#group b government jobs

[lallulalnews]

UPSSSC 2024: सहायक लेखाकार और लेखा परीक्षक के 1800 से अधिक पदों पर भर्ती, आवेदन कैसे करें

UPSSSC 2024: सहायक लेखाकार और लेखा परीक्षक के 1800 से अधिक पदों पर भर्ती, आवेदन कैसे करें UPSSSC 2024 Recruitment: उत्तर प्रदेश अधीनस्थ सेवा चयन आयोग UPSSSC 2024 ने सहायक लेखाकार और लेखा परीक्षक के पदों के लिए भर्ती की घोषणा की है। इसमें रुचि रखने वाले उम्मीदवार नीचे आवेदन करने के लिए आवश्यक पात्रता को जान सकते हैं। उत्तर प्रदेश अधीनस्थ सेवा चयन आयोग UPSSSC 2024 ने सहायक लेखाकार और लेखा परीक्षक…

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing

-… . - .- … / -… . .. -. —. / -… ..- - -.-. …. . .-. . -..

@beloveds-embrace I hope I did this idea a bit of justice so far. Inspired by the delcious idea from beloveds found here.

CW: references to medical procedures that were not agreed to, reader is dying, A/B/O, odd dynamics, babies first time writing A/B/O.

A/N: I am really new to A/B/O so if something feels off or if you want more of this idea LMK!

Kate told you that the CIA still used Morse code in the field sometimes. It had fallen out of fashion after World War II and the alphabet soup of government agencies liked to reuse what they could. She said it worked best for short messages and when speaking could alert enemies. She talked at you nonstop on the long drive from the hospital. You wondered if the silence would bite at her toes or if the drone of the engine would keep it at bay.

She found you in the waiting room. Back straight, head upright you stare out the window across from you. If you ignore her maybe she will leave you alone like everyone else. You had been freed from a facility when some government agency or another busted them for performing illegal experiments on betas. Everyone else had a family to return to.

You weren’t everyone.

“I have a friend at this hospital. He called me when he saw that you had yet to be released,” she uses a soft voice as if the mint green and oddly shaped couches were pews instead. Pews don’t creak like plastic when you shift your weight. “My name is Kate. My friend, Ty, is an administrator here. He mentioned you needed someone to sign for you due to your beta status and the lack of documentation on your identity.”

Silence had been your only weapon against the staff there and the staff here.

She smells of alpha, the heady scent that should reek of safety and confidence. It tastes sour in the back of your throat.

“I’ve read through the information about you from Scorpio, the changes they made to you? They don’t expect you to make it another five years.” Kate rubbed her hands down the top of her slacks. “I’m here to give you an offer.”

Glancing at her without turning your head you wait. When she meets your side eye you shift your gaze back to the distant fluffy clouds dotting the sky like sheep grazing through a meadow. The sky sheep look all the whiter for the blanket of snow smothering the earth below.

“I know of a group of men, even split between them alpha and omega, who could use someone to care for. They are gone for long stretches of time and won’t pressure you for anything, only to care for you and use you as a touchstone of normalcy,” Kate lets out a breath, the shifting air bringing more of her should be comforting scent to your nose.

Voices drift past the locked doors to your right. You had posted up on the maternity floor, the staff had yet to find you here the last few times you were able to avoid their gazes.

“Why me?” Your voice whispers out. Should have grabbed the water mug the night nurse had left on your tray before you ducked from the room.

“Well, that’s the sticking point. They don’t know you would be coming. The guys have started to fray at the edges, getting reckless on jobs. I need them to be safe. If they have someone to come home to?”

Ah, so this wasn’t about you. Couldn’t ever be about you could it? No. Always a beta, never important.

Scorpio had seen six hundred seventeen betas through their doors before you quit counting. Not one of them left through the front door.

“You can’t tell them I’m dying.”

Control had to be a resource you doled out sparingly.

“Done.”

“And I get my own bed.”

The wrinkles around her face deepen as Kate settles on an unsure look.

“I’m not sure…”

“I will spend time in their nest when invited but I get my own bed,” you look at her now, face to face.

She must see something unmovable in your expression.

Sighing, her eyes drift shut and her shoulders relax.

“I will make it happen.”

Nodding once you stand.

“Lead on Kate, let us meet my doom head-on.”

Kate chooses not to comment on your morose declaration.

Maybe that is why she filled the car with her voice? She must not appreciate your brand of deadly honesty.

Her voice drifts away as she turns off the well-maintained and snow-cleared highway for a clear spot marked only by the tire tracks that lead between the dense trees.

“I’ve told them so many damn times they need to move closer but no it’s all ‘Kate you don’t understand we need the space from everyone’ and never thinking of how hard it is for people to visit them,” she mutters to herself as the color leeches from her knuckles with each slip of the tires.

“Maybe they don’t want visitors.”

Kate’s brows pull down as she glares out the windshield.

Looking back out the window you catch sight of a massive moose between the trunks before it disappears into the trees. It takes another twenty minutes of achingly slow driving before Kate finally relaxes her shoulders.

The smell of satisfaction drifts through the car heater. Turning you find a modestly large cabin, a green metal slanted roof, and a porch that reaches from one corner of the house to the other. Next to the stairs that connected the porch to the ground are two vehicles, one SUV and one large truck, though these both sit neatly under the porch. Kate parks in the open.

Without hesitation she climbs from the driver’s seat, grabbing the backpack she picked up for you with your three changes of clothes and two sets for sleeping. Kate is halfway up the stairs when you finally join her. Snow clings to the canvas of your shoes even as you follow in the large boot prints she left behind for you.

Tucking your arms close to your chest you stand behind Kate as she pounds with a fist on the door. The swish of her coat is the loudest sound beyond her beating for entry. You are fighting to keep your teeth from chattering when the door finally opens. You didn’t know cold had a smell. The only word you could find for it? Sharp.

“John. Took you long enough,” Kate pushes her way through the opening in the door.

A burly man steps back to allow her entrance. He is barely decent, his robe hanging open and tie only just covering his bits. John lifts a brow at you when you don’t immediately follow. You are not dressed for winter. When a particularly chilled bit of wind rushes past you and into the house, he moves to shut the door. Darting inside you watch him warily until you stand near Kate again. She stands in front of a massive couch. Counting the cushions, you give yourself the space to breathe. Twelve separate sitting spaces, three walls of a square, and still with room to walk behind and peer out the window that took up nearly the whole wall behind it.

“Not like you to show up without calling Kate. What is this about?” John steps around the snow you shed on his hardwood floor.

“I brought you a wife.”

They stare at each other for nearly thirty seconds. Your toes start to sting from the cold. The shoes on your feet squeak as you shift from foot to foot. Making the mistake of breathing too deeply you can taste the battle of wills between them. Kate’s shouldn’t be sour scent warred with John’s masculine, woodsy scent. He was an omega?

A long table is positioned opposite the kitchen, and central to it all is a wood-burning stove. The kitchen has an excess of cabinets. You start to count them to avoid what your nose is telling you.

“Why would I need a wife?” He finally asks.

You are also curious about the word choice. Betas weren’t terribly important in the grand scheme, born at a lower rate and died at a faster one. Populations didn’t need betas to survive, they, you, were mostly only good for keeping fights from escalating. With everyone receiving training in school anymore on how to address and deal with signs of rut/heat to avoid fights, death due to rut-related combat had reduced by over half. Betas were less important than ever. The other reduction in deaths had come from Scorpio.

Sarah had always been so proud to tell you about how you were contributing to keeping alphas from killing each other when she drew your blood or injected you with yet another unknown serum. The government had started to pump the barest amount of what Sarah called, calmers, into the water system. Said it was good for everyone, like fluoride.

“Serin, helicopter, Los Alamos, hospital visit. Would you like me to go on?” Kate said all those words as if they made any sort of sense.

John sucked in a deep breath through his nose. His eyes snapped to you.

“What are you?”

Kate steps in front of you. The slap of your hand to your scent gland runs parallel to her words. Sarah had done something to you, changed everything at a base level, including your scent.

“Beta, and a wife. Someone to care for, someone who needs you.”

His eyes are on you as sounds from deeper in the house reach your ears. Deep voices, a loud thump, then laughter. You look past John and see a set of stairs near the front door that leads to a second floor that only takes up part of the space from the vaulted ceiling.

“We don’t need anyone Kate-” he folds his arms across his hairy chest as Kate cuts him off.

“Should I ask them then? Call them down and see what they say?” She glares up at him, the height difference not making a difference even when her alpha to his omega should. You had only ever seen one dynamic, alpha ruling, all else managing to stay out of their way. That did not hold true here. They battled as equals.

John let his lung full of air go, a sigh of admission as his hands fell to his hips.

“No. We will take her.”

Kate nods once, settling your backpack on the couch before turning and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

When she turns back to John she gives him the final piece of information.

“She gets a room to herself. Doesn’t need to be much, but at least a place to retreat when everything becomes too much.”

He rolls his eyes but nods.

“Anything else Kate?” He asks drolly.

The glare she sends him is met with a smirk.

“I will check back in a week to see how everyone is settling.”

John walks her to the front door, opening it for Kate to step back into the startling brilliance of the sun twinkling off snow.

When the door clicks shut behind her John turns to you. His eyes drift from your feet upward until settling on your face.

“Hello, wife.”

Part 2 | Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

[jobtamizhan]

BSF Recruitment 2023 30 Group B & C Vacancy

BSF Recruitment 2023 30 Group B & C Vacancy #bsf

BSF – Border Security Force Recruitment 2023 » Apply 30 Group B & C Vacancies » Official Notification Released. Central Government Recruitment Interested & Eligible Candidate Please Must Check Full Notification Details, Education Details, Salary Details, Age Relaxation, Vacancies Details, Address Details Next Strat The Apply Process Eligible Candidate Apply Vacancies And Apply Online Starting…

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 1)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 2700+

A/N Note: OK! Here we go! I'm excited to share this mini-series and what's to come in it. It's a lot more in-depth than I thought it would be, but I love it. I hope you do as well :) Anyway! As always, please let me know what you think, and all comments are welcome!

_____________

“And you chose those two to go on a task together? Why?” Steve exasperated, running a hand over his face as he looked over the video footage in front of them.

“Everyone else was on a mission,” Tony exclaimed. 

“That and it doesn’t matter what their petty vendettas against each other are. They’re professionals at the end of the day that better get their God damn acts together before I personally make them regret it,” Fury countered. 

“Undercover newlyweds seems like a risky assignment for them,” Nat added. “Steve and I have done it before. We can-”

“No, you can not,” Fury cut them off and clicked a button on his desk that swapped the video footage of druglords to a file slowly scrolling. “You both have an assignment I’m sending you in the next hour in correlation to this case. So without your work, theirs is pointless. Got it?”

Nat and Steve shared a quick look before the blonde gave him a curt nod for him to continue. 

Fury went on to explain how an insider of the criminal group had confirmed shipments, including hostages working as drug mules and other illegal substances that hadn’t been tested yet across US borders. A whole operation in itself, but Bucky and Y/N’s job would give them information the current insiders they had on the job weren’t able to attain. 

Y/N and Bucky’s undercover assignment was to act as newlyweds, infiltrate the front runners of the group, and try to become a proven alliance in hopes of joining the group in their ���business’.

“So we’re on standby with information until they have leads to help our end?” Steve concluded. 

“Yes. And vice versa. You’re running tactical, and they’re running intelligence, although a mix in between,” Fury nodded, handing them a paper copy of the mission.

“And it can’t go the other way?” Nat asked. 

“Your faces have become much too well known in the last few years for it to be passable,” Tony added, arms crossed and reclined in the rolling office chair he couldn’t see to keep stationary. “Bucky doesn’t care for the public eye and has changed appearances since his run from the government, and no one can forget America’s sweetheart over here,” he motioned to Steve.  

“I’ve changed identities enough to get by,” Nat shrugged, watching the billionare carefully. 

“Yes, but Y/N’s face hasn’t graced the nationwide flatscreens nearly as much as yours,” he smiled spryly and fluttered his eyelashes. “Plus, it’s already been decided, so we’re moving on from the argument.”

“How long of an operation are we talking about here if the two have to create a relationship with the front runners of this?” Steve asked.

“Depends on how well the couple can sell it,” Fury crossed his arms. “Speaking of the couple.”

“Shove me again, and you’ll lose another limb that you’ll miss far more than that arm,” Y/N growled as she pushed past the massive body blocking her way into the meeting room. 

“There’s a thing called manners, and it’s free to use them,” Bucky grunted as she shoved him with surprising strength that made him slightly teeter. 

 The group outside of the new additions gave each other a hopeless look. 

“I give it two days,” Steve sighed, resting his head on his fist and watching them as they struggled to find the last open chair. Y/N came on top of the scrabble and shoved him again for extra measures. 

“Jackass,” Bucky mumbled as he leaned against the wall behind her, kicking her chair in extra annoyance. 

“Bitchass,” Y/N retorted, throwing a middle finger behind her. 

“I think you give them too much credit.” Nat let out a dry chuckle before turning to Fury. “Please, break the news to the two idiots so I can have a highlight of this night.” 

“What news?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows to Fury. She was one of the few people who didn’t show fear towards the walking intimidation of a man. 

“Your next mission,” Tony answered in a long breath. “Where you and Barnes will be known as Mr. and Mrs. Hunt.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky gawked and stood straighter in his spot.

“What’s the date today?” Y/N asked at the same time. 

Bucky came around from her back and gave her a worried yet disgusted look. “I’m sorry. For what reason are you worried about the date?”

She never took her eyes off Fury. “I’m just trying to clarify if it’s April 1st or not because this is a poorly done April Fools joke.” She held an equally intimidating stare at the master in front of her. 

“It’s June. You’re off by a few months,” he replied, unphased and unbreaking. 

“Then I’d like some clarification on who needs a fucking lobotomy, considering that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve heard today. And I’ve been around this dumbass for the last 12 hours already,” she jabbed a finger back at Bucky, whose nostrils were flaring. 

“Real classy, Princess,” he said lowly. 

“Thanks, I like to keep it that way, Cyborg,” she replied without turning to him. “But seriously, is it you, Fury, that needs a Psych eval because there is no way in hell you thought this idea would actually work out in your favor.”

The room was silent as the two most intense people in the room had a stare-down. Eventually, Fury spoke up with a smirk on his lips. 

“You better figure the fuck out how to make it work in my favor because any other way isn’t really an option for you, Sergeant Y/L/N.” 

Before Y/N could fire another remark that would likely have put anyone else six feet in the ground, Bucky cut her off. “What’s the mission?”

Y/N finally gave Bucky her attention with a stern face freckled with annoyance. “Teacher’s pet.” Bucky made a face at her before she turned around. 

Fury went on to explain the mission on both their end and Nat and Steve’s. From the sounds of it, it was going to take months of convincing some dicks in the drug trafficking business (covering as presidents of the homeowner association club) that they wanted in on their scheme in order to get the information no one else seems to be able to steal.

“How many sundresses do you own, Y/N? Because I don’t think your rock band, ripped jeans, and Doc Martens are going to convince anyone you’re the baked-you-a-fresh-pie-as-a-hello-to-the-neighborhood-kind of wife,” he added, emphasizing the label he had already created for her undercover character.

“How are they going to take to a half-robotic husband?” She shoved his vibranium hand off the back of her chair.  

“I have technology for that,” Tony jumped in. 

“And I have your credit card for a new wardrobe, so I guess that solves both those problems,” she flashed a fake smile at Tony before crossing her arms snuggly across her chest. 

“You’re gonna have to leave that attitude at home, too,” Bucky got down to whisper in her ear, and he moved fast enough before she could sucker punch him in the face.

“Why not just arrest these two? Why go through the whole process of undercover work if we know they’re running the operation?” Y/N questioned, shifting side to side in her rolling chair as she thought aloud.

“Because there isn’t solid evidence, thanks to their associates being connected enough to cover shit up,” Fury answered. “And we believe there are multiple parties of their stature in the game. Meaning, we arrest them, the others scatter, and we risk losing a lot of information and take 20 steps back from where we’re at.” 

“Hmm,” she nodded as she stared off into a void space in the room, calculating her approach to this. 

“You’re actually considering this?” Nat asked. “I expected more of a fight.”

“I’m telling myself that it’s the drugs and possible human trafficking I’m doing this for, and tormenting Bucky along the way will be a bonus instead of a nuisance,” she replied with a weak smile like she was still in the process of convincing herself that.

“Smart,” Nat shrugged and gave an agreeable face.

“Your flights are leaving in four and a half hours, so I suggest packing your bag of necessities before we ship you off,” Tony sat up from his chair, stretching. “Any other things you need will be provided at the house already set up for you two to play the part of newlyweds. And get used to that word because it's about to become extremely annoying hearing it on repeat. Barnes, come with me to get that looking more human-like when you get a chance,” he pointed at his arm before walking out. 

Bucky scanned over the file in hand and let out a sigh. “We couldn’t get stationed at a beach somewhere in Hawaii?” 

“You’ll find the mountains rather eye-catching this time of the year,” Fury typed a few things on his desk and clasps his hands behind his back. “And you don’t have a choice either way. Dismissed.” 

___________________

Y/N’s POV

The amount of junk they had pawned off to us as “newlywed cargo” seemed excessive. Brand new appliances were still in boxes unopened, letters on them saying who had gifted them to us as our “wedding gift” littered the kitchen and entryway. 

I was currently in the guest room unpacking a box of linens and bedding in the spare closet. My mind was a hundred miles away from my physical body, but somehow, I had managed to organize the closet in a surprisingly efficient manner while on autopilot. 

“Honey,” Bucky’s voice came from the hallway, and I took advantage of the times I wasn’t being watched to roll my eyes at the pet name. Before I could respond with a snarky comment, he followed up with, “The next-door neighbors are here to introduce themselves. Wanna come say hi?” 

Showtime. 

“Be right out!” I shouted back, standing from my spot, crouched to the ground, and brushing off one of the many new sundresses now taking up space in my closet.

For clarity, it’s not that I was against them; it just wasn’t my usual taste. Though the freeness of no pants was starting to rub off on me…

Coming around the corner of the hallway to our homey new abode, I plastered an award-winning smile on my face and scanned the two individuals in front of Bucky. I gave Bucky a silent look that read, “Hey sweetheart,” to outsiders and, “The assholes in question?” to a trained eye. 

“Doll,” Bucky started, nodding his head once at my true question and matching my step to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me close for extra show. “This is Reginold and Bethanne Bauer. They’re our neighbors right across the street from us,” he introduced, adding a squeeze to my hip that I countered with a pinch to his side that he chuckled off. 

The physical touch was for show, but I knew he used it as a way to irritate me further, too. Lucky for me, it’s a two-player game. 

“Please, call me Reg,” the middle-aged man offered his hand.

The man looked like he played the role of a typical white male living in a cookie-cutter home, but his build showed he wasn’t on the unfit side of things. From the files, he was 42 years old, and he obviously had kept his health a priority because he could have been in his mid-30s, from what I gathered. 

“You must be Charlotte,” Bethanne said, jumping in when her husband didn’t release my hand in a timely manner. “My my, you’re far more beautiful up close,” she said with a sweet smile, though any woman could recognize the hint of judgment in them. 

Bethanne Bauer was a 5’6”, 38-year-old lady with darker blonde hair and a figure that showed she likely was a pilates guru who didn’t take many days off. Her Lululemon leggings and slicked-back bun confirmed this assessment. 

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” I replied with a nose crinkle and a firm squeeze of my hand before drawing it back to rest on Bucky’s chest. “We appreciate you coming by and introducing yourself.” I smiled up to Bucky, who was already looking down at me (what a showman). I leaned my head in the nook of his shoulder as I turned back to them. “We were so nervous about starting over in a new state and weren’t sure what the community would be like. But everyone’s been so kind here in Montana, and you guys are just proving that point.” 

“Oh, this neighborhood is like a family,” Reg replied, keeping his eyes on me. I'd feel uneasy if I didn’t know how to disarm a man in five hundred ways, but I knew more than 500 ways to get a man like the one in front of me to grovel. “So much so, you may be under careful watch for a while,” he winked, and I forced a laugh out, Bucky pulling me closer to his side at the harmless threat. “I’m just joking with ya,” he waved off with a boisterous laugh of his own, and Bethanne rolled her eyes. 

“He thinks he’s a comedian,” she playfully patted his shoulder. “But really, if you guys need anything at all, we are just a shout away. Or, our welcome to the neighborhood gift basket has our phone numbers in it, too, if you prefer to call.” 

Off to the side, I noticed a cellophane wicker basket with baked goods, a wine bottle, and some gift cards in it. Bucky must have accepted it before I got in here.

“You all are too kind,” I gushed, putting a hand on my chest in appreciation. “See honey,” I swatted Bucky’s chest, getting a tiny grunt from him. “I told you we would find a home here. I have a good feeling about this community,” I winked back at them with a wide grin. 

I could see the studying eyes on the woman and decided to act oblivious to her assessing. 

“Can I ask y’all a quick question?” I asked, a twinge of a southern accent I hadn’t pulled in ages coming out casually. “Where is the best grocery store around here? I’ve heard mixed things about the two stores y’all have, and you guys seem to have great taste, so...” I motioned to the gift basket. 

Bethanne listed a few of the stores they go to, ones I had researched on our flight here to get a better grounding of our new home. Of course, they were the more high-end stops. Eventually, the Bauers excused themselves for a neighborhood meeting they had planned, and Bucky and I were left alone. As soon as the door shut, I moved to the kitchen to grab a notepad. 

“Have we unpacked the pens, Beau?” I asked loudly, using Bucky’s fake name, which he seemed to know why right off the bat.

“Second drawer by the fridge,” he motioned, opening the basket and going through it, our charades still continuing. 

“I had a few things we need to grab from the store and thanks to our helpful neighbors, we know the best spot now,” I mindlessly talked as I wrote on the note; Check for bugs.

A welcome basket was fine and dandy, but considering who it was from and how quick they were to be at our doorstep—not even three hours into the moving vans' pull-up—I knew the drill, and so did Bucky as he listed out aloud what was in the gift. 

“Wow, they got us Doordash gift cards,” he smiled, placing them on the marble counter. “Wanna eat in tonight? Maybe a local spot?” 

“Sounds good to me,” I hummed, coming around the island corner and placing the notebook beside it. “Oh, did you find their number? We can ask if they have any suggestions.”

Placing the pen on top of the notepad for Bucky to respond, I moved to look in the basket myself and grabbed the note they had attached to it. 

“Eat in, drink some wine, and,” he circled the word ‘bugs,’ confirming the suspicion before leaning on the counter and looking at me with communicative eyes that didn’t match his words. “Watch a movie if I can get the TV set up by then.”

“Sounds like a date,” I smiled, but the annoyance that we had to be playing our characters until we could dispose of the bug was playing in my eyes.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[goodfish-bowl]

Bunker in White

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 1 - GIW Experimentation

Summary: Sam and Dean take up a job to go investigate a government base that had been attacked by vampires.

Warnings: vague descriptions of blood and gore

Notes: hmmm, I have never written anything for Supernatural before, but I've seen a good portion of it (years ago). Probably takes place earlier in the show.

Word Count: 2044

AO3 Link

Sam and Dean had gotten this particular lead from Bobby, who in turn got it passed onto him from someone else, so it wasn’t a surprise this particular job was a mess. 

Apparently, a group of vampire’s had decided a weird, underground, government bunker would be the perfect hideout, resulting in a bloodbath between the government goons and the vamps. It was a large group too, which was a point of concern among the hunter’s who turned down the job. No one really knew who’d won inside between the vampires and the government, but Dean had placed his money on the vampires. He honestly doubted that some government agency with an obsession for the color white had any idea what they were up against, much less the correct tools for the job. Dean got proved wrong when they came across the first dead vampire. 

The bunker’s fluorescent lights were harsh against the darkness outside. The entire base still seemed to have power despite not being connected to any sort of power grid or system. It had made it an absolute pain in the ass to find, but at least that meant Sam and Dean didn’t have to wander around in the dark. The harsh lighting and bleached interior revealed a slaughter inside, staining the white walls with both vampire and human blood, leaving very little to imagination. The humans, all agents in once-white suits, looked to have been mauled by the vamps, while the dead vampires had holes blasted through them and were covered in green-tinged burns. Dean kicked one, trying to make sure it was actually dead. Yep, dead vamp, the whole place unfortunately smelled like it too. 

Sam had found one of the more physically intact agents with a large bazooka-like weapon next to him at the back of the hallway. Rummaging through the agency's pocket’s Sam tossed the ID card over for Dean to read over, while Sam picked up the weapon. 

Dean flipped open the wallet, and huffed when the agent was only referred to by a letter and position. No personal information whatsoever. 

“This asshole is apparently ‘Agent B, senior heavy weapon specialist of the Ghost Investigation Ward’, which means shit to me,” Dean complained. 

“‘Ghost Investigation Ward’? Is that supposed to be some sort of knockoff hunter’s group? Because points for vampire killing, less points for dying,” Sam added. “Either way, they were messing around with something supernatural, and had weapons that could blast straight through a vampire. Think we could find something here?”

Dean shrugged, “I’m down to take their weapons at the least. New tactics are always appreciated.”

Sam took the bazooka, and Dean picked up any other weapons of interest, from weighted nets, to more guns, storing them in piles to collect and ferry to the car later. The ID got them access to a couple more rooms, including a security camera and file room, which Sam said he was going back to later. The deeper they descended into the base, the more spaced out the bodies were, and the more violently the agents had seemed to fight, like they were protecting something. 

“Do you think they actually managed to catch a ghost here?” Sam tossed out. 

Dean snorted, “Doubt it. Sure, you can blast a hole through a vamp, but you can’t blast a hole through a ghost. Just trapping one is a pain, let alone moving it to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Illinois.” 

Hydraulic doors hissed as the brothers entered the next level, only to pause from the sudden change in pattern. This one opened up into a laboratory, partitioned off by thick glass walls, rather than the collection of offices and storage the upper floors had been.  

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the carnage inside the laboratories. 

“What the hell were they taking apart that bleed fucking green?” Dean cursed.

Dean completely ignored the bodies of who he assumed had been the scientists. There were tons of vials of various liquids, most of them being that same saturated, radioactive green. There were also jars, lots of jars, of what he assumed were the bits and pieces of whatever creature bled green. 

“Doesn’t look like whatever they were dissecting was dead while they were taking apart,” Sam commented, pointing out the restraints on the bloodied autopsy table. 

“Fuck, that’s sick. At least kill whatever you're taking apart first.” 

Dean watched as Sam went over to a stack of papers, filing through them quickly with a grimace on his face.

 “Well, they seem to believe they caught a ghost, at least. They definitely caught something before the vampires wiped them out. The reports refer to it as Subject P-1.”

“Think it’s still here?” Dean asked. 

“Maybe. This report is a few days old, and we know the vampires attacked within that same time frame, so it’s possible that ‘P-1’ is either still here, dead here, or managed to escape in the crossfire,” Sam guessed.

“I suppose we’ll find out. We only got one more level to go.”

Dean left the lab, going down the elevator to the last level. There was nothing there, except for a singular glass cell with what looked like a blast door as its entrance, all shining with some sort of green energy. There seemed to be automated weapons and cameras all pointing at the cell, and Dean considered it a bit extreme. But also down there was the biggest collection of dead vampires they had found so far. 

The weapons in the room had obviously activated for whatever reason, considering the number of vampires with holes blown through them compared to the agents, of which there only seemed to be two, who looked more like they had also been caught in the crossfire of the weapons, rather than becoming vampire food like most of the guys upstairs.  

“Dean…” Sam shoved him, and pointed to the cell. There was…something inside. 

Dean walked over, shoving bodies out of the way with his foot to stand in front of the cell. The green… whatever it was, shone along the glass and hummed with energy, reminding Dean vaguely of an electrified fence. The inside of the cell was a mess but in a different way than outside. It reminded Dean of a few of the cells he had seen monsters hold people in before. It was dirty, and covered in blood, both red and that unknown green. There was no cot, or toilet, or any other sort of accommodation. 

The only thing in the cell was a small figure, dressed in nothing but tattered scrubs, and covered in its own blood balled up in the corner, head between its legs. Dean could only make out pale, emancipated legs and feet, and a mess of matted, black hair. 

“Is it alive?” Dean asked, tapping on the glass, which surprisingly didn’t zapped him.

Sam had a grimace on his face. “I…think.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted. 

No reaction. 

Dean pounded more heavily on the glass with his fist, “Hey! Are you alive?”

No reaction. 

“Are you P-1?” Sam asked instead. 

This got a reaction. The figure picked up their head, placing empty, hollow, and frighteningly blue eyes on Sam. They seemed to be a young boy, face pale and thin, deep bags under his eyes. His eyes were glassy and distant, looking through Sam rather than at him. 

“Well, that’s unnerving,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a look before shoving his shoulder. “Tell him to do something else.”

Sam frowned, thinking for a moment before saying anything. “P-1, state your status,” Sam commanded. 

The boy, P-1, remained silent.

“I don’t think it talks, Sammy,” Dean snorted. 

Sam sputtered indignantly. “What do you want me to do then? We know he’s P-1 now, and that he’s still somehow alive.”

“Well, we know he ain’t human, and that he’s whatever these goons have been picking apart. No clue what he is, but in that state, I doubt he can do much. The lights are one but no one seems to be home, Sammy,” Dean said. 

It was a harsh suggestion but, “We could just put him down and be done with it. The vamps are all dead, there’s nothing here except braindead P-1 over there.”

Sam, apparently, very much disagreed with that idea. “He’s a kid, Dean! And he’s been tortured for who knows how long. We’re not putting him down!”

Dean groaned. “Do you want to take him with us or something?!” Dean asked incredulously. 

Sam was silent, apparently thinking over the idea like it was a legitimate suggestion. 

“No,” Dean immediately denied. “Nope, no way, Sammy. We’re not adopting whatever-the-fuck that kid is. He’s not a dog. We have no idea what he’s capable of, let alone if he’s dangerous!” 

 “Then we keep an eye on him! You said it yourself, in that state, I doubt he can barely move. We could even put him in Bobby’s panic room if he acts up, but honestly,” Sam glanced over to the boy, “I doubt he would even notice.”

Dean hated the idea. He didn’t want the kid to potentially go ballistic, and there had to be some reason he was locked up in the first place. But he couldn’t think of any other reasons to leave the kid there. If anything, they could figure out what the kid was so that they knew how to defeat anything like him in the future. 

“Fine!” Dean relented. “But you’re taking care of him.”

Sam seemed to untense and turned back to the boy. “P-1, move to the door,” he ordered, before more quietly adding, “We’re getting you out of here, kid.”

The boy stood up, swaying on his legs, before approaching the door, standing just outside of it. Dean watched as Sam fidgeted with the door, before eventually having to pull another ID from one of the nearby agents to get the door open. Sam led the kid out, who didn’t have much of a reaction at all. Dean frowned at how small the kid was, now that he could get a better estimate literally standing next to him. He couldn’t be older than 12. 

“Okay, we’re leaving. We got some cool things and you’ve adopted a weird kid. We can confirm the vampires all died here too. Anything else we need to grab before we go back?” Dean huffed. 

“I’m going to see what I can pull from the record room on the way back. Could you take him back to the car?” Sam asked. 

Dean looked at the kid again. Yep. No one home at all. He doubted the kid even knew what was going on. At least he wouldn’t complain about Dean’s music choices. 

“Fine, but you take too long and I’m leaving your ass here,” Dean stated. “Come-on, P-1.”

Dean took the elevator back up the entrance, still careful to check around if they had missed anything still-alive, only to have silence. The kid barely made any noise as he moved, Dean decided he didn’t like that after the third time he jumped at the kid standing directly behind him. 

“I’m getting you a bell,” he grumbled. 

Back at the car, Dean tossed his looted weapons into the trunk, glancing at the kid before rummaging into his and Sam’s duffles for some spare clothes. It looked really suspicious to have a bloodied kid in a medical gown walking around. It would be oversized, but Dean grabbed a flannel, jeans, and a belt. Bobby would probably have something from when he and Sam were that small. 

“Hey, kid, P-1, put these on,” Dean held the clothes out to the kid, who didn’t react. 

Dean groaned. “Oh come on! This is why Sam’s your caretaker. I don’t know how to dress a kid!” 

Dean approached. “Gotta fucking command him like a dog,” he muttered. “P-1, arms up.”

The boy raised his arms, and Dean untied the medical gown letting it fall to the ground. Dean froze, bile building in the back of his throat, fighting the urge to throw up. Images of the jars and vials passed behind his eyes. No wonder the kid was mentally gone, Dean couldn’t see anyone surviving, let alone living long enough to walk out.

God, they needed to get the kid to Bobby. 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

During his interview with Time Magazine, which once again named him “Person of the Year,” Donald Trump unsurprisingly said many startling things between his usual ramblings. Today I want to focus on one of them in particular: vaccines. Trump declared he is “going to do what’s good for the country.” When asked whether that includes getting rid of some vaccinations, Trump responded, “It could if I think it’s dangerous, if I think they are not beneficial,” but then added, “I don’t think it’s going to be very controversial in the end.” This is a stark departure from earlier assurances by anti-vax nut job RFK, Jr., who promised earlier that he would not take vaccines away from anyone who wants them. Now it seems the team he hopes to gather at the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) will propose a review of vaccine safety and, depending on the results, could possibly pull some critical ones from the market.

But could and would they really do something so crazy as ban life-saving shots like the Hepatitis B, measles mumps and rubella, and polio vaccines? Trump’s interview set off alarms among health experts, especially epidemiologists. And it raises many questions, not the least of which is exactly how vaccines might be reviewed by the government to confirm if they are “dangerous” or “not beneficial,” if and when RFK, Jr. is confirmed as head of HHS. Adding fuel to this dumpster fire is a report out this morning by the New York Times that RFK, Jr.’s lawyer, Aaron Siri, is an anti-vax crusader who has previously petitioned the FDA to revoke approval for polio and other vaccines. Trump’s statements imply that he really meant what he said on the campaign trail about letting RFK, Jr. go “wild on health.” And with zealots like Siri helping to shape national health policy, we are dangerously close to returning to an era where childhood diseases, once considered largely eradicated, could make a deadly comeback.

[...]

Anyone familiar with the way anti-vax groups regularly challenge FDA approvals, Covid mandates, scientists and drug manufacturers likely feels a rock in their gut reading this. First, it appears that Trump has taken up a dangerous and false claim that purports to link childhood vaccinations to autism. That theory has been widely debunked, but it has managed to produce mass hysteria for two decades. And now it has the bully pulpit of the Oval Office behind it. The fact that the president-elect agrees with this discredited theory, and is appointing someone to head HHS who actively pushes it, is troubling in the extreme.

[...]

An anti-vax zealot gets his shot

Aaron Siri probably can’t believe his good fortune. He has made his legal career out of representing anti-vax clients, including a group called the Informed Consent Action Network, an organization whose founder is also a close Kennedy ally. In that capacity, as the Times reports, as recently as 2022 Siri petitioned the FDA to revoke approval of the polio vaccine. That’s right, he wants to see the polio vaccine withdrawn, even though it has saved countless children from death or lifetime disability. Siri has gone after 13 other vaccines, too, including the Hepatitis B vaccine, and has crusaded around the country to lift Covid mandates. His tactic is to impugn the integrity of the scientists responsible for developing the vaccines and poke as many holes as he can into their product development, safety studies and approvals. He does this by playing on the preconceptions and fears of the conspiracy-minded, making otherwise harmless errors or oversights appear as massive and even intentional frauds upon the public. One critic of Siri’s crusades is Dr. Stanley Plotkin, the inventor of the vaccine that eliminated rubella in the 1960s. Before the vaccine, it was a disease that killed thousands of newborns. Siri deposed Plotkin in a lawsuit Siri had brought. After spending nine hours being grilled by Siri, Dr. Plotkin believes that putting Siri in any position of influence “would be a disaster.” Dr. Plotkin added, “I find him laughable in many ways — except, of course, that he’s a danger to public health.”

Siri still managed to put a target on Dr. Plotkin, however, by publishing snippets of that deposition online, along with those of one Dr. Kathryn Edwards, another noted inventor of vaccines. Siri had the help of an anti-vax documentary maker and podcaster, Del Bigtree—who is also RFK, Jr.’s former campaign communications director and founder of the Informed Consent Action Network. As a result, Drs. Plotkin and Edwards have been vilified by anti-vaxxers instead of celebrated for their stunning accomplishments.

“You’re taking the leaders in vaccinology,” Dr. Edwards told the Times, “the people that have spent their whole lives studying these vaccines and seeing their impact, you’re marginalizing and making them look like they are prostitutes of pharma.” Of great concern is how Siri is now working with RFK, Jr. to actively vet candidates for top positions at HHS. According to the Times, Siri has asked candidates about their view on vaccines, potentially setting up HHS to have a uniformly anti-vax agenda. RFK, Jr. and his advisors, like Siri and Bigtree, could succeed in having vaccines actually pulled from the market based on the “studies” they are demanding, the conclusions of which we can assume are pre-ordained. But even short of actually yanking important vaccines, the platforming of anti-vax conspiracies and disinformation will create widespread vaccine hesitancy, which could result in serious and deadly outbreaks.

History could repeat on a huge scale

We need only look at what RFK, Jr. did in Samoa to understand the extent of the damage and even death his views can cause. In 2019, the small island nation experienced a deadly outbreak of measles, with 5,700 infections out of a population of 200,000. Hospitals were full, and the country was in a state of emergency. In the end, 83 people died, most of them young children. But what had caused this outbreak? Childhood measles vaccinations rates plummeted from 90 percent in 2013 to just a third of all infants by 2019 due to a health scandal where nurses had improperly mixed the measles vaccine with the wrong liquid, resulting in two deaths. That incident opened the floodgates for vaccine misinformation driven by RFK, Jr. and his anti-vaccine non-profit, the Children’s Health Defense. At one point RFK, Jr. even sent the Samoan prime minister a letter suggesting the measles vaccine itself may have caused the outbreak. He falsely asserted that it had “failed to produce antibodies” in mothers sufficient to provide infants with immunity, that it perhaps provoked “the evolution of more virulent measles strains” and even that children who received the vaccine may have inadvertently spread the virus to other children.

[...]

There is still an opportunity to stop RFK’s confirmation, if the GOP-controlled Senate finds enough backbone and common sense. But time is running out to change minds and stand up to Trump. Meanwhile, RFK Jr.’s allies in the anti-vax movement, like Siri and Bigtree, are gearing up to unleash a true nightmare upon our health system.

This is very disturbing: the anti-vaxxer extremist movement is on the prowl, as both Donald Trump and RFK Jr. are making moves to potentially yank some vaccines off the market-- including the polio-- and champion the debunked lie that vaccines “cause” autism.

See Also:

Daily Kos: We got rid of polio with vaccines. RFK's lawyer wants to bring it back

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1828

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnaubingo -Non-Traditional Alpha Traits @spnabobingo -Bed Sharing

A/N: This part has a couple of flashbacks in italics

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

PART IX

Partway down the drive, the car sputters and dies, rolling to a stop a few yards from the house. Bobby got up, mumbled idijits straightened his trucker cap, and heard the Impala’s squeaky doors simultaneously open; then Dean's voice was carrying on the night air, “If you’ve screwed up my car, I’m going to kick your ass!” 

Bobby marches towards the car and spits, “Stop giving your brother a hard time.” His rebuff dissipates when the elder brother's scarlet irises lock on him. Dean moves in front of a female sitting in the backseat like a predator protecting its kill and menacingly growls at him. 

****

Sam quickly rounds the car, blocking the Beta from his line of sight. “Dean, calm down, it’s Bobby. Remember when he'd play baseball with you instead of practicing with the shotguns?” Dean ignores Sam and tries to round-end his equally quick brother when a hand grabs his wrist. Dean halts and peers back at the O, who points to him, her ear, and Sam, who advises, “Listen to your Omega Dean."

Bobby’s jaw drops upon hearing the youngest Alphas' words. He sees the O wince as she holds her arms up and watches Dean quickly shift from aggression, something the younger man is prone to, to the gentleness he remembers from childhood. Once out, she scented the air before making the universal sign for Beta. “Yes, he is. Bobby, this is..," Dean strumbled over what to call her when she held up her hands and, with her fingers, indicated the number 4444968503.

“That’s a helluva lot of numbers for your name, little lady,” Bobby remarks, looking sternly at Dean. “Do I have to worry about you going for my throat while sleeping?” Thoroughly abashed by his reaction toward the man he considers a surrogate father, he responded No, Sir. “Good. We’ll discuss this," gesturing to Deans still scarlet-hued eyes, "later." Bobby peered around his darkened scrap yard. "Let's get inside. I feel like a crow waiting to be picked off here.”

Little did the seasoned hunter know how right he was as two celestial beings observed the group from the shadows.

"You know,” the one in a business suit said, “When they told me the apocalypse had gotten the green light and the job of watching over Michael and Lucifer's vessels to my department, I thought, this is it, this is what’s going to make me more than employee of the month for the fifth, no, sixth consecutive millennium. And I was this close," held two fingers centimeters apart, "To getting the key to the Axis Mundi and mano e mano with the big guy.” His features hardened, “Of course, that was before you. Care to explain why disregarded orders to get rid of that birth defect?”

The other looked across the yard at the parties retreating to the house while his unerring memory returned to the past. 

****

Castiel was assigned to watch over Dean from his conception. As his charge grew, he was in awe of the boy's perception of others' emotions and intuitive knowledge of how to comfort them.

Shortly before his fourth birthday, John and Mary told their son that he would be a big brother, showing him the ultrasound photograph and Dean got excited, saying he’d be the best big brother to his two siblings. His confused parents again explained there was only one pup but Dean skewed his little face into a fierce expression, continuing to insist there were two amused his father.

On the other hand, Mary felt apprehensive at her offspring's insistence, and the feeling grew throughout the pregnancy. A few months later, she was fixing lunch when Dean came running in and began talking to her middle, saying he would be the best brother in the world to them. He placed his tiny hands on opposite sides of her swollen belly, and Mary felt kicking directly under them.

Several weeks later, Deans bounced off the walls, saying his siblings would be here tomorrow. John and Mary reminded him it would be longer before his brother was ready for his debut, but in the wee hours of the following day, Mary’s water broke.

John found himself juggling a hospital bag, his son, and his mate to the car for the hospital. The angel sat in the backseat gazing at his excited charge and felt—regret, aware that fulfilling his orders to eliminate the extra pup would unduly distress the vessel.

But before Castiel could further analyze this sudden human emotion, he got distracted by the doctor saying there were complications with the pup. They needed John's permission for an emergency procedure. Not detecting any unnatural issue in the mother or pups, he quizzically followed to the delivery room where Mary, despite being drugged, had a quick delivery.

The angel watches the doctor evaluate the slightly sedated pups and deems them healthy before handing them to a nurse. But instead of taking them to the nursery, they detoured to the stairwell, and Castiel quickly realized they weren't a staff member but rather someone intent on stealing both pups. The angel intervenes and then finds him in a quandary. 

Saving Lucifer's vessel left him holding the baby—specifically, the unnecessary pup whose existence puzzled heaven. When the female gazes at him with disturbingly focused eyes, other emotions trigger in the angel, leaving him unable to complete his task. Momentarily searching, he transports her to another state and swaps her with another stillborn pup. 

****

"You disregard the plan that's been in place for eons because some reject made you feel?!" Zachariah barked out a laugh of disbelief and turned to his companion. “I’m going to ask and don’t lie. What made you grow a conscience this time? Strike that. I don't care. Now, who else knows about your screwup?"

"I told no one."

"Then we've got a mole within our midst." Zachariah is interrupted by the Winchester Alpha pulling into the yard. Pointing a finger at Castiel, the senior angel says, "This is your only chance to return to my good graces. Find out who is behind that thing's reappearance."

“Okay, thanks.” Bobby tossed the cordless on his desk. “Dr. Stevenson can get it, but it’ll take a day.”

“Good," John says, tossing back his third glass of whiskey. "The sooner that implants back in, the better.” Bobby sipped it on his glass, studying the other hunter he’d known for years. 

Bobby learned the day they meet that John Winchester was an obsessive bastard who’d do anything to get the demon that killed his mate, including dragging his two very young sons into the hunter life.

****

The first time the boys were left with him, Sam had just turned three and was curious about everything. Dean? Well, he found the seven-year-old rather odd. He would get out of sorts if his training schedule were changed but patient as Job with the toddler, answering every question, no matter how crazy they were, and caring for Sam as if he were his pup. 

One night, screaming woke him up. Rushing to the room the boys were sharing; Bobby stopped dead in his tracks. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking a howling Sam, trying to comfort him with tears streaming down his face. When he saw Bobby, Dean panicked and began apologizing, babbling on that Sam didn't mean to do it and he’d clean up the mess, confusing the Beta before noticing Sam had wet himself and the bed.

Reassuring Dean it wasn’t a big deal, Bobby gathered some clean sleep clothes and rustled them into a warm bath. Leaving Dean to watch Sam, he stripped the soiled bedding and tossed it into the washer, making a mental note to get a bed protector, grabbed a lawn bag, split it open, and placed it under the spare bedding.

He had just finished remaking the bed when Dean, carrying his sleeping brother, entered with a weary expression that made Bobby sad and angry. 

Putting on his kindest smile, he helped them back into bed, left a small lamp he’d found on, and told Dean to wake him if they needed anything, no matter how trivial.

****

Bobby returns to the present when John drops the now-empty bottle on his desk. Reaching into a drawer, he pulls a fresh one. Topping off his glass he remarks, "You wanna tell me why you failed to mention Dean has a fresh claimed Omega, let alone one beat all to hell." He stares John straight in the eye while sliding the bottle toward him.

John suppressed snarling for such an impertinent question, knowing he needed to stay on good terms with the Beta until Dean finished his mandatory probation and told him about Helms's establishment, Sam witnessing the O fighting with his Alpha lugs—explaining why it looked like it went three rounds with a vengeful spirit—to purchasing it for a dollar.

However, John couldn't hide the flash of guilt in his eyes as he skimmed over what happened at the clinic before admitting the judge's enforcement of the claiming statute was his fault, but didn't sugarcoat the details of witnessing Dean's claiming horrified Bobby.

“If everything is like you say, what'd you need Frank's help for?"

John looked directly at him, saying he needed the state order to take Sam erased if Dean failed to fulfill his probation. Bobby knew the Alpha was lying through his teeth but didn't call him out. Instead, he threw his drink back and headed to bed.

Passing the room the boys still occupied when staying; Bobby could hear them talking before loudly closing his bedroom door, giving John time to finish that second bottle. When he reopened it later, he could hear the Alpha's loud snoring, and carefully snagged the keys from his jacket, slipped out the kitchen door, and took the scenic route to the Alpha’s truck.

Bobby knows whenever John is hiding won't be in the regular places, i.e., in the glove box, over the visor, ect; began examining the vehicle's exterior and, finding nothing, opens the weapons catch. Nothing stands out when he spots a curse box and recalls John inquiring about creating one some time ago.

Bobby fiddled around with the unfinished box when, bingo, it popped open, revealing a bunch of rolled papers inside. He crossed to the garage and fired up a printer, making copies of the documents then returned everything to its original position because John would notice if anything were misplaced. Heading back to his room, Bobby noticed light still coming from underneath the boy's door and lightly rapped it before opening it.

The elder brother was spooning his mate from behind, which made sense since Bobby knew from personal experience that lying on bruised ribs dulled the pain. However, it was difficult for the man to process why his brother was sleeping snugly against her front, his fingers twined with Dean's, resting on her hip.

PART X

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird  @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys  @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

[qqueenofhades]

what gets me is whenever any of these people says not to vote, and you ask them what the alternative is, they usually throw some tantrum about how it shouldn't be their job to fix this country and they're not expected to know (or start calling you a neoliberal or a bootlicker lmao) and i just. i don't get that? not voting, especially in the current climate, is a big deal. i don't think it's unreasonable to ask anyone who advocates for that what the alternative is. i'm not expecting you, online leftist, to magically know how to fix everything. i am expecting something from you if you're gonna tell me not to vote, especially when we both know that helps the gop. like, how dare we ask them to defend this big choice they're telling us to make?

their position boils down to helping trump and the republicans but any time you remind them of that they get upset. what is the alternative? what plan do they have? it would be one thing if there was another option that they'd come up with, but they haven't and don't seem interested in doing so. mutual aid and organizing is only going to take us so far and it'll be a hell of a lot easier to do it with biden in office than trump

The whole "it doesn't matter who's president/in charge of the government because mutual aid and organizing is the only valid way to do community engagement" is the leftist version of the Brexit nutcases who, and I swear I am not making this up, argued that it was fine if the UK left the EU trading sphere/single market/customs union with nothing to replace it, because "Britain is a nation of farmers and can grow food in our back gardens!!!!" Yes, because you're so devoted to your stupid ideology that you think the large-scale collapse of society, a major world power, a western democracy, and everything else will have no effect, and you can just do your little Facebook mutual aid groups and happily shout on Twitter at anyone who disagrees with you. Never mind the fact that this would obviously and immediately harm vulnerable people the most and that nobody, not even the Online Leftists themselves, actually wants to live in the Violent Revolution Total Anarchy World they masturbate to. Maybe this makes me a neoliberal corporate shill, but I'd rather that the world got better, instead of worse. I would actually prefer that myself, my friends, my family, my whole life, the whole country, and the rest of the world wasn't sacrificed on the Great Revolution Altar, but I shouldn't worry. We have mutual aid. At least as long as a) you have never said anything the Online Leftists even slightly disagree with, since they're sure as hell not the kind of people I would trust to have my back in any large-scale societal collapse, and b) I guess they'll all be growing food in their back gardens too, rather than using any of those dirty "government" or "society" things to supply their basic needs. We're saved! No need to worry. Bring on the anarchy.

Aside from the fact that Online Leftists, as I have said before, think that moral action begins and ends with posting the Right Opinions on social media at the correct timeframe and any other action or engagement with a flawed system or basic reality is heresy, they don't like being challenged -- i.e. "if we don't vote, then what do we do?" -- because a) it questions their authority as supreme arbiters of morality, and b) it means that there should actually be an action in place of cutting out something so consequential as voting, which likewise clashes with their "everything will be fixed by Magical Thinking" viewpoint. They don't want to be asked what to do in place of voting, or in anything at all; they want to think their correct thoughts and judge anyone who doesn't, regardless of how logically incoherent these things are or the inevitable outcome of those decisions, because nothing bad is ever their fault, or even the Republicans' fault, or anyone else at all except for the Democrats and/or "the West." I mean, yeah, if they're going around to preach the Don't Vote Because It's Actually Evil gospel, it's the bare fucking minimum to expect that they have something to offer in return besides Ye Olde Bolshevik cosplay fantasies. Since they don't, they get tetchy when you point that out.

Also, while I know it's the social media fashion that everything has to be the worst thing ever and we have plenty of the "Biden is also a genocidal fascist but I guess vote for him or something" utterly-minimum-standard posts going around, I will point out why that rhetoric is a) wrong and b) unhelpful. (Not that I expect it will make a single difference to anyone who has to get their internet cred by yelling about how Biden is a fascist, but still.) No, Biden is not a fascist by any logical definition of the word, you would have to do a lot of work to convince me that he is personally genocidal beyond what is demanded of any post-1948 American president who exists in an extremely complicated international sphere with long-standing alliances (such as, yes, with Israel) and indeed not quite a bit more progressive than literally every one of his predecessors, and it makes those actual words useless. If you claim that "Biden and Trump are both genocidal fascists," you are utterly effacing those categories as any kind of critical or useful distinction. You can't argue for any difference, you can't point out policy essentials or nuances, you can't make the most basic of empirical observances or come to a judgment on whether any part of that statement is true, because language has been deliberately stripped of meaning and used to score Cool Internet Leftist points. How can we explain what fascism or genocide actually are and what to do about them, if it's just what you call everyone as a matter of course whenever they disagree with you? You can't. That's the point.

Once again: I strongly disagree with the idea of just giving Israel/Netanyahu a blank check to keep committing atrocities, but I also need to repeatedly point out that Biden isn't doing that. His initial unconditional support of Israel after October 7 (which at the time was the correct response) has shifted to a much more measured and conditional approach where he has muted the overtly pro-Israel statements and started talking about a two-state solution and the need to protect the lives of civilians and trying to keep a lid on what could become a REALLY bad situation with all kinds of war-hungry powers eager to jump into the Middle East and blow it completely to hell. As I have said in my other posts, Trump will not do this. Trump will do the exact opposite. Which is why Netanyahu, who doesn't like having his hands tied precisely in the way Biden is doing, is trying so hard to get Trump back in. This also extends to the people who think that the West/the U.S. is the source of all evil in the world, but they're somehow the only people that can make actual choices or have real agency. Everyone else is just an American puppet; everyone is being lied to or manipulated by America/the West; nobody ever chose anything of their own free will; America/the West could roll in and put a stop to everything bad if they "really wanted to," but choose not to because etc. etc., Evil. As such, this completely fact-free belief is basically the central starting point for Online Leftism, which as I have also said, is now beyond useless and verging on just as deranged and actively dangerous as the fascists, especially since they are 100% willing to enable far-right fascism however and whenever they can because something something, That Will Show Us.

Anyway. Yes. Whew.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Heroes and Their Reputations

Pairing: As of right now there isn't one- trying to decide if this is going to be more than this silly one shot lol

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: none really?

Genre: kinda fluff mostly... comedy I guess is accurate

Summary: The Avengers may be Earth's mightiest heroes but there's plenty of room for improvement especially in the public opinion category, so what happens when the team is given a PR manager?

***

"Listen, I can tell you right now, this transition will not be smooth." Fury warns you as you walk down the hall.

"Oh come on Fury how bad can they be?" You scoff.

"Most of them are- fine, I'm sure the reception will be overall positive but at least one of them will try to run you off and you need to prepared."

"I've got pretty thick skin so I think I'll manage. Plus I've got a few tricks up my sleeve to deal with that sort of thing believe it or not." You say.

"Alright. I'll call you in in a moment." Fury says. He enters the meeting room while you wait in the hall. It takes a while for his head to pop out to call you.

"You ready?" He asks.

"Sure." You say kicking off the wall and entering the room.

"Avengers. Meet your new manager." Fury announces to the room.

"Hey everyone, my name is y/n. Like Fury said I'll be your manager moving forward." You say.

"Sorry, what does having a manager entail exactly?" Bruce asks, adjusting his glasses.

"All of your missions, any official public appearances, interactions with civilians online or in person, that'll all go through me now. I'll also deal with government officials on your behalf and any legal situations you may end up in."

"So you're a lawyer?" Clint asks.

"No, we have lawyers. She's just here to oversee you all so that you can be held to a standard." Fury says.

"We don't��need a manager." Tony scoffs.

"Oh yes, you do." Fury says.

"It can't hurt." Thor shrugs.

"Don't be ridiculous Thor. Look, sweetheart, we've managed just fine on our own so far so I see what they're trying to do here but it's pointless and I will not be answering to some random figurehead they've brought in to play babysitter." Tony says.

"Okay, let me make one thing clear, Anthony, sweetheart, we're playing my game now, so you play by my rules or you don't play at all." You say.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He narrows his eyes.

"How do I explain this? If I'm a coach, I'm not going to put players in the game that I know are just going to continually rack up penalties, that's a poor game plan. The public doesn't trust you, it's my job to change that. So if you make my job harder you will no longer go on missions or even leave the tower. It's pretty simple. Fall in line or Iron Man will effectively be out of commission until you can be trusted to behave."

"Nice try but you can't do that." He scoffs. You cock an eyebrow at him and snap. His body tenses to a halt for a moment before you unfreeze him.

"My game. Understood?" You ask.

"W-w-what t-th-the f-f-f-f-fuck w-w-was th-th-that?" Tony wraps his arms around himself, shivering in his seat.

"What did you just do to him?" Steve's eyes widen.

"You have powers?!" Wanda asks excitedly.

"Nothing deadly." You wink at Steve. "Yes." You smile at Wanda. Bruce's hand hesitantly raises as he speaks,

"When you say nothing deadly-"

"Mr. Stark's body temperature was briefly at 28.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Low enough to freeze his blood but not for long enough to kill him." Vision informs the group.

"You frozehis blood?!" Sam gasps.

"What the fuck kind of power is that?" Clint asks.

"Are you some sort of demigod?" Thor asks.

"Technically I control water. Vision darling can you get him a blanket or something? The shivering is... excessive." You say.

"Of course." Vision says with a nod.

"F-F-F-F-Fury d-did y-you know a-a-ab-b-bout th-th-this?"

"It's got nothing to do with my job so it's not like it's on my resume, but if anybody would do the extra research on me it'd be Fury." You say. Vision returns then and drapes a blanket over Tony who pulls it tight around himself.

"Just want to make it clear that I did not know you could do that. Why the fuck you ain't mention that before now?" Fury looks at you.

"I did say I had some tricks up my sleeve." You shrug.

"We'll discuss that later." He tells you.

"Am I the only one not understanding how water manipulation lets you freeze blood?" Sam asks.

"Blood is made up of mostly water. I can control the water within blood. Goes for other things too, clouds, mud- anything really."

"So you froze his blood?" Bruce asks with wide eyes.

"Just to prove my point. I wasn't gonna kill him." You reiterate.

"I like our manager." Natasha smirks.

"Thank you." You say. Fury pulls out his phone and sighs.

"Imma leave y'all to get acquainted. Don't turn anyone into an iceblock in the meantime." He warns.

"She's already done that." Clint says.

"Fine, don't turn anybody else into an iceblock. If you insist I get technical." Fury rolls his eyes.

"You aren't seriously going to leave us with her Fury." Tony says breathily, his body finally warming up enough to talk normally.

"Don't push her buttons and you should be fine Tony you're an adult."

"Only in theory." Steve mutters and you let out a small laugh at his dig.

"I've told her not to freeze anybody, don't piss her off and you'll be safe." Fury reiterates before leaving the room.

"So-" you take a seat at the table with everyone and rest your chin in one of your hands propped up at the elbow. "Questions?"

"So are you like our boss?" Natasha asks.

"When you say monitor our interactions online what does that mean?" Steve asks.

"You mentioned public appearances. Will we be doing press conferences? Because I don't really like the idea of having to sit and answer a bunch of questions on a panel." Bruce asks.

"Since when do we have a team of lawyers?" Clint scoffs.

"Also what do you mean when you say missions go through you?" Sam asks.

"So when I said questions I didn't mean everybody throw them all at once. Natasha, technically speaking kind of since you guys do have to answer to me. Steve, you all are an interesting bunch, I assume none of you do but if any of you had a social media presence at all I would be monitoring that to make sure the things you're engaging with don't make you look any worse. Bruce, you probably won't be doing press conferences exactly because I can't say I trust you all to answer questions live like that but we do need to do damage control on your image as a team so you'll be making strategic appearances over the next few months at events and such so that the public sees you in a better light. Clint, the first thing I told them when I was hired was that a group of superheroes needs a legal team especially if the government is poking their noses around here so I put one together. Sam, Fury will send your missions to me, and I'll decide who goes on which ones based on your skill set as individuals and cooperatively."

"How did you remember all of those questions?" Steve binks.

"Do you know our skill sets?" Clint asks.

"I've seen some of your- combat, clips go pretty viral of the big ones, so I have an idea but I'll be scheduling targeted trainings with each of you to observe more directly over the next two weeks." You say.

"So, what happens in the meantime? Until you know our strengths if there are missions then what?" Natasha asks.

"Steve seems the closest to a leader here. I'll take his suggestions regarding assignments and go from there." You say.

"Cap is not our leader." Tony scoffs.

"Well, it's certainly not you." You roll your eyes. "Does anyone else take issue with me consulting Steve for your mission assignments?" You ask, a hand up to stop Tony from whining more.

"Nope." Bruce says.

"No." Natasha says.

"I'd rather Steve than Tony." Clint says.

"I trust Steve more than Tony." Wanda says.

"I'm here because of Steve- so, only makes sense." Sam shrugs.

"Vision? Thoughts?" You ask.

"My vote sways nothing as everyone else has unanimously chosen Captain Steve Rogers."

"No Vision this isn't about statistics, I asked because you're part of the team and your opinion is as valuable as everyone else's." You tell him.

"In that case, I think the most reasonable choice for who you should consult would be Captain Rogers."

"All of you have betrayed me today." Tony says.

"Cut the drama Stark you are far too impulsive to be calling any shots here." You roll your eyes.

"Oh what do you know?" He scoffs.

"I know you're reckless and make decisions without considering those around you, I know you've created more problems than you've solved, I know that you need serious lessons in collaboration because you are by far the worst team player I've ever come across, and this is just from reading your file and studying public records, you struggle with addictive behaviors, you have narcissistic tendencies, abandonment issues, self-destructive habits and an overall lack of basic social awareness, you consider yourself generally above reproach, and things like empathy are often lost on you and it makes you nothing short of insufferable to be around. And that is putting it very lightly. Shall I continue?"

"Yes please!" Natasha laughs.

"I get the point." Tony grits out.

"Good! Glad we're on the same page! Now you can stop questioning me because as I'm sure you've realized by now in a game of who can be the bigger asshole, Tony, for once in your life, you will lose. I've dealt with egos 10 times the size of yours and if they couldn't break me neither will you. So fall in line, or say buh bye to the iron suit."

"Oh shit. Fury's a genius." Natasha chuckles.

"What, Nat?" Steve frowns.

"She's here to fix our reputation. I dunno about the rest of y'all but based on today I trust her to do the job gotta be honest." She shrugs.

"Good. Makes my job much easier if you trust me." You say. "Any more questions Avengers?" You ask the group.

"Will you be living here?" Wanda asks.

"No. I don't see a reason to, so I don't plan on it." You shrug.

"What if we need you when you're not here?" She asks.

"Honestly a lot of my job can be done remotely. Since PR has nothing to do with your day to day activities emergencies are unlikely. I'll only be here a few times a week and that's mostly because I don't trust some of you to pick up if I call."

"Uh- when does this observational training start?" Bruce asks.

"We'll start Monday. I'll send out a full schedule later but I'll be starting with you, Tony. 9 am."

"Oh come on! Why me?!" Tony groans.

"Because I know you'll give me the most trouble and everyone else will feel like a cakewalk after." You smile. "If there are no further questions, watch your phones, I'll be reaching out to each of you over the weekend, see you Monday. Try not to do any more damage before then." You say standing and leaving the room. Yeah, you're going to have one hell of a time with this team.

Monday morning you reach the tower early. You told Tony to meet you in the training room at 9 o'clock, so at 8:45 you find a meeting room and have your coffee.

"Friday?" You call out.

"Good morning y/n."

"Good morning. I want a view of the cameras in the training room, and please make sure nobody knows that I've arrived at the tower yet." You say.

"Aren't you meant to be meeting Mr. Stark shortly?"

"Mr. Stark will be experiencing a series of trials today. The first of which will be a test of patience. Which means he cannot know I'm already here. Okay?"

"Understood."

"Thank you." You settle in at the round table sipping your coffee and kicking your feet up as you prepare to hang out here for a while. You watch Tony enter the training room at 9 on the dot. For the first 10 minutes, he seems to just be idly waiting. He checks his watch a few times, paces the room, lets out the occasional impatient huff. After the twenty minute mark, he calls you, which you promptly ignore. He starts to do minor training stuff, jumping jax, hitting a punching bag, messing around with weights. He calls again at forty minutes. You still don't answer. You watch him for a full hour before you leave the meeting room and finally make your way to where he's surprisingly still waiting.

"Good morning Anthony." You say casually when you walk in.

"Good mor- where have you been? You told me we were meeting at 9 am it's not 10:07. I've been waiting for over an hour."

"Well technically I told you to be here at 9 am. Never said anything about me being here at 9 too. But I have been in the tower. I was in a meeting room. Watching you. Planning the rest of the morning."

"So- you've been here since 9 am and you just- what? Decided I could wait?"

"I've been here since 8:45 actually. I wanted to see if first of all you'd be punctual and secondly could you wait indefinitely without direction simply because I told you to be here at 9." You say.

"You're telling me I just wasted an hour of my time in here for your amusement?" He crosses his arms.

"You lack patience and discipline, so I'm testing you."

"By wasting my time?"

"By challenging your equanimity."

"Challenging my equanimity? Really? That's you're justification for wasting an hour of my day?"

"Friday please prepare Ironman's training simulation." You say rolling your eyes at Tony's complaints.

"Simulation loading, please wait." Friday responds.

"We're not done with this conversation." Tony says.

"Oh yes we are. I think you're still struggling to understand how this works, I don't answer to you Tony. Now if you at any point want to go on missions, I suggest you suit up and run the training simulation I've prepared for you." You say.

"You prepared?"

"Simulation complete. Ready to begin." Friday announces.

"It's what I've been up to since I got here an hour ago. Everyone's getting personalized simulations to assess their skills. Yours begins- now." You say stepping back.

"Beginning simulation round one." Friday says and that's the only warning Tony gets before it starts. The training begins with a set of drills, a combination of shooting still targets and dodging projectiles. It takes him most of the hour to finish the first round of tests, and the final sequence ends with him on the the floor.

"I fight in a suit. Why the hell am I running target practice without it?!" He huffs.

"You wanna be a hero you're gonna need more than your rich kid toys to qualify. If it powers down or is rendered useless somehow in the middle of a mission you can't simply become a liability to the team and if you are- I need to know that too."

"Friday." He grits out.

"Yes Mr. Stark?" The computerized voice fills the room.

"Tell Pepper I'll be later than expected coming in today."

"Friday, tell Pepper not to expect him until after lunch." You say checking your watch.

"Yes Miss y/n."

"After lunch?!" His eyes widen.

"Oh relax, I won't be keeping you here that long, it's only 11, but by the time we're done you'll probably want to get something to eat or at the very least change your clothes before going to work." You shrug. "Friday please load the second round of the Stark Training Simulation."

"Simulation loading. Please wait."

"S-second round?" He groans.

"I had four planned, but that first one took you forever so we'll have to consolidate. Put on your suit before she's finished loading, you won't have time to once it starts." You tell him.

"How were you even able to get Friday to do this?" He asks as he forces himself to his feet.

"Fury gave me access to everything on the grounds." You shrug.

"Loading complete. Ready to begin." Friday announces.

"Great. Please begin round two at an increase of five percent Friday."

"Beginning simulation round two at a five percent increase."

"Woah hang on a five percent increase what the hell does that me-" Tony is cut off by a projectile launching across the room. Round two is more combat based using mechanical dummies Friday was able to activate for you. With the speed increase Tony struggles to keep up with the attacks but at least it won't take him over an hour to do them. It takes 47 minutes for him to complete round two.

"Right, I think I've got enough information. I'm going to let you go. I'll save rounds 3 and 4 for another day. Friday please send me the footage from today's simulation runs." You say.

"Understood."

"You plan on being a tyrant your entire time here?" Tony asks.

"What's the matter Stark? Can't handle the heat?" You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"That wasn't just heat that was being thrown into a volcano."

"You know what they say, pressure makes diamonds. I'll be in touch." You say walking out of the training room, already preparing the simulations for your next session, you're thinking Steve.

"Take your time!" Tony shouts after you and you roll your eyes. Maybe Fury was onto something when he warned you it would not be easy with these guys.

***

A/N: should I continue this story? Do we add a love interest? If so who?

[imbecominggayer]

Potential Fantasy Jobs!

If you don't want to use the same stereotypical Generic Fantasy Land jobs to center your stories around, stay here! I'm going to be adding to this as ideas come to me!

A) Ritual Salter-And-Burner

The country that this character lives in is highly rituatlistic about how to pay proper ceremony to the dead as it is believed that if these steps aren't performed then the dead will be forced to stay on Earth and won't be able to complete the cycle.

However, what if a person dies in rather hard-to-reach place such as the tallest mountains that are almost entirely uninhabitable? Or in a different country? Or isn't strictly dead but "missing"? Or is stuck in something a bit more private than a military/boarding school?

That's were Salt-Burners come in! While there are different types of Salters, the entire occupation is about finding and performing the proper rites and rituals that, for some reason, the typical workers can't.

There are Salt-Burners who specialize in specific, hard-to-traverse places such as the mountains or caves.

There are Salt-Burners who specialize in fighting the legal battles where family members may not be able to.

There are Salt-Burners who specialize in finding not-comfirmed dead bodies such as in cases of missing people or people whose bodies weren't found. This can be through investigation, spying, and/or surveillance

B) Species Conservationist

This occupation is designed to protect the land for the purposes of being used by fantasy creatures where they be dragons, fairies, mermaids, or werewolves. This means their expertise is often found in specific plots of lands with their duty being to protect the land in the arena of law. This is due to the common problem of these species being unable to speak the common language, being an actual animal, or being generally unwilling to engage in the outside world. When government attempts to "lovingly use" the land for their own purposes, it's the Species Conservationist to protect these vulnerable groups.

C) Prosthetic Technician

Depending on their specialization, P.T can make prosthetic tails for mermaids who have either damaged, lost, or were born without a tail where there should have been one. P.Ts can work on all variety of fantasy creatures from fairy wings to devil horns and all manners of prosthetics for creatures that can't be helped with the typical human-based technicians.

D) Exotic Species Sellers

Where are my people trying to sell Wolpentigers to the rich? Where are my con-artists trying to steal human canines from coffins in order to pass them off as vampire teeth? Where are my exotic bird species that is absolutely "so ugly it's cute" that has become the symbol of revolution meaning that everyone now has to buy one of these cute suckers from their local exotic animal salesperson?

They can either be perfectly legal, con-artists, or illegal but honorable in that "what you see is what you get" kinda way.

I'm not talking about antiques. I'm talking about actual animals and species souvenirs.

E) Vampire Dentist

Need I say more?

F) Inquisitor

An Inquisitor is a supreme and one of the most respected members of the church who conducts interviews for canidates of acceptance and promotion. An Inquisitor is someone who has the remarkable ability to see if someone is telling a truth or a lie, and they have decided to employ this skill to serve your world or country's religion.

[magpod-confessions]

I do not love Alice as much as most of yall seem to. I do not get the hype. On the contrary, i think Sam and Gwen get too much hate.

I come from a labour majority town. I live in a tarrace house. I have a single parent. I am not well to do. And Gwen, to me, is not the embodiment of nepo baby government kiss-ass you all interpret her as.

For one, i doubt her rich as all hell family would be vying for her to work at a suspicious, dingy work job. And i dont think Lena particularly cares for the Bouchard title. And Gwen seems to work as hard as she can, and actually seems to be the only one treating her work as WORK. I can imagine her situation [at the start of the series] was like working on a long-term group project with 1 person who Does Not Give A Fuck and is trying to teach the newbies of the group to do the same as her [Fuck all], which only puts more work and stress on HER.

And her whole "shes a lady" thing with me did not come off as classism. Well to do people tend to do their fucked up shit in private. Bonzo is an otherworldly creature who doesn't care what others think and will just kill you. The fact Mowbray's a Lady makes her seem more human, which is the trap Gwen fell into. It makes her seem like she would only do the atrocious acts in ways that would not damage her title. Whether she is right or wrong, we dont know.

And then there's sam. I never hear anyone really talk about sam in a way thats not

A] talking about him in a way that dumbs down his character.

B] Comparing him to Jon or other characters from TMA

C] only talking about his relationships.

It feels like people are actively resisting having Sam as an actual protagonist, instead trying to make Alice fit into that role. Theyre both complex characters, treat them the bloody same please.

.

[delicatebarness]

The Mercenary’s Daughter | Chapter One

Summary: Nick Fowler is tasked with the elimination of a well-protected weapons broked. He learns that the target may be connected to Lloyd Hansen.

Warning: Implied Violence/Assassination | Underground Dealings | Mention of Weapons | Organized Crime | Corruption

Word Count: 685

Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: The book club read the prologue of Cry Baby back to me today so out of embarrassment, I wrote another chapter of this. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

The Mercenary's Daughter: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged | @soelstress | @that-one-fangirl69

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Neon and noise filled the city, but Nick Fowler tuned it all out as she stood in the small, dimly lit bar on the edge of town. He hated meeting in a crowded area, but his handler insisted on meeting face-to-face for this mission. Nick wasn’t in the business of asking questions.

The door creaked open, and a man sat on the stool beside him—a middle-aged, cheap-suited, and slight-framed man—Nick’s handler, Elijah. He always had a way of blending into the background. No one would give Elijah a second glance, which was exactly why he was good at what he did. 

“Fowler,” Elijah greeted, placing a thick envelope on the bar with a nod. 

“Clarke,” Nick replied, side-eyeing the envelope. It was always business with the pair, no small talk or pleasantries. 

Sliding the envelope closer, Elijah tapped it once with his finger. “We need someone with your particular skill set. A high-profile target.” 

Nick flipped through the papers inside as he lifted the envelope. His blue gaze scanned the contents. It included a name, blurry surveillance photographs, and a list of recent movements– the standard information. He knew this target was protected, well protected, and heavily involved in the underground dealings overseas. 

“The weapon broker?” Nick asked, his voice flat as he paused on a few details in the file. 

“Among other things,” Elijah replied. “Supplying hardware to the groups we try not to speak of. And, other intel suggests there are plans of a major deal within the next month, and we want to intercept him… discreetly.” 

Already mapping the logistics in his mind, Nick nodded along. “Where is he?”

“France, there’s a private compound in Chantilly. Security is tight– high walls, and heavily armed guards. No one gets in or not without the right level of clearance.”

Nick took a sip of his drink, raising his brow with a smirk. “Sounds like my kind of job.” 

Elijah’s expression remained serious. “Fowler, this isn’t a typical job. A source says the broker is working closely with someone we’ve been watching– Lloyd Hansen.” 

Something shifted in Nick’s expression as he looked up. Lloyd Hansen was a whispered name within their circles and an air of mystery and menace. He was a dangerous man to cross– a former military contractor, rumored to have high-level contacts and a network of operatives. 

“Lloyd’s got a stake in this deal?” Nick asked, intrigued more than ever, now. 

“We aren’t sure for now,” Elijah retorted. “It is reported the broker is close to him. It’s believed that if we can take the broker out, it could disrupt any of Hansen’s plans and force him to make a move.” 

The pieces of the mission slotted into place in his mind as Nick processed the intelligence. He had heard all of the rumors, hundreds of times– the elite soldiers who were trained to move in shadows, their loyalty bound only to him. Most governments could only dream of the kind of network he had created, and Hansen was a master at wielding it like an empire. 

“So I go in, eliminate the broker, and see if Mustache rattles?” Nick questioned, more to himself than Elijah. 

“Exactly,” the man replied, his voice steady. “We hope that if Hansen is invested, he’ll come out of the shadows.” 

Closing the file, and placing it back in the envelope, Nick gave Elijah a brief nod. “Consider it done.” 

“Good.” Elijah narrowed his eyes. “And Fowler– watch your back with this one. Lloyd Hansen is not the kind of man to take such interference lightly.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of Nick’s mouth. “I’m counting on that.” 

Elijah rose, leaving the bar without another word and disappearing into the crowded city. Rubbing his hand down his face, Nick let the weight of the mission settle over him. France, a fortress compound, and a target tired to one of the most dangerous men. The job was risky, there was no denying that. But, that was what made Nick interested.

Pocketing the envelope, the agent finished his drink and slipped out. He had a flight to catch.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[starlostlix]

Bungo Stray Dogs and the separateness of Childhood - a sociological view

[So a large portion of this is left over from when I was revising sociology for my alevels, which were done over a month ago now (wow). So I hope there's people out there who find this interesting, it's nice to post this since it goes back to my roots of what started me on tumblr in the first place (sociological analysis, but of MTP). Also this has Stormbringer spoilers.]

Sociologists agree that childhood is a social construct (a concept in society with no fixed definition). The definition of childhood changes depending on culture and time, so it is not universal or 'natural'. Bungo Stray Dogs portrays a definition of childhood much different to many of our own cultures, and part of its presentation is something I want to look into.

The main idea to look at is Jane Pilcher's idea of 'separateness' - childhood as a clear and distinct stage of life in which children are considered physically and psychologically incompetent and unable to run their own lives. This idea of separateness often leads to childhood being considered a 'golden age' of play and having a lack of responsibility. In BSD, the idea of childhood as a separate stage is not as clear - many children 16 or under are seen working in (or looking for) employment much like adults would do. For example, in Stormbringer Shirase (who is 16) works in a car factory, Yosano at age 11 is said to work in a confectionery store (we don't know if this was family owned or not though), and Ranpo in Untold Origins (aged 14) looking for a job when he meets Fukuzawa. With this information we can gather that children have to take the responsibility of work from a younger age than many cultures (for instance where I lived children have to be in education until 18) and that from as young as 11 they are able to employment.

Consider the other children present - the Akutagawa siblings living on the streets for many years without parents or financial support, Kyouka and Q (as well as teenagers like Dazai and Chuuya) being part of the mafia from a young age, Kenji in his village, Chuuya and Mary Wollstonecraft in Stormbringer, and Atsushi living in the orphanage. All of these have different notions of childhood attached to them.

The Akutagawa siblings learnt to support themselves from a young age. Their group of fellow homeless children act as proof of a wide child poverty issue, one which represent the effects of a lack of child welfare support by the government or the effects of the many casualties in the Great War (leaving many without parents). The lack of child welfare support may show a general lack of the idea of separateness, since specialist support for children is not available.

The abundance of children in the mafia, especially those who reach the higher ranks of executives like Dazai and Chuuya by the age of 16, show a distinct lack of recognition of childhood as a separate stage. Those who are children don't seem to be treated much differently to the adults, which is especially apparent in Q and Kyouka's missions (where Kyouka in her first mission we see being considered disposable by the mafia).

Kenji's childhood on paper seems the closest to many farming cultures in our world. He works on a farm from a young age, as many people in his village and in real life farming families do. The recruitment of him to the detective agency however, suggests that (despite his youth) his ability makes him fit for the job. This somewhat leads on to the idea that children with abilities are seen as more mature and subjected to more adult activities and topics from a younger age, with their allowance of separateness smaller than that of non-ability user children.

A few other Stormbringer examples - Mary Wollstonecraft is only 10 years old as of Stormbringer, and yet she is working for the European governments and making robot agents for them. Young children working for governments is a clear example of a lack of separation between child and adult. Another, and arguably much worse example, is Chuuya and Verlaine - both experimented on by scientists/the government and infused with singularities via force. Chuuya is also canonically cloned. Verlaine and Chuuya, in their experimentation, are not treated much differently, despite Verlaine being an adult and Chuuya being around 5 at the time of his kidnapping/start of experimentation. This suggests a lack of seperateness yet again. There is a lot more that could be said about the whole 'cloning/made into a weapon' part of their story, but this is not the post for that.

A more recent one - Teruko. Because of her unique ability to change her age means that within the first few months of her life she was forced to fight in war. She's actually forced to bypass her own childhood for the war effort, and therefore her childlike demeanour during the Decay of Angels arc may be to try and harness what she missed out on. Her ability in itself could also play into the 'old age is a social construct' argument too maybe but again, not the post.

Atsushi's childhood in an orphanage at first seems to match the ideas of childhood as a separate stage dependent on others. The purpose of orphanages is to raise children without parents and help them prepare for the world, but Atsushi's experiences of abuse shows that his ability, to the orphanage director, makes him undeserving of this separate stage. Instead he is abused and eventually kicked out with no real support. This being able to go on unchecked alongside the other examples brings me to my conclusion about the definition of childhood in Yokohama/the surrrounding villages/possibly the world are not being considered a separate 'golden age' to the same standards as our world.

As mentioned earlier, children who are ability users are less likely to have this construct of seperateness include them. In sociology, labels and constructs are assigned by people and society, and so in this universe there are many adults who have removed this construct from ability users' lives in their childhood. Yosano is the clearest example of this - Mori takes her away from her experience of childhood and places her in a war zone, where she, despite being 11 years of age, is treated like an adult and (because of her ability) is placed on a pedestal by the solders. She's stripped of her childhood through not only the standards placed upon her, but the trauma she endures in the war zone - leaving her to spend what remained of her childhood in a psych ward until Fukuzawa is able to take her in.

Ability user children, via circumstances or adult intervention, do not get to experience childhood in the way other children do because that label is stripped away from them. This is most usually because they pose some asset to an organisation or campaign - and this can include the ADA too. Just because the ADA offers a more healthy and safer environment for the children than other organisations, it is still putting children into work and treating them the same as adults. How ethical this is, is in itself another question that I don't think I can give an answer to. But I could honestly talk about how ability user children are treated differently in a whole other essay.

[I do not have much else to say now about this specific area but it's probably better to post than just to let sit in the drafts as it has done for a while. So no proper conclusion sorry.]

[phightingaus]

Okay so answering some of Mod Captain's questions, the AU is still kinda unfinished so feel free to add on stuff!

A. They both can still talk, Boom just has the gnarp gnorp accent and Shuri can't pronounce the letter R

B. Okay so first off, the guild uses codenames for their hunters for the sake of not letting the cops get their information. Rocket's a bounty hunter but is also the one getting hunted by the same time, does things in his father's gear workshop that he inherited(Zuka got found by Blackrock and, unfortunately, executed). Rocket feels a little guilty for not cleaning and paying much respect to the place due to how busy he gets. Goes via Buster. Sword is an ex government assassin(hired by Lost Temple a few years back, but his contract got cut after he refused to join the Church for Venomshank's sake) who went into bounty hunting cause that's the closest thing to his previous job so he didn't have to adapt that much, goes by Sci-fi. Slingshot went into it for funsies and the chance to get intel on where Shuriken and Boombox have gone, he specifically applied for the spying on blackrock position for the sake of getting any lab reports, goes by Curse or Cat. Skateboard became a bounty hunter when his street gang needed some money, specifically when a younger member needed surgery after getting experimented on and tossed back out into the streets and it was the quickest way to make some cash, visits his gang to this day(they're all like family to him). Skate goes by Hover in the guild.

C. Hyperlaser is a mercenary but also currently hunterd by the Blackrock government for refusing orders(Order 66 means kill all jedi and Katana in this au is well, a Jedi). The two drinking buddies now are looking for someplace to settle. Somewhere really far away from Blackrock and Lost Temple.

D. Correction I'm sorry I forgot to mention that: Valk is a registrar, he handles signing up new mercenaries and explaining missions. Dom is an accountant, handling the money and paperwork

E. Blackrock has a lot of extremely cold areas so all their bases outside of the home planet are underground(referencing Medkit's "I didn't see the sun" line from his birthday QNA), like the rebel base on Hoth in The Empire strikes back. They also have a lot of people escaping so the governemnt is switching their army to biografts, so they're kind of a mix of the Empire and the Separatists. Lost Temple has a lot of gold mines and is basically a desert, they have a lot of rebel groups in the vast deserts(look up Tatooine and you'll get the idea of how it looks) and a lot of transportation is via trains. Playground has occupied a lot of planets with lower gravity and gas planets, so their cities are floating in the sky and a lot of the time you could just look at the space between two sidewalks and it's a 20000 kilometer drop to the surface, their big cities are multi-layered and built like a mini Coruscant. Thieve's Den has occupied other planets the most recently so they only took a ton of moons, the landspaces are vast and very different because they literally took whatever was left all across the solar system, but they have a unique place that is a moon in an asteroid ring between Playground and Blackrock planets which has a little lower than Earth gravity and the climate of a chilly mountainous area in southeast asia. Sorry if this paragraph was worded weirdly I'm not the best with landscapes.

Also some extras: Coil was also a crystal experiment victim, that's how he got the tubes on his arms. He goined the bounty hunting guild as it was the only job he could take without much of a problem besides minimum wage and goes by Hellhound, he was a professional boxer before the experiments, that's how he cane up with his codename. Steampunk owns a workshop, he's not a bounty hunter but a lot of not-so-law-abiding people slip in for weapon and ship repairs. He doesn't snitch on them because who would want to be on the bad side of a person who kills other people for s living? Scythe is a bounty hunter for the Church, all of her profit goes there. She is actually a very high-ranking merc there, goes by Rifle. Banhammer is still a government official but he has a lot more pain in the ass now with how big the bounty hunting guild is getting. Broker applied as an accountant for the guild but only got the position of janitor(whow ould trust this guy with papers). Medkit is a simple doctor, he goes by the law but still helps out criminals if they pay him enough, also part of the True Eye. Traffic is a humble merchant, he travels the galaxy on a very old and rusty starfighter and sells people stuff, he's actually also a weapon seller, a lot of bounty hunters and collectors get their hands on unique weapons from him.

I hope that answered the questions you may have had!

- Star wars anon

well that's a LOT..........

ok steampunk having a workshop fits for the guy (cause he isn't the best boxer for reference see coil's trailer)

oof zuka's dead

dang traffic seams really nice in this AU, also as a name for his ship how about "the rust bucket"

*to BLACKROCK* NO SOLDIERS ?

also the flipside thing was a joke cause i think it's funny that after kinda just trying attempting to force make my friends watch hunter: the parenting, witch also has a accountant character who is also a vampire wizard who i was referencing please watch it i beg of thee

also FINALY hyper rebelling from BLACKROCK

uhhhh if i have more i will reblog

[xkittzkornerx]

it’s Martin Luther King Day! 🫶🏻 (history & learning resources)

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., born Michael Luther King, Jr., was an American human rights activist, political philosopher, Baptist minister, and one of the most notable pioneers of the Civil Rights Movement (1954-1964) in the United States during the Jim Crow Era of law, which legalized segregation of Black folks from White ones, and bred many acts of hatred, ostracism, and frequent violence against Black Americans.

King was born in Atlanta, Georgia, on January 15th, 1929, to his mother, Alberta Williams King, and his father, Martin Luther King, Sr. (then Michael Luther King, Sr.). a young woman by the name Coretta Scott would be attending the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, Massachusetts, the same time that King was studying at Boston University. they soon fell in love, married on June 18th, 1953, and in September 1954, settled down in Montgomery, Alabama.

Coretta gave him four children: two sons, Martin Luther King III (Oct. 23rd, 1957 - present) and Dexter Scott King (Jan. 30th, 1961 - Jan. 22nd, 2024), and two daughters, Yolanda Denise King (Nov. 17th, 1955 - May 15th, 2007) and Bernice Albertine King (Mar. 28th, 1963 - present).

on Nov. 2nd, 1983, then-President Ronald Reagan signed the King Holiday Bill into law. this made the third Monday in January a federal holiday in observance of King and his work. it would take fifteen years for the holiday to be approved by the federal government, and seventeen more for it to be recognized in every state. (that’s a total of thirty-two years spent by activists, fighting for it to be in all fifty states!)

from the Collection of the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History & Culture | a pin-back button promoting Martin Luther King Day 1982 (source)

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.… We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed." — MLK, Jr.

from naacp.org:

“In 1963, King and the SCLC worked with NAACP and other civil rights groups to organize the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, which attracted 250,000 people to rally for the civil and economic rights of Black Americans in the nation's capital. There, King delivered his majestic 17-minute "I Have a Dream" speech. Along with other civil rights activists, King participated in the Selma-to-Montgomery march in 1965. The brutal attacks on activists by the police during the march were televised into the homes of Americans across the country. When the march concluded in Montgomery, King gave his "How Long, Not Long" speech, in which he predicted that equal rights for African Americans would be imminently granted. His legendary words are widely quoted today: "How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." Less than six months later, President Lyndon Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act banning disenfranchisement of Black Americans.”

in the spring of 1968, Black sanitary workers went on strike in Memphis, Tennessee. these works were protesting their racist White employer’s behaviors: low pay, abusive working conditions, unsafe work environments, and union busting. King arrived in Memphis on April 3rd, to prepare for a march in support of the workers.

around 6pm CST, on April 4th, 1968, on the balcony of his second-floor room at the Lorraine Motel, Dr. King was shot by a White supremacist. his advisor and close friend, Ralph Abernathy, ran to King’s side and cradled his head.

paramedics rushed him to St. Joseph’s Hospital where at 7:05pm CST, he was pronounced dead.

from kinginstitute.stanford.edu:

“President Lyndon B. Johnson called for a national day of mourning to be observed on 7 April. In the following days, public libraries, museums, schools, and businesses were closed, and the Academy Awards ceremony and numerous sporting events were postponed. On 8 April King’s widow, Coretta Scott King, and other family members joined thousands of participants in a march in Memphis honoring King and supporting the sanitation workers. King’s funeral service was held the following day in Atlanta at Ebenezer Baptist Church. It was attended by many of the nation’s political and civil rights leaders, including Jacqueline Kennedy, Vice President Hubert Humphrey, and Ralph Bunche. Morehouse College President Benjamin Mays delivered the eulogy, predicting that King “would probably say that, if death had to come, I am sure there was no greater cause to die for than fighting to get a just wage for garbage collectors” (Mays, 9 April 1968). Over 100,000 mourners followed two mules pulling King’s coffin through the streets of Atlanta. After another ceremony on the Morehouse campus, King’s body was initially interred at South-View Cemetery. Eventually, it was moved to a crypt next to the Ebenezer Church at the King Center, an institution founded by [Coretta Scott King].”

today, and tomorrow, and all days following, we remember, thank, and honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., for a better tomorrow.

sources

Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History & Culture - The 15 Year Battle for Martin Luther King Jr. Day

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Stanford University Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute - King, Coretta Scott

Stanford University Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute - the Assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.

The King Center - About Mrs. Coretta Scott King

New England Conservatory - Celebrate Boston’s Greatest Love Story: A Look Back at Coretta Scott King ’51, ’71 Hon. DM and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Historic First Meeting

extras/learning material

The King Center - About Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

National Education Association (NEA) - Lesson plans, activity ideas & other resources for teaching MLK Day

PBS - Martin Luther King Jr. Day classroom resources

We Are Teachers - 30 Meaningful Martin Luther King Jr. Activities for All Ages

Civil Rights Teaching - Teaching King Beyond “I Have a Dream”

Louisiana State University Libraries - Martin Luther King, Jr. timeline

Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History & Culture - Gestures of Solidarity in African American Culture

UNICEF USA - 5 Ways to Stand Up Against Racism and Injustice

Richton Park Public Library District - 11 Speeches by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Cross Cultural Solidarity - MLK: Speeches, Sermons, Essays, & Interviews

[bandedseakraito3o]

What are the like??? Social rules of this gnome world? They use the small red gnomes as like??? leaf pickers?? Surely there are some (a lot of) ethical concerns there. and concerns about consent? and also about the purpose/meaning of life. of gnome life. and life of other species of? garden decorations? or toys? etc? that come to life. but where are the limits.

Paris makes a comment about nepotism at the start when gnomeo and juliet get announced as the new leaders?? so that seems to suggest that that sort of thing is similar to when the same thing happens within human society (don't judge me for my phrasing i'm writing this instead of sleeping)? but like? What's going on?

There must be some gnome laws - preventing the kidnapping and smashing of gnomes. But if there is such a thing, then why is Sherlock gnomes the only one who seems to be there to enforce those rules?? Do they have police? A criminal justice system? Do gnomes have gnome education, or anything like that. We know they have like? garden leaders? so I suppose that's at the very least a responsibility, if not a 'job'. What could gnome society possibly be like?

And are gnomes the majority when it comes to living objects?? We know that the anemoscopes come to life (the flying pig and the chicken), but those don't seem to be able to communicate in the same way as gnomes and ornaments and such do (using languages e.g English, Chinese, and presumably other languages in different areas), and aren't really seen to be included by the gnomes?? (not cool guys, although I suppose they are a teeny bit out of reach).

Nanette is not a gnome, and yet is treated as of equal status to the gnomes. Irene is a doll (but more importantly, an icon), and has an assortment of toys who are a part of her group, most of which are either a) silent and likely communicate through physicality/body language or other methods, or perhaps not at all? or b) able to communicate using language (as we know it at least, considering we are humans and not gnomes). So why do the anemoscopes not seem to act in the same way - what determines how these creatures communicate?

I suppose you could ask how gnomes can talk at all, but then that raises the question of, "why are the gnomes alive?" - which is a very fair question. Another very fair question - what sort of witchcraft allows sherlock gnomes' coat to be so fluid? was there an explanation for all of this that I missed in the first movie due to my constant researching and rewatching of the second?

also - is there a gnome hierarchy? a gnome monarchy? if there's a sherlock gnomes is there a mycroft gnomes? and is he like? the british gnome government? IS there a british gnome government? I feel like that would be mentioned if there was. but then again - doesn't really fit into the story

I want - no, I NEED an in depth movie and/or novel really explaining and analysing the society of gnomes and other ornaments