lot of people are wary because there's still so much unsettled in regards to how copyright laws might shake out, and most people (myself included) are unsure of how/whether our writing/data might be stored and used by these corporations that own the LLMs. i don't think ai itself is something that should be mythologized as like ontologically evil technology, but anytime a corporation is introducing us to new tech like this we need to be wary of where it's coming from and how it could be used--people have already pointed out a lot of very serious issues with the way this technology is being developed and how it could/likely will be/already is being used exploitatively--which, again, is more a matter of organizing against corporations than railing against ai tech itself, but is still a valid reason for writers (again, myself included) to be wary of having their work fed to LLMs without permission.

and like. sure, u don't have to care abt writers' feelings + boundaries and can just take their stories and do whatever u want with them. but to me that says u aren't treating fanfic as a community space, but rather a content farm in which fics are products that u are entitled to do whatever u want with. and i just think that's shitty! and if that's how ur treating fanfic then i'd rather not have u reading my fic at all

2. i honestly think it's a strange way to engage w storytelling by treating endings this way. like. story endings are usually v important + intentional, and can completely change the entire tone, themes, messages, etc of a story. i understand going to the writer and asking them abt what they had in mind for the story ending if ur looking for closure, and i understand imagining ur own story ending or even writing ur own ending to an unfinished story. what i don't understand is plugging a story into chatgpt and having it spit an ending out for u.

and like. maybe this is bc we've all been calling these LLMs ai, which evokes an impression of like. a sentient robot creating something. but that's not what these programs do! the first article i linked explains how they actually work really well, but essentially--chatgpt and similar LLMs cannot create new ideas. they can't take a story and synthesize its themes or pick apart its tone to then come up with an original idea for an ending. at the same time, they aren't just plagiarism machines that are ripping text directly from other writers and spitting it back out.

instead (to my understanding), what they're doing is compressing vast amounts of information by running statisical analyses to just save the most common trends, patterns, recurring info, etc, and then plugging that in to fill the gaps. it looks like it's writing something new, but it's essentially just paraphrasing already-existing information pulled from the internet. so i'd imagine that if u fed an ai a fic and said "write an ending," the ai would basically compare the fic to whatever similar stories it has saved and then spit out an ending that is most commonly found on the internet for that type of story. [not an expert here tho--this is just my best guess based on the bit of research i've done].

my point is--you won't be getting a new ending inspired directly by the story u put in. you'll be getting a paraphrased version of the most commonly recurring type of ending for similar stories on the web. and i just....don't see how that would be satisfying in any way. it seems, again, like a way in which someone would be approaching fic like a product, something that needs to be finished + complete bc ur entitled to it, rather than viewing fic as a piece of art with its own unique themes, message, and story that can't just be plugged into a one-size-fits-most ending generator. and like, i'm trying to avoid mysticizing writing as some sort of ethereal art form that would be blasphemously degraded by having someone plug in a shitty ending paraphrased from a conglomeration of various similar stories--i don't think someone creating a shitty ending for a story is like. a horrible evil thing. but i can understand where the satisfaction is coming from if you're writing your own shitty ending, where you get to come up with where u think the story would go + where u get to synthesize the themes u picked up on etc. but ai isn't even doing that--so again, i don't understand where the satisfaction is coming from aside from just going "well every story i read needs to be finished," which. makes me wary bc it just feels like a completely different way to approach stories and storytelling than i would hope to find in fanfic spaces, one that treats fic less as a creative place to explore and more as a transactional space where u are entitled to products.

anyway. feel like my thoughts + feelings abt ai keep changing the more i learn abt it + i'm sure they could change again, but rn my impression of this whole situation is like. i find the fact that some people are plugging fics into LLMs less concerning re: ip + ownership rights, and i don't think it's useful to exaggerate or mythologize abt what ai actually does (i think even calling it ai has kind of misled a lot of people, myself included). what concerns me more is that plugging fics into LLMs to write endings feels symptomatic of a broader culture in which people treat fanfic as an informal profit economy in which fics are product or content that a consumer-audience is entitled to, and i think that sort of approach leads to a whole plethora of other issues + makes fandom a more hostile space.

#hopefully this makes. sense #i am not a fan of most of the uses of ai/LLMs that i've seen #but i also am concerned that much of the backlash against it seems to be defaulting to this position of either #mysticizing writing in reactionary ways #and/or running into the arms of ip laws #which are a tool of capitalism and shouldn't be trusted any more than the corporations who profit from + exploit them!! #definitely feel like there are issues w plugging fics into LLMs without permission and would not want anyone to do that w my writing #but. moreso bc i don't want my writing being treated like content for consumption y’know #anyway the articles i linked esp the first and third r really good...highly encourage reading them #ranting and raving #txt

[essektheylyss]

Because of today's appendices I want to know what IP law looks like in the Trust. It's gotta be convoluted as fuck. There is no way Maximilian Loxlee built a monopolistic empire on lightbulbs without the most legalese bullshit of a patent law protecting him. This society runs on intricate bureaucracy and deified individualism. I wanna know if Loxlee's strong-arming of IP protections makes Disney look like ye olde upstart press baron.

#the fact that Stancetrance's full tagline is printed on this receipt implies that this full phrase is the TRADEMARK #midst podcast #midst spoilers #(adjacent anyway) #midst meta

[sanjuwrites]

wip wednesday

IM BACK! i have been gone for a hot minute because my life caught on actual fire, but im back and better than ever baby <3

to make up for it, i'm posting two different snippets from two different fics, one firstprince and one tarlos! enjoy! thanks to @alrightbuckaroo, @birdclowns, and @inflarescent for the tag!

agent reyes

TK greets him in the morning with a cup of coffee. 

The cup is made to perfection, and Carlos is seriously starting to doubt how much Paul is really involved in TK’s agenda here. 

Carlos murmurs a quiet thank you instead of screaming like he really wants to and approaches Marjan, who’s in a hoodie with the hood up, furiously typing. 

“Marj, have you even slept today?” 

“No sleep when we have a crime syndicate to take down.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, “but I have access to information that the CIA has spent years compiling. Why are you botheri- oh.”

Marjan flips her laptop around and Carlos is startled to find a clone of Sean Cunningham’s l staring back at him. “Marjan, what the fuck? How the hell did you – what?”

“Turns out Cunningham’s lackeys are kind of idiots because the video was sent from Cunningham’s main compound, where he stays. Really, the asshole apparently hasn’t ever heard of a firewall–”

Paul, who’s wandered over, interrupts her. “Marj, get to the point. You do this every time.”

Marjan rolls her eyes but continues. “I traced IP addresses back from the ransom video that was sent to TK’s email address and from there I hacked into his Wi-Fi connection–”

“Marjan, I don’t think any of the intel departments at Langley can do this.” Carlos is staring at her in awe.

She smirks at him, before continuing. “You fools need to stop interrupting me. Anyway, I just hacked through the four laptops hooked up to the Wi-Fi connection until I figured out which one was his. Voila!”

Carlos ducks down, pressing a palm flat to the table as he scrolls through the laptop. “Marjan, this is insane – we have data here that I could only dream of having.”

Marjan smiles tiredly, sipping at the mug of coffee Nancy hands her. “Babe, I think coffee is the last thing I need right now, but thank you. I love you very much,” she says while pressing the mug into Paul’s hands, “but Paul and Carlos are going to play now. We,” Marjan says, pulling Nancy close, “are going to go to bed now. ” Judd whistles from where he is in the kitchen, drawing a laugh out of everyone in the room. 

Nancy wraps her arms around Marjan in reply, “You heard her, gentlemen. I will be taking my girlfriend to bed now, and I expect no interruptions. My girlfriend needs her beauty sleep. It’s decaf, by the way!” she says, her voice faraway now.

alex runs for congress

“Politics hasn’t been my dream for almost twelve years, sweetheart,” Alex says softly, not really making eye contact with Henry.

“Alex, I know what happened with Richards and the emails was brutal, but we have nothing holding us back like that anymore and –”

“It’s not Richards, Hen, it’s you.”

That stops Henry cold, and he looks at Alex, mouth open in shock. “What do you mean?” Alex stays quiet, and Henry pushes further. “Alex, what do you mean?”

Alex continues to avoid eye contact with Henry as he starts talking again. “That night I came to Kensington Palace, you told me you wouldn’t trade one prison for another. You’re barely free from the Crown, Henry, and I don’t want to drag you into the circus of American politics, not when you hated being in the public eye so much, to the point that it almost cost me you. I refuse to let anything cost me you again, so I put all my dreams in a little box and locked it away, because I would rather live a quiet life with you and immigration law than a loud one alone in Congress. I was wine drunk at one of Mom’s fundraisers when I was talking to Erica about wanting to flip Texas again, and I didn’t think it would ever really come up again.”

Henry doesn’t answer, grabbing Alex’s face between his hands and pressing a featherlight kiss to his lips before resting their foreheads together. “Love, I didn’t realize you had that in the back of your mind, and that this was what is stopping you from entering politics. Listen to me,” he says, moving them so he’s looking at Alex eye to eye, “nothing is going to stop me from spending the rest of my goddamn life with you. You could lose your job, become a house husband, or go on to become the president of the United States, and I would not care.” Henry takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “Do you want this, Alex? Like without the influence of anything else, deep down, do you want this? Do you want to run?”

i'm gonna tag @carlos-in-glasses, @catanisspicy, @theghostofashton, @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, @paperstorm, @bonheur-cafe, @chaotictarlos and @lightningboltreader!

#sanjuwrites #agent reyes 👀 #sanjuwrites rwrb

[vonpharma]

w[h]ip wednesday!

i had a 3 day breakdown about how slow i am writing these sicktember fills but i think i'm fine now. here's some from my day 4! wheeeeeeee god i hope i finish in time.

here's nick and maya

“Hey,” says Phoenix, angling around the side of his computer monitor to stare at her, “what’s your problem?”

Smooth.

Maya turns her head like she’s moving through wet cement, big brown eyes looking less like they belong on a girl and more like they belong on a baby seal. 

“My life is over.”

“Has your life been over all day?” Phoenix asks. “Or just since we got back to the office?”

“I was distracted earlier,” Maya says, voice small, “but it’s too quiet in here. I can hear my thoughts now.”

“Bummer.” Phoenix rolls away from his desk awkwardly, an honest attempt to be a little physically closer to her. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“You don’t wanna hear it.” Maya looks away. “You always cover your ears whenever I bring it up.”

“Oh.” He lays his arms lazily atop his thighs, averting his eyes in tandem. “Girl problems?”

Maya makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a dying animal.

“Franziska problems?”

She turns toward the backrest of the couch, nestling her face firmly in the space where it meets the cushions. There’s a bit of a tug in Phoenix’s heart, like he’s somehow let her down. 

“Maya, you know I’m just playing around when I give you shit, right? If you need a shoulder to cry on, I can… uh… well, I’ve—I’ve got shoulders?”

She turns back around, pouting. Her hair’s a mess from a long day of investigation, windblown and wild on the back of his bike. Flyaways creep out of her beads and topknot, making her look more than a little haggard. 

“Aw, c’mon, Nick, what do you know about women?”

“I know women!” His brow scrunches defensively. “I’ve been known to dabble. In dating a woman or two.”

“Yeah, how’d that work out for you?”

“I’m on hiatus.” He waves a hand. “It’s a personal choice.”

“Uh huh.” Maya sits up, then, unintentionally mirroring him. Looking down, she fiddles with the tail of her obi’s bow. “I don’t know. I thought I had such mad game, but I think I fucked up somehow.”

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?” says Phoenix. “Did you and Franziska have a fight, or?”

“I wish!” She looks directly at him, now. “Everything was going great, Nick! We went on that picnic at the lake. Looked at the cherry blossoms. I got to listen to her talk about dorky shit for hours! We made fun of Edgeworth! She picked a bunch of petals out of my hair and was blushing the whole time! I was gonna ask if I could kiss her but I got distracted by a dog! And then she also got distracted by the dog! And then we pet the dog! Did you know she’s allergic to dogs? It’s really cute, actually, she—”

“Maya,” Phoenix interrupts, snapping his fingers erratically, “focus.”

“I thought I was charming the pants offa her,” Maya whines. “I was for sure gonna try and make it official next time I saw her, but…”

“But what?”

“She just completely iced me out!” It’s subtle, but Phoenix sees the beginnings of tears start to well in Maya’s eyes. She fights with all she is to let annoyance take their place. “Like, did you notice that? I kept trying to chat her up at investigation today, and every time she just avoided me like the plague!”

“Huh,” Phoenix says, straightening up a bit as he leans back in his desk chair, “yeah, that was weird. D’you think it was because you were with me? Franziska’s not exactly fond of me.”

Maya shakes her head. “I snuck off and caught her alone. She made up some excuse about running behind schedule and just… dipped on me.”

“How do you know she made it up?”

“Because it’s Franziska!” Maya throws a hand up in exasperation. “She doesn’t do behind schedule. Twenty bucks, she’s never been late for anything in her life.”

Leaning her head back against the couch, Maya casts her gaze skyward, toward the high, tiled ceilings and their buzzy fluorescents. The dust that’s gathered on the vents is suddenly the most interesting thing in the whole law firm. 

“This sucks, Nick,” she says, voice wavering. “I like her so much, and I know she likes me too. I keep replaying everything in my head wondering what I could’ve done or said wrong.”

Unconsciously, Phoenix finds himself mirroring her—spine straight, back against the chair. He’s got one palm at his chin, though, eyes elsewhere as he’s deep in thought. 

“That doesn’t add up,” he says after a moment’s pause. “Franziska isn’t… avoidant, at all. She usually speaks her mind pretty freely, yeah?”

“That’s what’s got me worried,” Maya looks back to him. “Like, how badly did I fuck up that she’s acting this out of character about it?”

“I think there’s probably just something we’re missing here,” Phoenix carries on, brow still knit tight as he considers variables and ideas. “Maybe I can get her to talk to you.”

“You’d do that for me?” Maya jolts forward suddenly to stand, the beads around her neck clinking together with a pleasant discordance. “Even though she’s probably gonna attack you?”

“It’s Franziska. She’s gonna attack me anyways. Might as well get something worthwhile out of it.”

“Oh, Nick, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” 

Phoenix is a hair’s breadth away from getting knocked out of his chair when Maya launches herself at him like a missile. It teeters backwards ominously before crashing back down, and he doesn’t have the time to thank any various deities for allowing him to live, because then he’s in one of Maya’s world-renowned death-grip bearhugs. She hugs like she’s on a mission to squeeze the air from his lungs, not helped at all by the fact that he’s got a mouthful of her hair as well. Wheezing, Phoenix makes a half-hearted attempt to hug her back.

After what feels like forever, she loosens around him a touch, pulls back and sniffles away what were almost tears. Phoenix takes a nice, big, beautiful gulp of air and swipes his fingers messily through his hair. 

“Hey, um…” Maya says as he’s fixing himself up. “Is it okay if I sit tomorrow out? I can do paperwork or take calls or whatever you need, I just… don’t feel like I’ll be much help in court tomorrow.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles. “I’m sure I can handle a trial or two without you there to periodically kick me under the bench.”

“You gotta, like, stub your toe a couple times in my honour, okay?” Maya puts her hands on her hips. “Can’t have you getting cocky.”

“I’m already gonna be covered in twice as many welts as usual.” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, when you and Franziska get married or whatever, do you think you can convince her to invest in a stim toy instead of maiming me in a court of law?”

“Guess that depends on if you’re successful tomorrow!” Maya places a hand on her hip, grinning with her teeth. “Knock ‘em dead, Nick. And thanks.”

“‘Course,” he says. “Can’t have my best employee working with a broken heart.”

#wip wednesday #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #my writing #nickandmaya #aa

[sapphixxx]

I think the way that people think about intellectual property and copyright really betrays a lack of understanding and imagination for both the society we live in and a better society that I should think we would be hoping to create. Specifically, the argument around IP and copyright for most well-meaning people centers on the desire to see creative and inventive people be compensated for the work that they put in. When things get slightly less abstract they will often act more specifically on the desire that authors and workers in industries such as film and television be able to have a living wage, under the supposition that piracy undermines the profit made by their endeavors and therefore threatens their livelihood. This is a relatively straightforward and intuitive set of assumptions that are internally consistent. Internally consistent it may be though, it does not really hold up to scrutiny within real world contexts where IP and copyright have overwhelmingly not only failed to benefit authors or workers, but have been used against them in countless ways to undermine both their artistic agency and basic economic livelihood. Additionally, 30 years of living in the internet era, several decades of home taping prior, and centuries of public libraries and used bookstores should speak to the overwhelming lack of threat that piracy poses (remember after all, publishing industries DO regard libraries and home taping or even just content sharing with friends with equal hostility). all of this is well trodden ground, I have said nothing new in this summary.

⚠️ HOWEVER ⚠️

this is typically where the conversation ends, running around in circles until the heat death of the universe. Do people consider what it is they are truly talking about, though. That is to say, something very fundamental is being taken for granted here as an immutable fact of the universe tantamount to natural law like gravity or thermodynamics. that thing, the very thing they are arguing about, is the livelihood of artists and workers as defined by their wages. Again, this seems entirely reasonable and intuitive, after all, you need money to live ergo artists and workers should receive money to do the aforementioned living. But it is at this point that we must recognize that this in itself is an abstraction that has to be understood on a more complex and complete level for the conversation to ever hope to go anywhere.

so we must ask then, what is meant by a livable wage, or economic survival more broadly? Thankfully that question is quite simple. Because it simply means asking, where do those wages go? And the answer is, primarily they go towards keeping roofs overhead, beds to sleep in, mouths fed, water, electric, heat, phone, internet, and all other bills paid, transportation, healthcare expenses, taking a trip to the beach, and laughing with friends. So long as the conversation remains solely on the arms race between workers being paid enough to keep up with all the ever more egregious ways capitalists will find to squeeze the money right back out of them it will be a conversation that fails to achieve its goals no matter how straightforward and simple it seems. The only way out of this sisyphian cycle is for all of those things that wages go towards being guaranteed regardless of wage. There is no model of Byzantine mechanism that rewards some calculation of sales or views or other measure of audience engagement with an equivalent payment to artists and workers that will guarantee their livelihood-- and even if one existed it would immediately be circumvented in enumerable ways owing to the fact that capitalists pay entire armies of people whose sole job is to find loopholes and exceptions and vagaries in language that will allow them to circumvent them.

it is this dynamic that illustrates the way in which in a capitalist society law is controlled by capital. Even with no explicit lobbying involved capitalists can simply pour however much money it takes to get a million monkeys at a million typewriters to generate for them an entirely legal reason that any law that is meant to compel them to do anything (such as paying artists and workers) does not actually apply to them. Artists and workers are too busy making art and doing work to act as a similarly vast number of monkeys with typewriters, and as such, fights such as these cannot be gainfully fought solely in the realm of laws which compel capitalists to pay you x amount under y conditions. The rise of replacing employees with contractors who have no rights, the proliferation of shell companies that can be folded as soon as production is over thus erasing any legal obligation towards artists or workers, not to mention the countless methods of accounting trickery that allow companies to claim they made no money despite millions of sales should clue you into this.

The only way this fight can be won is for the necessities of livelihood to be guaranteed with no exception, with no requirements based on approval by this or that capitalist. We have observed this in healthcare--tying healthcare to employment only serves to let capitalists threaten you by withholding it. If they must provide it upon you working a certain number of hours they will employ you for exactly 1 hour less than that. The same is true with all things because the logic remains consistent. They want to save money and maintain authority, regardless of the matter at hand. This, by the way, is also what is meant by the dictatorship of capital. Just as healthcare needs to be a universal guaranteed right, so too does housing, food, water, transportation, and, in a world where phones and internet are a necessity, they must be guaranteed too, in all instances, regardless of context, whether you think any particular individual deserves it or not.

for artists to be able to make a living making art the only true prerequisite is that they are guaranteed by human rights everything it takes to live. Ergo, healthcare, housing, public transportation, food, water and all these other things being a universally guaranteed right is defacto the primary necessity to fight for in the fight for the rights and lives of artists, not IP or copyright.

#op

[birtikendrajituniversity]

Exploring the Top Fields in Law: Where Legal Minds Thrive

Introduction:

The field of law is vast and diverse, offering a plethora of opportunities for legal professionals to specialize and excel. From criminal justice to corporate law, the legal landscape is rich with avenues that cater to various interests and expertise. In this blog, we'll delve into some of the top fields in law, shedding light on their importance, challenges, and potential career paths.

Corporate Law:

Corporate law deals with the legal aspects of running a business entity. This field encompasses a wide range of issues, including corporate governance, mergers and acquisitions, contracts, compliance, and intellectual property rights. Corporate lawyers play a crucial role in advising businesses on legal matters, ensuring compliance with regulations, and facilitating transactions. With the global economy becoming increasingly complex, the demand for skilled corporate lawyers continues to grow, making it one of the most sought-after fields in law.

Criminal Law:

Criminal law focuses on crimes and their prosecution. Criminal lawyers, also known as defense attorneys or prosecutors, represent individuals accused of committing criminal offenses or the state in prosecuting those accused. This field requires a deep understanding of criminal statutes, procedures, and constitutional rights. Criminal lawyers often work in high-stakes environments, handling cases ranging from minor misdemeanors to serious felonies. The challenges and rewards of criminal law make it an exciting and impactful area of legal practice.

Environmental Law:

Environmental law addresses legal issues related to the protection and preservation of the environment. This field encompasses a wide range of topics, including pollution control, natural resource management, land use planning, and climate change mitigation. Environmental lawyers work with government agencies, non-profit organizations, and private entities to ensure compliance with environmental regulations and advocate for sustainable practices. As concerns about environmental degradation continue to escalate, the demand for environmental lawyers is expected to rise, making it a promising field for those passionate about environmental stewardship.

Intellectual Property Law:

Intellectual property (IP) law deals with the legal protection of intangible assets such as patents, trademarks, copyrights, and trade secrets. IP lawyers help individuals and businesses safeguard their creative and innovative works, navigate licensing agreements, and enforce their intellectual property rights. In today's knowledge-based economy, intellectual property has become increasingly valuable, driving the demand for skilled IP lawyers who can provide strategic counsel and protection.

International Law:

International law governs relations between states, international organizations, and individuals across borders. This field encompasses a wide range of legal issues, including diplomatic relations, human rights, trade agreements, and armed conflict. International lawyers play a critical role in negotiating treaties, resolving disputes, and upholding principles of international justice and cooperation. With globalization blurring the boundaries between nations, the importance of international law has never been greater, making it a dynamic and intellectually stimulating field for legal practitioners.

Conclusion:

The field of law offers a diverse array of specialties, each presenting unique challenges and opportunities for legal professionals. Whether you're drawn to the intricacies of corporate transactions, the pursuit of justice in criminal cases, or the protection of the environment and intellectual property, there's a niche within the legal profession that aligns with your interests and skills. By exploring these top fields in law, aspiring lawyers can gain insights into the various career paths available to them and chart a course toward a fulfilling and impactful legal career.

[athomewiththecicadas]

Run my mouth? Yeah, I can run my mouth for $10,000-$20,000.

Well, and then again it makes sense. If they were just going to break the law because they won't pay, then it also makes sense to assume they would exploit entitlements.

You're talking an entire establishment. And so you're talking your own rank. And Senior NCO's struggle with this, which ever rank they are in.

And it boils down to Intellectual Properties, and an NCO's ability to de-enumerate an establishment that effects your mind.

And so with technology, you're talking about the "State of our minds."

And your financials have to be as strong as your technology.

And so, for an NCO, you're no longer talking about technology development being the fastest thing with all the features, you're talking about risks you find in nature, and I'm looking for tools that will help me, and I couldn't care less about advertising about it.

----------

Well, I can see there still a lot of questioning about what is okay to talk about without stepping on anybody's toes.

So, when consumer tech companies are designing their products, you have to understand that they have to use a fabless company to line up their specs, with their business.

Okay, the Cortex A5 was designed in house. And since the A5 was completely original, it wasn't compared to another technology. And just like you just ask a software company to sell you an engineering service for cheap dollars, the A5 microscript is completely original and was done in-house.

So, with all of the royalty rights gossip out of the way, you're never going to "have" ARM regarding the topic, and stupid.

But, contrary to the market, the A5 has enough cache to run the "microscript."

After that, name brands use their own aftermarket RAM and harddrive.

Well, there was UNIX, and that stripped down to Lenix. But with ARMs inhouse design for a new microscript, the new original microscript is 2/3 the size of Lenix.

Now, when cutting IP, you have to consider that the A5, is already a 1/3 faster, because it doesn't have to work.

Now, the Execution Side is basically your front side Bus speed. The instruction side is not the same size as the 32bit execution side.........

...... Okay, so, speed is settled. ARM takes this one step further, and offers NEON, which is a large portion of technical interface for Consumer OS, to provide a service to smooth technical questioning. And that's before it goes back out.

As far as durability, when cutting IP you already added 4-9x, but with NEON, you doubled that. So, the processor never left the 1990's, even today. Which raises the question about redundancy protections, for "industrial" applications.

TSMC uses Gallium Arsinide, which was never that durable before the A5.

A consumer product is only going to need from an engineering perspective, a Cortex A5. All of your AI tokens are just cataloged, and they are very small.

Okay, Embedded Intellect is allowing consumer technology companies to personalize their processor, with their proprietary software code.

MESP allows tech companies to "manage" their aftermarket hardware, without confusing the processor.

And after talking about material sciences, tech companies are now offered IP through their fabless, predesigns that have already cut out real world performance requirements.

#Youtube

[governmentagencynews]

HOUSTON — A Galveston-area man was sentenced Oct. 26 to more than 14 years in federal prison for receiving and possessing child pornography following an investigation by Homeland Security Investigations (HSI) Galveston and the Houston Metro Internet Crimes Against Children (ICAC) Task Force.Richard Blake Howard, a 28-year-old resident of Dickinson, Texas, was sentenced in the Southern District of Texas to 174 and 120 months for the receipt and possession of child pornography convictions, respectively. The two sentences will run concurrently for a total of 174 months in prison. Howard will further be ordered to pay restitution to the victims in an amount to be determined later and will serve 15 years on supervised release following completion of his prison term. During that time, he will have to comply with numerous requirements designed to restrict his access to children and the internet. Howard will also be ordered to register as a sex offender. Howard pleaded guilty to the charges Feb. 16. In December 2018, authorities began an investigation after receiving a cyber tip from a cloud storage company. They determined Howard’s location based on the IP address he used to receive and distribute child pornography to several storage accounts. Law enforcement executed a search warrant at Howard’s residence and seized laptop computers and cell phones. A search of his electronic devices revealed he received and distributed child pornography via his cloud storage accounts. Further investigation showed he received images from a particular website that is known by authorities to be a platform for child pornography. Howard possessed approximately 973 images of prepubescent minors, bondage and bestiality involving minors engaging in sexually explicit conduct. He also had 1,203 videos with some over five minutes in length. At the hearing, the court heard additional information that Howard was not deterred even after law enforcement executed a search warrant at his residence in March 2019, seized his electronic devices and arrested him on an unrelated state warrant. The court then heard how Howard continued to receive, distribute and view child pornography using his Xbox until law enforcement executed a second search warrant in February 2021. The court also heard how Howard had a collection of children’s panties that he would steal from when he babysat young children. The court heard how Howard morphed images to create his own child pornography and took candid photos of women’s buttocks. Howard will remain in custody pending transfer to a U.S Bureau of Prisons facility in the near future. Assistant U.S. Attorneys Sherri L. Zack and Kimberly A. Leo prosecuted the case. HSI is the principal investigative arm of DHS, responsible for investigating transnational crime and threats, specifically those criminal organizations that exploit the global infrastructure through which international trade, travel, and finance move. HSI’s workforce of over 10,400 employees consists of more than 6,800 special agents assigned to 225 cities throughout the United States, and 93 overseas locations in 56 countries. HSI’s international presence represents DHS’s largest investigative law enforcement presence abroad and one of the largest international footprints in U.S. law enforcement. For more news and information on HSI’s efforts to aggressively investigate child exploitation and keep Southeast Texas communities safe from child predators follow us on Twitter @HSIHouston.

[fairlyspnfanfic]

A New Start - Part 3

Part One   Part Two

@vicmc624​ @waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @carissime72​  @deans-baby-momma​  @formulafun​  @woodworthti666​  @yetanotherreader​ @crashlyrose​ @hobby27​  @gabby913​  @jxackles​ @polina-93​ @supernaturaladdictsblog

Forty-eight. In just six months, forty-eight children missing.  And only two had been recovered.  The pit in my stomach grew with each missing person’s poster I viewed.  With each desperate parent’s plea that I read and every news report that came up, each ending the same way.  No leads, and a search party being called to a halt.  

I had been researching for hours, long into the night and well into the morning, and my eyes were beginning to cross in the light emanating from the computer screen.  My knees strained as I stood up, stretching my arms up above my head.  I walked over to the closet next to my bed and pulled out my nicest suit. A high-waisted black pencil skirt accompanied by a stark black blazer over a pressed turquoise V-neck blouse. I threw it on, casually gathering my hair up into a clip, trying my hand at a messy bun.  “Good enough.”  

In my nightstand drawer was a mahogany box with a portrait of an elephant carved into the top of it. I opened it quickly and grabbed the wallet on the top of the stack of wallets. Flipping it open, I confirmed that it was the FBI badge that I had used so often years ago.  It had been lying dormant since then, collecting dust in the box, unused.  I hadn’t even given it another though until the disappearances had become so very prevalent.  Dean had argued with me so forcefully while we took the photo for it.  Not wanting me to have it at all. “You’re not coming, you don’t need it.” I heard his voice saying all over again. “Stay here, where it’s safe.  You’re just gonna get hurt.” I shook my head.  “What do you need that for anyway? Stay here. Keep digging. Let us know what you find. Stick to what you’re good at. Leave the hunting to us. Please, Y/N.” I took a deep breath and walked over to my shoe rack, grabbed my sensible heels and slipped them on.  

It wasn’t long before I was down the stairs and in my car on my way to the police department two towns over, an endless list of questions running through my head. By the time I was opening the door and asking for the lead detective, I was in full FBI Agent mode and ready to go as if no time had passed at all.

“Detective Stehlen?” He nodded. “I’m Agent Stark. It seems you have a bit of a problem here.  Forty-eight missing persons.  All children. Where are you at with the investigation?”  I flashed my badge quickly but made no offer to shake his hand or exchange any pleasantries. His eyes darted around the room, seemingly desperate for a senior officer to bail him out of the predicament he found himself.  

“We…Well we don’t have…See there’s not much to go on here Agent Stark.” The words tumbled from his mouth as he squirmed.  He nervously ran his hands through his spiky brown hair. “There’s no leads, no evidence. They just disappear. No trace.”  

“Uh huh.” I took a step closer to him. “I’m going to need a list of all of the families.  Parents, their contact information, addresses. Everything you’ve got.  The bureau’s taking this over.” At that, the detective seemed to become indignant, his fragile manhood threatened by his job being insulted.

“Hold on, you can’t just swoop in here. This is my case. It’s still an open investigation and I’m leading it. Nobody’s taking-“

“Stehlen, you’ve had six months and all you’ve managed to do is lose more children. You’re lucky you still have your badge.” My voice rose with as much authority as possible. I paused momentarily to let my threat sink in. “The bureau is taking this case over.  I am taking it over.  You’re out. If you interfere or involve yourself in any way, I will make absolutely certain that you never work in law enforcement again in any capacity.  You won’t even be able to serve coffee to beat cops.  Is that understood?”  His eyes were wide, a gazelle trapped in the sights of a lion ready to pounce.

“Of course, Agent Stark. Not a problem. I’ll get you the information and all the files right away.”  

“Thank you Stehlen. Very kind of you.”  My voice softened as I smiled at him.  He scurried back to his desk, collecting manila file after manila file.  It took about half an hour for him to bring all the paperwork to me and get me set up in a private room so that I could peruse it all. There were hours of information in front of me.  Days even. I set to it right away.

All the children ranged from 9 to 17 years old.  They didn’t attend the same school.  They didn’t live in the same neighborhood. Their parents didn’t work in the same offices, and they didn’t seem to have any interactions with each other.  Nothing tied them together.  Nothing that I could see in all the paperwork spilled before me. “Start at the beginning” I could hear Sam telling me as if he were standing right next to me.  I picked up the file for the first child that had gone missing.  A girl. Lorali. Age 12. She had gone to the park down the street from her house and didn’t come back when she had promised to.  Her parents hadn’t heard from her since.

I glanced up at the clock.  It was nine-fifteen in the morning.  More than a decent hour to start contacting people.  

Five hours and more than ten families later, my mind was on hyperdrive.  I’d found it.  The link. I knew what brought them all together. All ten of the families I’d seen, the first ten kids that went missing, had all been active on a new social media site called Tracked.  They posted videos, chatted with each other, exchanged information.  All without their parents consent or knowledge of course. But they all had accounts.  And they’d all been chatting with the same person the day of their disappearance.  Each of them had been setting up meetings with them when they were taken.  One or two, I could’ve chalked up to be a coincidence.  But ten?  I knew I had it.  “I’ve got you now, Serenader64.”

A quick IP trace, a few firewall hacks, a tiny DNS hijack, and I had not only shut down his access without him knowing it, but I had his exact location at every given second. And no matter what sort of monster he was, this would be the last day he drew breath.

I grabbed my blazer off the back of my chair and slipped my arms into the sleeves. “Stehlen!” I yelled. He came flying into the room.  “Yes?” His dejected answer thrilled me.

“I’m running out.  I think I’ve got a good handle on these.  They can be put away now.  I’ve got a hunch.  Going to go investigate it.”

I left the department and headed for my car.  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and looked at the map; a flashing blue light indicated where the creature was. I pointed my convertible towards it and drove. It was only about twenty miles. So close.  I held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, this monster was keeping the kids alive somewhere.  “I so need this to be a win.”  

“You have reached your destination.” The voice on my phone rang out as I drove passed the driveway of a large but very bright Mediterranean style home.  “This can’t be right,” I said to myself as I put the car in park and turned off the engine.  The walkway to the door was well landscaped and the solar powered lights were off.  I could feel the gun tucked into the back of my waistband and the smaller knife that I had strapped to my hip pressing into my skin, as if trying to warn me. Slowly, I brought my hand up to ring the doorbell.

When the door opened, the man starring back at me looked to be no more than 35.  His hair was brown and cut military style.  Short, and clean around the ears.  No facial hair to speak of and his brown eyes lit up when his kind and welcoming smile presented itself. “Hello there. Can I help you?”

“Good morning, sir.  I’m Agent Stark, with the FBI.” I flashed my badge again.  “I’m investigating a few cases of missing children in town-“

“Horrible thing, missing kids.  Seem to be a lot lately.  Anything I can help with?” His voice was sincere, and his face went from happy and pleasant to intent and focused, as he waved me in the door, and I followed him into the foyer.

“Possibly, sir.  The bureau’s been doing our normal investigating and it seems that some of the missing children had been communicating with someone in your home using an app called Tracked.  Do you know anything about that?”

“Tracked? No, I don’t know about anything like that.” The words came from his mouth, but his eyes seemed stunned.  I watched his pupils seem to dilate, almost as if they were panicked.  “Are you certain you have the correct address?”

“Unfortunately, we’re very certain, Mr.?  I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get your name.”

“Sean.  Sean Smythe.”

“Well, Mr. Smythe, as I said, we’re very certain.  Is there anyone else in the home who may have access to a cell phone or computer? Anyone else who may have been communicating through the app?” I asked, already on guard.  

He shook his head. “No, just me, myself and I here.”

I glanced around the foyer. “Do you mind if I take a look around?  Standard procedure you understand.”

He put his hand up and stepped in front of me. “Actually,” he tensed up. “I’m in the middle of something just now.  It would really be better if you came back later. This evening perhaps?”

I eyed him suspiciously. “I’ll just be a moment.” I pushed through his arm and made my way into the living room.  A standard couch, loveseat and chair setup with a grand piano in the corner.  No TV. Just passed that was the kitchen.  Large and full of dishes, both clean and dirty, with milk jugs and cereal boxes strewn about the counter tops.  There was a door just to the right.  I reached for the knob to open it.

“I’d really rather you didn’t, Agent.” Mr. Smythe’s voice was louder and all pretenses of politeness held within it were now gone.  I grabbed the knob and began to turn.

“Fuck,” his voice screamed. I felt a hard and swift knock to my head and my vision went black.

Part 4

#dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader insert #oneshot #spn imagine #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #castiel #supernatural

[sockablock]

(i just finished watching Gentleman Jack and then my keyboard slipped)

- - -

“—bad idea.”

“What?!”

“I said, this is a bad idea! Miss Lionett—”

“Gods above, Caleb, don’t call me that! We’ve had this conversation a million times, now. It’s just Beau. And shut up, I’m about to win.”

“Ha! No she ain’t.” The lumbering flesh-wall of a man opposing them leaned across the table. Clutched between his meaty hands were three battered playing cards. “Little Missy, you should quit while you still can.”

Beau laughed. Her sleeves had been rolled up scandalously to her elbows, and her hair was twisted around in a messy bun. 

“That’s what you think,” she said, “but I’ve got it on pretty good authority that I’m about to win.”

“Oh yeah?” The man exhaled a cloud of grey smoke. “And whose authority would that be, eh?”

She grinned. “I’m goin’ all in, mister. Last chance to turn tail and run.”

He instinctively opened his mouth to argue, but did still take the briefest glance at his hand. From across the room, hidden up in the rafters and watching in silence, a scruffy orange tabby saw two threes, and a five.

Caleb put his hand on Beau’s shoulder.

“Your cards are not good,” he said, pleading. “Please, Miss Lionett. We should return to the manor while we still c—”

The man’s nostrils suddenly flared, rekindled by a burning greed. He practically shoved the last of his coins at Beau and triumphantly threw down his meager cards. But before he could even stand up to gloat, Beau grinned and laid her own hand onto the table.

“Three queens,” she said, and scooped up his coppers. “Come back soon, if you feel like losing any more of your dignity!”

Caleb sat down next to her as the man stormed off to the counter for a drink.

“What a fool,” he sighed, taking a swig from Beau’s cider. “He should not have bet so high with a poor hand. I almost cannot believe you successfully egged him on.”

���Yeah, well, you know me better than that by now, Widogast.” She took her flagon back. “And men never know how to handle themselves against a confident woman.”

“You were laying it on a bit thick,” Caleb said, giving her a critical eye. “If he had not been so drunk, it may not have worked.”

Beau snorted. “Even if he hadn’t been, he still would’ve lost his money. What do you take me for? An amateur?”

“I take you for a cheater.” His words held no trace of malice. “And a scoundrel, and a braggart.”

“Cheers,” Beau grinned, and raised her mug. 

Caleb rolled his eyes, but he did give her a small, affectionate nod.

“Being your travelling companion certainly has been an adventure,” he said, resting his chin against his palm. “I have never seen a woman consume so much alcohol and rob so many people of their coin. Much less a woman of means, such as yourself.”

“What can I say?” Beau took a long drag. “I’m multi-talented. Multidimensional.”

“The only dimensions I have seen so far are the rough ones,” Caleb said. “When I signed up to work for you, I was not expecting this.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t expectin’ to hire a wizard on the run from the law.” Her last drop of cider stained her lip. “Good luck we found each other, eh?”

Caleb had the decency to look abashed. “Again,” he said, “I did not mean to conceal the truth from you, Beau, it is just that our motivations incredibly happened to align—”

The rest of this sentence was lost to Miss Lionett. Because as Caleb continued to drone on and on, from across the tavern, the door opened.

This in and of itself was not an abnormal occurrence. 

The individual that then wandered in, however, was certainly a sight to behold.

She was a lady. A beautiful lady, albeit with a rather girlish charm. Her dress was made of the finest chiffon but dyed a soft and pastel pink that sharply contrasted with the dingy pub interior. Her shoes were heeled and white, actually white, pristine and paler than the finest ivory. Jewelry adorned her slender fingers and a necklace of pearls sat around her neck. Her hair, curled and smooth as a gem, was cradled by a bonnet tied below her chin, and she wore a pair of earrings that glittered in the low light.

Beau was pretty sure her jaw dropped. This was...no way was she actually seeing…

The lady took but the briefest moment to gaze about the bar. Then she skipped—skipped!—over to the counter.

The door closed behind her. This action had not been done by her, but instead by a rather tall gentleman wearing a servant’s frock. He looked beyond uncomfortable being in this space.

Beau couldn’t blame him. His mistress must’ve been out of her mind, just waltzing into a place like this, especially dressed the way she was.

Next to Beau, came an impressed whistle. She turned, and it was Caleb.

“It appears that things are very different in Nicodranas,” he said, eyebrows raised. “I did not even know they had tieflings in this city.”

“Yeah, insane tieflings,” Beau muttered. She couldn’t stop looking at the lady, who was now making animated conversation with the barkeep. Other patrons in the bar were staring too, as if they too could not believe what they were seeing. A few began to whisper, murmur, one or two were pointing now, and then there was the screech of a chair being pushed back, and the heavy thud of drunken feet—

“Oh, no.”

Caleb blinked. “Oh, no?” he echoed. “Why ‘oh-no,’ is there something—”

Beau was on her feet just as the man she’d swindled reached the bar.

“Don’t drink my cider!” she snapped to Caleb. “I’ll be right back, don’t you dare touch my drink!” 

- - -

“—please,” added Fjord, raising his palms for emphasis. “We’re just here for a drink. Nothing else. We don’t want to make trouble.”

“I see that, I know that,” the swaying man said. His breath smelled like leftover shoe polish. “Only, thing is, right, I’m not tryin’ to make trouble either. In fact, I just wanna ask your pretty miss to share a drink with me.”

Behind him, though not behind him enough, Jester gave the man a glare.

“No thanks,” she said, after a pause. “You’re not really that handsome, really. And I don’t actually care to know you.”

His beady, bloodshot eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“You’re ugly,” Jester repeated, for clarity. “Go away. Fjord, make him go away.”

Fjord winced. “Now, uh, now, Jester,” he began, “I understand what you’re sayin’, but—”

Unfortunately, before he could finish speaking, the man took a step closer. The floorboards creaked under his gait. He leaned in and, through horrible, tobacco-stained teeth, snarled directly into Fjord’s face.

“You think you can take me on, orc-boy?”

Fjord knew for a fact that he couldn’t.

“He’ll kick your ass!” Jester jeered. “He’s not afraid, isn’t that right?”

Fjord knew that a punch was coming before he even saw it. Still, he barely had enough time to stick out an arm and push Jester back, to raise his other hand in defense of his face, to squeeze his eyes shut and take a deep breath and sort of curl himself up into a sort of standing fetal position when, out of nowhere, there came a sudden blur.

A fist connected with the man’s jaw, sending him reeling back. Then, as he tried to straighten up, there was a sickening crack as a foot slammed into the center of his chest, followed by two more punches in quick succession just below his ribs.

He collapsed to the floor in a broken, bloody heap. Unconscious, Beau noted, as she took a step back, but fortunately—disappointingly—still very much alive.

There was a smattering of applause from the bar audience. It had been a rather slow Tuesday, until now.

Beau beamed. She almost considered taking a bow, until she felt a soft pressure on her side.

She turned.

And stared right into a pair of striking violet eyes.

“Holy shit,” the lady breathed; she was clutching rather tightly to Beau’s arm. “Holy shit, who are you? A mercenary? A soldier? That was amazing!”

Beau managed a faint smile. She could feel her heartbeat suddenly leap, probably from the adrenaline.

“I’m, uh, a traveler,” she said.

“A traveler?” For some reason, the lady looked even more awed. “Wow, that’s so cool! Are you going to be in Nicodranas long? Are you looking for a place to stay? Or for work? I think I might need a new bodyguard.”

She nodded rather un-subtly to the half-orc by her side.

“I’m not your bodyguard,” he said. He sounded rather exasperated. But then he looked up at Beau, nodded, “I’m Fjord, by the way. This is my...employer, Miss Jester Lavore.”

Jester took the briefest moment to curtsy. Then she re-attached herself to Beau’s arm.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she gushed. “I’ve never seen anything like that before! Especially not from another girl.”

“Yes, well, I’m a real Jack,” Beau said. “But, uh, Beauregard is my name.”

Fjord plopped down into one of the bar stools. “Well then, Miss Beauregard,” he said, “could we treat you to a drink? It’s the least we can do, you savin’ us like that.”

Beau raised an eyebrow at him. Then she glanced back down to the wide, twinkling smile at her side.

“You have got to teach me to do that,” Jester said. “That was so cool, holy shit.”

Beau felt a grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah...alright,” she said. “Yeah, you know what? Sure. Mister Fjord, Miss Lavore, I think I’ll take you up on that.”

#critical role #critrole #critfic #fic #beaujester #beauregard #jester #not pictured: caleb staring at frumpkin and asking: why does she always leave me behind? #cr2 #long post #jay writes #text #fanfic #fanfiction #also i am FULL of emotions about gentleman jack holy FUCK #what an AMAZING SHOW HHHH #the mighty nein #gentleman jack au

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker, Hacker Peter part 2

Read part 1 here. 

Peter takes another huge bite of the fluffy scrambled eggs and the buttery toast and thinks, as far as interrogations go, this isn’t too bad.

He’s good, but he’s not brilliant, and there have been a few close shaves. Definitely a few kidnappings which led to interrogations which are nothing like this sunny breakfast at Tony Stark’s marble-top kitchen counter.

Those interrogations had involved steel chairs and tight ropes and a lot of bruises.

This involves pure deliciousness.

It occurs to him, on the fourth gulpful of OJ, that Tony is watching him with unmasked interest.

Peter licks the crumbs from his lips and pauses. “Uh…”

“No, no,” Tony chuckles, “keep eating, please.”

Peter does, because survival outweighs embarrassment and you can never be one hundred percent sure of where your next hot meal is coming from. He mops the plate clean with extra helpings of hash browns, all the while surreptitiously casting his gaze around Stark’s apartment.

It’s nicer than Osbourne’s by a straight up mile. Easily the tallest building in New York, it looks down over the city and sparkles with light as it catches on the surfaces. There’s inbuilt tech everywhere, and it looks so advanced that Peter can’t help but puff out his chest a little at the fact that he hacked it.

Sure, his code wasn’t perfect, or he wouldn’t have been traced. But still. He hacked it!

He finishes his orange juice and smacks his lips together gracelessly, trying to ignore the lingering heat of Tony’s gaze, as he wipes his hand on his jeans. His whole outfit had been provided by Mr Stark, and Peter had hesitantly accepted because being in just his underwear had really imbalanced the playing field.

“So,” Tony murmurs, resting against the counter, arms crossed and looking very at-ease. “A good nights sleep, a nice hot meal, clean clothes. Things sure do look different the morning after the storm, don’t they, kid?”

Peter frowns. “Was last night supposed to be the storm? Because you don’t have anything on me-“

“Hey, hey,” Tony shoots him a look, “C’mon. I know you said you wouldn’t rat, but all you have to do is give me a name. Someone paid you to hack me, didn’t they? You tell me who that is, and you’re off scot-free.”

“I’m already free,” Peter insists, “you haven’t got any proof that I’m ‘The Spider’, okay?”

Tony’s eyebrows knit together and he purses his lips in mild irritation. Peter wonders how far confidence-intimidation tactics have gotten him so far. “Your apartment was crammed full of computers-“

“I like to game.”

“MIT said they only had one student capable of coding like that, and he dropped out two years ago and-“

“That’s what you’re going to use in a court of law?” Peter scoffs, ignoring the sting of hurt at the mention of MIT. He’d loved that school so much- “Wow. I may not have a law degree, but I can promise that’s going to raise some reasonable doubt-“

“Cut the crap, Parker.” Tony snaps, voice thick with irritation. “I know it was you-“

“Billionaire, tech-giant, philanthropist, and omniscient. Quite the résumé, Mr Stark.”

“Little shit-“

“I’m gonna head home, then,” Peter beams, slipping off the stool and heading for the door. “This was really fun, though-“

The doors slide open before he can walk out, and it’s the man who was driving the taxi from last night. Mr Strange. “Peter,” he grins, looking ridiculously put together for so early in the morning. “Are you leaving already?” Strange turns to sigh at Tony. “You’ve already upset him? I thought I told you to play nice.”

“I was playing nice.” Tony huffs, “he’s a little shit.”

“Goodbye, Mr Kidnapper,” Peter waves cheerily, hopping into the elevator, only for Strange to place his hand firmly against the door to stop it from closing.

“Peter,” he murmurs, voice low and pleading, “I seem to remember you saying you were amiable to a trade.”

Tony nods eagerly. “Yeah. You’re saying you won’t give me the name, but you haven’t even seen what I could offer.”

Peter wavers. The smart thing would be to go home, but home to what? All his tech is destroyed and he’ll have to tell Norman and then Norman will know that Tony knows and Peter could be out of a job and-

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face and gesturing for them to lead the way.  

____

The look on Peter’s face at the sight of the newly-installed computer lab is enough to make Tony’s dick throb with arousal.

His eyes go obscenely wide, and they flicker over every monitor and wire, and his feet seem to carry him without consent over to processors and ergonomic keyboards. He looks like a kid in a candy shop. It’s the same look Tony gets when his lab’s been re-stocked and he’s itching to try to make something new.

Goddamn. It’s just another quality to add to the list of Peter Parker traits that Tony has found to be completely addictive.

The boy’s young. 22 and almost completely off the grid. He’s got no family, no on-the-grid friends, but ‘The Spider’ is infamous, and Tony can’t believe that it’s a pale, bambi-eyed boy from Queens.

“This set up is so much nicer than-“ he cuts himself off, and Tony looks up with a grin.

“Nicer than..?”

Peter glares at him, but the heat of his stare doesn’t last, because he catches sight of some fancy retina display and is immediately distracted.

His youth is his weak spot.

He’s good, really good, and clearly talented, but he doesn’t have the wisdom that only age will bring.

Because he’s just left his backpack in the guest bedroom, and Strange is looking through it right now. There has to be something incriminating in it. It’s the one thing Peter had taken with him when he’d run, his go bag, there has to be.

Tony doesn’t want to blackmail him. He’d much rather have a nice fair trade, because he’s unreasonably attracted to the spunky little kid, but still. A little insurance is always nice.

“If you gave me the name,” Tony croons, not wanting to startle Peter out of his appreciation, “you could work for me. Someone of your skill-set, nice high pay, regular hours, this would be your base of operations. Anything you needed…”

Peter narrows his eyes. “Would there be a contract?”

Tony smiles, pleased. “Yeah, all legal. No unlawful termination. How long’s it been since you’ve had a steady income? A job you could be proud of?”

There’s wavering in Peter’s eyes, and Tony thinks he might actually have him and the blackmail isn’t needed- when Strange walks in, clearing his throat and gesturing to Tony with a subtle nod of his head.

Tony heads over to him, and Strange bows his head and drops something into Tony’s hand.

“There was nothing in his bag but clothes and a passport. A real passport,” Strange whispers, and Tony grits his teeth a little, but it’s not the end of the world. Parker may actually accept his deal- “But I did find this.”

Tony looks into his hand to find a gorgeous pearl necklace.

It’s antique and expensive and there is no way Peter acquired it legally. It’s gotta be his safety nest for if he’s on the run. A quick pawn and some money to get away. Someone is surely looking for this baby.

“Good,” Tony mutters, trying to keep his voice down, “but we may not need it-“

There’s a sharp, audible gasp, and both men look up to see Peter staring at one of the reflective monitors.

From the way it’s angled, he can see the pearls in Tony’s hands.

“Well, nice timing,” Tony snarls at Stephen, who has the sense to look a little bashful. “Listen, kid, we weren’t gonna-“

“You went through my stuff?” Peter demands, face lovely and flushed and furious. He holds his hand out. “Give it back.”

Tony holds onto the pearls because it looks like a fair deal’s off the cards now. He and Stephen are both in front of the door, but Peter doesn’t look boxed in. He looks angry. “Where’d you get these, Parker? I thought your skillset stopped at hacking, but do you have a knack for stealing too?”

“Those aren’t yours!” Peter cries, and lunges forward clumsily to try to grab them. He misses, and Tony tuts.

“Calm down. I want to give them back to you, but I have to know who hired you. Was it Carlton Drake? The Life Foundation? Was it fucking Wayne Enterprises? Oscorp? Lexcorp? Roxxon?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “This city has a few too many tech companies. And like I said already, no.”

Tony shrugs. “Then you don’t get this necklace back.”

Peter curls his dainty hands into fists, before fishing out his phone. “I don’t wanna have to do this,” he warns, as he lights up the screen with his thumb. Tony frowns as Peter waggles it. “One press of a button and all SI users information is leaked. That sort of personal data loss…” he shakes his head and whistles in mock-empathy. “That’d be awful. I can’t imagine the way stocks would plummet. Can you, Mr Stark? I seem to remember something similar happening to LoweTube. But then The Spider hacked it and now- it doesn’t exist, does it?” 

“When the fuck did you hack my systems again?” Tony gapes, “we removed all trace of your coding-“

“I was on your wifi last night in the guest room, old man,” Peter snorts, rolling his eyes. “Do you know how easy it was to get past your firewalls from inside your ip address? I mean, I was half asleep.”

His thumb hovers over the button and Tony tosses him the pearls.

Peter catches them with a gentleness that makes Tony think they’re more sentimental than monetary.

“Well,” Stephen croaks, face still wary as Peter holds the phone in his hand. “I’m hoping you can forgive us, Mr Parker. We’re still clearly underestimating you.”

Tony cottons on. “He’s right, Peter. I’m sorry. We’re- we’re useless when it comes to hacking defences. We need you on our side.”

Peter looks between them, jaw clenched but eyes softer now that he has his pearls back. “Your systems were pretty shit.”

Tony refuses to snark back a rebuttal, and instead nods. “My offer still stands.”

Peter is silent for a long time, before he speaks. “I’m not going to tell you who hired me to hack you, but I will toughen up your whole system to be pretty much impervious to attacks again. For a price, of course.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose, but he can already feel himself agreeing. This is the second best scenario. Obviously, with Peter strengthening his walls it means the kid’s going to be able to build himself a way in to hack Tony whenever he wants- but he can’t see another way. It just irks Tony that he can’t go after whoever it was. He has a niggling feeling it might be Lex but he just can’t picture him actually having the balls. “I’m going to guess your price is fairly high?”

“Don’t worry, Mr Stark,” Peter grins, cocky and far too pretty for his own good, “I only want to be paid in stock.”

___

@darker-soft-starker for being the inspiration and @starkerchemistryy for being my friendship soulmate.

@stark-stark-baby @sbiderslut @lilsoshie @harmonystarker  @lurafita @awesomeimportantfan @the-mad-starker @meymourwhysstarker

#starker #peter x tony #hacker peter #rich tony #age difference #college drop out peter #bamf peter #snarky peter #protective tony #snarky tony #peter is a little shit #and we all love it #part 2

[phgq]

Anti-terror law to 'protect' youth from NPA recruitment

#PHnews: Anti-terror law to 'protect' youth from NPA recruitment

BUTUAN CITY – A youth organization advocating for peace and development in Agusan del Norte has voiced support to the passage of the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2020, saying the measure will safeguard the young people from the influence and recruitment of the communist New People’s Army (NPA). Engr. Christian Kier Betito, president of the Propelling Our Inherited Nation Through our Youth, Inc. (POINTY), noted that the NPA commonly targets the young people for recruitment because they are the "most vulnerable sector in the society". Betito, a resident here who has been working with different youth organizations to advance peace in Agusan del Norte, has called on President Rodrigo Duterte to sign the anti-terrorism bill to "end the atrocities of the NPA rebels and prevent the spread of their ideology in communities". “The Communist Terrorist Groups (CTGs) are out to destroy the moral in-depth beliefs of youths and influence them into aggression and rebellion against the government and lead them to engage in armed conflicts and fight for the wrong ideology,” Betito told the Philippine News Agency in an interview Monday. Art Ervin Español, POINTY-Agusan del Norte vice president, criticized the communist rebel movement for using deception in recruiting young people "to fight for their wrong ideology". The NPA, Español said, has deprived the youth that it managed to deceive "the opportunities to live peacefully, grow better, and dream big". “With the anti-terrorism bill, I am positive that any deception that ruins the lives of every youth shall be penalized. Through this, every young individual will be given the opportunity to live a better life with their families,” he said. Another youth leader, Karen Rosales, president of Youth for Peace in the Agusan del Norte town of Las Nieves, said it was regrettable to see the NPA recruiting the youth to fight the government "yet for decades, no one has been held accountable on such acts". “No child and his family shall experience terror in their own homes, no child should have to forcefully choose between taking up arms or death, and definitely, no child shall be robbed off of his right to development and self-determination,” Rosales said. She said that should the anti-terror bill be signed by President Duterte, "the grave injustice against the children and the youth will end". “Terrorism victimizes the innocent, and a terrorist’s judgment only regards human life as an object to be used,” she said. Government officials in the Caraga Region, including the leaders of indigenous peoples (IPs), have earlier called on President Duterte to sign the measure into law. (PNA)

***

References:

* Philippine News Agency. "Anti-terror law to 'protect' youth from NPA recruitment." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1107359 (accessed June 30, 2020 at 05:23AM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "Anti-terror law to 'protect' youth from NPA recruitment." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1107359 (archived).

#Philippines #News #Filipino #Pinoy #Tourism #Politics #Culture #Editorial #Environment #Society #History

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 18

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Chapter summary:  Time passes. Bonds mend; love grows. Even completes his study, and finds a new, unexpected way to continue atoning.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Even’s never been to a wedding other than his own. Fascinating, the customs people will develop as a way to declare love--or occasionally, to secure power. More rarely, both. Not to mention the way it’s all affected by gender, sexuality, power.

All this faffing about to say that Ienzo, in a way his son, has just gotten married.

It was a short, simple ceremony, oddly devoid of a personal touch, in a bright alcove of a library. No decorations, no vows other than the ones determined by the (old? Hard to tell with Radiant Garden in flux) law. He’s not surprised that Ienzo is so private about this; he’s surprised that Demyx is . Then again, it is never easy to bear one’s heart. With a kiss, it’s over. They both truly seem so happy, like they’re glowing. He hopes for their sake that it works out.

“How did it feel to marry your son?” Even asks.

Ansem rolls his eyes at the lame, and somewhat inappropriate, joke. He merely officiated--who else had the authority here? “I feel in my heart of hearts it’s the right thing. I won’t soon forget the look on his face. I’ve never seen him so happy.” It’s a rainy day, cold and raw. Even glances out the hallway window. “How did it feel, when it happened to you?”

“Well, you know it was a shotgun affair.”

“...Quite. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get some pleasure from the fact that the first legal marriage since the Fall is a gay one. Things have changed. There’s still so much potential for this city--despite the fact that it’s in shambles. Potential for us as well.”

Even feels the blood rush to his face. “We’re in shambles too,” he says softly.

“But we can rebuild,” he adds. “Let’s join the others. Aeleus made lunch.”

They keep their relationship under wraps, as much as they can, anyway. Dilan is less interested in gossip over Even than he was the boys. Thinking of its eventual revelation gives him intense anxiety; it gives him insight into his own outing of Ienzo, which makes him feel guilty, though he had good intentions at the time.

“It’s rather incestuous when you think about it,” Even mutters. “Demyx and Ienzo, you and I. Next thing we’ll hear about is Aeleus and Dilan.”

“I highly doubt that.” He leans back against the couch, resting an arm around Even’s waist. Touch is still overwhelming, but becoming more comfortable. “Nothing incestuous about it--we essentially raised the boy.”

“And now here we are,” he mutters. Ansem’s made them both hot toddies, and he fears he’s rather less sober than he would like to be. Letting the world soften a little bit is quite a challenge.

Even isn’t sure if it’s love. It’s something, something he carries with him daily. Not quite lust, either, even when they kiss; they haven’t moved very far on that front, either. He’s fairly sure the physical side of it would take work to find, and he’s not even sure if he needs that. If simple romantic touch unravels him, more… active touch would be completely destructive.

“...Not much progress?” Ansem asks. “With your work?”

“Well, it’s a lot of busywork at the moment, getting all this sequencing done. I could so use an assistant. Aeleus steps in now and again, but he also has much to do. Not to mention, both of the individuals who could also be of use are on their honeymoon. Best let them enjoy things while they can.” He shakes his head.

“I’m afraid when it comes to genetics I’m rather hopeless,” Ansem admits. “I always was.”

“It certainly isn’t easy for a layman.”

“...You’re funny.”

Even smirks.

“How about I give you some of my work to figure out?” He shakes his head. “I got a draft of a bill on a napkin the other day. I understand there’s a reason these people were elected, and they are competent, but… the decorum. I shouldn’t have to manually draft things for them.”

“You’re a civil servant--emphasis on the latter word.”

Ansem laughs. “Quite. I have literally asked for this. Fate could have set me up much worse. Heaven knows I deserve it.”

A pause. The fire, in the hearth, pops, making Even’s heart stutter, not helped by the alcohol. The only reason he’s able to be in the same room as one is the warmth; it’s necessary here. This still isn’t easy. Ansem notices this and gives his hand a squeeze. “I’m alright.”

“...Is he still trying to get in touch with you?”

Even bites his lip. “Every week or so he tries to talk to me. I ignore it. I suppose I could simply… block the IP address, and… I just don’t. I’m equally sure I can’t forgive him. But at the same time…” He swallows, tasting earl grey and rum. “I’ve been forgiven much, and changed much, who am I to say he hasn’t also? Especially under Isa’s watchful eye.”

“You needn’t rush. Confront him when you’re ready.”

“...Quite. I fear in this life I might never be ready for some things. I haven’t… much time.”

“Thirty or so years isn’t enough time?”

He shrugs. “I’m not so sure. I want to see Ienzo grow up--well, grow older. I need to do good work. I still have so much to do, and I’ve already wasted so much time faffing about.”

“You were psychologically shattered. ...We both were. You had to heal.”

“Is this healing?” he asks, more to himself.

“It certainly isn’t stagnation. Not anymore.”

Even realizes he’s leaning against him. It’s a warm sort of touch, a comfortable one. While his heart is still beating harder than it should be, he thinks it’s no longer from the fire.

Ansem brushes his fingers against Even’s cheek. There’s a sweet tension in the air, tension he hasn’t felt in a long time. And maybe it is the alcohol, but he swears he can feel a sort of desire. It’s very nearly alien. He kisses Ansem first this time and feels himself being drawn close. This is such a young sensation, jarring and bizarre. A hand tangles in his hair. They continue like this for an unknowable amount of time, exploring one another. Despite the touch being muffled by clothing, it’s still all so much, and this is only intensified when Ansem slides a hand under his shirt. A sudden fear breaks what little pleasure he’s found.

“...Even?”

He pulls away and hugs himself tightly. His hands are trembling. Ansem rests a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t,” Even says hoarsely. Ansem listens, giving him some space.

What a fool. What a naive, stupid-- Even pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to get himself back under control. “What is it that upset you?” Ansem asks gently.

How to verbalize something like this? He’s gotten used to dealing with these scars. Only now is he fully processing that, should he pursue this relationship, likely with time Ansem would end up seeing them at some point or another. This is all dredging up something sickly and awful.

But he’s a smart man. “Is it the scarring?” he suggests.

“It will repulse you,” he says, barely aware of the thought before it’s being spoken. “You needn’t deal with something like that.”

“They’re a part of your history. A part of you. I highly doubt that would repulse me--not with all we’ve worked through.”

Even keeps his eyes stubbornly on the floor, glad for the curtain of his hair (which, he realizes, is mussed).

“Of course we needn’t get into anything which may make you uncomfortable.”

He smooths at his hair. A thick anxiety catches in his throat. He isn’t used to being embodied, not particularly. There’s entirely too much going on at once; the panic, the overstimulation, and yes, arousal. It fills him with a sort of shame. He reaches for the buttons at his throat, his hands shaking so hard he can barely undo them.

“What are you doing?”

“Proving you wrong,” he says in a stranger’s voice.

“Even--”

“Please.”

“You’re worrying me.”

He’s finally able to free the last button. He sheds the garment quickly, like ripping off an adhesive.

For a moment there’s just silence. His throat is tight. “I told you,” he says, not looking at Ansem. “I’m afraid I--”

He’s pulled into a gentle embrace. The tremulous tears in his eyes run over. It’s so… odd to have hands on his bare skin, and he’s no clue if it’s pleasant or not. So instead he just cries. “I could care less what shape your body is in,” Ansem says. “This was never about that. But… this shows what you’ve survived, how you’ve changed and overcome. Don’t be ashamed.” He kisses Even’s shoulder once, sending a shudder through him that has nothing to do with pain.

After much too long he pulls it together, tugging his shirt back on. This isn’t helped at all by the occasional crack and pop of the fire. He’s exhausted, anxious.

“...As I said, you needn’t push your boundaries,” Ansem says softly. “It’s taken so long to find one another--what’s a little more waiting?”

“It’s not for lack of--”

“I know.”

“It’s just been so--”

“It’s alright.”

He exhales heavily, tasting the inside of his lungs. “I should… try to…”

When he doesn’t finish the sentence, Ansem says, “Stay.”

---

The first time they attempt to go to bed together, it's something of a failure. Then again, "failure" is a bit harsh--in the literal sense it was successful, just extremely brief. Embarrassingly so. Not just for Even, which he finds a surprise; but neither of them have ever prioritized physical intimacy.

For a long while he lays in Ansem's bed after, coming to a cold realization that it's his first orgasm in at least ten years. His body seems unsure of what to do afterwards; his skin is quite raw. He takes a deep breath, watching the ceiling. They don't touch; they both know it would be too much.

"...Are you alright?" Ansem asks.

Finally, he looks over. "I… believe so." He sits up, noticing first how Ansem's eyes roll over the scars on his back, then how he tries not to look. "Yourself?"

"I am no longer… accustomed to such things." He begins redressing. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes." He takes the offered cup when it comes, glad for the warmth. "I… feel so young… yet in a breath so old."

"Me as well. Things no longer… run so hot, as it were."

"Not quite what I was referring to."

"Then what were you?"

"This cursed… tenderheartedness. Makes me feel like a schoolboy. And yet… the years weigh heavily."

"But we're here." He doesn't quite face Even. "How long exactly have we known another, Even?"

"Thirty-some years. Much too long."

He chuckles. "And yet you're willing to stick with me."

"Frankly, no one else could put up with me." He sets the cup down onto its saucer. "So that's that."

"Seems to be, yes."

He settles back against the pillows. "I...am sorry things were so uneventful."

He smiles wryly. "As if anything is uneventful with you."

"...I'll ignore your tone."

He leans over and kisses him once. "Somehow this feels familiar."

"I… agree."

---

It takes a few tries for them to be comfortable with it, with each other. For it to last longer than a few mere moments. But it gets easier, their bodies becoming accustomed to touch again. It's not the same as when they were younger. These things almost take a certain premeditation. It must be wanted.

And it is.

He's been so passive, in the past; what better way to show love than through an act? It takes yet more time, to graduate from simple touch to something more. Time, patience. Passion is only a quiet passenger at the moment.

But when it does happen, Even notes with a thrill, it's he taking his old master.

And it does feel so familiar, to touch him, to make love to him. So familiar and so right .

"Truthfully," Ansem admits after one of these nights, both of them beyond exhausted, "I believe I may have harbored such feelings for longer than I originally thought."

"Oh?"

"Even, you have such a unique mind, a unique way of seeing things. I've been drawn to it for years--but so like a fool, it took me years to figure out why." He brushes Even's hair behind his ear. "By then… you had already fallen into your whirlwind marriage."

"I do not regret it."

"Nor should you. I suppose… it was simply not our time. We've had to grow, to allow the love into our hearts." He kisses him on the forehead.

"I think you are the only one who I allow to see me," Even admits. "I struggle with vulnerability."

"I know you do. I… do as well." He rests a hand on the small of Even's back. 'We can be so much stronger together."

"I… want nothing more."

---

Atonement comes in pieces, in waves. Mostly they assist the boys, the committee, when they are not pulled apart by their own projects; providing research and tertiary support. It's humble work, work Even tries to do to the best of his own abilities. This town has a use for the educated, but he no longer seeks credit.

Not long after he and Demyx marry, Ienzo comes to Even. They get coffee. They are very nearly normal.

Happiness suits Ienzo, eases the sharpness in his eyes. Demyx seems to stabilize him, allowing him to feel young. He smiles easily, chats. There's a warmth there wasn't before. Wholeness. Even realizes he’s never quite seen it in the boy, and has to swallow the sadness.

It's odd to find himself on the other side. After a considerable pause that Ienzo asks, "Even, are… never mind."

"Boy, what's on your mind?"

"...I'm nearly twenty-two, will you ever stop calling me that?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Forgive me if this is… overstepping." He bites his lip. "Have you and Ansem…"

He feels his heart catch, a bizarrely young feeling. "What?"

"Do you have feelings for one another?" He raises an eyebrow.

"...Like?"

"Even, I know you know what I mean." His expression is so droll, funnily serious. "It's… okay if you do."

Even sighs. "We've been… grappling," he admits. "Though you must tell no one--especially that husband of yours."

"Who do you think gave me the idea?"

Even feels his face warming. "Does everyone know?"

Ienzo smiles wryly. "Why do you feel the need to keep it a secret?"

"Because it's a personal matter, not a public one."

Ienzo rolls his eyes, perhaps at the hypocrisy. "Are you scared of what they might think?"

"What, Aeleus, Dilan? Unless all your gossiping already got to them?" He shakes his head. "I'm… unsure. I feel as though--"

"You don't deserve to be happy?" He clucks his tongue. "To be colloquial--been there, done that." He looks down into his coffee cup. "It takes… work, to be vulnerable. But it's necessary work. If you have someone , regardless of romance, then all the better." He chuckles a little. "Though I'd be lying if I said it doesn't amuse me."

"Boy--"

"You both raised me. Willingly or not. Now you're together?" He points at Even. "You gave me hell for getting with Demyx. Now--"

"I know, I know, I'm a hypocrite. What else is new?"

Another laugh. "I do believe this is the first time I've seen you so embarrassed." Then, "I hope you can find peace, Even. I really do. It took you so long to recover… and then Ansem… I worried--"

"You may be orphaned again?" he asks dryly. "I'm afraid you must deal with our neuroses for some years yet." He squeezes the boy's hand, feeling the wedding band against his palm. "Have things changed?"

"Yes and no," Ienzo admits. "He introduces me to as many people as he can… just to say the word. It's made him so happy. Why wait on such happiness? I do not think my feelings will change. They've only… gotten stronger."

This is a feeling Even can relate to. He came across these emotions slowly… and now he seems tangled in them. “...Quite.” There’s nothing left of the espresso he’s ordered; he looks down into the smear of brown as though he might divine something. “Ienzo, are you fulfilled?”

He considers this, canting his head slightly. “I like to believe so,” he admits. “I have my husband, my family, satisfying work. True, life is much… smaller than it used to be, but is that a bad thing?” He drums his fingers on the table. “The council has reached out to me after reading my manuscript. They’ve… offered me something of a job.”

Even feels his eyebrows shoot up. “Ienzo, that’s--”

“I’d be helping them create a mental health program. From scratch. I feel… honored to be chosen.” His face is pink. “Worried that I’m not qualified--after all this time, technically I have no degree.”

“What, that piece of paper?” The boy’s studied for years. Doubtless he has the equivalent of several degrees of reading.

He makes a face. “You continually dangle yours over Demyx.”

“...Because his reactions are rather amusing.” He chuckles a little. “Boy, if they chose you, they feel you’re capable. And you are. All these years I wanted nothing more than for you to get help--if you can give others that, all the better. But it shan’t be easy.”

“It’s a… challenge.” He smiles a little. “You know I love puzzles.”

---

The study continues. It changes, grows. He finds himself working closely with almost all of them in some capacity, but it’s Dilan who does most of the admin work, with everyone else pulled elsewhere. While at first their talk is all scientific, something like a friendship redevelops.

“More information from the rumor mill,” Dilan says, folding up the accordion of his own epigenome.

Even feels something of a punch; caught. “You and your gossip. The lot of you.”

“Not so much a rumor as something told to me. And the informant was very adamant you know it’s he.”

“...You never did speak concisely.”

“I do believe Ienzo is seeking something like revenge for when you outed him.”

“As if the boy would ever be straight?”

Dilan smirks. “I admit I’m not surprised. Not at all.”

He almost drops the tablet he’s holding. “No?”

“Ansem’s loved you for years. It’s about time you came around.” A laugh. “It’s true. Why do you think he was so angry, so hurt at you ? In his eyes you could do no wrong--until you did.” He shrugs. “Neither of you are very good at feelings.”

“Don’t I know it.” Still, he’s rather shaken. “Bastard could’ve said something sooner. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

Dilan chuckles. “We all could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble. Yet here we are. I could never have guessed the path we’d end up on, not if my life depended on it.”

“...Are you satisfied with the way things are?”

He touches his breastbone. “There will always be--pain. Yet, I feel now more than ever that we can be... On the other side of history. Hence why this work is so important.”

There’s a knock at the door. Aeleus comes in, his overalls spattered with paint. “How goes it?”

“We certainly are making a lot of paper,” Dilan says. “One can’t rush perfection.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a lovely day outside. I was hoping you two would get some lunch with me.”

“But we’re in the middle of--” He sees the look in Aeleus’s eye. “Sure. Why not.”

It’s spring now, the flowers in bloom again. They’re wilder than they used to be, not as tended to, but still beautiful. They end up in a courtyard, where they see Demyx and Ienzo seated on a blanket, a picnic basket between them. “Hey, you made it!” Demyx says.

“I had my doubts,” Ienzo admits.

“...Rather juvenile, isn’t it?” Dilan says.

“Oh, hush. I made ceviche. Come sit and eat it.”

Dilan takes the proffered container with a scowl.

“...A gathering?” Even hears. He turns and sees Ansem. “Not exactly the emergency I was told it is.”

“You wouldn’t have left otherwise,” Ienzo points out.

“We wanted to hang out. Sue us.”

They settle on the blanket. The sunlight feels good on his skin, which is still tender from all his time indoors. It’s odd, to be gathered here so; but yet this is perhaps one of the most normal things they’ve all done. When was the last time anyone spent time enjoying anything?

“Oh, one more thing,” Ienzo says. “We are absolutely not allowed to talk about work for the next half hour.”

“I’m keeping a timer,” Demyx adds, holding up his phone.

“Since when are you allowed to make rules?” Dilan asks.

“Since I apparently became the expert on mental health.” He rolls his eyes. “Besides. We’re all… much too burned out. If we’re to live as long as possible… we must let down our hair now and again. So to speak.”

“This is your doing, I’m sure,” Even says to Demyx. “I’ll not have you chipping at his work ethic.”

Demyx sticks out his tongue. “Hey. I also pull like fifty hour weeks, so I’m not the lazy asshat I used to be. Pass me the pasta salad.”

They all eat in silence for a few minutes. Then, Dilan asks Demyx, “Do you ever miss home?”

His chopsticks slip in his hand. “Hate to break it to you, but that place was never home.”

“Home is here?” Ienzo asks dryly.

“Well, isn’t it?” He wraps an arm around Ienzo’s waist. A comfortable, familiar gesture. “Where the heart is, and all that crap?”

“It was always about the bonds,” Ansem adds gently. “It took much too long to realize.”

“Besides. I figures there are much worse places--and much worse people--to end up with.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dilan says.

Ienzo digs in the picnic basket. “I’m afraid the strongest thing I have is iced tea.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking anyway,” Aeleus pointed out.

He blushes. “I’m twenty-two. Might I remind you that the legal age is eighteen--”

“So defensive, so fast, Ienzo,” Dilan says.

“Well when I’m getting it from four sides, I must be.” He pauses, blinks, then laughs a little.

“What’s so amusing?” Even asks.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing of momentous insight,” he says, shaking his head. “This ragged parenting… is so like the old days.”

“You’re right,” Aeleus says.

His expression darkens a little. Demyx squeezes his hand. “Not quite.”

“It can be better,” Even says gently.

He nods once. “It already is.”

---

“...Blast.” His fingers tangle in the fabric at his throat.

Ansem barely looks up from the book he’s reading. “What ails you now?” he asks.

“Two PhDs and a medical degree, and I can’t remember how to tie a stupid Windsor knot.”

Ansem approaches him and takes the knotted fabric. Quite quickly, he fixes it. “Years and years of silly galas and dinners. I can--and have--done this in my sleep. There.” He tightens the knot at Even’s throat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“Something like this must be done on one’s own, I think.” He turns back to the mirror. The suit is simple, and not quite tailored, but he still feels overdressed. “Besides, I don’t want them to think it’s some quid pro quo arrangement.”

Ansem rolls his eyes. Then, a bit more slyly, “You do look quite nice.”

He blushes. He so despises that Ansem can get this sort of reaction out of him. “I’m only feral most of the time, not all of it.” He picks up the portfolio of papers. “Feels I’m defending my theses all over again.”

“Luckily you needn’t be quite so formal. Not like the old days. I’m betting at least one of them will be wearing sneakers.” He brushes microscopic dust off of Even’s shoulder. “A good first impression doesn’t hurt.” Ansem chucks him lightly under the chin. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Don’t you start--”

“Truly.” He squeezes Even’s free hand. “You’ve worked so hard to get to this moment. This work will help them shape the town’s future. A hope, a catharsis, a proper way to treat the afflicted.” He kisses him once. “Now go, so you can come celebrate. I fear I may have made you late--not that their timekeeping is pristine.”

“I’ll not have you spoil me--”

“Go.”

“Yes… well…” He bobs his head once. He can feel the anxiety fluttering within. While these papers are only a concise summary of the project, it still feels so heavy. He hopes it will be good enough, sound enough. It’s been years. Now to let it go--what will become of him?

“...There you are.” Ienzo’s waiting by the stairs. “Even--we simply must work on your punctuality.”

“Blame your father wittering over me.” He looks him over, sees his white coat, unbuttoned, the black turtleneck beneath it. “You’re going like that?”

He shrugs. “This is my professional uniform. This is a professional appointment.”

“At least pull back your hair--”

“I absolutely will not.” He smiles. “Even. Relax. It’s going to be fine.”

They set off towards the new city hall. It could’ve easily been established in the castle, but Even can’t blame the decision--it’s a good one, in his opinion. Helps make the townspeople trust the fledgling government. “Your husband couldn’t come?”

“He was quite literally getting ready when he was called away. Another birth.”

“That’s too bad. It’s because of him this is done.” He watches Ienzo’s expression closely and then adds, “An awful lot of them these days, no?”

“People are becoming comfortable starting families.”

It’s a perfect sunny day. Even wonders. “...I don’t suppose--”

Ienzo picks up on the subtext straightaway. “It’s in the cards for me?” he asks. “Feeling rather tender in your old age? Craving grandchildren?”

“Boy, there’s no need to be nasty.”

Ienzo laughs. “You’re too funny.” Then, after long enough that Even already decided to drop the subject, “We haven’t revisited the matter in a while. I’m not sure the time is right. What happened to me being much too young?”

“I don’t care either way--so long as you are happy.”

He nods once. “It is… strange. I thought this peace I felt internally would be… temporary.”

“It means you’re on the right path.”

“I surely hope so.”

“You’re doing great things. Saving lives.”

He shrugs. “It’s the least I can do.”

The receptionist in the city hall waves them in boredly. The council chamber is still haphazard--two folding tables and a bunch of folding chairs. “There you are,” one of them says. Even looks down, and sure enough--sneakers. “Great. Let’s get started.”

He’s practiced this speech many times, the way he must simplify the hard science of it (Demyx was a good test for this), the display of the hard data. Ienzo chimes in occasionally with the more psychological aspects, the way it affects emotions, hearts.

The impossible cause and effect of darkness.

Despite these years of research, he still feels like he only has a beginner’s grasp, even as he proposes treatment options. He hands out copies of the journal--a scant forty pages spanning more or less his entire career.

“Thank you for this insight,” another one says. “We want to help people however we can… but most of us are tradespeople. We can’t study it the same way. This will be taken into account when it comes to the creation of new services.”

“It is my duty,” Even says.

“We need educated people again,” a third adds. “Everyone… is going to need a hell of a lot more help.”

“Perhaps I can be of use.” He’s barely conscious of the words. “I taught in my day--I’d be more than willing to assist in the drafting of a curriculum.”

The council member smiles. “Oh, but it goes deeper than that.”

---

“...And you musn’t say anything.”

Ienzo is practically vibrating with excitement. “Even, this is a big deal.”

“No use counting our chickens.”

“A university ?”

“No funding. Limited resources. Likely five or six pupils and one or two courses. More like a one-room schoolhouse.”

“But it could be--”

“Boy, I’m old. Likely I’ll be long gone before any of this truly is established.”

This sobers him, as Even hoped it would. “You’re only nearing sixty.”

“And considering all I’ve gone through, it’s lucky I’ve lived this long.” He offers a smile. “Now how I imagined the day would go, but very well. Work to be done. This is no reward; if anything, this is a punishment.”

“But how do you feel?”

He considers it. “...Overwhelmed,” he admits. “But this is a way I can help. I just hope I’ve developed some patience over the years. Goodness knows I’ll need it.”

Ienzo takes both his hands and squeezes them. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yes, yes, all this patting of my ego.”

“Truly.” His gaze becomes sharper, more earnest. “Once upon a time you were… locking everyone and everything away, and suffering. A selfish, devious researcher. Now here you are… so kind. Careful.”

“Atonement requires humility,” he says gently. “Otherwise, what is meaningful change?”

Ienzo nods once. “I look forward to pursuing this with you,” he says. "I do hope you'll let me be a part of this."

Even squeezes his shoulder. “I’m afraid we’ve just begun, little one.”

---

Beginnings.

Things are not quite so easy now. He can feel he’s getting older, from the gray streaked in his hair to the arthritis slowly taking his joints. How strange, to begin again at this age. He finds a sort of pleasure in his work, in the too-young inquisitiveness of his students. He gives them what tools he can and hopes they can do better. He knows that eventually they’ll find out about his past and have questions. He knows, and is prepared.

There are so many other beginnings.

After years of consideration, he agrees to marry Ansem. They do so quietly, without fuss, only to be faced with an enraged Ienzo and Demyx, who apparently wanted nothing more than to be there. Even doesn’t know why; it’s merely a formality at this point. Yet to go through with it is something of a relief.

When he can, he still visits his first spouse and son, where they rest, quietly. There will always be an ache, he thinks, but Even’s life is full again.

He helps Ienzo, his very much living son (it was always so, but the marriage simply made it official),  and his husband conceive a child, with the young woman who is their surrogate. It’s odd to revisit such work related to the replicas, after all this time. Odd and slightly uncomfortable. But their happiness makes it worth it, and it does brighten his days when he can care for the child.

Xion, Roxas, and Naminé live full lives, ordinary lives. He hears of their careers, their marriages, when they visit. They age. They’ve gotten to grow.

He sets aside his research of that time. He’s left instructions for its decryption in the event of his death, but otherwise, he has no desire to share it. There’s no real need; no life needs to be created.

“A sensible choice,” Ansem says. It's a lovely summer night; they stand on the balcony of their bedroom, just breathing the clean air.

“I would hope I’ve gained a whit of it.”

“A whit, and more.”

He chuckles a little. “Here’s a funny thought.”

“...What?”

“The boys--hardly boys anymore--are the same age I was when I came back; their daughter, Ienzo’s.”

He blinks. “I suppose that’s right.”

“If you could change things, would you?”

“...An unnecessary thought experiment.”

Even rests his arm around him more comfortably. “Humor me, then.”

Ansem sighs. “If you look at it from a purely moral standpoint--I would,” he admits. “If I could stop the suffering, the loss of life that has been incurred. Absolutely. But personally… that would mean I’d likely have never found you, would never have gotten to know Ienzo, or his wayward husband. And the loss of that… is painful.”

“I suppose that is well reasoned. And I myself don’t have an answer to that question.”

Ansem kisses him once. “There’s no point dwelling on what could have been. Aren’t you satisfied with what you have now?”

“Perhaps it is silly--but yes, absolutely I am.”

“I think we’ve earned a bit of peace.” He embraces him, resting his head on Even’s shoulder. “Now it’s your turn to humor an old man.”

“Right. Very well.”

He takes his hand and leads him inside, to the rest of their lives.

#beyond this existence: atonement #even (kingdom hearts) #ansem the wise #ienzo #demyx #aeleus #dilan (kingdom hearts) #beyond this existence

[the-beastslayers-queen]

A Dangerous Game: Chapter 9

Chapter 9 has arrived, just before I go to bed. Tagging: @queenofthearchitect @biforbecky2belts @writtingrose @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mox-made-me-do-it @theworldofotps @sassyspacedust @afauss2009 @calwitch @sammyfireheartashryver @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @romans-babygirl-wwe @romansrgn @accidentalsethrollinsblog and @finnsauroraborealis If anyone wants to get in my perma tag list, hit the ask box. Enjoy!

After a lengthy discussion with Seth, he and I decided to have an encrypted and untraceable video call with both Finn and Hunter. I sent an encrypted message on the private chat server in the Bálor Club to have Finn arrange a meeting with Hunter so Seth and I could talk with the both of them about the news we had received recently. It was important that they knew so we could make possible arrangements to get the rest of the Shield and Gallows and Anderson out here to stay with us to keep me safe and out of McIntyre’s hands. With me being pregnant, we had to make sure I was protected now more than ever.

“Are we ready,” I asked Seth as I set up my laptop on our coffee table, “Because there is no turning back if we tell them we’re going to have a baby. Our lifestyle might have to change when our baby comes.”

“I’m fine with that,” Seth wrapped his arm around my shoulders, “I am in love with you and our baby. I’m willing to go legit if that’s what it takes to keep my family safe. And we’ll go get married this week. I’m making you my wife and I’m not waiting a second longer.”

I got the encryption program going along with my VPN to bounce my IP address all over the country to throw off any attempts to track us down before I started the video call with Finn and Hunter. After the second ring, the video feed on Finn’s end started up and I saw that Finn and Hunter were sitting together in Finn’s office at Bullet Club.

“It’s good to see you, son,” Hunter greeted Seth once they answered, “How’s it going with you and Cat?”

“We’re adjusting to staying off the grid,” Seth replied, “We’ve been working jobs under the table and using cash only. How’s everyone doing?”

“Finn what the fuck happened to you,” I asked my brother at seeing bruises on his face and his split lip.

“Drew happened,” he replied, “He came into the club the other day and confronted me about you. I refused to tell him where you went, since I have no idea where you are anyway, and wanted me to find out. I told him I wouldn’t tell him even if I knew and that was when he attacked.”

“My question is why break your radio silence now after being gone for months now,” Hunter asked.

“Do you want me to tell them or do you, babe,” Seth asked me.

“I can tell them,” I took a deep breath before looking at the screen, “I’m pregnant. The baby is Seth’s. I just found out last week.”

“Oh shit,” Finn was shocked and just speechless, “Catriona, what were you two thinking? Drew will kill you for this affair, imagine what will to you when Drew finds you and takes you away from Seth. If he finds out you’re going to have Seth’s baby, he will kill you for betraying him.”

“That’s why we’re calling you guys,” Seth replied, “We need to have the Shield reunited up here and get Gallows and Anderson here to stay with us to protect us. My old crew I ran with are already on our side, but we need more numbers here to keep Drew from finding us and taking Cat away.”

“What’s going to stop Drew from taking here besides having more muscle,” Hunter asked.

“We’re going to get married,” I responded, “We’re going to go to the courthouse here and we’re going to get married.”

“You know Drew will figure out you got married,” Finn warned.

“He doesn’t know our true legal names,” I told Finn, “And after we get married, I want to take Seth to Bray to meet Ma and Dad. I think it’s time for him to meet them.”

“Alright so we’ll send up the Shield and Gallows and Anderson,” Finn responded, “And I’ll send Anderson up with plane tickets for the two of you go see Ma and Dad. But all of you are going together in coach so you guys will be protected. I can’t risk you being picked up by Drew or any of his lackeys. And the minute he gets his hands on you Cat, all bets are off and we’re going to war.”

“Thanks guys,” I replied, “This means a ton. I will send a message on the encrypted server with our address for them to come out here.”

After a couple days, I had called my job and told them I was unable to continue working. I knew it was best if I stayed home now that I was pregnant for my safety. They were actually really cool about and said I was welcome to come back after I had my baby. But today was the day that our back up was to arrive. I couldn’t wait to see Luke and Karl again. I had missed my bodyguards so much. They were my other brothers in the Club and I enjoyed their company, despite how suffocating it got at times.

“Hey babe, they’re here,” Seth called as he poked his head into the house.

I shot up from my spot on the couch and ran out onto the porch to greet everyone.

Dean and Roman got out of their car and greeted Seth. The three of them hugged each other tightly. I knew Seth missed his brothers so I wasn’t going to try to wedge myself into their reunion. Luke and Karl came over to me once they got out of their car and both smothered me in a tight group hug.

“Guys, I’m a little fragile now,” I groaned, my voice muffled by their chests.

“Sorry Catie,” Karl replied as we broke apart, “We’ve missed you, girl. Has Rollins treated you nicely compared to McIntyre?”

“Leagues beyond McIntyre I promise,” I told him as Seth came over to stand with me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling him into my side, “Seth, these are Luke Gallows and Karl Anderson. I never got the chance to give you guys a proper introduction.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys,” Seth shook each of their hands, “It means a lot that you guys are here to help keep us safe from McIntyre.”

“No intro for us, Uce,” Roman asked as he came over to us on the porch.

“Right sorry,” Seth cleared his throat, “Everyone, these are Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns, my brothers from the Authority. We’re The Shield.”

“It’s good to finally meet you guys,” I gave each of them a hug, “Let’s get you guys and your bags inside. You’ll all be staying with us here. We have a couple rooms down in the basement with beds for everyone.”

Once we had everyone settled, Seth and I went to the courthouse to get married. We decided to only bring two guards with us and we picked Roman and Luke to tag along with us as witnesses for our marriage. I was so excited and nervous for this. I got Seth’s ring size yesterday and bought his wedding band with Karl and I knew that Seth had already gotten my band when we got my engagement ring.

“You ready to be his wife, Catie,” Luke asked as we got ready to walk the impromptu aisle in the courtroom to get married.

“I’m beyond ready,” I replied.

I opted to wear white today. I had a nice white bodycon dress that I was still able to fit in. Since I became pregnant I had bloated up a little, but my clothes still fit. As I walked down towards Seth, Seth turned to see me and his eyes lit up and I could see him getting a little emotional. That was something I loved about him so much. He was such a passionate man and was never ashamed to show his emotions.

“We are gathered here today to join Catriona Rose Devitt and Colby Daniel Lopez in lawful marriage,” the judge started once I came to stand beside Seth, “Is there anyone here who says that these two should not wed? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

When no one spoke, the judge continued.

“Now I’ve been informed that the couple has vows for each other,” the judge spoke again, “Mr. Lopez, if you would start us off.”

“Catriona,” Seth took a breath, “We’ve known each other for nearly a year now, but in that time I have come to fall in love with you. I know it’s sudden for us to be married, but I know no other way to keep you close and safe than through making you my wife. I hope to be a good husband and father of our child. I promise to protect you and fight the battles you can’t fight alone.”

“Miss Devitt,” the judge directed for me to say my vows.

“Colby,” I took a breath and smiled at him before continuing, “I’m over the moon to be marrying you. I promise that I will be the best wife and mother to our child. I promise to always be in your corner. I promise to always be here when you fall to give you the strength to get back up.”

“With the power vested in me by the state of Iowa,” the judged looked between me and Seth, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Seth pulled me to him and kissed me tenderly as Luke and Roman clapped. Seth and I turned to the table and signed out marriage license. It was so weird for me to hear my birth name along with Seth’s but it was right for us use our real names for this. It means so much more to know that we were legit husband and wife. We owed our baby and any future children we have, a chance to have lives outside of our criminal backgrounds.

Right now, Seth and I were at home. We had just finished packing for our trip out to Bray, and we wanted to just relax. I was laying in bed with Seth, holding my left hand up in the air and admiring my engagement ring and wedding band. I was over the moon that I was now Cat Rollins now, not a Bálor anymore.

“So now that you’re my wife,” Seth murmured in my ear, “Are you going to join the Authority, stay in Bálor Club, or be in both?”

“I was thinking both,” I replied, “I don’t think Finn can run the Club alone and the Authority has you as the resident hacker.”

“I like the idea of you being in both,” Seth agreed, “Then you’ll have two families to have your back. And now the relationship between the Club and the Authority is much stronger, I’m sure that when McIntyre declares war on Bálor Club, the Authority will be there to help bring the fight to him and send his crew out of the city or to their graves.”

“Damn right,” I chuckled and kissed him, “Now this momma is tired and wants a nap.”

“Then let’s nap,” Seth chuckled and pulled the covers over us before we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Seth and I have arrived in Bray. We decided to keep Dean and Roman back in Iowa and brought Karl and Luke with us. We decided this because Ma and Dad knew Luke and Karl and were comfortable with being around them. I was excited to see my parents again. It had been so long since I had seen them.

“I’m nervous,” I confessed as Luke drove our rental car out of Dublin and down into Bray. I had missed the rolling green hills and rocky shoreline of my native Ireland. It was so weird for me to spend most of my formative years in the states after I had spent most of my life here.

“I am too,” Seth replied, “But I think your parents are going to be happy to see you. Maybe they’ll like me.”

“I hope so,” I sighed as I laid my head against his shoulders.

When we finally pulled up to my parents’ house, Seth helped me out of the car. I had opted to wear one of Seth’s hoodies since I was slightly showing. You would have to look really close but I had a tiny bump going. I didn’t want to freak out my parents right away with telling them that they’d be grandparents again.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I led the way up to the door and knocked, waiting for one of them to answer.

“Catie,” my mom answered the door. She pulled into a hug before letting in Seth and the guys.

“Hi Ma,” I greeted her, my old accent was starting to poke back through.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” my mom replied, “We haven’t seen you since Christmas a few years ago. Oh, who’s this?”

“Ma,” I grabbed Seth’s hand and pulled him close to me, “This is Seth Rollins. But where’s Dad?”

“I’m coming,” I heard my father’s voice and he came into the hallway, “Why don’t we all gather in the living, your mother just made some tea.”

We all followed my dad to the living room and took a seat. My parents sat together on the couch, Karl and Luke sat on the loveseat, and myself and Seth sat in the old armchair with me on Seth’s lap. Mom served up the tea to all of us.

“So what brings you home, dove,” Dad asked once everyone was settled.

“Well I wanted you and Ma to meet my husband, Seth,” I told him and I swear I think my dad about choked on his tea.

“You’re married,” my mom replied, “We had no idea. You didn’t send us wedding invites.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” I told her, “But we actually eloped a couple days ago. I promise that we’ll have a real ceremony once we have the money to do so. And I will fly you out personal. I want Dad to walk me down the aisle.”

“Why elope though, dove,” my dad asked. I gulped.

“You see Dad,” I took a breath and Seth rubbed my back for support, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” my mom was shocked, “You and Seth are already having a baby. Sweetie you’re so young.”

“I know,” I replied, “But we love each other and have always supported each other. We chose to elope because of the baby. We felt it was the right thing to do for our baby.”

“And we’re very happy for you, dove,” my dad replied, “Does Fergal know?”

“He does,” I answered, “He wasn’t able to tag along with us for the trip. But he knows everything.”

“You let us know when you’re baby shower is and we’ll fly out to see you,” my mom added, “And you call us when you’re about to have the baby. I want to be there to meet my grandchild.”

“Of course Ma,” I replied, “You and Dad will be more than likely the first ones I call when I’m about to have the baby.”

#seth rollins x oc #seth rollions fic #seth rollins fanfic #seth rollins fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #A Dangerous Game

[actuallyspencerreid]

Survivor | part 3

Read : Part 1 , Part 2

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: @the-unfortunate-fangirl @cynbx @princesswagger15 @obsessivereader36 @hearts-to-the-sky @mantlereid @dreamxcollide @qu3n-elizab3th @hiya-imthatgirl @literallyprentissstwin @bauboywonder @everyday-imfangirling @spencerreidreads @alixcharmedworld @writer-of-camelot @grubler @10kcriminalsatthedisco @extremeobsessions101 @staygoldeea @sarrahgoode @spideysstarks @spence-imagines @hanasonly @mbmrocks

------

“Why does it matter to you what Spencer and I were arguing about?”

The unsub laughed at your firm voice. “Simple. You and Mr. Perfect never argue about anything. Sounds like he thinks you're cheating on him. Are you?”

“Never.” You wanted to cry again, thinking about the fight you’d had with Spencer. “I love Spencer more than anything. I could never hurt him like that.”

“That’s why I love you, (Y/N).” The unsub sighed almost dreamily. “You’re so fiercely loyal.”

“If you love me so much, why am I tied up?”

“Because I have to teach you how to love me back.” The belt came across your legs again and you cried out in pain. “Luckily, I know that you’re a good learner.”

------

“Guys!” Everyone looked up at Penelope from what they were doing. “I put an alert on (Y/N)’s name and face to see if anything came up, anything that could help us find her and this website just went live a few seconds ago. The link was emailed to me anonymously.”

She projected her screen onto the television, showing the team. The background was dark, but they could see a livestream and you were right in the middle. Spencer felt the air leave his body as he took in your unconscious appearance, flashbacks of Tobias Hankel appearing in his mind.

“Wake up!” The unsub yelled at you, smacking you across the face.

“Garcia can you take this down?” Emily’s voice was quiet as they watched you regain consciousness and look directly at the camera.

“Don’t!” Spencer reached out to grab Penelope’s hands before they could do anything. “She knows that we can see her. Look at her face.”

He was right. Your features didn’t show that you were hurt or even scared. They showed a woman determined to get away. Everyone saw as you turned to the unsub, whose face was just out of frame, with an irritated scowl.

“She’s not afraid of him.” JJ’s voice held an admirable tone.

“When my team finds you, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never see the light of day again.”

The unsub laughed. “Your team is reckless. They don’t know how to separate their emotions from their work. They make careless mistakes and ignore the law when it’s convenient for them. You’re team has as much a chance as finding me as you do walking out here alive.”

“Sounds like pretty good odds to me.”

Spencer could feel himself shaking, beyond pissed he still couldn’t figure out where you were. “Garcia, can you track where this is streaming from?”

“No the IP address reroutes every fifteen seconds, I can’t pinpoint him.”

The screen went dark, but they could still hear everything.

“Tell me something agent. Would you die for them?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Would you live for them?”

“Yes.”

“What was your fight with Doctor Reid about?”

You hesitated for a second and the BAU could feel an aura of tension. But you weren’t going to let this man get to you. “What is your obsession with my boyfriend?”

The unsub laughed again. “Doctor Spencer Reid is an enigma. For years, I’ve watched as this child has made an ass of everyone who dared speak to him. He looks down on others, thinking that his intelligence made them inferior. For a long time, I thought I hated him, but after a while I figured out that I was in awe of him. Ededict memory, an IQ of 187, can read twenty thousand words per minute. A genius. And yet, in waltz this rookie cop and all that is registered null and void. Around you, Spencer Reid goes from machine to human man, and a dumb one at that. How did you do it?”

Though they would never admit it, the rest of the BAU was slightly curious as well. Spencer did in fact get a little loopy when it came to you and sometimes it confused them.

“I didn’t do anything.” You were confused.

“Don’t lie to me!” Everyone flinched as the unsub yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“I don’t know what your talking about!” Your resolve was breaking. Spencer’s heart broke when you glanced at the camera and he saw the fear in your eyes.

“Maybe this will help.”

Everything moved in slow motion. You appeared on the screen again, belt tied around your arm above your elbow. Spencer immediately recognized the bottle and needle he pulled out of his pocket.

“No!” He screamed, Matt and Luke had to hold him back before he launched himself at the screen as the unsub measured out the Dilaudid.

“You remember this, don’t you sweetheart?” He pushed the needle into your vein and injected you with the narcotic. “Doctor Reid didn’t fare so well against this particular drug. Let’s see how you do.”

The BAU watched as you drifted into unconsciousness and then the camera cut off. Spencer broke, sobbing as Luke and Matt held him up.

“We have to get her out of there.” Penelope wiped her tear stained cheeks. “I have the list of officers who were absent on the day that all three victims were abducted and killed. It’s a pretty decent sized list.”

“And you compared that list to the agents who aren’t here today?”

“Just did. Still fourteen names.”

“Alright. I want every single address of everyone on that list. JJ, Simmons, Rossi, take the first seven. Luke, Lewis and I will take the other seven. Reid, stay here with Garcia in case he starts streaming again.”

“I’m going with you!”

“Absolutely not!” Emily was more firm than anyone had ever heard her before. “You are nowhere near emotionally stable enough for the field. You will stay here with Garcia and that is an order!”

Everyone watched as Spencer and Emily stared each other down. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge and gun. “If she dies and he gets away, I quit.”

Emily gave him a curt nod. “I understand.”

The rest of the team left and Spencer sank into the chair next to Garcia, resting his head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair.

“Come on Boy Wonder. Build a profile. Maybe we can figure out who it is. Save them some time.”

He nodded and sat up, looking over the files on the table. Images and words swam in front of his eyes as he tried to fit all the pieces together. For hours he stayed there, circling the table and moving things around to get a better understanding. Garcia lost count of how many times she refilled their coffee cups. The sun was rising when he finally had an idea.

“We know he works at the FBI, so he’s smart and at least somewhat fit. The torture and stabbing on his previous victims suggest sexual sadism. Garcia, can you hack the IT department?”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Her hands flew across her keyboard. “What am I looking for?”

“Anyone who has looked into our files or possibly even into our pasts. He’s obsessed with one, if not both of us. He knew when the perfect time to grab her was, so he had to have been watching us.”

“Holy smokes.”

“What is it?”

“Dex Trengrove. He’s got everything you’ve ever written, everything you’ve ever been mentioned in saved on his hard drive. It also looks like he planted a trojan horse on (Y/N)’s work computer and has been recording random pieces of the day. There’s so much footage of her just laughing and filling out paperwork. There’s a clip of her kissing you cheek that he has labled ‘WHY?’”

Spencer called Emily on speaker phone. “Emily, our unsub is number four on your list, Dex Trengrove.”

“That makes sense. He was fired three months ago for hacking NSA. That must have been his trigger. But he wasn’t at his apartment. Does he have any other address on file?”

“Nope. He hasn’t gotten a new job since being fired and both his parents are dead.”

“What happened to his parents house?”

“They lived in a little house in rural Virginia. When they died two years ago, they left it to Dex, but he sold it to -- oh my god.”

“What is it Garcia?”

“He sold it to Harley and Robin Beth. The Beths dropped off the grid right afterwards and no one had heard from them since.”

Tara chimed in. “How much you want to bet, they were his first victims?”

Emily sighed. “Garcia, I need the coordinates for that house.”

“Coming to your phones.”

Just then, there was a ping. “He’s streaming again.”

They turned to the screen as your face appeared right in front of the camera. You were whispering, tears running down your face. “Spencer, if you can hear me, I’m okay. He’s one of the IT guys. I don’t remember his name. I don’t know where I am. Spence, I need you know that I love you. More than anything in this world. If I don’t make it out of here, always remember that I love you. ”

He saw your eyes widen as you heard footsteps. You returned to your chair, slipping your hands into the loosened binds. Dax had another full needle in his hand.

“Please don’t.” You begged, feigning desperation. “I’m fine, really. I don’t need it. Please.”

He chuckled and grabbed your arm anyway. While he was busying himself with the belt, you slipped back out of your binds and wrapped them around his neck.

“Son of a bitch.” You growled in his ear as he struggled against you. You maneuvered your legs around his flailing arms until you were completely wrapped around him.

“Go to sleep. Go to sleep.” You held steady, pulling tighter as he slowly lost consciousness. He dropped to his knees as you heard the sound of approaching sirens.

“Dax Trengrove. FBI!” You sighed in relief as you heard Emily’s voice. She busted through the door followed closely behind Tara and Luke, weapon raised.

“Thank god.” You let yourself cry as you untagged yourself from the man and ran into her arms. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Let’s get you to a medic.” You nodded and let her lead you away.

------

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” -Lao Tzu

------

Your body ached as you opened your eyes.

“Where am I?” You groaned, trying to sit up.

“Don’t do that.” You were startled by Spencer’s voice, but immediately comforted when you turned and realized that he was next to you. “You’re at the hospital. You’ve been sleep for the past two days.”

“Have you been here the whole time?” You smirked at his messy hair and scraggly beard. Your nose turned up as he leaned in close. “Yes you have. You smell.”

“There she is,” He pressed his lips to your cheek and you got a whiff of his breath. “I’m going to go tell the team that you’re woke.”

“Brush your teeth while you’re at it!” You called as he walked out the door, laughing.

------

TO BE CONTINUED...

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer #spencer imagine #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #spencer reid angst #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #david rossi #jennifer jareau #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis

[scambusternow-blog]

Are you in love with a foreign National posing as an American soldier stationed abroad on a peacekeeping mission

I'm sorry to be the one to tell you but you are the victim of a romance scam. The person you are talking to is not a US soldier.

I know this because I was the victim of a military romance scam myself. My scammer claimed he needed Amazon cards sent to him so he would have internet access in order to chat with me on Hangouts.

Accordingly, I'm quite sure the real military allows for communication without having to pay for data for the solder to use. Therefore the simplest way to determine if you are talking to a fake soldier as if they're asking you to send them iTunes and Amazon gift cards. The real military personnel would have no need for this. So you can be quite certain that if you are sending these cards you are talking with a scammer.

This is a good example of a trick that the scammers use to get us to send money to them. Because that is the only goal for them. To get as much money as possible from you. No he is not going to pay you back when he gets to the states to marry you.

Why? Because he is not real. Not real and the way you think he is.

He's real all right but he is not the image you have of him/her.

He is more than likely a 20-something year old from Nigeria or some other country that's known for scamming.

What I've learned since I was scammed, is the foreign National who is pretending to be your American soldier boyfriend uses the cards you sent him to access Wi-Fi from internet cafes, where they can run their scam from. And their communications can't be traced back to their IP address as easily. Therefore they avoid detection from law enforcement.

I would like to take this opportunity to post some more information regarding military romance scams to help answer your determine if you are speaking with a scammer or not

To reiterate, he's not a real soldier if he is constantly requesting money from you. Money in the form of gift cards that I mentioned Amazon, iTunes Verizon.... Or wire transfers like money grams. And God forbid the worst of all withdraws from the victim's bank account directly wired 2 the pretend soldier in another country where he claims to be stationed on a peacekeeping mission.

These scammers have been doing this for decades. They are extremely good at what they do. They still unprotected photos from real military personnel which are posted to their social media accounts. They also steal the soldiers pictures from friends and family members social media accounts.

Now you're scammer is armed with dozens of pictures and all the information he needs to know about the soldier from reading his social media posts.

What I'd like you to do is ask yourself how much of the conversations that you have with your soldier revolve around money. If you're honest you will see that it comes up a lot. Another sign is the soldier doesn't seem interested in sexting. What red-blooded American with a fiance or girlfriend wouldn't want a little phone sex or sexting after being in a relationship with you for months or years. After all he loves you more than anything in the world. But you'll write that off thinking he's traditional and sweet that he doesn't want that.

They are however completely obsessed with how we feel. Is he constantly asking how you're doing what kind of mood you're in. Does he show particular concern for your health and well-being. You think it's sweet but he's really making sure that you're happy and content and not questioning the fact that he is completely fake.

Some other warning signs are as follows:

If your boyfriend girlfriend/future husband/wife is asking you to do the following or has exhibited this behavior, it is a most likely a scam:

Moves to private messaging site immediately after meeting you on Facebook or SnapChat or Instagram or some dating or social media site. Often times they delete the site you met them on right after they asked you to move to a more private messaging site.

They profess their love to you very quickly & they seem to quote poems and song lyrics along with using their own sort of broken language, as they profess their love and devotion quickly to you. I have heard that their prime targets are ones that do not question this change in their written English. personally I excused mine because my scammers said he was a Russian immigrant. Actually my scammer was very Westernized and his English was almost perfect. However there are always ways to tell. If you know what you're looking for.

For example, they don't say how did you sleep. They say how was your night's rest? I have spoken to several romance scammers before blocking them that speak the exact same way.

They also showed concern for your health and love for your family.

He or she promises you marriage as soon as he/she gets to state for leave that they asked you to pay for.

They Requests money (wire transfers) and Amazon, iTune ,Verizon, etc gift cards, for medicine, religious practices, and leaves to come home, internet access, complete job assignments, help sick friend, get him out of trouble, or anything that sounds fishy.

Below is an email response I received after I sent an inquiry to the US Army, when I discovered I was scammed. I received this wonderful response back with lots of useful links on how to find and report your scammer. And how to learn more about Romance Scams.

Right now you can also copy the picture he/she gave you and do a google image search and you will hopefully see the pictures of the real person he/she is impersonating. This doesn't always work and takes some digging. if you find the real person you can direct message them and alert them that their image is being used for scamming.

Also try looking at YouTube videos about romance scammers. There are advocacy groups out there that will delete the fake account and post warnings for people. There are tons of groups on Facebook and Instagram devoted to catching and identifying military romance scammers. You might even try googling his fake name and put scammer at the end of it. With the net being so big you never know what you'll find. The other thing is they use the same people over and over. by people I mean they use the same real military personnel. They just change the name of the soldier but use the same stolen pictures of the one individual they have mastered the identity of.

Good Luck to you and I'm sorry this may be happening to you. Please continue reading the government response I received below it's very informative.

You have contacted an email that is monitored by the U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Command. Unfortunately, this is a common concern. We assure you there is never any reason to send money to anyone claiming to be a Soldier online. If you have only spoken with this person online, it is likely they are not a U.S. Soldier at all. If this is a suspected imposter social media profile, we urge you to report it to that platform as soon as possible. Please continue reading for more resources and answers to other frequently asked questions:

How to report an imposter Facebook profile: Caution-https://www.facebook.com/help/16... < Caution-https://www.facebook.com/help/16... >

Answers to frequently asked questions:

- Soldiers and their loved ones are not charged money so that the Soldier can go on leave.

- Soldiers are not charged money for secure communications or leave.

- Soldiers do not need permission to get married.

- Soldiers emails are in this format: [email protected] < Caution-mailto: [email protected] > anything ending in .us or .com is not an official email account.

- Soldiers have medical insurance, which pays for their medical costs when treated at civilian health care facilities worldwide – family and friends do not need to pay their medical expenses.

- Military aircraft are not used to transport Privately Owned Vehicles.

- Army financial offices are not used to help Soldiers buy or sell items of any kind.

- Soldiers deployed to Combat Zones do not need to solicit money from the public to feed or house themselves or their troops.

- Deployed Soldiers do not find large unclaimed sums of money and need your help to get that money out of the country.

Anyone who tells you one of the above-listed conditions/circumstances is true is likely posing as a Soldier and trying to steal money from you.

We would urge you to immediately cease all contact with this individual.

For more information on avoiding online scams and to report this crime, please see the following sites and articles:

This article may help clarify some of the tricks social media scammers try to use to take advantage of people: Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/61432/< Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/61432/>

CID advises vigilance against 'romance scams,' scammers impersonating Soldiers

Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/180749 < Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/180749 >

FBI Internet Crime Complaint Center: Caution-http://www.ic3.gov/default.aspx< Caution-http://www.ic3.gov/default.aspx>

U.S. Army investigators warn public against romance scams: Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/130...< Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/130...>

DOD warns troops, families to be cybercrime smart -Caution-http://www.army.mil/article/1450...< Caution-http://www.army.mil/article/1450...>

Use caution with social networking

Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/146...< Caution-https://www.army.mil/article/146...>

Please see our frequently asked questions section under scams and legal issues. Caution-http://www.army.mil/faq/ < Caution-http://www.army.mil/faq/ > or visit Caution-http://www.cid.army.mil/ < Caution-http://www.cid.army.mil/ >.

The challenge with most scams is determining if an individual is a legitimate member of the US Army. Based on the Privacy Act of 1974, we cannot provide this information. If concerned about a scam you may contact the Better Business Bureau (if it involves a solicitation for money), or local law enforcement. If you're involved in a Facebook or dating site scam, you are free to contact us direct; [phone].

If you have a social security number, you can find information about Soldiers online at Caution-https://www.dmdc.osd.mil/appj/sc... < Caution-https://www.dmdc.osd.mil/appj/sc... > . While this is a free search, it does not help you locate a retiree, but it can tell you if the Soldier is active duty or not.

If more information is needed such as current duty station or location, you can contact the Commander Soldier's Records Data Center (SRDC) by phone or mail and they will help you locate individuals on active duty only, not retirees. There is a fee of $3.50 for businesses to use this service. The check or money order must be made out to the U.S. Treasury. It is not refundable. The address is:

Commander Soldier's Records Data Center (SRDC)

8899 East 56th Street

Indianapolis, IN 46249-5301

Phone: [phone]

In addition, it is not possible to remove social networking site profiles without legitimate proof of identity theft or a scam. If you suspect fraud on this site, take a screenshot of any advances for money or impersonations and report the account on the social networking platform immediately.

Please submit all information you have on this incident to Caution-www.ic3.gov < Caution-http://www.ic3.gov > (FBI website, Internet Criminal Complaint Center), immediately stop contact with the scammer (you are potentially providing them more information which can be used to scam you), and learn how to protect yourself against these scams at Caution-http://www.ftc.gov < Caution-http://www.ftc.gov > (Federal Trade Commission's website)