#illegal hunting network

[townpostin]

Jamshedpur Forest Dept Busts Leopard Skin Smuggling Ring

Three arrested from Daltonganj; mastermind received hunting training in Rajasthan Jamshedpur Forest Department arrested three individuals for smuggling leopard skin and other wildlife products from Daltonganj. JAMSHEDPUR – Forest officials nabbed three men from Daltonganj for smuggling leopard skin and wildlife products, exposing a sophisticated network. The Jamshedpur Forest Department has made…

[takumiraine]

So I’ve fallen into the DPxDC thing. Not sure how, and I only have fandom characterizations and wiki knowledge but. I have a thing.

<next>

Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair darker than night and eyes bluer than the summer sky. Once upon a time, there was a budding scientist with a caring sister and two lovably scattered scientist parents. Once upon a time, there was a terrible accident. Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair whiter than snow, skin paler than death, eyes greener than toxic waste. Once upon a time, the boy needed help as more and more potentially world ending events descended on his town. Once upon a time, nobody but the government came. Once upon a time, the boy, his sister, and his friends escaped.

This is what happened next.

When they split up, Danny had drawn Gotham. Gotham with its so called “vigilante family”. Gotham whose so called “protectors” had been asked multiple times through the so called “Justice League” for help. But just like true justice, they were blind to his requests. His pleas. Both he and Amity Park were left to rot. It had been five years now but Danny was still mad. When he and his friends escaped the three of them each went to a different League infested city. They weren’t strong enough to do more than gather intel but…. Intel would lead to openings.

It took a bit of Tucker’s help in re-establishing his identity and giving him a realistic transcript for what his trajectory would have been if he wasn’t constantly fighting ghosts (mid to high Cs with a couple Bs instead of mid to low Ds with a couple Cs). But he managed a halfway decent scholarship to Gotham U. It covered tuition, books, and just enough for some food.

Sure Danny was technically homeless, but he’s lived through worse. Besides, the shitty parts of town had plenty of empty apartments. Careful use of his ghost powers made acquisition of an apartment a breeze. By the time the semester started, Danny had found himself a place. Tucker had slipped into the network and made sure the landlord wouldn’t be renting it - a coincidental shift of the management had been really helpful, Danny wouldn’t lie - as it looked as if it had been permanently bought. Danny did some within-wall plumbing to get himself water access, then rewired the electrical box outside to grant him access to the grid. Though it was all illegal and would crumble if people talked to each other about it, he counted his blessings for the moment. Illegal meant fewer ways to be tracked after all.

Ridiculous that a nineteen year old had to think about avoiding being tracked, but here he was. Every time he saw the bat signal in the distance his core writhed, and the nearby ghosts scattered. Crime Alley had its own masked vigilante, who didn’t seem to be always on good terms with the Bats, which was fine by him. The less chance of running into them the less chance he had of blowing his “Normal Human Dan Nightingale” life to pieces. Danny hadn’t seen this Red Hood person face to face yet, but he had heard stories.

Gotham had enough ambient ecto to sustain him without his ghost form and trips to the Realms, which was good because the more he used his powers, the more likely he was to get picked up by the Government’s sensors. The GIW had been sent by The League after all. They were trouble enough on their own. He didn’t want them to have backup while his own was spread across the country. He missed flying and seeing the stars, but Danny had to admit that he was a huge fan of the not getting hunted for sport thing.

It made times like these difficult though. Currently Danny was being mugged. Or… the guy was attempting to mug him. “For the fifth time dude, I live in this part of town. I don’t have any money.” Danny was trying to explain to the guy holding a knife to his midsection.

In another life he would have kicked the guy’s ass. Instead he had his hands up as he was pressed back to the crumbling brick and boarded up window of what used to be a shop front.

“Don’t play games with me kid! You’re going to college. You have money.” The guy pressed the knife point harder into his stomach, the knife tip barely a pound of pressure away from puncturing his skin. As it was he’d have to mend his shirt.

“Yeah, on a shitty scholarship. I can’t even afford dinner every night.” Thank god for ambient ecto. “Here I’m going to reach into my pocket and get my wallet.” Slowly Danny lowered one of his hands and slid two fingers into his pocket, coming back out with a thin, worn leather wallet. He raised it back up and unfolded it “no credit cards.” He slid his fingers into where he kept the two dollars he had left this month and turned them invisible. Then he tilted it so the would be mugger could see. “See? Nothing. Can I go home now? I’ve got the rest of an essay to write before the library opens tomorrow. I don’t even have a computer to type it on myself.”

“You’re lying! You’ve gotta have something!” The guy was getting more and more frantic. Probably jonesing for a fix of whatever drug flooded this place.

“If I had it I would have given it to you.” Danny explained patiently, “I have more sense than to get stabbed over some cash. But I don’t have it.”

“Liar!” The man yelled, jabbing the knife into him. Danny grunted in pain, not a shout, pain didn’t make him shout anymore, as the heavy thud of boots hit the ground. The guy was suddenly removed from in front of him. Danny swore loudly, careful to press his hands around the knife as his core demanded he do something. Instead all he did was breathe. When he got enough of a handle on the pain-fight response to know his eyes weren’t changing, Danny looked up.

The first thing he noticed was a red bat logo on the man’s chest. “Oh no not you.” He groaned half to himself.

The man slammed his mugger into the wall with a sick crack, and let him slump to the ground beside where Danny was bent over. “Excuse me?” The man asked, voice modulator seeming to glitch slightly, coming out more robotic. That was probably Danny’s fault. He needed a tighter control of his aura. But he didn’t have it right now.

“I don’t need your help.” He ground out through grit teeth.

“You’ve been stabbed.” The man explained, as if Danny was someone in shock. Which, fair. He might be.

“You’re one of those Bat fucks. I don’t need help from a Bat.” He grit out in reply, voice barely held together under his growl.

“I am not with the Bats.” Danny snorted, then groaned as that was the absolute wrong choice. Instead he just reached up with one bloody hand, which he couldn’t keep the slight tremor out of, and swiped his blood across the red bat symbol on his “hero’s” chest. “Oh. That. We…. Had a falling out.”

“Right. Well. I’ll leave you to it. Next time, let me get mugged.” Danny took another fortifying breath, trying to settle his core. It screamed pain-revenge-fight at him, but now was not the time. He needed to get back to his apartment and get this knife out of him. Then check in with Sam and Tucker. Maybe Jazz. Though she was at one of the Ivy League schools and he really should leave her be. Let someone have a future.

The man with the red bat logo said something after him as Danny shouldered past and shuffled down the street, but Danny ignored it.

Fucking Bats. Fucking Gotham. Just…. Fuck.

[projectdark-if]

Project DARK is an 18+ character-driven SPY IF inspired by a rather eventful weekend binging on Mission Impossible movies. It can be described as Suicide Squad meets Mission Impossible. MC, a retired villain, will be a new operative in a team to bring down their old best friend.

You were a jewel thief and hired mercenary, outsourcing your skills at thievery and espionage for all types of...shady characters. Yeah, you were aiding in the possible destruction of the world in exchange for money, but details, right?

You were the best in the business alongside your partner, Spider. You're not supposed to get close to people in this business, but Spider somehow weaseled into your life and became your best friend.

But then they died, killed by operatives of Mission Shadow, the one organization that has been hunting you down since day one. You decided to retire, changing your name and identity in an attempt to make an honest and private life of what you have left.

Until Project DARK finds you.

Project DARK: an experiment to put the most together the most skilled shadow villains to train and defeat the biggest threat they've faced.

Your best friend, whom you thought was dead.

They need you and your skills. You know Spider best. No longer are you the villain, but a Project DARK operative joining as the newest recruit to the ranks.

Good luck.

Customize your operative from appearance, personality, gender identity.

Tailor your past: were you a merciful villain, or a merciless one? Did you make enemies or try to make friends? Liked for being kind and easy to work with or hated for being the literal worst?

Romance members of your team or your target, with some having special relationships.

Choose what kind of operative you'll be and shape the dynamic of the team.

Try not to fall into old habits and get sucked into the dark world of crime. You left that life for a reason.

THE TARGET | Spider [m or f]: your old best friend and the new target. They've been busy since their 'death' and have grown a network of connections that can dismantle the world as you know it. They're apparently planning something big. Big enough that the organizations of the world created Project DARK to take them down.

Special romance: can have had previous thing with them that was never confronted or simply have been best friends.

THE LEADER | Elias/Elena Steel: one of the best operatives, personally recommended by MI6. The only non-villain on the team, E is also appointed leader and doesn't like you much, considering the fact that a mission of yours ended with their closest partner dead. While you may have not pulled the trigger, E blames you all the same.

Strict and as cold as steel, it makes sense why E is the one with the team on their shoulders.

Special romance: enemies to lovers. E hates your guts.

THE SECOND IN COMMAND | Nick/Nina Sharma: second-in-command and a retired illegal weapons dealer, N is, surprisingly, E's closest friend. N has long given up that life, but before their new work as a operative, you knew them as a distant associate. You two have crossed paths on multiple occasions, most of them happening with them almost killing you or vice versa. N can't help but be nice, but you can tell they're not really a fan of you.

Special romance: may have had a lapse in judgement and have had a one night stand...or multiple.

THE BRAINS | Zane/Zena Omari: One of the most skilled hackers and a familiar face on the FBIs most wanted list, Z is on the team in order to be able to go back home without getting arrested. Oddly enough, they're not what the media says they are. Friendly, warm, comedic. Z seems to be having too much of a good time, even with the circumstances surrounding their presence.

THE WEAPONS EXPERT | Luca/Lucia Cruz: L doesn't know you much, and doesn't care to. Hyper-focused on the mission, L's disinterest in you is a breath of fresh air. You don't know what they did and how they got here, but you do know they were facing a life sentence. Still, things aren't always what they seem.

Maybe it won't stay that way.

[faithfulren]

a night in the rain

i have such a fat crush on him but at the same time he looks terrifying 😭

caught in a relentless storm, you are pursued by villains after witnessing their crimes. just when fear overwhelms you, deku appears, guiding you to safety in a hidden alcove. as rain pours around you, an intimate moment unfolds. you share your fears and discover deku's own vulnerabilities. amidst the chaos, a tender kiss solidifies your bond, promising to face the dangers ahead together.

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

the sky was a dark canvas, painted with heavy clouds that rumbled ominously. the rain poured down in relentless sheets, turning the city streets into rivers. you hurried through the alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of your footsteps masked by the constant drumming of raindrops.

you weren’t alone. somewhere in the labyrinthine network of the city’s underbelly, a group of villains was on your trail. you had stumbled upon their illegal activities, and now they were hunting you. fear gnawed at you, but you kept moving, hoping to find a place to hide until they gave up the chase.

as you rounded a corner, you collided with a figure dressed in dark, rain-soaked clothes. strong arms wrapped around you, steadying you before you could fall.

“it’s okay. i’ve got you,” a familiar voice whispered, cutting through the storm.

you looked up into the intense green eyes of deku. relief flooded through you, mingling with the rain on your cheeks.

“they’re after me,” you gasped, clinging to him.

“i know,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring despite the chaos around you. “we need to find a place to hide.”

with a firm grip on your hand, deku led you through a series of twisting alleys. his knowledge of the city’s hidden paths was impressive, and soon you found yourselves in a small, covered alcove, shielded from the worst of the rain.

you leaned against the wall, catching your breath. deku stood close, his presence a comforting shield against the fear that had gripped you.

“are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

you shook your head. “no, just scared. thank you for finding me.”

he smiled, a brief, warm flash that lit up his features. “i told you i’d always protect you.”

the rain continued to pour outside your little refuge, creating a cocoon of sound that seemed to isolate you from the rest of the world. you could see the concern in deku’s eyes, the way his brows knit together as he looked at you. despite the danger, there was something comforting about being here with him, sharing this moment.

“why do you do this, deku?” you asked softly. “why risk your life every night?”

he glanced away, the rain casting shadows on his face. “because someone has to. the heroes can’t be everywhere, and there are people who need help.. people like you.”

you reached out, touching his arm. “but what about you? who looks out for you?”

he looked back at you, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability behind the mask of the vigilante. “i guess… i just hope that someone will.”

the air between you was charged with unspoken words. the rain created a barrier to the outside world, and in this small space, it felt like you were the only two people that existed. you took a step closer, your hand sliding down his arm to entwine with his fingers.

“maybe… maybe i can be that someone,” you whispered.

deku’s eyes widened slightly, his breath hitching. he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. then, slowly, he lifted his free hand to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and hesitant.

“y/n…” he murmured, your name a soft plea on his lips.

you leaned into his touch, your heart beating in tandem with the rhythm of the rain. time seemed to stand still as you gazed into his eyes, seeing the emotions swirling within the fear, hope, and something deeper, something that mirrored your own feelings.

without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. the rain outside seemed to intensify, as if reflecting the storm of emotions within you. deku responded, his kiss filled with a longing that matched your own, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer.

in that moment, under the cover of rain and shadows, you found a connection that transcended the chaos of the world outside. for a brief, stolen moment, you were not a hunted witness and a vigilante, just two souls seeking solace in each other.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, deku rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the contact.

“we’ll get through this,” he whispered, his voice filled with determination. “together.”

you nodded, feeling a renewed sense of strength and hope. “together.”

as the rain continued to fall, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side, finding solace and strength in each other’s embrace.

[thegirlfromblackwater]

If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)

Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down

Arthur

Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher

Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding

Has a herd of cattle

Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV

Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair

Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching

Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."

Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."

Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls

The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature

Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123

Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it

Texts Albert Mason sometimes

Dutch

Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City

Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline

Works as a motivational speaker

Wears a lot of bling

Has a bar in at his place

Molly always tries to find a way in

Calls Hosea a lot

Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.

Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho

John, Abigail & Jack

They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)

John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)

Jack spends his time in the school library

Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery

Molly

Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in

Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse

Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials

The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting

Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"

Bill

Lives somewhere in the Midwest

Works as a truck driver for Walmart

spends a lot of his life on the road

Has a bit of road rage

likes rest stops

when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang

has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater

one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it

Marybeth

Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast

Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time

Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.

Her house is cozy

has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street

spends her time writing and reading there

likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee

Lenny

Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night

Lives in Chicago or Atlanta

Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)

Lives his single life to the fullest

Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying

Micah

Lives in Las Vegas

Sells illegal drugs

Has no money because he gambled too much

Stays in different hotels

Owns a pawn shop

Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border

Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters

Hosea

Lives a quiet life out west

Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing

Reads a lot of books

Also likes to go hunting

Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read

Talks to Dutch by phone

Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch

Uncle

Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness

Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home

Plays the Banjo

Drinks a beer

Is a complete mess inside

Doesn't own much furniture

Can't work because of the Lumbago

Sweats a lot

Naps and snores too loud

Lives next to a swamp

Javier

Lives in Arizona

Lives in the desert

Grows cactuses

Owns a Music shop

Travels around playing at local bars

Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school

Has a YouTube where he shows off his music

Sadie

Probably lives in a city like Dallas or Denver

Works as a cop

Likes to catch people for speeding and sits on the side of the highway

eats Chick-fil-A while waiting

Watches Dateline

Carries a Taser

Always looks sexy in her uniform

Charles

Definitely lives in a cabin out west

works as a conservationist

Likes National Parks

Goes fishing with Arthur

supports and donates to the Bison Sanctuary (if one even exists)

Likes Camping

Trelawny

Lives a wealthy life in Charleston, South Carolina

Lives in a large southern mansion

Wears a robe to sleep

Has a whole walk-in closet full of clothes and accessories

Has a sauna in the basement where he relaxes

Owns a bunch of fancy cars: He loves his Bentley

Reverend Swanson

Probably lives in Philadelphia

Still works part-time at the church

Mostly spends his time helping people with addictions

Hosts an AA meeting three times a week

Rescues crackheads from the street

Mostly sober

Wrote a memoir on his journey to recovery

Sean

Lives in Boston

Likes the university/young people vibe

works at a pub

Everyone's favorite Bartender

Makes customers laugh

goes back to Ireland once a year

Takes Karen with him sometimes

Karen

Lives in Portland, Oregon

Works at a bar as a bartender and a stripper

Good Pole Dancer

Her large tits are popular amongst the men

Puts on shows in the evening

Talks to Sean a lot

Gets Hammered

Strauss

Works in Finance in New York City

Is a Workaholic

Has no friends

Goes back to Austria every few years

Boring to talk to

Always on a work call

Listens to Classical Music

Tilly

Lives in Nashville, Tennessee

Visits Marybeth a lot

Wants to be a Nurse

Likes taking care of people

Wants to travel around the world

Pearson

Lives somewhere in New England

Owns a restaurant and catering business

The restaurant is interestingly enough called "Pearsons"

Probably has a wife and some kids

Loves Maine Lobster one of those people that wears a bib when eating it because he's messy

Is a good Butcher

Susan Grimshaw

Lives in Florida

Is a housekeeper

Cleans uncles' mobile home once a week

Tries to control Tilly and Marybeth from miles away

disgruntled

[adventuretolkienlover]

How to Watch the Entire Ninjago Series For Free in a completely Legal way!

Hey, I know this isn't usually a Ninjago blog, But I have something cool to show you Ninjago fans. Me and my brother regularly watch Ninjago together and it wasn't until recently I found out that some Ninjago fans are having a hard time watching the full series because of streaming. So I'm going to show you all how me and brother watch the full series completely free! With no illegal downloads or sketchy sites. This could also be helpful for those just getting into the series. Enjoy!

First head to Tubi! They have seasons 1 through 7! Everything from the pilots to Hands of Time.

Next, head to Pluto! They have seasons 8 and 9. Sons of Garmadon and Hunted!

Next head to Cartoon Network Asia! Don't be fooled by the title. The episodes ARE in English. They have seasons 10 through 15. March of the Oni, Secrets of Forbidden Spinjitsu: Fire Chapter, Secrets of Forbidden Spinjitsu: Ice Chapter, Prime Empire and Master of the Mountain! Although, a chronological list of the episodes order may by ideal, since a few are out of order on the site.

Finally, head to YouTube, for seasons 16 through 18. The Island, Seabound, and Crystalized.

And you're done! Now you can watch Dragons Rising properly reminded of all that came before. Happy watching!

[blazehedgehog]

Thoughts on the whole Mr. Beast situation?

None at all and even googling it doesn't really spell it out very well. I guess someone in his network was accused of grooming? Not even he himself. Just someone he employs. And people were upset it took him so long to say or do anything about it.

Listen. If there is one person on this planet I do not care about, it's MrBeast. He is incredibly rich, getting richer, and he exists in a world entirely separated from all my interests. He is way too much of a general purpose Youtuber for me to care about. He is a content factory brand to me and I am deeply suspicious of him on every level, because he feels like a fake plastic human putting out fake plastic videos.

In my entire life, I have only seen half of one MrBeast video, ever, and it was fairly recently: I was pet sitting for a cousin last week, her son watches MrBeast, and their Samsung Smart TV auto loaded to the 24/7 MrBeast channel where he was doing some kind of isolation chamber challenge.

I was surprised how earnest and personable Jimmy himself actually was, but his entourage controlling the isolation chamber were like... they reminded me of Biff Tannen's goons from Back to the Future or something.

That vibe of being like, some combination of Yes-men, nobodies, and D-list clowns. Most people probably don't even know Biff's cronies even have names (from left to right: Skinhead, 3D and Match). They are only here to crawl around in the star's shadow and laugh at all their jokes.

The dudes in that MrBeast video felt the same way. They felt like they were grown in a vat of Youtube Prank Channel parts.

So strike one: I do not care about MrBeast. Unless he gives me two million dollars. Then I'll watch every MrBeast video ever made until the day I die.

Two, I feel like pointing fingers and accusing someone of being a groomer is like, the most boy who cried wolf witch hunt of our era. I am rapidly reaching my tolerance level for finger pointing about intent because I feel like half the time I hear about it, it's nothing. Obviously it's different when it's DrDisrespect and multiple investigations have proven he was arranging a meetup with a minor and even the man himself has come right out and said "it's true but I never went through with it so technically by the strictest letter of the law I didn't do anything illegal!"

But I also feel like there are certain communities both on discord and on tumblr where accusations of grooming get thrown around a lot more casually by the younger crowd because it's an easy way to lash out at somebody you don't like.

From the perspective of a guy like MrBeast, I'm sure if he really put his ear to the ground he'd hear a hundred accusations of grooming going in all kinds of directions.

If he was a little slow launching an investigation? He's only human. His team is only human. And treating allegations like that seriously enough to do a real thorough investigation takes a lot of work. Again, if he jumped at every time somebody pointed a finger, he'd be wasting a lot of resources. I'm willing to give him slack here. It's terrible when it's real, but a lot of the time it probably isn't.

I know sometimes I say dumb things on this blog. I can think of at least two posts right now from the last year where it sometimes hits me that I said something really dumb. And that's not even counting all the stuff I'm sure some people just straight up misunderstand me about.

But this feels like busy-body stuff. The supposed groomer was already fired on the same day the investigation was started. They haven't even found anything for or against her yet. Beyond that, who cares.

[richincolor]

K. Imani's 2024 Favorites

What a year for book lovers! There were so many excellent and moving and fun books that it was hard to narrow down the list to a few. The four that made the cut really stuck with me this year and are books that I would love to read again and again. In a year that had so much going on, these books were the perfect escape. 

Unbecoming by Seema Yasmin

Two Muslim teens in Texas fight for access to abortion while one harbors a painful secret in this funny and heartfelt near-future speculative novel perfect for fans of Unpregnant . In a not-too-distant America, abortions are prosecuted and the right to choose is no longer an option. But best friends Laylah and Noor want to change the world. After graduating high school, they’ll become an OBGYN and a journalist, but in the meantime, they’re working on an illegal guide to abortion in Texas. In response to the unfair laws, underground networks of clinics have sprung up, but the good fight has gotten even more precarious as it becomes harder to secure safe medication and supplies. Both Layla and Noor are passionate about getting their guide completed so it can help those in need, but Laylah treats their project with an urgency Noor doesn’t understand—that may have something to do with the strange goings-on between their mosque and a local politician. Fighting for what they believe in may involve even more obstacles than they bargained for, but the two best friends will continue as they always together.

This Ravenous Fate by Hayley Dennings

It's 1926 and reapers, the once-human vampires with a terrifying affliction, are on the rise in New York. But the Saint family's thriving reaper-hunting enterprise holds reign over the city, giving them more power than even the organized criminals who run the nightclubs. Eighteen year-old Elise Saint, home after five years in Paris, is the reluctant heir to the empire. Only one thing weighs heavier on Elise's mind than her family obligations: the knowledge that the Harlem reapers want her dead. Layla Quinn is a young reaper haunted by her past. Though reapers have existed in America for three centuries, created by New World atrocities and cruel experiments, Layla became one just five years ago. The night she was turned, she lost her parents, the protection of the Saints, and her humanity, and she'll never forget how Elise Saint betrayed her. But some reapers are inexplicably turning part human again, leaving a wake of mysterious and brutal killings. When Layla is framed for one of these attacks, the Saint patriarch offers her a deal she can't refuse: to work with Elise to investigate how these murders might be linked to shocking rumors of a reaper cure. Once close friends, now bitter enemies, Elise and Layla explore the city's underworld, confronting their intense feelings for one another and uncovering the sinister truths about a growing threat to reapers and humans alike.

Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa London, 1812 . Oliver Bennet feels trapped—not just by the endless corsets, petticoats, and skirts he's forced to wear on a daily basis, but also by society's expectations. The world, and the vast majority of his family and friends, think Oliver is a girl named Elizabeth. He is therefore expected to mingle at balls wearing a pretty dress, entertain suitors regardless of his interest in them, and ultimately become someone's wife. But Oliver can't bear the thought of such a fate. He finds solace in the few times he can sneak out of his family's home and explore the city rightfully dressed as a young gentleman. It's during one such excursion when Oliver becomes acquainted with Darcy, a sulky young man who had been rude to "Elizabeth" at a recent social function. But in the comfort of being out of the public eye, Oliver comes to find that Darcy is actually a sweet, intelligent boy with a warm heart, not to mention attractive. As Oliver spends more time as his true self, often with Darcy, part of him dares to hope that his dream of love and life as a man can be possible. But suitors are growing bolder―and even threatening―and his mother is growing more desperate to see him settled into an engagement. Oliver will have to choose: settle for safety, security, and a life of pretending to be something he's not, or risk it all for a slim chance at freedom, love, and a life that can be truly his own.

Lunar New Year Love Story by Gene Luen Yang, LeUyen Pham  Valentina Tran was named after Valentine's Day, which used to be her favorite holiday. But when Val learns the truth behind what happened with her parents and why she's being raised by a single father, she realizes true love is a lie. This is reinforced when she meets the spirit of Saint Valentine, who tells her she and her family are cursed to always be unlucky in love. Val is ready to give into her fate, until one Lunar New Year festival, where a mysterious lion dancer hands her a paper heart, and ZING. Val becomes determined to change her destiny, prove Saint Valentine wrong, and give her heart to the right person. Meanwhile, lion dancing is the only thing that has given Jae peace after his dad passed away. It's also what keeps him connected to his father's side of the family. Both Jae and his cousin Leslie notice Val at the Lunar New Year festival, and for some inexplicable reason, Jae hands Val a paper heart. But it's Leslie, with his K-Pop good looks, who starts to date Val. Jae still feels this connection with Val and feels it's somehow tied to how he feels about losing his father. Both Val and Jae struggle with the spirits who haunt them as they are inextricably brought together in a love story that is satisfying, sweet, and moving.

[eretzyisrael]

by Robert Williams

To assess correctly the damage that Qatari influence in the US is causing, it is essential to understand what Qatar stands for and promotes. Qatar has for decades cultivated a close relationship with the Islamist Muslim Brotherhood, whose motto is: “‘Allah is our objective; the Prophet is our leader; the Quran is our law; Jihad is our way; dying in the way of Allah is our highest hope.” It aims to ensure that Islamic law, Sharia, governs all countries and all matters.

Hamas, an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood, has enjoyed Qatar as its main sponsor, to the tune of up to $360 million a year, and was until recently the home of Hamas’ leadership. In 2012, Ismail Haniyeh, head of the terrorist group’s political bureau, Mousa Abu Marzook, and Khaled Mashaal, among others, moved to Qatar for a life of luxury. This month, likely because of Israel’s announcement that it will hunt down and eliminate Hamas leaders in Qatar and Turkey, the Qatar-based Hamas officials reportedly fled to other countries.

Qatar was also home to Sheikh Yusuf al-Qaradawi, the spiritual leader of the Muslim Brotherhood, who was exiled from Egypt until his death in September 2022. According to the Meir Amit Intelligence and Terrorism Information Center:

💬 “Qaradawi is mainly known as the key figure in shaping the concept of violent jihad and the one who allowed carrying out terror attacks, including suicide bombing attacks, against Israeli citizens, the US forces in Iraq, and some of the Arab regimes. Because of that, he was banned from entering Western countries and some Arab countries…. In 1999, he was banned from entering the USA. In 2009, he was banned from entering Britain…”

Qaradawi also founded many radical Islamist organizations which are funded by Qatar. These include the International Union of Muslim Scholars, which released a statement that called the October 7 massacre perpetrated by Hamas against communities in southern Israel an “effective” and “mandatory development of legitimate resistance” and said that Muslims have a religious duty to support their brothers and sisters “throughout all of Palestine, especially in Al-Aqsa, Jerusalem, and Gaza.”

Qatar is still home to the lavishly-funded television network Al Jazeera, founded in 1996 by Qatar’s Emir, Sheikh Hamad ibn Khalifa Al Thani. Called the “mouthpiece of the Muslim Brotherhood,” Al Jazeera began the violent “Arab Spring,” which “brought the return of autocratic rulers.”

In 2017, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, and Egypt made 13 demands of Qatar: “to cut off relations with Iran, shutter Al Jazeera, and stop granting Qatari citizenship to other countries’ exiled oppositionists.” They subsequently cut ties with Qatar over its failure to agree to any of the demands, including ending its support for terrorism, the Muslim Brotherhood, and Al Jazeera.

The Saudi state-run news agency SPA said at the time:

💬 “[Qatar] embraces multiple terrorist and sectarian groups aimed at disturbing stability in the region, including the Muslim Brotherhood, ISIS [Islamic State] and al-Qaeda, and promotes the message and schemes of these groups through their media constantly,”

US universities and colleges are happy to see this kind of influence on their campuses in exchange for billions of dollars in Qatari donations. According to ISGAP:

💬 “[F]oreign donations from Qatar, especially, have had a substantial impact on fomenting growing levels of antisemitic discourse and campus politics at US universities, as well as growing support for anti-democratic values within these institutions of higher education.”

[mariacallous]

Mike Lindell has spent the past four years desperately trying to prove the 2020 election was stolen from president-elect Donald Trump. In the early hours of November 6, attending Trump’s election night watch party, Lindell’s crusade appeared to be at an end when Trump walked on stage to announce his victory.

But that’s not how the infamous pillow salesman saw it.

“I've been trying to get rid of these electronic voting machine companies in the United States for four years,” Lindell tells WIRED. “That's been my whole focus. And that doesn't stop, but hopefully it gets easier.”

For the past four years, Lindell has crisscrossed the country nonstop. He has been doing interviews with anyone who will listen, filing frivolous lawsuits that go nowhere, hosting cyber symposiums filled with disinformation, hiding election deniers running from the law, and spending more than $40 million of his own money to claim that the 2020 election was stolen by the voting machines used in US elections.

Lindell has been an important part of a vast network of local, state, and national groups that coalesced around Trump’s own baseless claim that the 2020 election was stolen. These groups, which communicated on platforms like Telegram and Facebook, have spent countless hours attending online meetings, making bogus challenges to voter lists, and even knocking on doors to expose so-called illegal immigrant voting schemes.

Lindell, along with others around the US, has helped lead the movement, pushing bogus conspiracy theories about the 2020 election, spreading racist claims about illegal immigrants, and priming followers to reject any result other than a Trump victory. And yet, despite the fact that they got exactly what they want, many show no signs of stopping now.

When WIRED spoke to Lindell last week, he was in California working to secure information that he believes will ultimately show voter fraud in down-ballot races in the state.

“I haven't taken a break,” says Lindell. “After the election, I went on my annual hunting trip with my sons and my nephew. That was two days, but I was actually working from the deer stand. I'm always working on my phone.”

Some election deniers are even pitching for roles within the new administration—including Lindell.

To WIRED, Lindell suggested the establishment of a “bureau that’s really focused on keeping our elections secure.” When asked whether he would run such a bureau, Lindell says, “Oh, absolutely, my team would plug right in.”

Of course, there is already a bureau that secures US elections: the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, whose director, Jen Easterly, said in a November 6 statement that there was “no evidence of any malicious activity that had a material impact on the security or integrity of our election infrastructure.” Easterly has announced that she will be leaving her position on the first day of Trump’s new administration.

But Lindell could have some competition for the role of election czar, as other figures who used the election denial movement to carve out lucrative careers seek to cash in on that fame.

“If I may be so direct, I request consideration to be appointed in a special capacity to pursue electoral reform as part of your administration,” Seth Keshel, a well-known election conspiracist whose Substack newsletter has almost 30,000 subscribers, wrote in a letter he sent to Trump last week. “My research into electoral corruption would pair well with the efforts of your Attorney General to identify and pursue remediation into corrupt election procedures that render over 200 electoral votes non-competitive, including corruption I have identified even in your 2024 election victory that cost our coalition of America First candidates many down ballot races.”

In recent days, speculation on X suggested that Patrick Byrne, former Overstock CEO and another major funder of the election denial movement, was willing to join Trump’s new administration as head of the Securities and Exchange Commission. Byrne clarified the situation on Sunday, writing on X: “I would do it if I were asked,” while adding: “I will not be asked. 47 and I are not close.”

In the immediate aftermath of Trump’s victory, it did appear as if some election deniers were done: “Time for me to go look for a job, put in the good word for me,” David Clements, a former business law teacher at New Mexico State University who became an election denial superstar, wrote on his hugely popular Telegram channel.

But now, the election denial movement has picked up where it left off prior to the election, pushing baseless conspiracy theories despite Trump’s victory. In many cases, as Keshel outlined in his letter, they believe that while the presidential election was run properly, many down-ballot races where Republicans did not win were likely fraudulent.

Within days of the election, Clements was back on the horse, pushing conspiracies about down-ballot election results, including the one Lindell says he is investigating in California.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think election conspiracy theorists are packing up and going home,” Brendan Fischer, deputy executive director at Documented, tells WIRED. “Election conspiracists have built an enduring infrastructure, and in the months to come, the ‘election fraud’ narrative will reemerge and be used to justify restrictive new voting laws, and to lay the groundwork to challenge future elections that MAGA Republicans might lose.”

Clements has also been championing the case of another election denier, Tina Peters, a former Colorado election official who was jailed last month for tampering with voting machines.

Being incarcerated has not stopped Peters from continuing to push election denial conspiracies. This week, clips from a video interview posted on X show Peters pushing more conspiracies about the 2020 and 2024 elections while wearing an orange jumpsuit.

One election denial Telegram channel, known as Election Education, decided to let its followers decide on what the future holds, posting a survey entitled “What Next?” The first option—“it’s time to move on”—got just 1 percent of the vote. Far and away the biggest response—76 percent—was for the option “I’m in this for the long haul. Lots of work to do.”

Recently, the election denial movement has latched onto the race of GOP Senate candidate Kari Lake, who was among the loudest voices pushing election conspiracy theories in recent years. Lake lost to Democrat Ruben Gallego last week.

While Lake posted a video accepting her loss last week, that hasn’t stopped the election denial movement from claiming the vote was rigged.

“There was all kinds of fraud that was done in this last election,” Lindell said. “Right now they're trying to steal down-ticket [races]. Kari Lake in Arizona, that's blatant, it's so blatant.”

Right-wing pundit Dinesh D’Souza, whose disproven conspiracy film 2000 Mules helped supercharge claims of election fraud around the 2020 election, has also been pushing similar claims. In a video posted on X last week, D’Souza said: “I refuse to believe [the result], that makes no sense at all,” before adding that while there is no evidence of cheating, he is still demanding a recount.

A week after the election, the Election Integrity Network, a well-funded group that has been at the forefront of the election denial movement, hosted a meeting to discuss next steps. It was attended by almost 200 members.

“The red wave came in on very slim margins, so it is very important that we keep in mind during our celebratory times, that we have a lot more work to do,” Kerri Toloczko, the executive director of the group, said during the meeting, according to a recording reviewed by WIRED. She then added that the group needs to focus on elections in the future, including the 2026 midterms, while warning about vague election fraud conspiracies.

“Obviously, we’re not going away,” said Toloczko. “We have new elections coming up. Virginia has one every year. We've got the midterms. New elections [mean] new games. We don't know what they're playing at yet, but I guarantee you they'll be playing at something. So we need to figure out what that is.”

The group’s founder, former Trump adviser Cleta Mitchell, continued to push the baseless claim that a flood of illegal immigrants were voting in US elections, when that figure has been shown to be vanishingly small. She said the group “had a lot of work to do” on the issue and she “hoped the incoming administration will take it seriously.”

While Mitchell and Election Integrity Network haven't stopped, some groups in the election denial movement are pausing to reassess and see what’s next for them.

Catherine Engelbrecht, the cofounder of True the Vote, one of the most prominent election denial groups that has organized drop box monitoring and large-scale voter challenges, said last week that she was going on “a brief hiatus.”

“Our focus is shifting toward supporting grassroots organizations in building local influence and advocating for common-sense reforms,” Engelbrecht wrote in her channel on the fringe platform Locals.

For Lindell, who approaches election denial with the fervor of a religious zealot, the idea of stopping now is not something that has ever crossed his mind, even if his efforts have left him with no money and huge legal bills.

“I have to [keep going], or we lose our country,” says Lindell, adding that if he has to borrow money to continue funding his efforts, he will. “I wouldn't trust any election done with computers ever. I will never stop until we get the paper ballot, hands counted.”

[satoshi-mochida]

Mecha side-scrolling shoot ’em up VISEGUNNE announced for PC - Gematsu

Stardust Vanguards developer Zanrai Interactive has announced VISEGUNNE, a side-scrolling shoot ’em up game where players pilot a soul-powered combat mecha to fight against a conspiracy that threatens the peace of space. It will be available for PC via Steam. A release date was not announced.

Here is an overview of the game, via Zanrai Interactive:

About

VISEGUNNE is a non-bullet-hell shoot ’em up where explosive action unfolds around you: cities are leveled, space colonies collapse, and orbital structures crumble catastrophically. Between missions, interact with your squad to uncover secrets about a post-apocalyptic Earth, visit shops to upgrade your arsenal, or customize your machine’s look in the garage. Each mission offers intuitive controls and scalable difficulty settings, welcoming both newcomers and seasoned veterans alike. Set in an era where the human soul is harnessed as a power source, join the DIVINITY SPACE DEFENSE CORPORATION’s elite mercenaries to confront pro-Earth terrorists threatening the fragile peace of space. With a charismatic cast of characters, a killer soundtrack, and screen-melting effects, VISEGUNNE is a thrilling modern homage to retro action games.

Story

When scientists discover evidence of the human soul, long dormant divides among the nations of Earth erupt into global war. Colonists residing off-world avoid the bloodshed, but live in fear that the planet’s conflicts might soon spill into space. With no formal military of their own, each colony resorts to employing mercenaries and privateers for their protection. The most influential of these firms is the DIVINITY SPACE DEFENSE CORPORATION, utilizing top-secret war machines capable of harnessing a user’s spirit as an endless source of energy. These SOUL-CAPABLE combat vehicles are unmatched in battle and after a century of this order, DIVINITY has grown to dominate colonial affairs, effectively quarantining Earth’s wars and its toxic politics to the planet’s surface. Earth sympathizers are routinely hunted down. But now, a new wave of pro-Earth fanatics threaten the peace of space, demanding an end to DIVINITY’s policy of segregation. Spurred on by the illegal broadcasts of an enigmatic android holy-man known as Kourosh, these dissidents have seized control of a colony and are demanding an end to DIVINITY’s blockade of the planet. As SOUL-CAPABLE pilot End Visegunne, your squad’s mission is to eliminate these terrorists, dismantle their network of co-conspirators, and return peace to the colonies.

Key Features

Traditional Non-Bullet-Hell Action – Gameplay inspired by classic horizontal shoot ’em ups.

Gorgeous Retro Visual Style – Lovingly crafted pixel art and massive set-piece explosions, with a visual style influenced by late ’80s giant robot anime.

Narrative-Driven Adventure – A unique cast of characters and story-oriented mission design tell a tale about war, power, and disinformation.

Diverse Arsenal – Over 20 different weapons to discover and upgrade, each offering game-changing strategies and attack styles. Equip Gatling cannons, grenade launchers, flamethrowers, carpet bombing units, rail-guns, shotguns, missile launchers, melee weapons, and more.

Flexible Scoring System – The DUAL MULTIPLIER chaining system incentivizes balanced weapon use and improvisation. Make a few kills then match your multipliers for a bonus.

Varied Environments – Missions range from collapsing urban orbital colonies to lush sunset forests and hostile desert wastelands.

Meticulous Detail – The game’s world has been painstakingly designed to feel alive—thrusters flare, powerless foot soldiers scurry around, aircraft dramatically swoop in from the environment, and gravity and oxygen levels can noticeably affect certain weapons.

Pumping Soundtrack – Over two hours of original music with an unapologetic old-school flair inspired by CD-ROM era action game soundtracks of the late ’80s and early ’90s.

Watch the announcement trailer below. View the first screenshots at the gallery.

Announce Trailer

[ohallthecrushes]

You're a storm in a teacup and I'm starting to like the chaos.

I've been written this story since the last episode of Criminal minds Evolution that I've seen, which was...around one year ago. And this is so far the longest story I've ever written. Damn. I'm impressed by my own hyperfixation on this. xd I've never published it anyway, cause honestly, it was for my own amusement. Kind of self-inserted main character, you know. But since I've almost lost the whole story, I've decided to put it here to make it immortal. Who knows, maybe there are fans of CME that will find this story interesting (or sick, or both, hopefully both) and who love Elias Voit as a character (I don't recommend falling in love with someone like him!)

Without further ado!

Summary: Evelyn is a young-troubled woman who's just escaped a highly guarded psych ward (twice, but this time causing havoc on her way out)

Now she's running through the city, hiding from police. A not-so-accidental encounter with a man named Elias Voit will change her life forever. And she'll change his. His seemingly selfless help is laced with danger, hidden agenda, manipulation, endless tension, and...love? Slow burning inteligent-idiots-in-love trope. But mind you, just because it's a love story, doesn't mean it ends well.

General warnings throughout the story: Manipulation, illegal activities, murder(s), Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, explicit content, language, death... The whole pack. It's Criminal minds after all.

In this episode: Evelyn exhausted after spending the last few days on running and hiding, hops into a taxi with the intention to flee the city. Unfortunately, the taxi driver isn't what he appears to be.

Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the city lights into streaks of neon. Evelyn was huddled low in the backseat. Her heart was hammering against her ribs every time a cop car was passing by. The man behind the wheel, a mid-age looking guy with a baseball cap on his head and bristle on his face, glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Looks like they got the whole damn city on a hunt." he rumbled. His voice was husky and low, laced with curiosity or complain, Evelyn couldn't decide which.

"You think so?" She forced a casual tone, but her throat felt dry. Elias, as the taxi driver introduced himself, had picked her up from an empty parking lot. It was a stroke of pure, desperate luck from her side. Luckily he hadn't questioned her request to "just go", and just taken her money and driven away. She couldn't believe her own daring to trust a stranger like that, but at this point, she didn't have a much of a choice if she wanted to flee the city.

Elias grunted, his eyes flicked back to the road. She studied his face in the rearview mirror – the crooked nose, the stubble, casual clothes... He looked like a normal guy, but there was something in his posture, in his glances, as if something untamed was beneath the surface. Intriguing, under normal circumstances. Now, it just made her nervous.

"Where are we going, anyway?" He finally broke the suffocating silence.

She shrugged. "Far away from here, I guess?."

Elias (Elias, he kept reminding himself, not Sicarius. Not yet.) stole another glance at her.

A few days ago he'd been captivated by the news reports – the "troubled young woman" who'd outsmarted highly secure institution in the state, twice. Twice! And the second time wrecked havoc on her way out. The arrogance, the audacity of it, it thrilled him. More importantly, it showed a kind of ruthlessness, an understanding of the game that most people lacked. She wasn't a killer, not in the traditional sense, despite the allegations against her. He could see that much. But there was a fire in her, a strong determination to survive and a capacity for violence that intrigued him. He figured that her sharp mind and cunning ability could be a perfect addition to his growing criminal network.

All he needed was her trust at first. He needed to convince her that he was the only one who understood her point of view. The only one who could help her.

He tried to form a connection, but unfortunately she wasn't interested in chitchat. His every attemp for conversation was deflected with dismissal. It seemed like his charm didn't work on her. Well... But at least he convinced her that despite the recognition, he wouldn't drop her at the nearest police station. He cleared his throat. "Don't worry, kid. You're safe with me." The words tasted strange on his tongue, like a foreign kindness. Feigned of course, but for now, it was enough.

She grimaced, after all she'd been through, she didn't trust anyone. She was cautious about this taxi driver, but the whole city's police was out to get her so she didn't have any choice than to let this man help her. At least for now. It was suspicious that he said he wouldn't turn her in. He could have, he'd had a chance with every police car passing them by. And yet, he didn't. His motives unclear, but if he tried anything funny, she'd escape. She'd become good at it after all.

Suddenly the music playing at the radio stopped as the newscaster's voice filled the cab. "...authorities are still searching for Evelyn Thorne, the young woman suspected of..." The voice droned on, listing a litany of her supposed crimes. Each word was another nail hammered into the coffin of her innocence. She shot a venomous glare at the radio. "Dangerous and unstable," the announcer finished with a flourish. She snorted. "Dangerous by accident and not unstable," she muttered under her breath.

Elias kept his eyes fixed on the rain-slicked road ahead. "They always paint the picture they want, don't they?" His voice held a hint of something similar to understanding, and even shared cynicism. She glanced at him with a hesitant curiosity. He wasn't scared of her, not in the way the doctors, the police, even her own reflection had been lately. There was a calmness to him that she found strangely comforting. Didn't trust it though, not one bit.

"Yeah...you think they'll ever be interested to see the truth?" Her question sounded half rhetorical. She wasn't naive enough to believe in some grand reveal, some magical moment where everyone would understand. But she held onto that tiny hope that still lived in her heart that maybe someone would understand.

He didn't answer right away, the silence stretching between them. Finally, he spoke, with a low voice. "The truth is whatever you make it, kid. They can paint you a villain, but that doesn't mean you have to stay in the line." A slow, sarcastic smirk spread across her face at his words. His words were cryptic, and she couldn't decipher the hidden meaning if there was any. Nor she couldn't decipher his intentions yet, but a thought crossed her mind when she looked at the window – being trapped in this taxi cab was still a better option than hiding in the rain.

Catching a glimpse of her smirk, he felt a thrill course through him. Underneath the determination and defiance, there was something dark stirring within her, a darkness he recognized, a darkness he could nurture... He imagined that he would win her trust, bit by bloody bit, until she saw the world through his blood-stained eyes. Until she understood there was another path, a darker path, and he would be her guide. He would show her the beauty of chaos, the freedom in destruction.

Unaware of his thoughts she took a deep breath, relaxing her tense shoulders. Relief, a fragile thing, began to seep into her as she realized that this taxi driver probably really wasn't going to turn her in. But she couldn't relax fully. Fatigue was a relentless foe. The constant scanning for danger was exhausting. Not mentioned the lack of proper sleep.

A yawn escaped her lips. "You should try to get some sleep," he suggested, his voice gruff but not unkind. She lifted her eyebrow. Sleep? In a moving vehicle with a stranger behind the wheel? No, thanks. "I can't sleep," she muttered as she leaned her head against the window, watching the city lights.

He shifted his focus to the road. Her wariness didn't faze him. He was a patient predator, content to wait for the right moment. His determination and a confidence in his plan had made him drive for hours searching for her. Luckily it wasn't in vain. He had her now, a precious pawn in his twisted game. His hands tightened on the wheel.

His hideout awaited, a haven she didn't even know she craved.

The miles slipped by, measured by the rhythmic drumming of rain on the roof. Evelyn's eyelids, lulled by the monotony, began to droop in spite of her resistance until sleep, the traitor, finally claimed her.

Elias' lips curved into a small smile as he stole a glance at her. He had to admit, that even in a dim light, her beauty was undeniable. Porcelain skin, blue eyes that were a nice contrast against the dark curtain of her hair – a not so innocent Snow White lost in a storm.

She was sleeping for a while, but it wasn't a deep sleep, no. more of a restless doze with disturbing flashing images of police and doctors running after her. Soon she woke up with a jolt, by her stomach growling in protest. Great. Just what she needed – hunger on top of everything else. With a deep sigh, she rubbed her eyes as she looked at Elias and mumbled, "If I bribe you with imaginary money, would you stop for some food?"

He chuckled. "Imaginary money? Well, seeing as how the real kind seems to be in short supply for you right now, I suppose I can make an exception." Soon he pulled into the nearest gas station and she watched him disappearing into the brightly lit mini-mart. Even with the minimal reprieve, her nerves remained on edge. What if he went to call the police? Her knee was slightly bouncing as she waited for him with growing impatience. When he reappeared alone (ooff), he clutched two brown paper bags in his hands, one for her, one for him.

He turned to face her to give her the bag, the scent of hot dogs filled the car. "Here you go, Snow White. Two all-beef franks, just the way you like them… probably." His voice held a hint of amusement. She ignored the nickname as she finally had a chance to take a good look at him in the harsh fluorescent light. He was somewhere in his early forties with deep lines etched on both sides of his crooked wolfish nose, and intense dark blue eyes. His hair, a mess of short curls under the baseball cap gave him a surprisingly boyish look despite the stubble shadowing his jaw. He caught her staring, and a playful glint ignited in his eyes.

"Like what you see?" he drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice to see how she'd react.

A blush crept up her pale cheeks as she blinked surprised. "What? No, I mean... umm...w-whatever, sorry for staring..." She mumbled, her gaze darting away to the hot dog in her hand. What a fascinating hotdog... Her reaction was cute, he thought. He kept his gaze on her a bit longer than necessary. Could it be that she was attracted to him? That'd be an interesting addition to his plan, and a weakness he could exploit. His calculated mind was already thinking about the possibilities. It could be a way to bind her closer to him, to make her stay... He turned away and started the engine. If he played his cards right, he could have her if he wanted to, quite literally, body and mind. A chilling smile played on his lips. The prospect was undeniably interesting.

Evelyn focused on eating, trying to forget the awkward moment. The man had something in him, a charm maybe, but definitely wasn't her type. She hoped that he didn't think much of her reaction.

The relentless rain continued its drumbeat on the roof of the car as he drove away. Minutes had bled into one another, the city lights left behind... He looked at her. She was picking at the remains of her hotdog, her brows furrowed in consternation. They were on the outskirts now. Two-story houses with manicured lawns were lined the streets. An idea, dark and twisted, sparked in his mind. He was tired and needed a rest, but finding a motel, where someone could recognise her or where she could disappear on him, would be risky.

He slowed the car, his finger pointing out the window. "How many people you think live there?" The house he gestured towards was large, with two gleaming SUVs parked in the driveway.

She followed his gaze, slightly confused by his question. "Four, maybe five? Big family I guess..." she shrugged.

"yeah, too many moving parts. What about that one?" His finger shifted to a smaller house on the next block, a ramshackle structure that seemed to sag under its own weight. "One, max two? Probably some old folks or someone who's seen better days.. Or maybe it's abandoned?"

Her suspicion was growing until she understood his implication, though she couldn't believe it. "You can't be serious," she said, her voice barely a whisper as he drove the car at the back of the old house. Breaking into a house – a crime she'd sworn off just yesterday ago – was apparently back on the menu. And not by her choice this time.

He stopped the car and cut the engine. Then he met her gaze with his dark blue eyes. "We both know you don't have much choice, do you, Snow White? Do you want to stay off the radar or not?" His voice was a low murmur. He wanted to test her willingness to cooperate, and to see how far she would go to survive. Would she play along or woudl she defy him? He couldn't wait to see.

She clenched her jaw and furrowed her brows. Great... Of course the only person that wanted to help her was some kind of criminal himself. Normalcy, it seemed, was way beyond her reach. Stepping out of the car, she felt the rain chilling her skin to the bone. With a forced acceptance she hesitantly followed him towards the rickety house.

[keiththecat]

Admissible (Part Two)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader (You)

Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort

Author's Note: Warning! The groping and almost sexual assault is stopped, but it is at the beginning of this part. I have marked the end of the section to skip with <>. (Be warned, the section to be skipped starts right at the beginning of this part!) I have also put a small summary at the very end of this part to explain what you need to know about the part that is skipped. (So if you're skipping the start, scroll down to the end, read the short summary, and come back up to the <>). Feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.

Part One

AO3 link here

You’ve been patted down, fingerprinted, photographed, and now you’re sitting handcuffed to the table in an interrogation room in front of Officers Davis and Johnson. Davis is the ray of sunshine that arrested you and processed you, getting a little too handsy when patting you down and taking your weapons and belongings. Johnson is a very tall and gaunt man in his 60s with the worst dark circles you’ve ever seen. He also looks like he hasn’t seen sunlight in probably the last five years. Desk jobs will do that to you, I guess. Davis is the one doing all the talking, leering at you.

“So here’s what we know,” Davis says, counting offenses on his fingers, “You’re not FBI. In fact, the name on your badge is completely fake. You had illegal knives on you and an illegal unregistered pistol. And you were caught around two of the families who have already had members killed recently. Sure does make us wonder who you are and what you were doing.”

Missus Miller must have been the one who called them. You stay silent, knowing that it’s your best bet. They won’t find an ID by searching your prints, but they will likely find them tied to other crime scenes, just due to the nature of your job as a hunter. They won’t find any record of the pistol, the serial numbers have been filed off for years. You send up a prayer to anything listening that they won’t find anything serious enough to keep you for more than a few days. 

“You would be smart to talk to us, explain some of this. Maybe if you gave us some answers, we could help,” Davis says.

You know he’s lying. The last thing you want to do is dig this hole any deeper. You smirk at him, then look at the ceiling and start counting the tiles to kill the time.

The officers sit, watching you for several more minutes. Davis continues trying to get you to talk, you continue ignoring him. This is going to be a very boring few days. I hope the boys can figure everything out and kill whatever it is before it gets anyone else. I hope they’re doing okay.

“I don’t think she’s talking, man. I’m taking a few,” Johnson gets up and walks out, leaving you alone with Davis.

After a moment, Davis gets out of his seat, moving around to lean on your side of the table. He places his hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Just us now, sweetheart.” You glance at the camera in the corner of the room and notice the red recording light is no longer on. He’s leaning closer and you’re trying to decide if you can get away with headbutting him, adding assault to your charges, when there’s a knock at the door. Davis drops his hand as the door opens and Sam walks in. 

<>

“I certainly hope you haven’t been questioning my client without me, Officer,” Sam says, practically spitting out the last word. “I trust she has been informed of her rights and any charges against her?”

Davis moves away from you, “You’re her attorney?”

“I am, and I need a moment with my client. Thank you,” Sam leaves no room for discussion, taking a seat across from you and looking at Davis expectantly. 

Davis looks between the two of you for a moment, then scoffs and goes to leave. 

“And make sure all recording devices to this room are off,” Sam calls after him.

Davis grumbles under his breath, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Sam.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you being here, because I do,” you say, “but why aren’t you still out there hunting this thing? I can handle a day or two in jail-”

“Y/N,” Sam cuts you off, “I’m here. I’m getting you out of here. Dean is working on it. He can handle himself for a few hours. Besides, I saw how that creep was with you, I’m definitely not leaving you here. They’d probably have you here for longer than a couple days, impersonating a federal officer is a felony. Anyway, I’ve called in some help. What do they have of yours? Anything we can leave behind?”

You tell him about your weapons, holsters, and phone. He nods, looking up and seeming to think to himself for a moment. He pulls out a small kit from his pocket and picks the lock on your handcuffs, finally freeing your wrists. You reflexively rub at the red skin. “You seem strangely comfortable here,” you comment.

“Yeah, I was on my way to becoming a lawyer before... well, just before.” He stands, coming to your side of the table. “Ready?”

“Um, I guess?” you answer, “Want to fill me in on this plan of yours?”

You hear what sounds like wings fluttering, you register a hand on your shoulder, and the next instant, you’re standing inside your hotel room. Sam is still in front of you, “yeah. That’s my plan. Meet Castiel,” Sam gestures behind you.

You turn around, looking into comforting blue eyes. A man stands in front of you, messy dark brown hair, wearing a suit and tan trench coat. “Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “You’ll find your belongings on the bed. Don’t worry, I disabled their cameras. They were not able to see me retrieving your things or us leaving.”

“Oh, wow, um, thanks,” you stutter out. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you? What are you? How did you do that?”

Castiel takes it all in stride, “Not rude at all, Y/N. I would expect you to be curious. I am Castiel, an angel.”

“Oh. Okay.” That’ll take some getting used to. “Thank you, Castiel.”

“Of course, Y/N. Any friend of Sam and Dean is a friend of mine. Pray to me if you should need help again,” he says, then nods at Sam and disappears.

“I can send you his cell number, too,” Sam says, pulling out his phone.

“He’s an angel with a cell phone?” you ask, starting to pick up your things and put your weapons back in their places on your body.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “he’s basically one of us but with perks.”

Sam’s phone rings and he answers, “Hey Dean, you’re on speaker. Y/N is here.”

“You busted out already? That was fast,” Dean says.

“We had some help. I called Cas,” Sam tells him. “What’d you find out?”

“Well, Sam, remember the bank in Milwaukee?”

“A shifter?”

“You betcha. All dealt with. I’m on my way back to the motel now. You guys need a ride?”

Hearing it’s over, you let their voices trail off and sink down onto the edge of the bed. I stupidly got caught, Sam had to save me, and Dean finished the case. Maybe I’m not good enough for this job after all. You realize Sam is no longer on the phone and is looking at you in concern. “You okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you try to convince yourself.

You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push the issue. He goes to watch out the window for his brother. A few minutes later, the Impala is pulling up outside and Dean is knocking on the door.

“Alright, Princess, I figured out what is wrong with your car. I can get it up and running in the morning, should be able to have you out of town by noon, “ he says, making himself comfortable on the chair across the room.

“Sounds good. Thanks, Dean. What do I owe you?”

“Hmmm,” he taps his chin, thinking, “I’ll consider us even if you buy me some pie at that diner.”

“That’s it?” You ask. He nods. You smirk, “Wow, you’re easier than they say. Deal. Let’s go.”

*

You end up at the diner, all having a slice of pie, Dean filling you in on the details of the shifter. Apparently Missus Miller was the shifter, or rather the shifter was pretending to be Missus Miller. Dean went back to question her, and she recoiled when he shook her hand. “Silver ring,” Dean explained, holding up his right hand and wiggling his fingers in the air. He was able to draw his silver knife and stab her in the heart before she could attack him. “Reflexes like a cat,” Dean bragged, mouth full of pie. You can’t help but smile at him.

You all finish your pie and pile back into the Impala to go back to your rooms for the night. Once again, you can feel both of them watching you during the drive. You do your best to ignore it, watching the streetlights pass by outside.

Outside your rooms, Dean promises to text you when he’s done with your car tomorrow. You thank him, say goodnight to the brothers, and head into your room for the night.

You strip down, deciding to take a bath to unwind. With the bath full of warm water, you sink in and hear your phone go off.

[Sam 9:52PM: You doing okay?]

[Y/N 9:53PM: Doing fine, sunshine. Why?]

[Sam 9:53PM: You’ve seemed off since Dean’s phone call earlier.]

Yeah, I’ve seemed off. I should be able to do this job by myself. I have been able to, until now. I shouldn’t have to rely on you and your brother and your angel friend to save my ass and finish my case.

[Sam 9:55PM: You know you’re one of the best hunters out there, right?]

You let his message go unanswered again. After a few more minutes, you decide to call it a night. You get out of the bathtub, dry yourself off, and put on your favorite pajamas. You’re crawling into bed when you hear a knock at the door. You get up and look through the peephole, seeing Sam standing there in black sweatpants and a long-sleeved grey henley. You sigh and open the door, “Yes, Sam?”

“You stopped answering, so I figured you could use a pick-me-up,” he holds up the bags in his hands, small smile on his face and dimples peeking out. Damn that smile and those dimples. You step out of the way, letting him inside. He comes in, emptying the bags onto the small table while you close and lock the door. “So, I brought ice cream: Phish Food and Americone Dream. I also got some Kit-Kats and M&Ms. We can talk or watch some TV. I’ve also been told I give good hugs.”

You feel like you’re in shock. He just met you today. Sure, he had apparently heard about you from Bobby, but you’ve only known each other for about ten hours. So far in those ten hours, he has taken your sarcasm in stride, gotten you out of jail, went shopping for snacks for you, and is now standing in your room offering hugs. Either he’s insane, or I’ve stumbled upon the eighth wonder of the world. You’ve spent your entire life building walls around your heart, firmly believing that feelings lead to nothing but hurt or death. Somehow in less than half of a day, this man in front of you has managed to obliterate them, leaving you feeling more vulnerable than you ever thought possible.

He turns around, looking at you, unsure what to make of your silence. “Or I can leave. I mean, if you want to be alone-”

He’s cut off by you rushing forward into his chest, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head against his chest. My God, he’s solid like a tree. Once his brain catches up, his arms wrap around you too and he rests his chin on your head. He’s absolutely right, this is the best hug ever. He squeezes you a little and then runs his fingers through your hair. You feel all your muscles relaxing. You stay like this for a while, his hands switching between playing with your hair and rubbing circles on your back.

“I’m strong,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says.

“I can take care of myself.”

“You do,” he agrees. “And you’ll continue to. We’ve just joined in now.”

You pull back a little, tears forming in your eyes. You look at each other, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes. You shy away, pulling out of his arms and clearing your throat. “This all seems very… not your taste, Mister Chicken Wrap,” you joke, gesturing to the sweets and trying to deflect.

He shrugs, “Not really yours either, Miss Salad. But sometimes a little sugar rush can be a good thing.”

You give him a small smile, greatly appreciating that he is willing to change topic, opening the M&Ms and pouring yourself a few before offering the bag to him. He takes the bag, pouring out a couple into his hand and popping one into his mouth.

You sit on the bed, back against the headboard, and pat the space beside you, "So, tell me all about the enigma that is Mister Sam Winchester."

He sits beside you, and you spend the next few hours trading questions and learning all the little things about each other. You learn that his favorite color is blue, he is full of knowledge about true crime and serial killers, and he hates clowns. He listens to The Smiths, Bon Jovi, and Celine Dion. He prefers to eat healthily, and he runs at least once a day to stay in shape. “There are so many unknowns in this world and so many things that can take you out, I refuse to let my cholesterol be what does it,” he reasons. You open up to him as well, telling him your favorite holiday, color, music, and foods. By the time 2AM rolls around, he has resorted to telling you terrible dad jokes.

“You know,” he says, sounding serious, “I’ve realized I only know 25 letters of the alphabet. I don’t know y.”

You groan and laugh at the same time, “Your jokes are terrible, Sam!”

“Oh, I’m well aware. But hey, they make you laugh,” he says, laughing and nudging your shoulder with his. 

Your laugh dying down, you rest your head against his shoulder and sigh. “I guess we should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “you’re probably right.” He pats your head before getting up. You follow him to the door and when he turns around to say his goodbye, you wrap your arms around him again. “Thank you, Sam. You’re kind of alright, I guess.”

He laughs a little, “yeah, you too, I suppose.” You think you feel the ghost of his lips on the top of your head before he pulls away from the embrace. With a smile and small wave, he closes the door, leaving you alone but your heart feeling lighter than it ever has. You crawl under the covers, smiling to yourself and sending one more message before turning out the lights.

[Y/N 2:09AM: Goodnight, Sam.]

[Sam 2:09AM: Goodnight, Y/N.]

<> You have been arrested and are being questioned in an interrogation room by two officers, Davis (who arrested you) and Johnson. You stay silent throughout their questioning, despite their threats and their attempts to coerce you into talking. Johnson leaves, and Sam enters shortly after.

Part Three

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER FIVE: a mission.

read the previous chapters here or read the whole fic on ao3.

surprise! it's time for an alfred pov. 5k words of it, in fact.

. . .

“Robbery two blocks away, due west from you, Nightwing,” Alfred reports, eyes flicking over the map of Gotham. Different spots are lighting up as calls come in about disturbances or crimes. Alarms go off and known criminal hideouts blink rapidly, demanding attention as Oracle’s system automatically updates from her network of cameras.

It’s a busy night as usual, running comms for the Bats. He can only be grateful that all they’ve run into so far is petty crime; no rogues are striking out, which means plans are still being made, but that’s a problem for later.

For now, Alfred is glad his wards are as safe as they can be, swinging around Gotham to fight crime.

“On it!” Nightwing replies, and his marker on the map moves through the streets quickly.

The others are scattered around the city, working in pairs, save for Nightwing who flits to and fro, joining everyone for a few streets before going off on his own again. They rarely split up from each other and always return to each other before Alfred can berate them. It’s a nice night. Long, as they always are, but he can’t rest until he sees everyone back safe and sound. 

The years are heavy on him, weighing him down. Danny’s assistance around the manor has been wonderful, but there’s only so much work he can delegate when his most difficult responsibilities involve their night life, a responsibility that Danny had firmly refused to do anything with.

Alfred can’t begrudge him. He often wishes Bruce would hang up the cowl, but his crusade to save Gotham from itself is never ending and he’s never been one to give up. All his children are equally stubborn.

“Quiet night, isn’t it?” Spoiler comments. She and Black Bat have been sitting at the same corner for the past five minutes; they likely stopped for a snack break, buying from corner stores even though Alfred always makes sure they take high calorie, healthy snacks with them before they leave. 

“Let’s hope it lasts,” Red Hood says, “Quiet’s never a good thing in this city.”

“It does always lead up to something bad,” Red Robin agrees. “Seen any sign of Venom out on the streets yet?”

“Not yet, but my men have been hearing rumors about the Venom gang getting real bold lately. They’re going for bigger targets to steal funds. Still don’t know where they’re getting their Venom.”

“Think they’ll go after the Wayne Charity Gala next week?”

“I will be prepared for all possibilities,” Alfred cuts in. “Movement of an illegal arms shipment has been called in near the ferry in West End.”

“We’re on it,” Batman says. 

The comms go quiet for a minute as everyone moves around the city, hunting down petty criminals to protect civilians and investigating their own ongoing cases. Alfred scans the map once more, but there’s nothing more for him to take note of. Such is the pace of quiet nights.

If he’s lucky, they’ll call it an early night and return to the manor (or their own safehouses) before 4AM. 

“So,” Nightwing says, carefully casual, “Danny.”

The comms erupt with noise as everyone chimes in with various replies of Danny! Has anyone found out more about him? Tell me you have some fun stories about him!

Alfred clears his throat loudly and is pleased when they all settle down. 

“Danny is settling in well,” he says.

“Any chance of him joining us on patrol soon?” Spoiler asks.

Robin scoffs. “As if. He has no training and will not be able to keep up with us. Even keeping him on comms is unthinkable.” And, quieter, “He has no desire to be a part of this, in any case. He made that very clear.”

Nightwing whistles. “Yeah, those conditions. He sure is something, isn’t he? So are we thinking human experimentation or something else?”

“I considered the possibility, alongside cults,” Batman says. “Red Hood, have the Outlaws heard about either of those things lately? With Danny having the powers he does, I wouldn’t be surprised if people were searching for him.”

“I haven’t heard anything yet,” Red Hood answers after a long pause. “Don’t even know where the kid could have come from.”

“Agent A, you said he saved you from a mugger, right?” Nightwing asks. “Wait, give me a minute. Carjacking in progressed just down the street.”

“Powers?” Black Bat asks. Batman only replies with a grunt.

“Back!” Nightwing says before Black Bat can decide if she needs to go hunt down Batman for a proper answer. Alfred would have given her his location if she did, but the conversation is enough to distract her. “So. Danny saved you, yeah?”

Alfred thinks back to that night, after spending so many dawns walking with Danny, talking to him quietly. He didn’t get a response often, but as Danny began to open up more, he would close the distance between them, listening intently to everything Alfred said. He’d even ask questions from things Alfred had discussed previously and it was clear from there that Danny was a kind, attentive young man doing his best in a bad situation.

Looking at Danny, hunched into himself in a dirty hoodie and stained jeans, tired and gaunt, had reminded Alfred of Jason. Admittedly, he had met Jason as a child and had cared for him until his was murdered as a teenager, but they had the same aura about them. The same distrust, the drive to survive, the kindness despite it all. 

Danny isn’t Jason. He’s his own person, unique from anyone else in the family, but that was the initial reason Alfred kept seeking him out. 

He’s glad he did. Now Danny is in the manor, under his care, slowly learning to trust him and the others of the family enough to use his powers. 

It is clear, from Nightwing’s questions, that he too had experienced Danny’s protectiveness. 

Whatever was done to him had stripped his humanity from him. There is no other way to describe him as monstrous in that moment when he ran back to Alfred; the snarl, the sharp teeth, the glowing eyes, everything about him screamed not human. But he only used it to protect, to scare away the man seeking to harm Alfred, and he had come back quickly, hiding that part of him away.

Alfred isn’t scared of Danny. He had seen the control Danny had over that aspect of him, saw the way he curled into himself, awaiting judgment as Alfred checked him over for injuries. Changed as he may be, Danny is his apprentice. He is not a threat, but a protector.

He believes that the others will understand that, but he also knows that they are just as protective of him as Danny is. Should they try to keep Danny away, Alfred will show them exactly why he’s been the sole and strongest guard for the manor all these years.

“Yes,” he says, “Danny did indeed defend me before I was able to convince him to return to the manor with me.”

“Did you see how he fought? Or what he looked like?”

“I take it Danny reacted similarly when you were in danger.”

Nightwing laughs. “Boy, did he! He’s small for his age, but he’s crazy strong. Maybe not Superman levels, but he knocked down a guy twice his height and four times his weight like it was nothing.”

“He also growled at me,” Red Hood adds thoughtfully. “We really gotta find out who had him, because if they’re to artificially enhance people, they’re doing a pretty terrifying job of it.”

“Do you think he could be an alien trying to blend in?” Red Robin muses.

“Shit. Add it to the list.”

“Red Hood,” Alfred warns.

“Sorry, A.”

“There is something strange about him, beyond his powers,” Robin comments thoughtfully.

Red Hood makes a noise of agreement. “Yeah, no kidding. Something about him sets me on edge. I know he’s just a kid trying to survive, but he’s got some sort of bad vibe.”

“Hood!” Spoiler berates, “That’s so rude! He’s an abused kid trying to find someplace safe. Is that any way to talk about him?”

He sputters, trying to defend himself. Alfred stays quiet; Red Hood did this to himself, and should know well enough by now that his words have consequences just as actions do.

“Wait! Hood, get over here, I think I got something!” Red Robin says, cutting off everyone’s attempts to guilt Red Hood even more, and on the map, Alfred can see him stop in an alley, Red Hood just a street behind him. He manages to hear the beginning of a sentence, then both of them turn off their comms.

This is nothing unusual. They often need a moment to think without any distractions, or need to have a private conversation to sort something out. Batman never likes it, always fearing the worst, but Alfred is content with just monitoring their locations and vitals. As long as they can be found and their hearts are beating steadily, he allows them to have their silence as needed.

“Man,” Nightwing says, breaking the silence, “I’m beat. Think I’m gonna call it night and head back to the manor if everyone else has things covered.”

The rest of the bats respond with a chorus of reassurances and good nights, and Alfred is pleased to see Nightwing’s marker moved towards the manor. He swings across a few streets, then stays on the road, likely having called his motorcycle to cut down travel time. 

“It’s good that you aren’t pushing yourself, Nightwing,” he says, both happy Dick is taking care of himself and pointedly ignoring everyone else not doing the same thing. “I will see you soon.”

“Wonder what the Reds found,” Spoiler says, quickly distracting everyone from the shame Alfred is trying to make them feel. 

Red Robin’s comm goes back online as soon as she finishes talking. “Got some info on Venom distribution. Good news: it’s not Bane. Bad news: it’s a copy who has a grudge, so we can expect whoever it is to do something big and stupid soon.”

Batman grunts in acknowledgement. “Red Hood?”

There’s no answer. His comm stays off, but Alfred can see his marker following after Red Robin; being questioned too much by Batman always leaves him in a bad mood, and ignoring him is a better option than going after him, guns out. 

An alert pops up on the map, flashing. “Spoiler and Black Bat, there appears to be a situation unfolding in the brewery on Johnson Street. Do be careful.”

“You got it, Agent A!” 

Spoiler and Black Bat move quickly, ending their snack break to go right back into crime fighting. 

Though she refuses to stay and always moves between the Bats and Oracle, Stephanie is a welcome presence. Her start as a vigilante was rough, as were her relationships to others, but Alfred is glad she preserved and stuck around despite it all; her cheer and stubborn optimism is a welcome change from Batman’s severe demeanor. Her sense of justice is strong, and her experiences in the rougher areas of Gotham provide a much needed perspective that was lost with Jason. 

He does hope she agrees to spend her birthday at the manor just so he can spoil her a little. Pun not intended. 

The others go back to focusing on their own patrol routes around Gotham, keeping an eye on the streets for anyone who may need their help. It’s a routine patrol, though it’ll likely end early once Alfred makes a few comments about the late hour and convinces everyone to return to get some sleep before sunrise. 

Nightwing is only ten minutes out when Alfred suddenly becomes aware of a shift in the air. 

He’s alone in the Batcave. And though he may be getting on in the years, he prides himself in his situational awareness; war and years spend in the secret service have given him instincts that cannot be buried deeply, no matter how many years he spends pushing them aside to tend to the Wayne family. 

Those instincts tell him he’s no longer alone.

Alfred smoothly takes off the headset and sets the comm system onto the Batcomputer to take advantage of the powerful microphone it uses. He can’t alert anyone to his situation, not without giving away his awareness of the intruder, but once the altercation begins—and there will be an altercation—they will be able to hear it and know that they need to return to the Batcave immediately.

A security breach of this severity is rare. 

Rare is not impossible, and Alfred has dealt with all such breaches in the same way: with a shotgun.

There’s one in a weapons case just on the other side of the Batcave. If he can get to it, he can go after the intruder and have better chance of taking them down. The problem is if he can keep the intruder from taking that chance to attack him.

Well. No point in wasting any time.

Alfred stands and prepares to make his way to the weapons case.

And Danny stumbles into the Batcave from one of the side passages and says, “What the fuck did I just wake up to?”

“Language!” Alfred scolds reflexively, because the rest of him is reeling. He knows this cave system very well. He is the one who explored it with Bruce when they were first converting it into the Batcave, a base of operations for the Batman during his second year as the Dark Knight. He knows that the passage Danny walked out of is a dead end, that there is no way into it other than from the main cavern itself, and Alfred would have seen Danny pass him if he had been down here.

So the question remains: how did Danny get into the Batcave?

The Batcomputer is suspiciously quiet. He’s sure that everyone is listening in, keeping silent to avoid alerting Danny to the fact that they are there.

“A whole cave?” Danny asks, incredulous. “I thought a basement was bad enough, but an entire cave?”

“Danny,” Alfred says, hoping to cut in before Danny could properly get started on his rant. He’s taken care of enough teenagers to know that once they get started, it’s incredibly hard to stop them. 

“A cave!”

“Danny, how did you get down here?”

The question makes Danny stop. He closes his mouth and his expression shutters into something neutral. His shoulders are tense, and Alfred can see how his eyes dart around as if seeking an escape route. 

“I will not be angry no matter what the answer is,” Alfred hurries to reassure. “I just want to know how you got here and if you are alright.”

Danny stays silent for a long moment, then mumbles something beneath his breath.

“Pardon?”

“...Fell,” he mutters.

That’s not a great answer to hear, though Alfred still doesn’t see how it explains his sudden presence in the Batcave. “Would you mind speaking up, Danny? My ears aren’t quite what they used to be.”

Danny takes a deep breath, then walks closer to Alfred so he’s only a few feet away, carefully staying out of reaching distance. It makes his heart hurt, the clear apprehension in each movement; he would never hurt Danny, but it’s clear that others have not held the same sentiments. If only he could find them and ensure that they would never be able to hurt Danny again…

“I fell,” Danny says, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

“You fell,” Alfred repeats.

“Through the floor. And my bed.”

“You fell into the Batcave? Are you quite alright, my boy?”

He hears a small sound from the Batcomputer, a slight catch of breath. Danny must hear it too, for his eyes flick towards the monitors, then back to Alfred. 

“It’s fine,” he says, as if falling from his room into the Batcave, a considerable distance to say nothing of the stone and hardwood he had to go through, isn’t a big deal at all. “I didn’t break anything.”

That is not at all what Alfred is concerned about. “Are you injured? Come, we have a med bay just over here and I am a trained field medic.”

Danny tenses immediately and stumbled back a few steps. There’s a wild look in his eyes that reminds him of cornered animals, ready to lash out in fear. “No!” he yells, “No. No examinations, no nothing. Don’t touch me. Please.”

The possibility of human experimentation looks more and more likely. 

He raises his hands, trying to calm Danny down. He carefully doesn’t move any more than that. “Alright,” he says, “I will not touch you. But please let me know if you are injured from your fall.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine. I was having a nightmare and went intangible and just… sank through the floor until I got here.”

Alfred didn’t know that Danny could make himself intangible, but that’s not important right now. He files the information away for later, and makes a note to forbid anyone from questioning Danny without his permission or presence. “That’s good. I am glad you’re unharmed.”

The sincerity of his words much come through; Danny relaxes, just slightly, and the hunted look on his face fades. He glances around the cave again, eyes catching on the giant penny and the cases lining the wall, filled with various suits.

“I imagine you have questions.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Danny scoffs. “Like, I expected something shady since you’re working for a crime family, but this is on another level.”

A crime family? Alfred has to bite back a laugh; they are the opposite of a crime family. They’re a crime-fighting family, if anything. 

“Seriously, why would you need a giant penny? Some sort of intimidation tactic while you’re having meetings down here to keep underlings in line? And the dinosaur. That’s just excessive. Couldn’t you just have a torture room instead and call it a day?”

“Oh my God,” Spoiler laughs, her voice ringing out from the Batcomputer. Multiple comms unmute themselves then to frantically shush her, but the damage is done. “This is the best thing I’ve ever heard. Danny, you’re the best. I’m going to hold this over their heads forever.”

“Guess that means I can come in now,” Nightwing says. The distant rumble of an engine echoes through the cave as he enters the tunnel that leads off from the road. It’s barely a minute before Nightwing reaches the main cavern and smoothly comes to a stop, the engine cutting off.

Danny moves then, placing himself between Alfred and Nightwing. It’s unnecessary, but Alfred can’t help but by touched that despite Danny’s clear upset upon discovering the Batcave, he won’t let his emotions stop him from caring. 

“Hey,” Nightwing says and carefully peels off his mask. “I guess I should introduce myself again, huh? I’m Dick, and at night I go fight crime as Nightwing.”

“You fight crime?” Danny repeats, doubt coloring his tone.

“Yeah. All of us do. Gotham’s the most crime-ridden city in the world and most of the cops are corrupt, so someone has to protect people.”

“And that’s you.”

“And that’s me,” Dick confirms with a bright smile. “Well, me and everyone else.”

Danny stares at him for a few moments, then steps back, looking between him and Alfred. “So you’re all Gotham’s heroes?”

“Yep.”

“I thought you killed people.”

“Woah, what? We don’t kill people!”

Red Hood scoffs very loudly, the sound ringing out clearly from the Batcomputer’s speakers. Dick winces. “Alright, so we try not to kill people. Most of us, at least.”

“That’s not an answer that inspires a lot of confidence.”

All Dick could offer was a weak shrug, a look of what can you do? on his face. 

In return, Danny raised an eyebrow and stared him down, unimpressed. It didn’t take long for Dick to falter under that gaze and shrink into himself, fidgeting slightly. The sight is unexpected but Alfred can’t help but smile; Danny certainly picked that up quickly. 

Instilling a sense of shame into the members of the Wayne families is one of the most important skills required for this job, after all.

“I do believe this is a conversation better saved for the morning,” he cuts in smoothly, stepping out from behind Danny to reach Dick and fuss over him. “Any injuries?”

“Just a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing too serious tonight.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Master Richard.” He ushers Dick off towards the changing room, then busies himself with prepping the med bay for a check up. Without any serious injuries to tend to, the work is done fast. There’s only bandages, salves for bruises, and painkillers necessary for now, though he keeps the heavy medical kit nearby just in case anyone else has a more severe injury. 

Through it all, Danny watches with sharp eyes, keeping his distance but still drifting closer towards Alfred. At some point, his feet lift off the ground, leaving him to hover in midair, observing everything Alfred does. 

The sight of Danny floating makes him pause for a moment before he carries on as if nothing is out of place. 

It’s a relief to know that, despite having their night business found out so suddenly, Danny still trusts Alfred enough to use his powers around him rather than hide them away. Admittedly, the flying is unexpected.

Could he be another clone with Kryptonian DNA? 

His black hair and blue eyes could come from Clark, but the same could be said for Bruce and his children. It’s a surface level comparison anyway; the rest of his features are too different to come from Clark. He’s met Conner enough times to know that well enough. 

“I understand that you do not wish to have any part of this,” Alfred begins, tidying up his workspace needlessly, only to have Danny cut him off.

“You said you’re a trained medic, right?”

His eyes are strangely intense as his floats a little closer to Alfred. Then they drift to the side and look over all the medical supplies he’s prepared for Dick.

Alfred stops his fussing to turn his full attention to Danny; he has a feeling that this is an important moment. He only hopes he doesn’t mess it up.

“Yes. I was proficient in first aid before I came to work for the Waynes, and their nightly activities have only giving me more incentive to better my skills to help them.”

“Can you—” Danny hesitates for a moment, drawing into himself. It’s not quite insecurity as it is defensive. Alfred hopes he’ll be able to find the people who taught Danny to be so fearful, always expecting pain and violence, so he can give them a piece of his mind. “Can you teach me? It’s just—I’ve never learned, not really, and you can only trust the internet so much when it comes to medical stuff so what I know is mostly from trial and error when I tried to patch myself up.”

Alfred feels his blood run cold. He presses his hands flat against the metal cart carrying the medical supplies and fights to keep his composure. It takes a few breaths before he can speak without sounding murderous. 

“You have had to tend to yourself,” he says, not quite a question.

Danny hesitates, before he quietly answers, “Yes.”

“And there was no one who could help you.”

“There were… No. Not really. It’s not their fault though, they were kids too.”

More kids. More children who had to learn to patch themselves and each other up because no one else would help them. Because the people who should have helped them were the ones hurting them instead. 

He does hope they can find where Danny came from soon. He’s even willing to lend Jason one of his guns. 

The lack of a response has Danny wringing his hands, beginning to babble to fill the silence. “None of it was ever too bad!” he reassures, “And I heal fast so it’s fine. But sometimes I had to stitch myself up and that was never fun, and it’s hard to set dislocated joints by yourself, and I didn’t have a lot of supplies to work with.”

“Danny,” Alfred says, cutting him off firmly. He holds onto his composure by a single thread. “I would be happy to teach you. I do not expect you to add medical assistance to your duties, however. We have a doctor who can help us for more severe injuries and I am more than capable of handling everything else myself.”

“...Okay,” Danny nods after a long pause. “Okay. Thank you.”

The conversation is over for now. Alfred doesn’t want to distress Danny any further after such a hectic night; any questions he has can wait until later. 

Dick, who has more than likely eavesdropped for the entire conversation, finally emerges from the changing room. He’s much more relaxed outside of Nightwing’s suit, wearing an old college t-shirt he stole from Bruce when he was a teenager and a pair of sweatpants. He also doesn’t react at all to seeing Danny slightly curled up in the air, knees drawn toward his chest, five feet off the ground.

“I promise I’m totally fine, Alfred,” he says, “We can skip the check up tonight!”

“Absolutely not, Master Richard. Sit down.”

Sighing, Dick does as he’s told, giving Danny a small smile as he does. It doesn’t falter even as Danny drifts back from him, staying out of grabbing distance. 

The check up goes quickly. For once, Dick isn’t lying about not being hurt. He doesn’t need any bandages or painkillers, just a little salve on his left shoulder and his right hip. As soon as Alfred leans back and begins to clean up, Dick hops off the bed and says, “See? I’m right as rain. Why don’t you take a break, Alfred? I can run comms until everyone turns in for the night.”

“No need,” Alfred reassures, “You go and get some rest. You as well, Danny. We’ll be up bright and early tomorrow.”

Danny casts his gaze around the Batcave once more, then looks over Alfred, assessing him for something. There’s an unreadable expression on his face that makes concern rise up in him, but Alfred doesn’t get a chance to ask what’s wrong before Danny nods and flies up through the ceiling of the Batcave.

He’s seen a lot over the course of his life, but seeing a teenager silently pass through solid stone is up there with some of the more startling things he’s witnessed.

“Man,” Dick says after beat, “What a night, huh?”

Immediately, the comms explode with noise as everyone rushes to speak, talking over each other. 

Alfred lets them, taking the time to put his own thoughts in order. They all settle down soon enough, though it takes Batman pointedly clearing his throat a few times. 

Dick grabs a spare seat and pulls it over to the Batcomputer, sitting in it halfway there to roll the rest of the way to where Alfred sits back into the main chair. He looks over the map as Dick spins in his chair next to him, making note of where everyone is and any new crimes that may have popped up.

Nothing new catches his attention, nothing that isn’t immediately taken care of by the vigilantes still out. 

“Agent A,” Batman says, “How is Danny.”

Alfred sighs. “Shocked, but he took it much better than I was expecting. He appeared to be more tired and stressed than outright fearful. I do believe our identities will be safe with him.”

“Who would he even tell?” Robin mutters.

“Everything he says has me so concerned,” Red Robin adds. 

Dick shoots out a hand to grab onto the desk, stopping his lazy spin. “Guys,” he says, very seriously, “Danny can fly.”

“Superman clone?” Red Robin asks. “If no cloning was one of his conditions for employment…”

“Actually. He can go intangible. And remember how he was super excited to hear about Martian Manhunter?” There’s a grin stretching across Dick’s face, one that promises only trouble.

Alfred knows what he’s angling towards, what new idea he has about Danny’ background. Worst of all, Alfred can’t deny that it makes sense to some degree. It takes the rest of the family another second to connect the dots and reach the conclusion Dick wants them to see.

“No way,” Spoiler gasps, “You think he’s a clone of Martian Manhunter?!”

“Or!” Dick says, “He was made with Martian DNA and human DNA and was kept from the outside world so he couldn’t find anyone who could help him.”

“We’ll consider it as a possibility,” Batman says, which is as good as confirming that Dick is on the right path.

As much as any of them can be, considering how little they truly know about Danny.

“I suggest you all return to the Batcave,” Alfred says, “It’s time for a family meeting.”

Red Hood whistles lowly, his way of saying oh shit without actually saying it. “Good luck to all of you,” he says solemnly.

“That includes you, Red Hood.”

Spoiler snickers as Red Hood sighs. “Right. Of course. See you soon, A.”

Dick pushes away from the desk slightly. “We having the meeting down here?”

“I believe that would be best. I shall go get everyone’s post-patrol snacks while we wait.”

“I’ll help!” Dick stands and kicks the chair away. He walks away before Alfred can insist on doing it himself and can only fondly shake his head as he follows Dick up to the manor. He had thought he had convinced them to let him handle most of his duties on his own over the past few years. Apparently Danny’s insistence on helping has sparked that fire again.

The need to investigate Danny to better protect him has also brought the family together; it’s rare to get Jason to return to the manor more than once every three months. 

Truly, Danny is a gift to them all and Alfred fully intends to protect him as thoroughly as possible.

Having Batman in his corner is a good start. But Alfred’s got firearms and doesn’t keep to a no killing code. 

No one’s hurting another hair on Danny’s head. Not if he’s got anything to say about it.

[emo-emu64]

Sweets

Gabriel (Supernatural) x Reader request for @mo0nchan

Your eyes slowly open, adjusting to the dark room. As you blink away the heavy grasp of sleep, you scan your surroundings. A habit picked up after years of facing the disoriented confusion that comes along with being kidnapped on a hunt.

After thorough investigation you come to the conclusion that you are safe, in your room, in the bunker. You had been injured on a hunt, Sam had properly patched you up. You had been left here to rest while they finished up.

You weren't at all fond of Sam's suggestion to miss out of the rest of the hunt, but with Cas and Gabe both gone on an extensive and dangerous hunt, the only thing yo u could do to help the nearly 6 inch open wound, was rest.

As you leave your grogginess behind, you realize just how difficult it is to swallow, your mouth gone dry from t he nearly eleven hours you had been unconscious.

Before you can open the door to make your way to the kitchen, you pause. There are muffled voices coming from your previous destination. You recognize them almost immediately as two of the demons that you had just a day ago been fighting for your life against.

You can picture their faces, and you shudder at the realization that one of them is the reason you are here in the first place. Responsible for the painful gash running across your abdomen.

However, you still can't help but smirk at his next words.

"Can't wait to show that little bitch what she's in for, after the shit she pulled with that fancy fucking knife of her's."

Demons don't normally travel in large groups, which is what made this underground network of demons so fascinating. It was a black market of sorts, gathering large groups of crossroad demons into one places to act as vendors. Rather than pay copious amounts of cash, patrons traded in their souls for illegal goods and favors.

You needed a place to start, and that place just so happened to be a demon by the name of Isaiah. Despite his high-ranking in the scheme he had slipped up one too many times, allowing you to find and capture him, using your angel blades to force whatever information out of him you could.

Now you grasp that very same blade as you make your way to the kitchen.

You stand over their bloodied and lifeless bodies, gasping for breath as you hold an arm loosely over the freshly opened and once again bleeding wound.

"Honey, we're home!" The cheerful voice you know oh so well booms throughout the bunker in a sing-song voice. You make your way through the bunker hoping to find one of the angels.

You do, Castiel unpacks a small duffle-bag, looking up when he senses you pesence,

"Hi."

"You are bleeding."

'Thank you, Captain Obvious, I hadn't realized.'

Your plan to have Cas heal you before Gabriel realizes is thrown out the window as the man of the hour enters the room.

"Cas, I really hope you're not startin' up that whole talking to yourself thing again. It was hella freaky," Gabriel looks up, and is unable to finish his statement.

"Is that blood?"

You look down, "No?"

"Sweets, that is not the type of question that should be answered with another question."

"Only like, half of its mine, if that makes you feel any better."

He squeezes his eyes shut a moment and sighs, before moving towards you. In a flutter of wings you are back in your room. Gabriel worked fast, grabbing a towel to set on the bed before gently pushing you to sit.

His large hand cups your face and you are immediately filled with electrifying feeling that comes with archangel grace. Your eyes close as he heals your wounds.

"Mind telling me what the hell happened here?"

Your eyes slowly open, "Only if I get to wash this blood off first."

He sighs, placing a kiss to your forehead, "Alright, I'll start the shower."

[cysomen]

i didn't do a post-posting talk about the bh/outlaw fic last week so i figure i'll just do it now! (this is VERY long i apologize in advance)

worldbuilding how the two opposing systems would work exactly was really fun, because I had to figure out how I would eventually work in other characters like Reyna and Omen; the difficulty was that I'm really terrible at making OCs, and with out-of-canon oneshots i try to keep the amount of characters i'm writing relatively low because it tends to get kind of confusing otherwise. I wanted it to be modern enough that I wouldn't have to do a ton of exposition explaining how organized crime has altered the most recent history, which was difficult because bounty hunters aren't exactly a modern thing and establishing how people have essentially a license to kill others is a challenge.

So: the outlaw network, which functions as a sect of the "dark web", links together different outlaws digitally, and allows for communication, exchange of money, hiring services, ect. The creation and upkeep of it essentially allowed outlaws to become much more prevalent, because it's so secure to people who aren't also outlaws. That's partially why Cypher is an upper-ranked outlaw (along with some other details that'll become clear in the second fic). In contrast, bounty hunter's contract system is much more government-run (and less secure), and varies from country to country even with some degree of cooperation between them. Hunters have the option to use an alias while turning in outlaws, alive or dead, where the bounty is wired to them automatically. Or they can use a specific calling card so local authorities can attribute the kill to them.

Originally, the "organized crime" idea ran much deeper; the concept was that a much smaller network of outlaws functioned as almost a crime syndicate. Someone who needed a job done would contact scouts like Skye or Fade. It would then go through Cypher or Killjoy to verify other details/legitimacy, and get whatever information was needed to complete it properly. Then, depending on the nature of the job, hitmen/assassins like Reyna or Iso would be assigned, or burglars Raze and Breach, or maybe if it involved illegal manufacturing Viper or Sage would manage the job. Transactions and security would be managed by Chamber. Basically, it was much more complex, and required a lot more explanation that I really wasn't altogether convinced I could do for a relatively short oneshot. The current idea of them working together in the "upper ranks" of outlaws just made more sense in terms of scale.

In general I like to write AUs because it gives me a chance to understand the characters outside of their specific settings; removing the pressure of things like the protocol or other agents adds new things to consider.

Sova's blind eye was especially interesting to me, being one of the first details I worked out about his character. I thought that him turning to outlaw hunting in order to make a living was realistic after losing the ability to shoot a bow/rifle, because he'd view it as a way to better hone his other skills. Despite his anonymity in using only a calling card in his kills and not going public, it also adds something specific to make him distinct from other hunters. And that he was able to continue making a living as a hunter with such a large blind spot and bad depth perception gives another layer to his skill.

Using Sova's hometown as the setting for this fic was a choice that I went back and forth on. It adds a little humor in the fact that both of them were there at the same time, and the city being familiar to Sova is relevant to him being able to catch up with Cypher more easily. Character wise, Sova's way more likely to go after an outlaw while on leave specifically here because he takes it as a matter of pride. He's the hunter that's managed to kill in the upper ranks without falling, he's not just going to let one run around in his hometown and possibly harm people in the process. At the time I wasn't sure how in-depth I wanted to go about the setting, and I don't know a lot about Russian military cities.

Cypher characterization was especially challenging to try and write out, because his playful demeanor to build a front so Sova believes he's less dangerous than he actually is wasn't entirely easy to get right (and I'm still unsure if I did that correctly). Writing him slowly picking apart Sova's defenses with that unseriousness was actually pretty fun. I've never written something quite so one-night-stand-ish. His backstory is something I'll probably bring up again in the second fic. He doesn't wear a mask in this fic because he has no real second identity to protect, in contrast to his canon character. BH/O Cypher really has nothing outside of being an outlaw.

Time for ultra-specific details!

Sova's using linseed/flax seed oil specifically because it's used in finishing wood, and he built his own bows for hunting when he was younger (forgive me for possible inaccuracies there, im working with a relatively small amount of options). At one point I debated using unfrozen animal tallow. (I think that sort of insanity is better suited for a different fic, though)

That entire bit of Cypher and Sova arguing over the milk allergy thing was the result of me and my beta reader just giving Cypher an allergy on a whim (Originally it was strawberries, but we found a research paper that said milk is the most common allergy in Morocco and bam! Milk allergy).

Sova's calling card was created because I needed an excuse for him to use a softer rope than a regular outdoor rope. The whole "calling card" idea and his backstory idea were secondary to that fact.

The quilts Sova uses were made by his grandmother.

Sova hadn't used the cabin much while he was in the service, but the pile of ash in the hearth is something that directly contrasts his whole "perfectionist" image; it's remained there because he used the cabin to recover after the incident where his eye was removed.

The knives Cypher fails to use instead of coins are new, so he's unused to the placement of them inside his coat. In addition to that, he doesn't have enough of a physical advantage over Sova to be confident using them without having a backup plan if Sova overpowers him.

you may read all of this and ask "chicken, why would you put so much effort into what was essentially an excuse for cypher and sova to use rope bondage" and to that i will say: nothing. i dont have much of an answer.