By No Constraint (chpt 40)

A holotape, an echo, a missing son; the Commonwealth awaits. Travelling a lonely path laced with blood and grief, Quinn finds herself thrust into a world of chaos, with only the kindness of a few to guide her. But when events unfold that brings a friend’s world crashing down, can Quinn find the strength to pull them both through the trials of steel to the other side?

SS x Danse

Chapter List

Thanks to my amazing beta, waiting4morning, for her wonderful work! Thanks to Musashi1596 for the title.

Brief update: my beta will be on holiday between the 4th and 12th of August, so there will be no chapter on the weekend during those dates (6/7th) and potentially the weekend after (13/14th).

Major Brotherhood/Danse spoilers.

Want update alerts? Follow this story on FFnet or Ao3.

We, the Willing


Quinn couldn’t sleep.

Danse’s words crawled around her skull, the calmness of his voice in his holotape sending chills down her spine. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his body, crumpled in the corner of the bunker.

No, Quinn couldn’t sleep. She was afraid of what she might find when she woke up.

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By Amber Amour Huffington Post

Feminist Wednesday | Amber Amour #StopRapeEducate

Can I talk about something very personal to me for a moment? Because it’s Heart Awareness Month (I think?), and my health has been on a mind a lot lately.  Heart disease has always been a very big thing for me, even though I don’t like discussing it.

Talking about it just feels important, because I’ve been feeling pretty rundown lately. I’ve an appointment soon and I certainly hope that nothing is amiss. It would be nice to walk out with another as-clean-as-possible bill of health~ It’s really long though, so I don’t blame anyone for not reading. All the same, my story is here. Perhaps more about me than you’ve ever wanted to know.

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Dear Rapist

Dear Rapist. 
Today marks the 7 month and 15 day anniversary of you both literally and figuratively fucking me over. 

You might be confused by this letter, rapist. 
This can’t apply to you, you’re not a rapist. Cause I was just some drunk high schooler who blew you and rape doesn’t count if it’s not real sex and rape doesn’t count if I was drunk. Remember when you told me you weren’t drunk? You only got drunk when Romney lost. And besides, all those Republican senators have told you that this wasn’t “legitimate rape”. I just seemed like I didn’t want to because I was so wasted. That’s why I just laid there, whimpering no. 
Dear Rapist 
I haven’t been with any one since you
 I’m too scared I’ll be reminded of you.

I’m too scared I’ll chicken out at the last minute. I cancelled on the nice guy who asked me to the movies cause I’m scared he expects something that I don’t know if I can give him. 
Dear rapist 
You told my friend Alex what happened I don’t know what you said but it couldn’t have been good. Alex never told me what you said but what you said couldn’t disguise the whole truth, since He thinks you’re “the boyfriend who mistreated me”. 
And I never told him anything 
Dear rapist
 Don’t worry. I never told anyone who you were. I didn’t do that to protect you.

I did it because I didn’t want to get the law involved. 
I didn’t want the police to tell me what the republicans and the media and the voice inside me were trying to tell me: get over it, what happened to you doesn’t count. 
Dear Rapist 
Lately I’ve been thinking about it less and less. The unknowing grip you have on me is slipping away, slowly. But then there are days when I see a Mini Cooper that looks just like yours, green with the white stripes, and I can swear it’s you in the car but it can’t be
 Cause you go to school in DC. 
But that doesn’t matter 
Because right now, I feel like I did 7 months and 14 days ago.

This was a letter sent to us by a very brave and courageous survivor who we are keeping anonymous to protect their privacy.

We thank them for giving us permission to post their letter. This was never sent to their rapist, and that is 100% okay. It can be used as an exercise to let out all of your feelings; doing this also brings a sense of closure to some survivors. If you’re interested in this exercise, give it a try and see how things work for you.

To the author of this letter: We are sending positivity and good vibes your way. Thank you very much for submitting this; we are all inspired by your strength.  

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Goofy classic cartoon logic, punk rockers and shockingly long legs. Norbert talks about the Sonic the Hedgehog cartoons with special guest co-host Kappa Lizzy. At the end she shares the story of how Sonic helped her through her brain cancer recovery.

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Sonic the Hedgehog 3 - Hydrocity Theme OC Remix:

Host: Norbert Daniels Jr.

Guest Co-Host: Lizzy “Kappa Lizzy” Silvas

I don’t know how to make this anon but please do, even if you have to copy/paste or whatever

I’m okay with mods knowing who this is but I wanted this as an anon ask and I don’t know if my ask was one of the one’s that was missing but I really want to share my story, so just in case I want to send it again. I didn’t save what I said either (and it was sort of rushed anyway) so I hope I get it right and am able to sort of elaborate.

I was 15 when he was 19. The relationship started out amazing and he was awesome, but I was sexually inexperienced and had never even kissed someone before. When I was 16, I realized he was abusive. We broke up when he left for the Air Force (it was my only way out of it, him being unable to harass or hurt me while at basic). Now that I’m 18, I realize it was a lot worse than I ever thought. I was taught that coercion and anything that wasn’t an outright fight wasn’t rape. He taught me everything that I knew about sex, most of which was completely untrue and rape-y. I never gave consent, he said I didn’t have to and that it didn’t matter. I never knew that sex was supposed to be something that girls could enjoy. I didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to hurt. Seeing that post you reblogged about abusive behavior, he was the epitome of all of it. That terrifies me. I realize that all of my relationships since have been based off the idea that he was a good guy, that the relationship was normal, that rape was sex. Only once I joined Tumblr and other communities online like this one did I realize that I’ve only been hurting myself. This blog is really really important because hearing “we believe you” is something I’ve never experienced. I’ve never been able to tell anyone about all of it. I’ve told a few people about the constant rape. All of which either outright don’t believe it because he “was such a good guy”, or don’t think it constitutes as rape. This blog is so important. People need to know they’re supported. Thank you so much for this.


I’m glad that you now know what true consent entails, that is so so important. Some people go through life after their abuse thinking that what happened is normal, but you have learned otherwise.

If you can, cut those people saying “he’s a good guy” out of your life. That’s a toxic response to one of the most gut-wrenching secrets you can share, and their presence in your life will do is bring you more suffering.

Stories like this are why I get angry when people say the internet (and by extension, blogs like ours) aren’t helping anything. We all learn a lot from this sort of thing.

You submitting this story is just as important as us running the blog. The more stories we collect, the more likely it is that a victim/survivor browsing tumblr will come across something that makes them realize they’re not alone in their struggle.

Thank you for trusting us with this.

Google Earth Found a Woman Trapped On a Deserted Island for 7 Years - Women Daily Magazine
Gemma Sheridan and her two friends went on a trip in 2007. The trip was to take them from Liverpool, across the Atlantic to the Panama Canal and then to Hawaii. Unfortunately, after they passed the Panama Canal, things took a turn for the worst. A huge storm took out all electronics, destroyed the boat and washed Gemma’s friends over board. Gemma drifted for 17 days and then suffered another storm. During that storm, Gemma was knocked unconscious. When she finally woke up, she found herself on the beach, surrounded by her wrecked boat. This is her extraordinary survivor story:

When my brother was 5 or 6 my dad left him in the car for a few minutes and it was really hot out and when my dad came back my brother had crawled from the front seat to the trunk and poured snapple all over his head

About April 27th, 2011

Moments before the crashing I went back to hollow eyes. No one saw me there, just wandering further back into the enigma that is the prevalence of hollow, perfidious eyes during a natural disaster. Who knew the treacherous feelings that is the thought of death, and once you begin to paint it on everyone and everything it consumes reality. It is the only thing expected when you emerge from the hallway to find everything has been erased from the townscape. I saw the blackness and thousands of people walking a road. Where the hell did they think they were going? I ran over pounds of glass on the journey into the unknown. I wondered if my apartment, too, was going to be a part of the dark waters that floated overhead in the sky like the reflection of a city ravaged into shapeless fluff and dusk. That is one image I could never, paint, however. I could see the drowned, dirty faces of the little girls on the road with their belongings in wastebaskets. Even the traffic lights looked hollow. No direction was given and the nightmares of being torn into the sky hadn’t even began yet. As I stumbled into my apartment three hours later, my roommate and I smoked cigarettes on the back of our apartment stoop looking out into the heaps of twisted metal and teddy bears that had blown into the yard. We contemplated things like survivor’s arrogance. We had yet to discover that the real pain, the pain that would burn the most, would be the forgetting and the day-to-day that would distance us from that moment in time, a moment that branded into our hearts a poignant sense of loss and gnawing disillusion. We knew that if we forgot the way that things used to be then we would be somehow undermining that sense of passion and solidarity that would now forever be our curse. As we stood tragically hollow on that back porch and the sun dripped below the horizon, I thought to myself for the first time, “This will forever be my home.”

Excellent novel about the Holocaust. If you never had to read it for school, your school was stupid. Anyway, Elie and his father were in the concentration camps at Auschwitz. This short book is his recollection of what happened to them during that time. Mostly it was dehumanizing but what really made it horrific was how the victims lost faith in each other, most especially their family members. The people who are supposed to be their for you no matter what. And he felt burdened by his father. Values held dear are lost. This book will make you cry, mess with your head, change your life, and question everything. Just like every excellent book should.

Progress [tw: abusive relationships]

Nothing like going back and reading the things you wrote when you were in the middle of leaving your abusive ex and trying to stop the nightmares to make you realize how far you have come.

Almost exactly a year ago, I had locked myself into my room shaking and crying and jumping at every noise, every light that creeped through my window, every thought that told me “She knows where you live. She know where you are. She is so much stronger and angrier than you. She could break through your window and kill you at any moment.”

Now, I have been in this town almost two months and I haven’t even seen her car. She sent me one last threatening message about two weeks ago, anonymously, under a fake account. It was like that scene in “Monty Python and The Holy Grail” where King Arthur has cut off all the limbs from The Black Knight and is riding off in victory, and the Knight is yelling “Running away, eh? You bastard! I’ll bite your legs off!” You have nothing left to scare me with. Your threats are just silly to me now.

My life is fucking awesome now. I am a huge BAMF living it up with the love of my life and cute cats while I study my ass off for something I love. I am not your victim; I am a survivor. And I could take on the whole fucking world, I feel that fucking strong now.