#Redirect Checker

[anujapatel1]

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Best Practices for Managing Redirects

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Monitor Redirects Regularly: Periodically audit your site’s redirects, especially after making changes to your site structure or moving content. Tools like the Websaudit URL Redirect Checker can help you stay on top of potential issues.

Use Redirects Only When Necessary: Avoid unnecessary redirects, as they can slow down your site and negatively impact SEO. Only use redirects when pages are permanently moved or deleted.

Test Redirects After Site Changes: After any site migration or structural change, test your redirects to ensure that they are working as intended and not causing any SEO issues.

Conclusion

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[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake Accidentally Takes Over the World (and Didn’t Think to Mention It)

So, Janet somehow spent decades climbing her way into every government worth a damn, ruling the entire world from behind the scenes. And then, because the universe is apparently wild, she left it all to Tim.

Cut to Tim Drake, the brand-new, completely reluctant secret ruler of the entire planet. And he just… never really thought it was worth mentioning?

The Batfam finds out when Bruce stumbles across an encrypted memo traced to a mysterious Gotham office with Tim’s name on it.

Bruce, holding up the memo: “Tim. Want to explain why this document about, oh, international finance reforms is signed with your encryption key?”

Tim, not even looking up from his laptop: “Oh, yeah. That. Janet left me her ‘global influence portfolio’ or whatever. Mostly paperwork.”

The Batfam stares in total shock.

Dick sputters nearly dropping his coffee: "Wait—you’ve been managing world policies?!”

Tim, shrugging, barely paying attention as he emails the president of Germany: “Well, yeah. I figured someone had to keep things running. It's not that big a deal. I mostly just redirect some policies. You know, keep things running smoothly.”

Jason, absolutely cackling: “Are you telling me that little Replacement here is the reason for half the ‘global cooperation’ headlines?”

Tim, scrolling through emails: “They send me reports; I send suggestions. And honestly, they make it way more dramatic than it is. It's not that hard."

Barbara stares at him, half horrified, half impressed. “How did we not notice this?”

Tim blinks. “I mean, it’s not like I was actively hiding it. I assumed you guys knew I was… kind of managing these things?”

Cue utter disbelief.

Stephanie, laughing too hard to breathe: “Tim, do you have world leaders on speed dial?”

Tim, completely unfazed: “Only the important ones. They text, mostly. Oh—by the way, I might’ve influenced a minor arms control thing last week. Don’t worry; it’s all sorted.”

Bruce, looking like he’s two seconds from fainting: “Sorted? Tim, we're talking about you having global authority here. People notice these things."

Tim shrugs again as his phone buzzes with notifications. “Sure, but it’s not like they’re going to do anything too crazy. I just suggest stuff, and they listen. Honestly, it’s like herding really powerful, really overdramatic cats.”

Damian, scandalized: “You mean to tell me, Drake, that you’re manipulating world politics like it’s a game of checkers?”

Tim, still casual: “Manipulating’s a strong word. Like I said, it’s more just nudging things along.” His phone buzzes again. “Oh, hang on. France is panicking about their energy policy again.”

The Batfam tries to process the fact that Tim—Tim, who routinely forgets what day it is—is now, somehow, running the world.

And then his phone buzzes with a message from the UN Security Council.

Tim sighs, glancing down. “Oh, great. Looks like they’re debating nuclear arms again. Be right back.”

Meanwhile, the Batfam is left absolutely speechless, processing the fact that their Tim—scrawny, coffee-fueled Tim—is apparently one of the most powerful people on the planet. And to him its just another tuesday.

[agentstarkid]

TENGO UN CORAZÓN QUE ESTÁ PERDIENDO LA CABEZA ✦ DR3

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 7.7K words

✦ TRACK LIMITS: yearning, angst, tenderness, fondness, found family (I guess?), 2-year-old menace, spanish and portuguese are spoken, complicated feelings, Daniel interacting with a toddler—hormones and uterus could experience feelings a lil bit (mine did ngl).

✦ MAY'S RADIO: Two chapters in less than a month? Who am I?? 🤭 All I gotta say is that Iza is my MVP because she took matters into her own (tiny) hands! It was so much fun writing her personality, I based her on my niece who's a mini tornado herself 😆 Also, a few weeks ago I made moodboards and headcanons for The Girls™, gonna leave the links below if you wanna know them even more <3. Anyways, I'm excited for this chapter!!! Hope you guys like it 💛

Part of The Joker & The Queen series | Set at the end of Revenant.

Divider by: cafekitsune

Meet: Fiorella | Vittoria | Danna

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Little traitor.

The thought repeats in your head like a mantra as you glance at the 35-inch whirlwind currently glued to Daniel’s leg. Iza’s bright giggles echo through the room, and her tiny hands clutch his shorts like he’s her favorite person in the world—which, admittedly, isn’t far from the truth. She’s always been attached to her godfather. But today? Today, she seems to be on a mission to play matchmaker in her two-year-old way, blissfully unaware of the tension crackling between her chosen victims.

Ever since your flight landed a little over four hours ago, it’s been one emotional ambush after another, all orchestrated by Miss Izabele Abigail Sousa-Allen. She decided you wouldn’t have a moment of peace during your visit, dragging you and Daniel into joint tea parties, coloring sessions, and even a very competitive game of hide-and-seek where she demanded you both hide together. 

(How could you say no to her when she looked at you with her little frown and pouty lips, tiny arms crossed demanding you to do what she wanted? It was adorable and scary at the same time—have you experienced the wrath of a 2-years-old? Definitely not recommended.)

And now, as she tugged on Daniel’s hand and yours simultaneously, her intentions became crystal clear.

“Again!” she demanded, her big brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “All three!”

Vitto, hovering nearby, let out a resigned sigh. “Iza, maybe Tia and Tio need a break—”

“No break!” she interrupted, stomping her little foot for emphasis. Like previously said, her determination was adorable and terrifying all at once. “Together!”

You catched Vitto’s apologetic glance as she scooped Iza up in her arms, trying to wrangle her away. “Bebê, let’s give them some space, okay? Maybe they need a little break to rest," Vitto said with a gentle smile, trying to redirect Iza’s enthusiasm.

Iza frowned, her little brows furrowing as she processed her mom’s words. “But they do nothing,” she said earnestly, her tone filled with the simple logic only a child could muster.

You stifled a laugh, pressing your lips together as Daniel scratched the back of his neck, clearly at a loss for words.

“Well,” Vitto tried again, shifting tactics, “grown-ups get tired faster, bebê. Why don’t you let them rest while we do something fun? Like bake your birthday cake?”

Iza’s face lit up at the mention of cake. “pinkles?” she asked, her tone suddenly bright and hopeful.

“Of course,” Andrew chimed in from the doorway, already rolling up his sleeves. “All the sprinkles you want, my little love.”

That was all it took. Iza squealed in delight, her earlier mission forgotten as she wiggled free from Vitto’s arms, her tiny feet pattering across the floor. Her and Andrew followed closely behind—with the Brazilian in the rearguard, who sent you a look over her shoulder letting you know she was sorry—leaving you and Daniel alone in the living room once again.

Where the hell was everyone else in this house? 

‘We’ll make sure it’s all smooth for you’ yeah, sure.

(A house full of traitors.)

The silence that settled felt heavy, the absence of Iza’s chatter amplifying the slight tension between you. You shifted awkwardly, biting the inner skin of your cheek, unsure whether to laugh or bolt.

“She’s persistent,” Daniel finally said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You nodded, crossing your arms in a feeble attempt to shield yourself. “She gets it from Vitto.”

“She’s also got great timing,” Daniel said with a soft chuckle.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. “She always knows how to make things… interesting.”

Daniel nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “She’s grown a lot. It’s hard to believe she’s already two.”

“Almost two,” you corrected, glancing toward the kitchen where laughter and the clatter of mixing bowls filled the air. “Feels like just yesterday she was a tiny little human. Uh, I mean she’s still tiny but-” you rushed to clarify. (Why? the fuck if you knew. Great, if this is how the whole week is gonna turn out as then you were in for the time of your life—Take a deep breath, don’t let it get to you.) “you know what I meant.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on you now instead of the kitchen. “Time flies.”

You met his eyes briefly, but the weight of his stare was too much. You looked away, pretending to adjust a cushion on the couch. “Well, she’s definitely keeping us on our toes.”

“That’s Iza for you,” he said with a small smile, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—nostalgia, maybe? Were you reading too much into it? most likely.

Before you could respond, a loud crash came from the kitchen, followed by Iza’s giggles and Andrew’s exasperated, “Iza, baby, no! Not the whole bag of sprinkles!”

You both laughed, the sound easing some of the tension between you. For a brief moment, it felt like old times—before everything got complicated. But just as quickly, reality crept back in, and the apparent unshakeable tension hung heavily in the air once more.

You cleared your throat, straightening up as if that would physically distance you from the awkwardness. “Well,” you began, your voice deliberately light, “I should probably go and take a shower before the little hurricane comes back and ropes us into another game. Or something worse.” you said quickly, glancing toward the hallway. “Anyway, I’ll see you around.” 

You turned before he could respond, hoping to escape whatever this was. His quiet laugh followed you as you reached the doorframe.

Your name was voiced and you paused, your hand resting on the doorframe. For a second, you debated pretending you didn’t hear him, but curiosity—or maybe something deeper—got the better of you. 

You turned to face him, your expression carefully neutral. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for the right words, his usual confidence replaced with something more. “I just… I’m glad you’re here.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you managed a small smile. “Me too,” you said softly, though whether it was entirely true, you weren’t sure.

As you walked down the hall, the distant sound of Iza’s giggles were a welcome distraction. But no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else, the weight of those four words followed you, their meaning tugging at a part of you you weren’t ready to face yet.

You wandered through the halls of the mediterranean-style house fresh out of the shower, focused on typing frantically in the groupchat, when the hallway ended abruptly—well, not ended, more like it got obstructed making you drop your phone in the process.

“Sorry, sorry,” you heard followed by a chuckle, “didn’t see ya.”

You looked up to the talking wall just to find a radiant smile and crinkled eyes staring back at you. “Oh, no, no, it was my fault,” you rushed to say, bending down to pick up the phone, “should’ve paid more attention.” 

For a moment, you didn’t move—your eyes locked on the inked skin that entered your sight as he reached for the mobile, too. The number 3 on his pinkie, the treble clef on his wrist, and the veins running down his hand, tracing a path up his forearm and disappearing beneath the sleeve of his shirt. It was stupid how familiar they were, how easily they could pull you back into memories you weren’t ready to relive.

(or that you shouldn’t relive, for that matter.)

Daniel noticed. Of course, he did.

When you lifted your eyes and met his stare fixed already on you, you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck to your face. But instead of a cocky grin, as you expected, his expression softened, and for a moment his eyes roamed your face as if he was studying and memorizing it before he cleared his throat.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter than before, almost hesitant.

You blinked, forcing yourself out of whatever moment you had just fallen into. “Yeah,” you said quickly, gripping your phone a little tighter. “Just… distracted.”

He nodded, not pushing, though his eyes lingered on you for a second longer. “Guess I should’ve been watching where I was going too,” he admitted, stepping back to give you space. “Didn’t mean to, you know—” he gestured vaguely toward where you had collided “—block your way.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, brushing a hand through your damp hair. “this your room?” you pointed to the door he just came out of. (Geez, why would you even ask him that?.)

“Huh? oh.” he chuckled softly, a hand absentmindedly rubbing his neck. “Yeah, yeah. It’s uh- It’s been my unofficial room since they moved here”

“Oh, nice.” you nodded, and an awkward silence fell over the two. Why was it so awkward to have a conversation when a month ago at the wedding you guys got to have a normal one?—admittedly it wasn’t a walk in the park, but it wasn’t as painfully awkward as now.  “Well, I should go find Fio and Danna, see what they’re up to. Apparently, they were checking out the new fruit stand on the next block,” you added, playfully rolling your eyes.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “Yeah. They've been out for a while. Probably causing trouble. Bet Danna’s already made friends with the owner.”

“Probably,” you agreed with a smirk. “And Fio’s probably negotiating the price of fruits like it’s a business deal.”

Daniel’s lips twitched into a fond smile. “Some things never change.”

You nodded back, offering a quick smile before you both turned the corner, your heart drumming a little too loudly in your chest.

Damn it.

Neither of you said anything as you made your way toward the living room, where the little hurricane stood in front of the TV, mesmerized by a colorful kid’s show about a farmer and his animals. Andrew was sprawled out on the sofa, lazily typing on his phone, and from the kitchen, bursts of feminine laughter spilled into the space.

At the sound of your footsteps, Andy looked up, his eyes flickering between you and Daniel in a quick, almost imperceptible movement. Then, as if deciding not to comment, he simply nodded toward the kitchen. “Girls are in there,” he said.

You didn’t need to be told twice. “Thanks,” you muttered, seizing the chance to slip away while Daniel moved to take a seat next to him.

Iza, still planted in front of the TV, was now dressed in pink pajamas, her hair styled into two tiny space buns, and—most curiously—a backpack with a cute cow face strapped onto her shoulders.

(Apparently, she had decided, out of the blue, that pajamas were the outfit of choice for the evening.) 

Daniel leaned back against the couch, a small, amused smile playing on his lips as he took in Iza’s new look. “Nice fit, princess,” he mused, watching as she clutched absentmindedly the straps of her tiny backpack with little hands.

Iza, without turning away from the TV, rocked back and forth on her heels to the rhythm of the kid’s song before finally glancing over at them. “Pajamas,” she stated matter-of-factly, as if that alone explained everything.

Andrew snorted, setting his phone down. “She threw a whole speech about why she needed to wear them now. Something about the cow backpack and how they match.”

Daniel hummed, nodding solemnly. “Well, can’t argue with that logic.”

Iza gave him a satisfied look before shifting her attention fully to them. Her big brown eyes flickered between the two men, her little mind clearly working through something. Then, with all the dramatic energy a nearly-two-year-old could muster, she clapped her hands together and ran, throwing her little body face down over the space between them. “Okay.”

Daniel and Andrew exchanged a glance. “Okay… what, baby?” Andy asked warily, rubbing her back.

She pointed at them, then at the TV. “You watch Bluey now.”

Daniel chuckled, raising a brow at Andrew. “Guess we don’t have a choice.”

Andrew sighed, rubbing his face. “Nope. None at all.”

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, watching as Fio animatedly recounted their fruit stand adventure with Danna to Vitto.

“—and then I told the guy, ‘No way you’re selling those mangoes for that price.’ I mean, I respect a hustle, but come on. You can get better and bigger ones for half that back home in PR,” Fio huffed, shaking her head as she dramatically recounted the story.

Danna shook her head, laughing. “You’re actually insufferable.”

“You’re welcome,” Fio shot back with a grin before noticing you. “Ah, there she is. Survived your little playdate?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Barely.”

Vitto, ever observant, arched a brow. “Daniel still being… Daniel?”

You hesitated, not really sure how to answer that. “He’s… I don’t know. He’s different. But also, not? It’s weird.”

Fio furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes. “Weird how?”

“Chill, Rambo, no need to kill anyone.” A short, humored laugh escaped you as you sat on one of the counter stools. You exhaled, crossing your arms. “Like… he’s trying. But not in a way that makes it obvious. It’s subtle, like he wants to be careful.”

Danna raised an eyebrow. “Careful because of you or careful because of Rúben?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure you had the answer.

The weight of Danna’s question settled between you all, unspoken yet heavy. You busied yourself by reaching for a slice of mango from the bowl on the counter, chewing thoughtfully.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally, voice quieter. “Maybe both.”

Fio watched you closely, then sighed. “That man still loves you.”

You shot her a look. “Fio—”

“What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” She gestured vaguely around the kitchen, earning a few exchanged glances from Vitto and Danna. “You’re over here acting like it’s some great mystery when it’s not.”

Danna, ever the voice of reason, leaned on the counter. “Okay, but does it even matter? He had his chance. And you moved on.”

Moved on. Right.

You nodded, as if agreeing, but something about those words settled uncomfortably in your chest.

Vitto, sensing the shift in your mood, quickly changed the subject. “Alright, enough about that. Let’s talk about something that doesn’t involve a walking emotional landmine.” She smirked. “Like what we’re doing for Iza’s birthday.”

Grateful for the out, you straightened. “Please tell me we’re not doing another ‘Iza commands us all’ day like the last Día de los Niños.”

Danna groaned. “God, no. I’m still recovering from the endless rounds of hide and seek.”

Fio grinned. “Joke’s on you, I actually enjoyed that.”

Laughter filled the kitchen as the conversation shifted to party planning, decorations, and the ridiculous number of snacks Iza had requested. For a moment, the tension from earlier faded into the background.

But even as you laughed along, the thought lingered in your mind—Daniel was being careful. With you. With himself. With whatever was left between you.

And you weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

Suddenly, the sound of tiny, determined footsteps filled the kitchen, and in the next second, Iza came barreling in, running straight to Vitto’s legs. She clung to her mother, her little arms wrapping around as much as she could reach.

“Mamãe, uppie!” she demanded, bouncing on her toes and her little arms reaching towards her.

Vitto chuckled, effortlessly scooping her up. “You’re getting too big, meu amor,” she teased, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek.

Iza, completely ignoring the comment, turned her attention to the counter, where the bowl of mangoes sat. She stretched her tiny arms toward it, fingers wiggling with determination. “Quero!”

“What do we say when we want something, Izabele?” Vitto pulled her away from the counter, giving her the mom look.

“Pweeeeeeeease” she said, tilting her head with doe eyes and a big, innocent smile.

Danna, being the closest, plucked a slice from the bowl and held it out. “Here you go, honey.”

Iza’s eyes lit up, “Fank yoo!” She eagerly grabbed the mango, taking a big bite. Juice instantly dribbled down her chin, but she was too busy enjoying the fruit to care.

Vitto shook her head fondly, grabbing a napkin to dab at her daughter’s face. “Ai, Iza…”

Fio watched the scene with amusement before nudging Iza’s little foot. “Alright, troublemaker, what’s the plan for your big day? What does the birthday girl want to do?”

Iza, still chewing, blinked at them before swallowing dramatically. She then grinned, her excitement bubbling over. “O aquário!”

Danna and Fio exchanged a look, while you looked at the little hurricane fondly.

“The aquarium?” Vitto clarified, adjusting Iza on her hip.

Iza nodded enthusiastically. “Sim! Fishies!”

Fio smirked, leaning toward you. “Guess we’re hanging out with fish.”

You laughed softly, brushing a few stray curls from Iza’s forehead. “Better than another hide-and-seek marathon.” Then, tilting your head at the little girl's mom, you added, “By the way, her bilingual skills are getting really good. At this rate, I think she expresses herself better in Portuguese than in English.”

Vitto let out a laugh, bouncing Iza lightly in her arms. “She might, yeah.” A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. “I may or may not encourage her to speak more Portuguese when Andy isn’t around.”

Fio gasped dramatically. “You’re sabotaging your own baby daddy?”

Danna smirked. “No wonder she sounds like a tiny Brazilian grandma sometimes.”

Vitto shrugged, unbothered. “It’s funny. Especially when she talks to him in full Portuguese, and he just stares at her like she’s casting a spell.”

You burst out laughing at the mental image. “Please tell me you have videos.”

Vitto smirked. “Obviously.”

Just then, Iza pointed a tiny finger at her mom’s face. “Mamãe, peixe!” she demanded, reminding them of her plans.

Vitto sighed dramatically, adjusting Iza on her hip. “Alright, xuxú, how about this—we go to the aquarium after your birthday party? That way, we have the whole day to see all the fish. Sound good?”

Iza blinked, processing the deal.

“In the meantime,” Vitto continued smoothly, “we can go on a little adventure today.”

Iza’s interest visibly piqued, her tiny eyebrows raising. “’Ventura?”

“Yes, an adventure!” Vitto nodded, playing into the excitement. “We need to go to the market and find all the special ingredients for Mamãe’s coxinhas. And maybe… just maybe… there are some big, juicy mangoes waiting for you there.”

At the mention of mangoes, Iza lit up like a firework. “Manga?!”

You exchanged a knowing look with Fio and Danna. The kid was officially sold.

“Yes, manga,” Vitto confirmed, grinning. “But first, you need to go change out of your pajamas, okay?”

Before Vitto could even set her down, Iza was already wiggling to be put on the floor. The moment her feet touched the ground, she bolted out of the kitchen. “Papai! Unkie Nanel! ’Ventura!”

You all watched her disappear, her little voice echoing down the hall.

Vitto shook her head with a soft chuckle. “They better not put her in something ridiculous.”

“Oh, they absolutely will,” Danna deadpanned.

A few minutes later, Iza came sprinting back into the kitchen—now fully dressed head to toe in custom-made Enchanté apparel, a tiny washed-red cap, a crisp white shirt, and green shorts that gave her the appearance of a little explorer. Her curls peeked out from under the cap, her big eyes shining with excitement as she spread her arms wide, striking a dramatic pose.

And you couldn't lie—she looked adorable.

“I be Unkie Nanel!” She declared proudly.

And right behind her, sauntering in with the most shit-eating grin you’d ever seen, was Daniel. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he was watching Iza with a fondness that made something shift in your chest.

“Oh my God,” Fio wheezed. “You turned her into a walking billboard.”

Daniel, utterly unbothered, crouched down next to Iza and tapped her tiny cap. “Gotta start ‘em young,” he said with a smirk.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You look way cooler than Uncle Daniel, bubba.”

Daniel placed a dramatic hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me, Iza, are you just gonna let her disrespect us like that?”

Iza giggled and grabbed his hand, squeezing it in reassurance as if she actually understood the teasing.

You should’ve looked away, walked off, said something sarcastic to break the moment. But you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze lingered.

Watching him with her—how effortlessly he fit into this role, how natural it was for him to give Iza his full attention, how she adored him in return—made something ache deep inside you.

You hated it.

(And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t.)

Andrew, who had been observing the whole scene from the counter where he was slicing some fruit, finally spoke up.

“She does look cooler than you, mate,” he teased Daniel with a smirk, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth. “Might have to start calling her ‘Little Nanel’ from now on.”

Iza gasped excitedly. “Litto Nanel!” she repeated, absolutely thrilled with the new nickname.

Daniel shot Andrew a playful glare. “Thanks for that, Andy. Really appreciate it.”

Andrew shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying, man, she pulls off the look better than you ever did.”

Before Daniel could retaliate, Danna, who had been watching the interaction with a knowing smile, suddenly perked up. “Wait, where’s Blake? He’s usually attached to your hip like an overgrown koala.”

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “He had a stopover in Miami to visit a friend. His flight got delayed, so he’s getting here later today.”

Fio let out a dramatic sigh. “So, what I’m hearing is that we won’t have our favorite Aussie for the first half of the day? Tragic.”

Daniel scoffed, playing along. “Wow. Love the support, guys.”

Andrew patted his shoulder. “You know you’re only third favorite, right?”

Daniel rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth to his smile that made it hard to tease him too much. “Wait. Who’s the second?” he tilted his head and frowned.

“Scotty.” was answered in unison.

Daniel let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own people.”

Andrew smirked. “Hey, man, Scotty’s just got that wholesome golden retriever energy. And he can do some cool tricks in the snow. Hard to compete.”

Fio nodded. “Yeah, and you? You’re more like…” she trailed off, pretending to think.

“A chaotic raccoon,” Danna finished with a grin.

Daniel gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “A raccoon? I’m the Honey Badger.”

Fio snorted. “Nah, you’re definitely more raccoon-coded.”

As they continued to joke around, you tried to distract yourself from the way your stomach flipped watching Daniel interact with your people once again—specially the toddler.

Vitto sighed with a fond smile on her face, pressing a kiss to Iza’s forehead. “Alright, Unkie Nanel Jr., let’s go get those mangoes.” She turned back to you all. “C’mon everybody, let’s get moving before this one decides she’s in charge of the whole itinerary.”

“She already is,” Danna muttered, grabbing her drink.

“Facts,” Fio agreed, grabbing her keys.

He had always been good with kids—that was nothing new. But something about seeing him with Iza, the way he knelt down when she tugged at his shorts, how he patiently listened when she babbled about some cartoon you didn’t recognize, the way he let her climb onto his lap without hesitation—it made conflicting feelings bloom in your chest.

And it was messing with you.

You shook your head, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

The morning was spent wandering around Ojai, stopping by vibrant farmer’s markets where stalls overflowed with fresh produce, handcrafted trinkets, and the scent of sizzling food. Iza sat happily on Andrew’s shoulders, pointing at different fruits and flowers, her tiny fingers reaching out excitedly every time she spotted something new. She made sure everyone took turns holding her hand as they walked, but most often, she sought out you and Daniel.

When you decided that the park was the next destination, the little hurricane was unstoppable. She ran from one end to the other, determined to get every single one of you involved in her games. It started with a simple game of tag, where she would giggle uncontrollably as Andrew pretended to be a big scary monster chasing after her, only to collapse dramatically whenever she tagged him back.

But the moment she spotted a couple of older kids being swung between their parents’ hands, her attention shifted entirely. She ran straight to you and Daniel, grabbing each of your hands in hers.

“I go high! Up, up!” she demanded, bouncing on her toes.

Daniel chuckled, exchanging a glance with you. “You ready for this?”

You exhaled, forcing a small smile. “Let’s do it.”

And so, with a countdown, the two of you lifted her off the ground, swinging her between you as she shrieked with joy. Again and again, she begged for “Mo’ mo’ mo’, pwease!,” her little legs kicking in the air each time she went up.

Fio snapped a picture at one point, sending you a knowing look that you chose to ignore.

Between the laughter, the bright sun, and the easy moments, it almost felt like nothing had changed. Like things weren’t complicated.

Almost.

But reality had a way of creeping in, no matter how much you tried to push it back.

As the morning stretched into the early afternoon, the group found themselves sprawled out on the grass, taking a much-needed break from Iza’s endless energy. She sat cross-legged in the middle, happily munching on a piece of mango Vitto had bought from the market.

Andrew was leaning back on his elbows, sunglasses on, looking every bit like a dad on his day off. “I swear, I don’t know where she gets this energy from. It’s like she recharges by the second.”

“She’s literally your child,” Danna pointed out, sipping from her Iced Matcha Latte.

Vitto snorted. “No, she’s my child. That’s why she’s like this.”

Daniel, who was lying on his side next to Iza, propped himself up on an elbow. “I dunno, she might just be an evolution of both of you. Maximum chaos unlocked.”

Danna hummed, tilting her head as she watched Iza try to feed her uncle what was left of her slice, and Daniel pretended to eat her hand making her squeal and giggle. “You know, if she’s maximum chaos, I can’t even imagine what your kids would be like, Danny.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Andrew snorted. “Oh man. They’d be little menaces. Just picture a tiny Ricciardo running around, making dumb jokes, riding dirt bikes, getting into trouble, grinning through it all.”

Daniel let out a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The moment the word kids left Danna’s mouth, his gaze flickered—almost instinctively—to you.

It was quick, but you caught it.

Because how could you not?

You swallowed and forced a chuckle, keeping your expression neutral as you turned your attention back to Iza, who was now attempting to balance a mango slice on her nose. “Lord have mercy on their mom,” you said with a dramatic sigh, shaking your head.

Daniel let out a breathy laugh, but there was something behind it—something wistful. “Yeah?” he shot back, tilting his head at you. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, trying to guess which way this was going to go.  “Guess she’d have to be someone really special to handle all that chaos.”

His words were playful, but the weight behind them was impossible to ignore. There was something charged in the way he said it—like he wasn’t just talking about some hypothetical her. Like maybe, just maybe, he still pictured you in that role.

Your grip tightened slightly on your cup of fresh juice, but before you could find a response, Fio cut in with a teasing grin. “Special or completely insane.”

The group laughed, the moment breaking, but the way Daniel was still looking at you—like he was thinking of all the things left unsaid—lingered.

A bitter feeling bloomed in your chest before you could stop it. You didn’t even mean for it to happen, but the name was already forming in your mind.

You hated that it still got to you. That, even after all this time, it could still stir something ugly in the pit of your stomach. You had no right to feel this way, not when you were with someone else—not when you were supposed to have moved on.

You should have let the moment go but the words left your lips before you could think twice. “Poor Heidi.”

Daniel didn’t react right away. He just looked at you, a flicker of something crossing his face—understanding, maybe. Amusement. Or maybe it was just all in your head.

Then he smiled, small and almost... resigned. “Not really.”

You blinked, taken aback.

“She, uh—” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “We broke up.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Oh,” was all you could manage.

Silence.

The kind that stretched too long, felt too loud despite the lack of words.

You felt it the second the shift happened, a wave rolling through the group as everyone collectively processed what he had just said.

Daniel and Heidi were over.

(You tried to suppress the blooming feeling of elation at the news.) 

Everyone knew what that would've meant before. Before everything changed. Before Rúben.

You didn’t look at anyone, but you felt the weight of their stares. Danna, Fio, Vitto—your best friends—all processing the same realization, all probably having the same conflicting thoughts, all silently worrying about you.

You kept your expression carefully neutral, forcing a small shrug. “Sorry.”

Daniel just hummed in response.

And yet, in the heavy silence that followed, you could hear everything neither of you dared to say.

You exhaled, focusing on Iza instead. The little girl, who was still buzzing with excitement, had stood up, and was a few paces away from the group twirling in circles before dramatically collapsing onto the ground with a giggle.

Daniel stretched out next to you now that the toddler wasn't occupying the place in between you both, propping himself up on his elbows as well. There was still something unreadable in his demeanor, like his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Fio, never one to let things go unsaid for too long, gave Daniel a sideways glance. “And what about you?” she asked casually, but there was something deliberate in the way she posed the question. “Now that you’re single again, what’s next?”

Your stomach twisted.

Daniel, to his credit, didn’t seem caught off guard. Instead, he exhaled a soft laugh, his eyes flickering over to you for a fraction of a second before settling back on the sky. “Don’t know,” he admitted, voice easy but thoughtful. “Taking my time, I guess.”

Vitto nudged him with her foot. “Taking your time? Since when do you take your time with things?”

Another soft chuckle. “Since now,” he replied, gaze still focused on the clouds drifting above. Then, almost absentmindedly, “Some things are worth waiting for.”

The weight of those words settled over you like a storm cloud, dark and full of unspoken meaning.

You swallowed, feeling Fio’s and Danna’s subtle but pointed glances.

Desperate for an out, you sat up and dusted your hands on your jean shorts. “Alright, break’s over,” you announced, your voice forced-cheerful. “Who’s ready to get Iza home before she finds another way to make us run after her?”

“She’s going to be knocked out after this,” Andrew muttered, adjusting his cap over his eyes, “Which, honestly? Won't be the worst thing.”

The group slowly followed your lead, rising to their feet, the conversation left hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence.

Daniel stood last, brushing stray grass from his shorts. His eyes met yours for the briefest moment—warm, unreadable, patient.

And just like that, you had the overwhelming feeling that this wasn’t the end of it.

Not even close.

As the group started walking, Fio fell into step beside you, bumping her shoulder against yours.

“Todo bien?” she asked, voice low.

You hesitated before giving her a short nod. “Síp.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh. Sure.” Her eyes flickered toward Daniel—who was holding the toddler across his arms pretending she was a plane, her bright giggles making you look at them fondly—then back to you. “Just… ten cuidado, okay?”

You knew what she meant, and the worst part was, you didn’t have an answer.

The house was buzzing with a different kind of energy now that Blake had arrived, his laughter blending into the easy hum of conversation. The sun was starting to dip below the trees, casting the living room in golden light as everyone settled in after our long day out.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, nursing a glass of iced coffee as you half-listened to Andrew and Blake trading stories. Sitting on a loveseat across the table, Fio had her eyes on you, sharp and knowing, waiting for the right moment to strike. She’d seen how you had been expertly avoiding Daniel all afternoon, your movements purposefully, your gaze never lingering too long in his direction. 

But she knew you. She knew you well enough to quickly recognize when something was brewing beneath the surface.

So the moment she was waiting for to strike came when Daniel entered the room, towel slung over his shoulder from a post-run shower, his damp curls sticking to his forehead. He glanced her way briefly, offering a small nod before moving toward the men on the right side of the L-shaped sectional couch. 

As soon as you noticed your ex in the room, your shoulders tensed and you quickly grabbed your phone to pretend to be interested in whatever gossip was trending on Twitter. And that was all it took for Fio to make her move.

“Acompáñame,” Fio muttered, grabbing your arm and dragging you up from the couch before you could protest. Vitto, who was leaving the kitchen just on time to witness the whole moment, followed closely behind, recognizing the brewing intervention. You barely made it to the hallway before Fio turned on you with a look that could burn holes through steel.

“Mami, what the hell is going on?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

You feigned innocence, which only made Fio roll her eyes. “Nada, Fio. Why?”

“Oh, don’t even start with that bullshit,” Fio shot back. “You’ve been weird ever since we came back. And don’t think I didn’t see the way you tensed up when lo pendejo de Daniel walked in just now.”

“Fio,” Vitto interjected, her tone softer but no less firm. “We just want to know how you’re feeling.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down your face. You knew this moment was inevitable, but you weren't ready to unpack it. Not yet.

“I’m fine,” you said, too quickly.

Fio let out a sharp laugh. “Liar. Try again.”

Vitto nudged your shoulder gently. “You’ve been avoiding him all day, even when he’s been trying to be... I don’t know, civil? Different?”

Different. That was exactly it. Daniel was different. More patient, more thoughtful. He still had that stupid, easygoing charm, but there was something else beneath it now—something more deliberate. And it made everything ten times harder.

You groaned, leaning against the wall. “It’s just—he’s here, freshly single apparently. And it’s messing with my head, okay?”

Fio softened just a fraction, but her stance was unwavering. “Be honest—do you still love him?”

The question hit you like a freight train, your breath catching in your throat.

Vitto reached for your hand. “It’s okay if you do, fofinha. We just want you to be honest with yourself.”

You swallowed hard, looking down at your linked hands. You could feel the truth clawing at your chest, but admitting it out loud felt too dangerous. Too real. So instead, you whispered, “I love Rúben.”

Neither of them doubted that you did. But love wasn’t simple, and you all knew it.

Fio sighed, rubbing her temples. “Mira, all I’m saying is—if this is hurting you, you need to face it. You can’t keep pushing it down.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly. “I know.”

Vitto squeezed your hand before stepping back. “Come on, let’s get back before they start thinking we killed you or something.”

You let out a tired chuckle.

You three made your way back, and you couldn’t shake the weight in your chest. Because for the first time in a long time, you weren't sure if you could keep running from this.

As you stepped back into the living room, the warmth of conversation and soft laughter wrapped around you like a protective shield. Blake was animatedly recounting some ridiculous story, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures while Andrew cackled beside him. The scene was so effortlessly lighthearted that, for a brief moment, you almost let yourself slip back into the comfort of it.

Almost.

Daniel was still there.

Still real.

Still encompassing all your senses.

But before you could settle back into your spot on the couch, Vitto’s hand closed gently around your wrist. “Wanna help me finish dinner?,” she asked, her voice light, but you knew her well enough to recognize the intention behind it.

She was giving you an out. A way to escape the tension still lingering in the air.

You nodded quickly, too relieved to question it. “Sure.”

Fio gave you a knowing look but didn’t go with you as you followed Vitto into the kitchen. The warmth of the living room buzzed behind you, but as soon as you stepped into the quieter space, you let out a slow breath.

Vitto had already started making Coxinhas earlier, the smell of seasoned chicken filling the kitchen. She rolled up her sleeves and handed you a piece of dough without saying anything at first, letting the act of cooking settle you.

You worked in silence for a few minutes, shaping the dough into small teardrop shapes while Vitto did the same beside you. The rhythmic motion was soothing, giving your hands something to do while your thoughts settled.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“You okay?”

You sighed, focusing on the dough in your hands. “I don’t know.”

Vitto hummed in understanding. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. “Yeah.”

She set a finished Coxinha onto the tray and turned to you, her expression softer than it had been earlier. “I know today’s been a lot. And I know spending time with him again after everything is… complicated.”

You swallowed hard. “It’s not just that. He’s different.”

Vitto nodded, as if she had noticed it too. “People change.”

“But does it matter?” You met her eyes, your own filled with uncertainty. “Even if he’s changed, it doesn’t erase what happened. It doesn’t change how much it hurt.”

Vitto placed a gentle hand on your arm. “No, it doesn’t. And no one is saying you have to forgive him or even let him back in. But, fofinha, you don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

You exhaled shakily, your fingers tightening around the dough. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Vitto gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Remember: One step at a time.”

The words brought back a memory from a night that seemed a lifetime ago, in this same house, but under different circumstances. “You’re strong,” she had whispered as she rocked you gently, as the heart-shattering sobs began anew. “Stronger than you know. You’ll get through this, one step at a time. You have us, and we’re not going anywhere.”

For a moment, you let yourself lean into her words, into the quiet comfort of her presence. The noise from the living room felt distant, like something happening in another world.

And for the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again.

Vitto suddenly perked up. “You know what we need? Some music.” She didn’t wait for your answer before speaking again. “Alexa play ‘Caraluna’ by Bacilos”

The robotic voice answered back and the unmistakable opening chords of one of your favorite songs filled the kitchen. One she knew put you in a good mood. A grin spread across her face as she turned to you, already swaying to the beat.

¿Quién dice que no duelen las huellas en la arena?

Tu huella el mar se la llevó, pero la luna sigue ahí.

Pero esa luna es mi condena.

(You couldn't help but internally chuckle at the irony of the song’s lyrics and your current predicament.)

“You have to dance with me,” she insisted, holding out her hands. “Come on, you know you want to.”

You groaned, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Vitto…”

“No excuses!” she cut in, grabbing your hands and pulling you toward her. “Let loose, fofinha!”

And against all odds, you did.

Laughter bubbled up as she spun you, her energy infectious. The rhythm took over, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the knot in your chest loosened. You sang along, carefree, as the warmth of the moment wrapped around you like a long-forgotten embrace.

Yo seguiré buscando o seguiré escapando

Tal vez de ti, tal vez de mí

Before you knew it, the kitchen had turned into a makeshift dance floor, the scent of freshly made coxinhas mixing with the warm nostalgia of song after song.

And then, as if called by the rhythm—because it was in her blood, after all—Iza came toddling into the kitchen. Just woken up from her afternoon nap, her curly hair bounced as she moved, her big brown eyes lighting up at the sight of you and her mother dancing.

“Titi! Mamãe!” she squealed, her tiny feet already moving to the beat in her adorable, uncoordinated way. She wiggled her hips, her little arms waving in the air as she giggled.

Vitto gasped dramatically. “Look at her go! We have a future bailarina in the house!”

You laughed, reaching for Iza’s hands to twirl her around, her delighted laughter filling the room. You had spent months in this house after your breakup, healing, learning to breathe again, and in those months, you and Vitto had passed down a piece of your own childhood to Iza.

Disney Channel songs had been the soundtrack of your teenage years,—Camp Rock, High School Musical, Cheetah Girls, you name it—and now they were becoming hers. She knew them all by heart, but her ultimate favorite? Hoedown Throwdown by Hannah Montana.

So it was no surprise when, as soon as the last notes of ‘Batida de Coco’ played, she gasped dramatically and clapped her hands. “Hodan Trowdawn!” she demanded, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Vitto smirked. “You heard Boss Baby.”

You sighed, already knowing there was no getting out of this one. “Alexa, play Hoedown Throwdown by Miley Cyrus.”

The second the upbeat intro started, Iza shrieked in excitement, already trying (and failing) to follow the choreography you and Vitto had taught her. You joined in, going through the familiar moves, laughing when Iza tried to stomp her tiny foot with exaggerated determination.

What you didn’t notice, however, was that the ruckus had drawn the attention of the others.

One by one, the voices from the living room started trickling into the kitchen. First Andrew, then Blake, then Fio and Danna, all grinning at the sight of you, Vitto, and Iza in the middle of a full-on Hoedown Throwdown performance.

And then, leaning against the doorway, towel still draped over his shoulder from his earlier shower, stood Daniel.

But he wasn’t just watching the dance—he was watching you.

There was something different in his gaze, something softer, something more intense. He watched as you twirled Iza around, your laughter blending with hers in a way that made his chest tighten. He had always known you were good with kids, but seeing you like this—with Iza, with your guard completely down, with that effortless, nurturing ease—it did something to him.

Something dangerous.

But you were too busy living in the moment to notice.

Fio and Danna wasted no time jumping in.

“This is our moment,” Fio announced dramatically, flipping her hair as she slid into position before the song went back to the chorus.

Danna laughed. “You mean, this is Titi and Mamãe’s moment, and we’re just background dancers.”

But still, the second the chorus hit, the four of you fell into sync like it was second nature. Muscle memory kicked in, and suddenly, it was like you were back in your childhood bedrooms, practicing in front of TVs, convinced you’d someday perform this choreography on a real stage.

Iza squealed in delight, trying her best to keep up, even though her little feet didn’t quite move the way she wanted them to. But she had the spirit, and that was all that mattered.

Andrew leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, shaking his head with amusement. Blake had his phone out, definitely recording what was happening. And somewhere in the back, laughing along with them, was Daniel.

And yet, his gaze kept coming back to you.

Something about this scene—it was overwhelming in the best way. Nostalgic. Warm. Effortless. You were so yourself in this moment, dancing like no one was watching, letting Iza twirl between you and Fio, her giggles filling the air like music.

You were happy.

And it hit him, all at once.

God, he had missed this. He had missed you.

He barely registered when the song ended, when the room erupted into applause and Iza immediately yelled, “Again! Again!”

You caught your breath, shaking your head with a laugh. “Iza, amor, your Tías need a break, or we won’t survive dinner.”

Fio wiped imaginary sweat from her forehead. “Yeah, I don’t have the stamina I had at 14, mi amor.”

Vitto chuckled, scooping Iza into her arms. “Okay, bailarina, let’s give them a minute.”

As the moment settled, the energy in the room slowly shifted, you finally looked up—only to find Daniel watching you.

And unlike before, when you had done your best to avoid his eyes, this time… you held his gaze.

And your lips turned up into a soft smile.

[badolmen]

“I’m scared to pirate stuff - ” do it scared!*

*with Firefox and Adblock and a VPN and -

If you want a nonspecific, nonexhaustive “where do I even start” guide…

Sail the cyber seas at your own risk!

Streaming - “I want to watch xyz”

This is normally what most people want when they talk about pirating.

Use Firefox with uBlock Origin and additional privacy add-ons such as PrivacyBadger, TrackMeNot, etc.

Free VPNs are out there. Get one - but vet it’s efficacy. My go-tos are Proton VPN, or Windscribe if you plan to do a bit of torrenting.

What is torrenting? How does it work? Here’s a guide!

Back to streaming -

Make sure that a) you’ve got your Mozilla browser with all its adblocking private glory, and b) you’ve got a VPN turned on to hide what you’re doing in that browser from your ISP (internet service provider).

Now you need to actually find a site to stream from. This is the tricky part, because openly sharing these sites will get them taken down if they’re talked about widely enough. (Remember how tiktok idiots got zlibrary taken down?)

You’re going to have to talk to people on forums. You’re going to have to experiment with sites you find yourself. Search for ‘x online free’ and look at the links that come up - is the preview text mangled or clickbaitey? Are there Reddit threads about that website confirming or denying its content? A good rule of thumb is to ignore the top result or two - copycats of good streaming sites will often buy out the top result spot. Eventually, you’ll develop a good gut feeling and understanding of what a good site ‘looks like’ from the results page alone.

However, there are some places that compile good sites that haven’t been nuked by lawyers (yet) - check out r/FMHY! The masterposts are actively curated and updated when a site goes down or is found to have malicious downloads.

Remember - loose lips sink ships. No tweeting (xeeting?) or Facebook statuses about your new favorite piracy website and where you found it. Even posting to tumblr (kind of like this…) isn’t a great idea if you want those websites to stay under the radar and stay accessible. Nobody talks, everybody walks (away with their share of pirate booty)

If you aren’t downloading media, pick pretty much any site and watch away! Adblock and Firefox will keep away pop-ups and other annoying ads, and your VPN means your ISP can’t tell that you’re visiting an unofficial streaming service.

Note: In my experience, I’ve never heard of visiting a site and watching stuff on it infecting or otherwise compromising your computer. That tends to come from misclicks on invisible or overwhelming pop-up ads that redirect you to an automatic download or similarly malicious bullshit. If you’re using Firefox and uBlock, you shouldn’t be in any danger of an accidental redirect.

Downloads - “I want to keep xyz”

This is the realm of pirate archiving - you’re keeping files physically on your hard drive, an external hard drive, or burning a disk.

Adblock + Firefox browser? Check. VPN on? Check.

Go to your streaming site of choice - most if not all have download options. You can download those files or, manually, right click and save the video file from the webpage as an mp4. I honestly don’t know if there’s a difference in quality or more danger in clicking the download buttons, but regardless -

Run that puppy through VirusTotal.com! It’s a reliable browser based virus checker - if the file is too large, use a local virus checking program (your native Windows Defender on Windows computers or, I prefer, Malwarebytes)

Generally mp4 and mp3 files are clean - choose where to save them for the long term, and bam! Free forever media.

Optionally, I also upload mp4 files to a named Google document - this way I can easily share them or make them findable through a ‘xyz Google doc’ search for others :]

Torrents - “I want to keep and share xyz”

I’m not going to go into this subject in depth because, honestly, it’s not something I do regularly.

See the previously linked Torrenting guide for information on how the process works, and check out r/FMHY for recommendations and warnings about different torrenting clients (I’ve personally only used qBittorrent - I’ve heard to stay away from the Pirate Bay and Bittorrent.)

As with streaming, turn on that VPN baby! You’re going to need one that supports peer-to-peer (p2p) connections, so Proton’s free version is a no-go. Windscribe is what I’ve used for torrenting (and it’s a good free VPN on its own - I’m just partial to Proton). You get 10GB every month on Windscribe’s free version, which is more than enough for a few movies/a season or two of your favorite show.

(Bigger torrents like video games are easily 30+ GB, so be prepared to either pay for a no-limit premium account or spend a few months downloading your files in chunks.)

VPN on? Double check.

Boot up your torrenting client - I use a slightly out of date version of qBittorent, but there are other options. The Reddit thread and previously linked torrenting guide have a few dos and donts of selecting a client, so be thorough before you download your client of choice.

This is getting into the logistics of torrenting a bit, so forgive me if this is vague or incorrect, but now you need a torrent seed. These will be .tor files found through pirating websites or archives - these are rarely malicious, but it’s good to run any piracy related download through something like VirusTotal.com or scan it with a local program like Malwarebytes.

You open your seed file in your client and wait. A ‘healthy’ seed tends to have lots of seeders and few leeches, but sometimes you’re stuck with an obscure seed you just have to wait for.

Your torrented files have fully downloaded! Now what? a) keep your client open and seed those files for others as long as you want to - sharing is caring! and b) run those files through a security program like Malwarebytes (not sponsored it’s just the only program I’m familiar with).

Be wary of what gets flagged - sometimes the files seem important, but are just trojans, and likewise sometimes they seem malicious, but are just cracked software getting flagged by your system. It’s good to check and see if others have had a problem with this particular torrent before - Reddit threads from 2008 are your long dead friends.

And that’s about it. Feel free to correct me if anything I’ve recommended is malicious or outright wrong. I’ve been doing this for years and haven’t had an active problem to my knowledge, so if there is something fishy with how I do things, I am a statistical outlier and should not be counted.

I wish you smooth sailing and strong winds in your ventures me hearties!

Obligatory ‘don’t pirate small author’s or artist’s works what the fuck dude’ statement.

[rudyking]

Checkers the heartbreak cat:

JJ feels threatened by a new stuffed animal that was given to his son, Ace.

JJ, hair a tousled beacon of blonde in the morning light, sprawled on the floor amidst a battlefield of toy cars and discarded blocks. His three-year-old son, Ace, a mini-me in both appearance and mischievous glint, was currently ‘decorating’ JJ’s forearm with vibrant purple streaks.

“Easy there, Picass-Ace-o,” JJ chuckled, despite feeling the cold, wet crayon melting into his skin. Ace giggled, a sound as bright and bubbly as the ocean waves crashing nearby, and continued his artistic endeavour, tongue poking out in concentration.

Yn, the calm centre in JJ’s often turbulent world, watched from the kitchen doorway, a soft smile gracing her lips. She was the anchor, the steady hand, everything JJ wasn’t, and yet perfectly complemented. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and her eyes, warm and understanding, held a depth that could soothe any storm, even the internal ones that sometimes raged within JJ.

“He’s going to turn you into a walking rainbow,” Yn commented, handing JJ a mug of steaming coffee.

“Worth it,” JJ declared, wincing slightly as Ace decided to add some aggressive pressure to his masterpiece. “Though, maybe we should redirect his artistic talents to… paper?”

Just then, the front door swung open, and Pope and John B strolled in, their usual easygoing energy filling the space. Pope, ever the pragmatist, was carrying a stack of textbooks, while John B, perpetually tanned and carefree, swung a half-eaten bagel.

“Morning, champs,” John B greeted, tossing the bagel remnants into the kitchen bin with impressive accuracy. “Whatcha got there, Van Gogh?” he asked, nodding towards Ace and JJ’s colorful collaboration.

“Modern art in progress,” JJ quipped, winking at Yn.

The domestic scene shifted gears when Ace, having apparently reached peak artistic satisfaction, suddenly dropped his crayon and toddled over to a brightly colored box sitting on the coffee table. Inside, nestled amongst tissue paper, was a fluffy, grey and white stuffed kitten. Checkers wasn't a person, or even an animal, in the literal sense. Checkers was a stuffed kitten. Small, fluffy, with wide, innocent embroidered eyes and a ridiculously oversized purple bow around its neck. Yn, bless her kind and gentle heart, had picked it up at a local craft fair, thinking it would be a sweet addition to Ace’s already overflowing toy chest.

Initially, Checkers was just another toy. Ace gave it a cursory cuddle, then went back to demanding JJ become a roaring dinosaur. JJ, ever the performer, was more than happy to oblige. But slowly, subtly, Checkers began to weave its fuzzy little paws into the fabric of Ace’s life.

It started with naps. Ace, who usually protested naps with the ferocity of a cornered badger, suddenly became amenable, as long as Checkers was tucked beside him. Then came bedtime. Checkers became the gatekeeper to dreamland, nestled firmly in Ace’s arms while JJ read elaborate pirate adventures.

JJ didn't initially mind. It was kind of cute. Quieter, definitely. Less dinosaur roaring, more peaceful kitten purring (metaphorically, of course, stuffed kittens don’t actually purr, a fact JJ knew, despite what he might later claim).

But then came the day at the beach. JJ had spent a glorious hour building an elaborate sandcastle with Ace, complete with moats, towers, and a drawbridge crafted from a popsicle stick. He’d even carved a miniature pirate flag in the sand. Proud of their creation, he’d turned to Ace, expecting a high-five, a "Dad, you’re the coolest!" at the very least.

Ace, however, wasn’t looking at the sandcastle. He was sitting cross-legged, meticulously brushing Checkers with a dandelion head.

“Ace, look at our castle! We made a whole kingdom!” JJ exclaimed, gesturing dramatically.

Ace glanced up, his gaze flitting over the sandcastle as if it were a slightly interesting rock. “Checkers likes flowers. Look, Dad, he’s wearing a flower crown!” He carefully positioned a wilting dandelion on Checkers’ head.

JJ’s jaw dropped. “A…flower crown? Ace, we built a freaking sandcastle! With a drawbridge!”

Ace shrugged, his attention already back on Checkers. “Checkers says thank you for the flower.”

Ace, still clutching Checkers, turned to JJ. He looked at his dad, then at the kitten, and back at JJ. With the decisive finality of a seasoned CEO making a crucial business decision, Ace pointed at Checkers and declared, “Bestest friend.”

Then, he turned his back on JJ and toddled off to a corner of the room, engrossed in a serious conversation with Checkers about – judging by the animated gestures – the existential importance of belly rubs.

The air in the atmosphere seemed to still. JJ stared at Ace’s retreating back, jaw slack. He blinked, then blinked again.

That’s when it hit JJ. Like a rogue wave crashing over his carefully constructed sandcastle. He was being replaced. Ditched. Dumped. By a stuffed kitten. And worse, by his own son.

He staggered back as if physically wounded, one hand clutching his chest dramatically. Pope, ever observant, raised an eyebrow. John B, mid-yawn, straightened up, sensing dramatic potential. Yn simply sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. She knew JJ more intimately than anyone, knew the delicate balance of playful drama and genuine vulnerability that made him…JJ.

“He…he chose the kitten,” JJ whispered, his voice thick with mock despair. “Over me. Over… pirate dad.”

John B, however, caught on to the unfolding drama immediately. He widened his eyes theatrically and gasped, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “Oh. My. God. He dumped you, JJ! Brutal!”

And just like that, the melodramatic floodgates opened. JJ, fueled by his own playful nature and a genuine, if slightly exaggerated, sense of wounded pride, launched into full heartbreak mode.

“Dumped?!” JJ exclaimed, jumping to his feet, purple crayon streaks now smeared across his cheek. “Dumped! I changed his diapers! I taught him how to say ‘Pogue life’! I let him win at hide-and-seek even when he was literally standing behind the curtains with his feet sticking out! And now, now I’m replaced by… by Fluffy McWhiskers over there?!” He gestured wildly at Checkers, who remained blissfully unaware of his pivotal role in this emotional turmoil, still enjoying Ace's intense whispers.

Pope attempted to inject some reason into the situation. “JJ, it’s a stuffed animal. Ace is three. It’s perfectly normal for him to be attached to a new toy.”

“Normal?” JJ’s voice rose an octave. “Normal? Pope, haven’t you seen the way he looks at Checkers? It’s…it’s the way he used to look at me! The adoration, the unwavering devotion…gone! Replaced by…fluff!” He gestured wildly at Ace, who was now attempting to teach Checkers to ‘dig’ in the sand.

John B, ever the loyal friend, clapped JJ on the shoulder, a sympathetic (albeit slightly sarcastic) grin on his face. “Dude, I get it. Breakups are rough. Even when the other party is made of polyester fiber fill.”

“Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it, John B,” JJ wailed, sinking dramatically onto the sand. “I’m…I’m heartbroken. My own son has replaced me with… Checkers.” He said the kitten’s name with the venom usually reserved for Kooks.

Yn finally emerged from her hammock, walking over with a gentle grace that seemed to calm even the turbulent waves of JJ’s manufactured despair. “JJ, honey, it’s a phase. He’s just exploring new attachments. It doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”

“That’s what they all say, Yn!” JJ exclaimed, looking up at her with wide, wounded blue eyes. “That’s the breakup cliché playbook! ‘It’s not you, it’s me… I mean, it’s Checkers.’ They say it’s a phase, but what if it’s not a phase? What if Checkers is the new me? What if I’m…obsolete?”

Yn knelt beside him, cupping his face in her hands. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You, obsolete? JJ Maybank, obsolete? Never. You’re irreplaceable. You’re the pirate dad, the dinosaur roarer, the master sandcastle builder. Checkers is just… Checkers.”

Her words were soothing, but JJ, in the throes of his melodramatic heartbreak, wasn’t ready to be soothed. He needed to wallow. He needed to…heal. And he needed his friends to help him.

“Pope, John B,” he declared, rising to his feet with newfound determination. “I need your help. I need…breakup therapy.”

Pope and John B exchanged a look, a mixture of amusement and genuine concern in their eyes. They knew JJ. They knew this was mostly an act, a way for him to process his feelings in his own uniquely dramatic way. But they also knew that beneath the theatrics was a real, vulnerable heart, a heart that, even comically, felt a pang of rejection.

“Breakup therapy?” Pope repeated, adjusting his glasses. “JJ, you’re being dumped by a stuffed kitten.”

“Details, Pope, details!” JJ waved a dismissive hand. “Heartbreak is heartbreak, regardless of the…anatomical accuracy of the perpetrator.”

John B, ever the pragmatist, grinned. “Alright, dude, I’m in. Breakup therapy it is. First step: ice cream. Ben & Jerry’s, heartbreak flavors only. We’re talking Cherry Garcia, Chocolate Fudge Brownie… the works.”

And so began JJ’s ‘breakup therapy’. It was as ridiculous and over-the-top as you might imagine. Pope, ever the responsible one, made a list of ‘healthy coping mechanisms’ that included journaling and ‘expressing his feelings’. John B, on the other hand, suggested more…Pogues-style remedies, like surfing, bonfire beers (for them, not JJ in his heartbroken state, obviously), and maybe even a dramatic bonfire burning of…well, they weren't quite sure what yet. Maybe a picture of Checkers? Yn vetoed that idea firmly, pointing out it would traumatize Ace.

JJ embraced it all with gusto. He journaled dramatic, woe-is-me entries about the ‘betrayal’, punctuated by sarcastic asides and witty observations. He ‘expressed his feelings’ in loud, tearful (fake tearful) monologues, much to the amusement of beachgoers. He even attempted a ‘heartbreak surf session’, which mostly resulted in him wiping out repeatedly and blaming Checkers for the choppy waves.

Through it all, Ace remained blissfully unaware of his role in this elaborate drama. He continued to adore Checkers, but he also still adored JJ. He demanded pirate ship battles, roared with delight when JJ transformed into a dinosaur, and snuggled close during bedtime stories, Checkers nestled on one side, JJ on the other.

The turning point came during one of JJ’s ‘therapy sessions’. They were at The Wreck, devouring plates of fried shrimp, Pope and John B listening patiently (mostly) to JJ’s latest lament about Checkers’ ‘cold, unfeeling cotton heart’.

Suddenly, Ace, drawn by the promise of french fries, toddled over to their table, Checkers clutched tightly in his little hand. He looked up at JJ with wide, innocent eyes.

“Daddy,” he said, holding out Checkers. “Checkers is sad. He misses pirate dad.”

JJ froze, mid-melodramatic sigh. He looked at Ace, then at the fluffy, ridiculous kitten, then back at Ace. Something shifted in his expression, the exaggerated heartbreak melting away, replaced by a genuine, unguarded tenderness.

He took Checkers from Ace’s hand, examining it closely, as if seeing it for the first time. Then, he looked at Ace, his dimples deepening as a real smile bloomed on his face.

“Checkers misses pirate dad, huh?” he murmured, his voice softening.

Ace nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh. He says pirate dad is the bestest dad ever. Even better than… flower crowns.”

JJ chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that chased away the lingering clouds of mock despair. He pulled Ace into a hug, Checkers squished between them.

“Well, Checkers and I have something in common then,” he said, ruffling Ace’s sandy hair. “Because pirate dad thinks you’re the bestest son ever. Even better than… stuffed kittens.”

Pope and John B exchanged relieved grins. The ‘breakup therapy’ was officially over. And JJ, despite his dramatic antics, had finally found the best cure for his ‘heartbreak’ – the unwavering love of his son, a love that no stuffed kitten, no matter how fluffy, could ever replace.

[disneymbti]

Can I please request a mbti for Kate sharma, please? Thank you!

Hi there, sweetie! I really hope you like this a lot!

Kate Sharma's MBTI Type, Big Three, Enneagram Type and Moral Alignment Type

MBTI Type: ENTJ [The Commander]

As ENTJs, Commanders are talkative, high energy, and thrive around people. They seek action and tend to involve themselves in events. They prefer not to spend too much time alone.

They focus more on the big picture than on tiny details—they’re interested in how everything connects together and trust their internal thought process more than they trust past experience.

ENTJs use logic rather than emotion in decision making. They tend to follow what makes sense, rather than what feels right.

They are structured, organized, like to plan ahead and know what’s going to happen. They appreciate rules, processes, and schedules.

Big Three: Taurus Sun, Taurus Moon and Virgo Rising

Taurus Sun: The Bull tends to be drawn to a creative, indulgent lifestyle — and we wouldn’t expect anything less from a Venus ruled sign. They're also thought to have a stubborn, loyal and grounded personality.

Taurus Moon: The Moon loves to be in the zodiac sign Taurus. Those with Moon in Taurus delight in the earthly pleasures and seek out emotional security.

Virgo Rising: Virgo ascendants are the fact-finders and checkers of the zodiac. They are fair-minded and slow to anger.

Enneagram Type: 1w2 [The Activist]

Basic Fear: People who are type one with a two wing generally have a basic fear of being immoral and making impure choices. They avoid this by making a conscious effort to make ethical choices.

Basic Desire: They also have a natural desire to be upstanding and humane. They try to fight for the rights of those less fortunate and love being hands-on in making a difference by volunteering in their community.

Activists tend to respond to negativity by redirecting their emotions in order to gain a sense of control. In type ones with two wings, this may lead to sudden outbursts or breaking points, as they work through their emotions more externally.

Moral Alignment Type: Lawful Good [The Crusader]

These are characters who believe in truth, honor and order. They always strive to do the right thing, even at a great personal cost.

[snifflesthemouse]

Divorce?

What would a divorce between Meghan and Harry look like? This mouse finds it hilarious that the minute divorce rumors begin regarding her shopping her post-divorce tell-all, Harry and Meghan are appearing side-by-side with one another at trauma tourist locations. But the VF article said more than most realized.

Everyone was taken aback by the vile and abusive behavior of Meghan toward her staff. Nothing new, I tell you. She's been abusing her staff since before they were real and were just her pretending to be her own assistant cold calling famous people for The Tig.

Nobody ever pays attention to the language, do they? Remember, how someone says something matters.

But, I am sure we've heard all about it... given we now know who Megsy baby really is. She is a whisperer screamer. Those people are beyond help. They think they have all this power that a whisper with hurtful words strung together will make them bigger or more powerful. Abusers attract abusers. Fleas go to dogs, do they not?

I am gettting sidetracked, as I came here to discuss what a divorce would look like for the couple (again).

I had a source tell me a long time ago that a divorce would only happen if the King ordered it. I don't see Charles caring enough about frivilous things given his situation.

But ask yourself. What would a divorced Meghan and Harry look like?

In all honesty, for the sake of the Royal Family, they should allow it and pay her off in exchange for her silence. Meghan doesn't want money and fame as much as she wants power and control. Harry seemed like an easy target to use, but he had his own uses for her. Therefore, checkers became chess, and the game they were playing got changed. Meghan and Harry probably even had a pact made that regardless of how much they hated one another, they would show a united front at the end of the day to keep them looking strong.

The best option for the BRF is containment. I wouldn't be surprised if they made a move back to the UK with the kids for about six months to a year, and then announce a formal separation where Meghan lives in her own place on the grounds of a castle somewhere so she's under thumb.

As for the children, those children are American citizens by birthright. If Meghan stayed in the US, it would make a custody battle for the ages.

***IF the divorce goes through without a hitch or a hiccup, and there is no word on the custody leaking, it would say a lot. These two LOVE attention. Therefore, they would make a divorce a spectacle of cash flow for the both of them.

THE CON MAN WILL ALWAYS REDIRECT YOUR EYES TO WHERE THEY WANT THEM... It is what they don't say that matters more. What ISN'T spoken about? That is where the flaws and lies are.

REMEMBER SURROGACY USING THE MOTHER'S EGG AND THE FATHER'S SEED WILL NOT SHOW UP ON A DNA TEST. A DNA test will only show if the children are of the egg and seed. NOT who carried the baby. There is no test out there that can prove who carried the child. Now, they can test the mom to look for missing parts that would give it away (i.e. someone having a hysterectomy at 29). But there is NO DNA TEST on the market that proves who carried the child. ONLY IF one of them had to use a donor for ingredients, respectfully.

SO, If a divorce does go down and there is a big fight over the kids and we do get to see them after a while... it would've been careless and very stupid for them to completely lie about having two children without thinking that through. Lying about the surrogacy? Yes, I can see that.

Actually I predict Meghan will eventually, if forced, come out and say that she had to use a surrogate for both children because of a health issue, and then her blaming the BRF for hiding the surrogacy. She could even say that's what she actually meant to Oprah about changing the law so Archie wouldn't be a prince. She could easily twist this into a million and one nightmares. She could blame racism. Sexism. Ageism. Class issue. It would grow legs quicker than the 'if that's how you want to interpret it, I can say that's fair' or something like that she said to Oprah in that awful interview.

Listen, if they got divorced, it would be best for them to be in the UK given the current political climate here in the U.S.

This is what I envision a Meghan-Harry uncoupling would look like: I IMAGINE THE DIVORCE WOULD BE LIKE THIS-

1. Harry and Megsy announce they are leaving the US due to the political climate (blame Trump to hide truth of divorce coming) They wouldnn't announce the separation until the very last minute because they have more interest together than alone. Meghan and Harry are more interesting together than alone, as they make one another more awful and it's like putting a crystal turd under a flashlight when these two work together. They wouldn't risk tainting that until they had to.

2. Harry and Meghan find their own place (paid for by dad, of course) at first. However, due to a risk of security or anyone seeing them without those kids, they are asked to move back into the royal grounds. I imagine they either do a slow ease in via the press with announcements like 'harry receives olive branch from charles via invite to Balmoral'.

3. A little time will go by, and the non-royals on royal grounds will come to announce a formal separation out of nowhere, out of the blue, and probably on the same day Catherine has an event.

4. They slowly transition to separation, and this is when they decide to take a break completely from public life, 'for the sake of the kids' or some other 'insert lie here'.

5. They divorce another predetermined amount of time later, and then they stay in the UK living on royal grounds but showing that they 'pay' to stay there. Meghan may then take the kids half the time to the US, and then half the time in the UK with Haz, so that they are never truly given time to settle or be seen.

HOW CRAZY IS THAT THEORY? LOL

My point is this... they have way too many options before pulling the divorce card.

Meghan, honey, you could reconcile with your father, brother, and sister on ABC with Gayle King mediating. Mama Doria could be there, as well. A follow-up special when it's time to introduce the kids to grandpa. OH! A docuseries drama documenting every step of the way! Netflix could film the reunions and then the aftermath as you all rebuild as a family! Every season finale, you could show the backs of the kids' heads to the camera as they get to stare at pictures of their grandparents who are still alive instead of actually visiting with them. They could tease that every week, Meghan. Think about it. Will they get to see their grandparents before they all die? Will we get to see their faces before we die? Only Meghan knows in Next Week's episode of "Meghan and the Rest of those Guys".

Meghan, you could cash in on those reunion ideas. Cash in on your own biopic, for which it was said you still owed the publishers. Cash in on your reality series where you go around auditioning as a duchess in LA. The Acting Duchess? See I just made all that up off the top of my head without you having to raise your voice to a whisper at me. Meghan, you are losing this image war. You need to stop and get real. Do you realize you are so close to crossing that line that should never be crossed, that line of public opinion where everyone has been saturated to the gills with your namesake, so they all vomit a little when they hear you speaking or someone say Meghan let alone Markle after it? I am not trying to be mean, but you are at the point of making everyone gag a little every time you all come up. That is the line for which I speak. Once people regurgitate a little in their mouths when they think of you, it is hard to come back from that. Trust me, I know personally. I am not judging, at all.

I don't see them giving up just yet. I'm checking into some things regarding US Trade and Patent registrations, as well as LLC registries, and digging into Mama Knows Best LLC in Delaware. That is the company who registered ARO's USPTO paperwork. I find it interesting that the Tig was pending an extension, as if they filed more paperwork to amend the trademark application so it would be approved. Meghan wouldn't put all of her eggs in one bastard. I want to look into her potential investments, too. But I've rambled long enough.

Divorce may happen, but I don't see it happening without the King's permission and them doing it on UK soil. I don't think they'd do a divorce in the US.

EVERYTHING I WRITE IS SPECULATION AND HYPOTHESIS, AS I AM JON SNOW AND I DON'T KNOW NOTHIN'. THESE POSTS ARE ALL MY OPINIONS BASED OFF OF THE EVIDENCE IN FRONT OF ME, FOUND IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN, PUT TOGETHER WITH MY OWN LIFE EXPERIENCES AND KNOWLEDGE BANK. IN OTHER WORDS... I'M JUST BEING A GOSSIP AND YOU CAN DO YOUR OWN RESEARCHIN'.

Don't know why I felt I had to put that... I know my readers. They all know and understand that everything I say, unless I cite the source, is just my jibberjabbin.

This mouse loves you all!!

[holylustration]

Oblivion's Kiss? Sound like something with Nocturne wewwww...... but I may be wrong?👀

It is and it is definitely my greatest shame. Every time I sit down to write, I know I have to go back to iambic pentameter and I... realize I don't have the brainpower for it right now. :(

It is just you here tonight. And why wouldn’t it be? You are the Rogue Trader. This is your office. And whatever your retinue is doing on this fine spring evening, it is not your concern. You are not their keepers, or at least, you do not always want to be their keepers. 

You are at your desk. Before you is a mountain of paperwork. Trade deals ensuring valuable profit factor is upkept. A few contracts for employment: mercenary work, you read quickly, from the dataslate. Nothing exciting. Very few exciting things have happened since the events at Epitaph, as the Koronus Expanse has been holding its breath since that last battle. 

Behind you, the door to your private balcony is shut but the windows are open. The scent of roses wafts from the gardens beyond, brought in on a cool night breeze that ruffles the curtains. Briefly lulled by the smell of flowers, you pillow your head on your forearms and close your eyes.

A sound in your office stirs you to alertness. Your hand is reaching for the jeweled letter opener hidden among loose sheets of vellum as you spy a hooded figure rifling through the artifacts you - and your predecessor - have curated. Gloved hands are lifting and lowering things, and in some cases, stowing things away into the folds of a long, dark coat.

A thief. A thief in the von Valancius palace. In the heart of the dynasty.

The letter opener in hand, you approach. You could call for the guards, but why disturb their evening? You have faced worse. 

“Identify yourself!” you say, brandishing the blade in the figure’s direction. 

The figure shoves another object - a piece of rock - into shadowy fabric. 

You take a step forward, a hand raised to touch the intruder’s shoulder. But you find the intruder stepping away, swirling around, and much faster than you. There is the flutter of a coat, and you feel the rush of air behind you as something approaches your neck. You duck and turn, knife still readied, and find a strong but long fingered hand redirecting you.

The figure’s other gloved hand comes up to cover your mouth. 

“Merchant mine,” comes a familiar voice in greeting. “Hostile intent meant I not.” 

“Arebennian,” you try and say against the fingers. “Nocturne of Oblivion.”

“Quite so, and yet not! All players are we.” The hands released you, allowing you to turn and look up at the seven foot Aeldari Solitaire staring down at you. 

The coat is not black at all. Visible to you now is a familiar yellow and indigo checkering. The Solitaire’s mask bears a grin, though the smile it wears maintains a hint of menace. He is allowing you to see him. You are well aware of the stories of harlequins, their legendary speed and agility. And a solitaire is amongst the deadliest of all. 

You clear your throat. “Well,” you say, “what are you doing here? And what am I supposed to call you?”

“Call me as you wish; that name be your truth.”

“Nocturne, then.” You watch the masked face incline its head. “But what about why you’re here?”

Nocturne gestures to the walls around you. They’re filled with Aeldari artifacts, and you realize in that moment that he was probably pocketing things that belonged to his people. “Well, I, in turn, come in trade, O Merchant.”

That's it. That's all I have. No gender neutral second pov smut. Just this.

[officialunionhr]

//////////////////////

[incoming Omninet call from: Haven Primus..

Location: Discordia system..

Caller ID: Steven C. Gizmore......

Lancer Callsign: NITROS ZEUSZ Lv:12

Patching through . . . . . . .

//////////////////////

Hey so I’m out here on a contract for Union and I had a question for you guys.

So I was helping move a shit ton of equipment and research materials for one of your research sites. Apparently the site was unstable due to a “para-causal disaster” and we were moving some of the more “fragile” items out when we were attacked by “Dark horizons”. A Horus terroist cell who while unable to actaully steal anything. Managed to damage a casket holding an unstable NHP.

And now I’m starring at a giant ass baby centipede mech thing that is having a game of checkers with one of the other pilots. And if we don’t let it win then it’s gonna start crying again. And me personally. I really don’t want dead prophets giving me ominous warnings through rotted lips again.

So what do I do in this situation? Shoot it? Placate it?Read it goodnight moon? Introduce it to poker? I’m not really sure what to do so if you could answer soon that would be very much appreciated.

Im pretty sure it’s mashing to of the Horizon members hobgoblins chassises together.

/////////////////

[Communication Terminated]

/////////////////

Hello!

Thank you for contacting the DOJ/HR post haste, however what you are describing sounds most accurately like an Eidolon or post-cascade NHP.

I would redirect all inquiries to the @nhpregulatory-official as they are far more specialized in this topic than i am.

I would however recommend keeping it content until such time as you can receive proper advice on how to contain them.

Signed: [REDACTED]

[redirecttracker]

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Wednesday

SpaceTime 20250115 Series 28 Episode 7

Could Dark Matter have shaped one of the galaxy’s stellar streams

Physicists have proposed a solution to a long-standing puzzle surrounding the GD-1 stellar stream, one of the most well-studied streams within the Milky Way’s galactic halo.

Sun emits three powerful solar flares

The Sun unleashed three more significant X class solar flares all on the same day.

Quadrantids meteor show spectacular

The Earth is currently experiencing one of its most spectacular Quadrantids meteor showers which is lighting up the night sky with an array of dazzling so called shooting stars.

The Science Report

A quarter of the worlds’ freshwater animals are now at risk of extinction.

Study confirms that a diet of plant-based foods increase your microbiome that favour human health.

Confirmation that too much scrolling and posting makes you more irritable.

Alex on tech: Facebook confirms that fact checkers are dishonest.

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. Gary’s radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[taintandviolent]

"Want to see what we can get away with before they come looking for us?" Prompt + Kit or Tate <33

Aaaah thank you anon!! I chose Kit, just cos it’s been a minute and I love me some asylum settings. Sorry this got a little long, it’s below the cut!!! Asdffghkkhajshshsk.

“Want to see what we can get away with before they come looking for us?” You leaned over the checker board, biting down on your plush bottom lip.

His dark brown eyes bored into yours, trying to find the joke. You stared back, assuring him silently that there was no joke, no teasing to be found in your suggestion. The asylum had an influx of new patients, the sisters had been busy with intake and you saw it as the perfect opportunity to have a little fun with Kit Walker.

You two had been flirting, on and off, for the past couple weeks but it was all playful. At least, he’d convinced himself it was. He hadn’t made any serious moves, just teased you here and there. The teasing drove him crazy, those few moments of intimacy in a world of frigid celibacy and isolation. Every night, he’d spend the first half hour after final checks fondling himself, beating off under the white cotton sheets. How could he not? He was a man after all, and you were… such a woman.

His gaze drifted slowly down the front of your gown, which was regrettably baggier than he’d like it to be. Of course, a lady has to keep her modesty, but there was something about the way that the standard issue gown hugged all the right parts of your body; your hips, your ample breasts, he wanted to know what was underneath. He’d wanted to know what was underneath it for weeks. It drove him crazy, if he was being honest.

Last week in the rec room, you’d intentionally grazed your hand over his dick and immediately made him hard No more playin’ it cool with that one, he’d thought. He had to sit at the one of the tables, tucking his groin as far underneath it as he could until the blood flow redirected back to his brain.

“What’s all this fah’?” He leaned to the side, sneaking a peek out the door as a sister pushed her way through it. The hallway she approached was desolate, much like the moral of this place. He repositioned himself, looking back at your pretty face, still plastered with that same mischievous expression you’d had when he looked away. “It ain’t nice to play with someone’s feelins’, sugah.”

“Feelings?” You echoed. You withheld a dreamy sigh, his heavy accent always went straight to your cunt.

Kit swallowed and leaned forward. “ Sweethaht, ‘ahm serious.” All this sternness was coming from a place of nervousness, because he knew that if got a taste of you, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Aside from the brief moments with you, it had been weeks or months since he’d had any physical touch from a woman. But true intimacy? It had been too long.

His knees hit the underside of the table abruptly, his eyes widening. The tip of your shoe pressed into his groin, lifting upward slowly. A whimper tumbled out of your open mouth as you felt the weight of his flaccid cock.

“Shit,” he hissed, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. After a moment of the sensation, he straightened up and looked into your naughty gaze. “Sugah, please…”

“Please what, keep going? You want to do all this right here, in front of everyone?” You could tell, he was trying so hard to keep it together, to keep his cock from hardening, but as the seconds passed, you could also tell that he was failing. The trousers the men got were everything but forgiving. The slightest increase in length was easily spotted, and usually violently chastised by every Sister in the vicinity. Thankfully for Kit, there wasn’t a Sister to be found.

You pressed your foot harder against the rigidity once more before releasing the pressure and scooting the wooden chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. “C’mon. Let’s see what we can do before one of those stuffy old broads notices we’re gone.”

You didn’t wait for Kit’s response to start walking towards the door, with the casual air of one of the Sisters; you, like them, had an assignment to do, and walking out the door was the most normal thing in the world. Before you’d even reached the doors, Kit was behind you, pressing his groin into your backside.

“Whatta’ lil’ devil you are.” He said, planting his hand on the door above your head and giving it a firm push. It swung open, and you immediately headed towards a storage closet you’d seen last week. It was in the bakery, which would also be empty at this time. Lunch had finished, and the prep for dinner wouldn’t start for another few hours.

At the speed in which you both ran, it didn’t take long for you two to reach said closet. Kit opened it, and you slipped in, immediately spinning to face him. Your back was pressed against the half-empty shelves, and it smelled faintly of yeasty dough and flour.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

You took fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him in closer to you. Neither of you said anything, just exchanged heated glances of each other’s lips and eyes. Kit was the one to press his lips against yours first, but you melted into the kiss, sliding your hands on either side of his neck, and tangling your fingers behind it.

He moaned into your mouth, bringing the taste of himself deeper into your mouth, and you reciprocated that moan, giving him more of yourself. The thrill of being caught heightened both of your arousals.

Hurriedly, knowing that the moment could be snatched away in the blink of an eye, he dropped his hands to your tummy, ghosting over the soft flesh. You whimpered, breaking the kiss to watch. It didn’t take long for his thick fingers to find your cunt, where he immediately began thumbing your clit gently. Circling it, dipping down to pick up some of your wetness like an artist dipping his brush in paint before smearing it over the canvas.

You felt his hard-on through the thin fabric, poking into your tummy, and without another word, you reached in, wrapping your digits around the head. You squeezed it, urging more of the pre-cum out and Kit whined pitifully, delving two, thick fingers into your wet slit. As an attempt to stay quiet, your rolled your lips inward and bit down, moaning softly into them as you pumped his cock in and out of your hand, committing every ridge to memory. His skin was velvet soft and hot to the touch, and you desperately wanted to know what it felt like slipping past your lips.

Kit bucked his hips into your fist, demanding speed. You squeezed tighter, and he crushed his lips against yours, muttering words of praise into your waiting, open mouth. He bucked harder, and you felt the thick, sticky ropes of cum flowing over your finger tips. The sensation of that alone sent you over the edge, and you clenched around his fingers, hugging them tight in pulses.

“Sister Anna!”

With a second to spare, you thought. Kit clamped his hand over your mouth, watching as the light disappeared and reappeared from the crack in the door.

“We’re missing two patients. Sister Jude said that she was alerted, we’d better go find them. I’ll check their rooms.”

The voices faded along with the delicate wisp of their steps. Kit immediately moved his hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. He kissed you again, but not with the fiery passion that had been there before. There was an urgency, a worry.

“C’mon sugah, if they’re headin’ to the rooms, we’ll be back in the rec room before they get there.”

And, you were. You both separated, tucking yourselves into opposite corners. and pretending like you’d been there the entire time. You stared longingly out the window, watching the rain as it fell. Kit was leaning next to the jukebox, picking absentmindedly at his cuticles. The rest of the patients were none the wiser… except Lana. But she wouldn’t tell.