#phone tracker by number

[numbertrackerpro]

Phone Tracker by Number App to Locate Your Loved Ones

Mobile number tracker app is designed to swiftly and accurately determine the location of your loved ones via their mobile numbers, this app is designed for efficiency. Facilitating GPS location tracking within a secure, private network, it allows easy integration of an unlimited number of friends and family for tracking capabilities. The phone tracker by number application stands as a reliable and precise GPS tracking solution, allowing you to effortlessly locate your devices, as well as your family and friends.

[caripr94]

This, I'm sure, is why speed-dial was invented. 😂

[trackimeiindia]

In the contemporary virtual age, cellular telephones have grown to be a necessary part of human lives. They maintain a treasure trove of personal data and are often a lifeline for communication. However, the equal features that make mobile phones invaluable also make use of its IMEI also known as International Mobile Equipment Identity, and variety will become critical. Let’s delve into how this tracking works and explore its implications.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How I got scammed

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I wuz robbed.

More specifically, I was tricked by a phone-phisher pretending to be from my bank, and he convinced me to hand over my credit-card number, then did $8,000+ worth of fraud with it before I figured out what happened. And then he tried to do it again, a week later!

Here's what happened. Over the Christmas holiday, I traveled to New Orleans. The day we landed, I hit a Chase ATM in the French Quarter for some cash, but the machine declined the transaction. Later in the day, we passed a little credit-union's ATM and I used that one instead (I bank with a one-branch credit union and generally there's no fee to use another CU's ATM).

A couple days later, I got a call from my credit union. It was a weekend, during the holiday, and the guy who called was obviously working for my little CU's after-hours fraud contractor. I'd dealt with these folks before – they service a ton of little credit unions, and generally the call quality isn't great and the staff will often make mistakes like mispronouncing my credit union's name.

That's what happened here – the guy was on a terrible VOIP line and I had to ask him to readjust his mic before I could even understand him. He mispronounced my bank's name and then asked if I'd attempted to spend $1,000 at an Apple Store in NYC that day. No, I said, and groaned inwardly. What a pain in the ass. Obviously, I'd had my ATM card skimmed – either at the Chase ATM (maybe that was why the transaction failed), or at the other credit union's ATM (it had been a very cheap looking system).

I told the guy to block my card and we started going through the tedious business of running through recent transactions, verifying my identity, and so on. It dragged on and on. These were my last hours in New Orleans, and I'd left my family at home and gone out to see some of the pre-Mardi Gras krewe celebrations and get a muffalata, and I could tell that I was going to run out of time before I finished talking to this guy.

"Look," I said, "you've got all my details, you've frozen the card. I gotta go home and meet my family and head to the airport. I'll call you back on the after-hours number once I'm through security, all right?"

He was frustrated, but that was his problem. I hung up, got my sandwich, went to the airport, and we checked in. It was total chaos: an Alaska Air 737 Max had just lost its door-plug in mid-air and every Max in every airline's fleet had been grounded, so the check in was crammed with people trying to rebook. We got through to the gate and I sat down to call the CU's after-hours line. The person on the other end told me that she could only handle lost and stolen cards, not fraud, and given that I'd already frozen the card, I should just drop by the branch on Monday to get a new card.

We flew home, and later the next day, I logged into my account and made a list of all the fraudulent transactions and printed them out, and on Monday morning, I drove to the bank to deal with all the paperwork. The folks at the CU were even more pissed than I was. The fraud that run up to more than $8,000, and if Visa refused to take it out of the merchants where the card had been used, my little credit union would have to eat the loss.

I agreed and commiserated. I also pointed out that their outsource, after-hours fraud center bore some blame here: I'd canceled the card on Saturday but most of the fraud had taken place on Sunday. Something had gone wrong.

One cool thing about banking at a tiny credit-union is that you end up talking to people who have actual authority, responsibility and agency. It turned out the the woman who was processing my fraud paperwork was a VP, and she decided to look into it. A few minutes later she came back and told me that the fraud center had no record of having called me on Saturday.

"That was the fraudster," she said.

Oh, shit. I frantically rewound my conversation, trying to figure out if this could possibly be true. I hadn't given him anything apart from some very anodyne info, like what city I live in (which is in my Wikipedia entry), my date of birth (ditto), and the last four digits of my card.

Wait a sec.

He hadn't asked for the last four digits. He'd asked for the last seven digits. At the time, I'd found that very frustrating, but now – "The first nine digits are the same for every card you issue, right?" I asked the VP.

I'd given him my entire card number.

Goddammit.

The thing is, I know a lot about fraud. I'm writing an entire series of novels about this kind of scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

And most summers, I go to Defcon, and I always go to the "social engineering" competitions where an audience listens as a hacker in a soundproof booth cold-calls merchants (with the owner's permission) and tries to con whoever answers the phone into giving up important information.

But I'd been conned.

Now look, I knew I could be conned. I'd been conned before, 13 years ago, by a Twitter worm that successfully phished out of my password via DM:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That scam had required a miracle of timing. It started the day before, when I'd reset my phone to factory defaults and reinstalled all my apps. That same day, I'd published two big online features that a lot of people were talking about. The next morning, we were late getting out of the house, so by the time my wife and I dropped the kid at daycare and went to the coffee shop, it had a long line. Rather than wait in line with me, my wife sat down to read a newspaper, and so I pulled out my phone and found a Twitter DM from a friend asking "is this you?" with a URL.

Assuming this was something to do with those articles I'd published the day before, I clicked the link and got prompted for my Twitter login again. This had been happening all day because I'd done that mobile reinstall the day before and all my stored passwords had been wiped. I entered it but the page timed out. By that time, the coffees were ready. We sat and chatted for a bit, then went our own ways.

I was on my way to the office when I checked my phone again. I had a whole string of DMs from other friends. Each one read "is this you?" and had a URL.

Oh, shit, I'd been phished.

If I hadn't reinstalled my mobile OS the day before. If I hadn't published a pair of big articles the day before. If we hadn't been late getting out the door. If we had been a little more late getting out the door (so that I'd have seen the multiple DMs, which would have tipped me off).

There's a name for this in security circles: "Swiss-cheese security." Imagine multiple slices of Swiss cheese all stacked up, the holes in one slice blocked by the slice below it. All the slices move around and every now and again, a hole opens up that goes all the way through the stack. Zap!

The fraudster who tricked me out of my credit card number had Swiss cheese security on his side. Yes, he spoofed my bank's caller ID, but that wouldn't have been enough to fool me if I hadn't been on vacation, having just used a pair of dodgy ATMs, in a hurry and distracted. If the 737 Max disaster hadn't happened that day and I'd had more time at the gate, I'd have called my bank back. If my bank didn't use a slightly crappy outsource/out-of-hours fraud center that I'd already had sub-par experiences with. If, if, if.

The next Friday night, at 5:30PM, the fraudster called me back, pretending to be the bank's after-hours center. He told me my card had been compromised again. But: I hadn't removed my card from my wallet since I'd had it replaced. Also, it was half an hour after the bank closed for the long weekend, a very fraud-friendly time. And when I told him I'd call him back and asked for the after-hours fraud number, he got very threatening and warned me that because I'd now been notified about the fraud that any losses the bank suffered after I hung up the phone without completing the fraud protocol would be billed to me. I hung up on him. He called me back immediately. I hung up on him again and put my phone into do-not-disturb.

The following Tuesday, I called my bank and spoke to their head of risk-management. I went through everything I'd figured out about the fraudsters, and she told me that credit unions across America were being hit by this scam, by fraudsters who somehow knew CU customers' phone numbers and names, and which CU they banked at. This was key: my phone number is a reasonably well-kept secret. You can get it by spending money with Equifax or another nonconsensual doxing giant, but you can't just google it or get it at any of the free services. The fact that the fraudsters knew where I banked, knew my name, and had my phone number had really caused me to let down my guard.

The risk management person and I talked about how the credit union could mitigate this attack: for example, by better-training the after-hours card-loss staff to be on the alert for calls from people who had been contacted about supposed card fraud. We also went through the confusing phone-menu that had funneled me to the wrong department when I called in, and worked through alternate wording for the menu system that would be clearer (this is the best part about banking with a small CU – you can talk directly to the responsible person and have a productive discussion!). I even convinced her to buy a ticket to next summer's Defcon to attend the social engineering competitions.

There's a leak somewhere in the CU systems' supply chain. Maybe it's Zelle, or the small number of corresponding banks that CUs rely on for SWIFT transaction forwarding. Maybe it's even those after-hours fraud/card-loss centers. But all across the USA, CU customers are getting calls with spoofed caller IDs from fraudsters who know their registered phone numbers and where they bank.

I've been mulling this over for most of a month now, and one thing has really been eating at me: the way that AI is going to make this kind of problem much worse.

Not because AI is going to commit fraud, though.

One of the truest things I know about AI is: "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

I trusted this fraudster specifically because I knew that the outsource, out-of-hours contractors my bank uses have crummy headsets, don't know how to pronounce my bank's name, and have long-ass, tedious, and pointless standardized questionnaires they run through when taking fraud reports. All of this created cover for the fraudster, whose plausibility was enhanced by the rough edges in his pitch - they didn't raise red flags.

As this kind of fraud reporting and fraud contacting is increasingly outsourced to AI, bank customers will be conditioned to dealing with semi-automated systems that make stupid mistakes, force you to repeat yourself, ask you questions they should already know the answers to, and so on. In other words, AI will groom bank customers to be phishing victims.

This is a mistake the finance sector keeps making. 15 years ago, Ben Laurie excoriated the UK banks for their "Verified By Visa" system, which validated credit card transactions by taking users to a third party site and requiring them to re-enter parts of their password there:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090331094020/http://www.links.org/?p=591

This is exactly how a phishing attack works. As Laurie pointed out, this was the banks training their customers to be phished.

I came close to getting phished again today, as it happens. I got back from Berlin on Friday and my suitcase was damaged in transit. I've been dealing with the airline, which means I've really been dealing with their third-party, outsource luggage-damage service. They have a terrible website, their emails are incoherent, and they officiously demand the same information over and over again.

This morning, I got a scam email asking me for more information to complete my damaged luggage claim. It was a terrible email, from a noreply@ email address, and it was vague, officious, and dishearteningly bureaucratic. For just a moment, my finger hovered over the phishing link, and then I looked a little closer.

On any other day, it wouldn't have had a chance. Today – right after I had my luggage wrecked, while I'm still jetlagged, and after days of dealing with my airline's terrible outsource partner – it almost worked.

So much fraud is a Swiss-cheese attack, and while companies can't close all the holes, they can stop creating new ones.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to post about it whenever I get scammed. I find the inner workings of scams to be fascinating, and it's also important to remind people that everyone is vulnerable sometimes, and scammers are willing to try endless variations until an attack lands at just the right place, at just the right time, in just the right way. If you think you can't get scammed, that makes you especially vulnerable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[tonycries]

A ranking of JJK men from best to worst during your period (absolutely no one asked for this):

Nanami - Are you kidding me? In what world would this perfect husband NOT be number one?? Doesn't even need that lil' app on his phone to track your periods, bro remembers. He has it mapped out in his brain AND on his calendar. You don't even have to tell him when it starts, he'll be home with chocolates, your fav movies, and enough heating pads to last a lifetime going, "Hi, my love, I hope m'not too early but I got you these." He's never too early. Never.

Geto - Bro has been through the whole process twice already with his daughters. He KNOWS exactly what's going down when you get just a lil' too sensitive, when your cravings become just a tad sweeter. Would lay you down and give you the most soothing massages whispering about how it'll "all be over soon" and "his girl can tough it out." 10/10 is so patient, even has a period tracker on his phone.

Choso - Y'know he's a lil' confused but he's got the spirit. Curses don't have periods so trust he'll be MAD confused wondering whether you've somehow developed the same jujutsu technique as him. When you teach him though, he's gonna be the sweetest babygirl. Let's you cuddle and use him all you want, throw him around to your hearts content until you have the perfect pillow!! Only minus points would be for that little intrusive thought in his brain that just wants to.....experiment......with his technique....

Gojo - Now, you'd be confused about who has the period - you or HIM? Which, honestly if distraction is your go-to then it works out pretty well. Every cramp you get, Gojo just hates to see his pretty baby in pain, so he'd be crying out. He'd be right there moaning and groaning along with you until you're crying tears of laughter because what the fuck?? Extra points because he's a sweet connoisseur and knows ALL the best places to get you everything you want. Trust, bro doesn't skimp out either he'd be diving IN to that Gojo Estate old money just to get you more than everything you need. Much more.

Toji - Now, hear me out it's not that man doesn't know what to do. It's just that he doesn't want to. Not to bully his cute girl, but does he really have to get out of bed and walk the treacherous block down to the convenience store to get you extra pads? Really? He'd much rather stay in bed cuddling you and kissing every inch of your face he could reach - seriously, his old bones are creaking at the very thought of moving. But, eventually, when you do bribe him with a dollar convince him to go, he'd be pampering you and more with your own money.

Sukuna - Bro definitely tells you to "just suck it back in wtf." -3878473 aura for him, but at least Uraume is on your side and gives him a good whack to the head. When he realizes a bit tho would be a bit softer than usual, at least he'll stop calling you his usual names after your sensitive self tears up at them. Mhm, definitely take him to try out a cramp simulator, though he deserves it.

[mobistealth]

Cell Phone Tracker Software | Mobistealth

Finding Cell Phone Tracker Software? Mobistealth is the ultimate Cell Phone Tracker platform because it monitors location even when traditional GPS-based applications fail. In addition, Mobistealth provides additional cell phone surveillance tools to help you track and record all activities on mobile devices of kids and employees that you own. Once installed, our comprehensive cell phone tracking software will begin recording all activities and shall send the data to your Mobistealth user account, including both real-time and historical cell phone tracking data.

Visit us: https://www.mobistealth.com/cell-phone-tracker

[riapps]

Phone Tracker - GPS Tracker

Phone tracker is a real-time GPS location tracking app that ensures you can safely monitor the whereabouts of your loved ones.

Phone tracker was designed to primarily for find location by phone number, the gps tracker app aims to capture the real-time location of users. It then logs this data, providing an insightful map of the user's movements. The heart of this app, Locato, functions through mobile devices—be it phones or tablets. By utilizing advanced geolocation technologies, including GPS, Wi-Fi, and cellular signals, Locato promises pinpoint location accuracy.

One of Gps Tracker's salient features includes its ability to showcase daily or weekly movement on a map. This visualization not only gives a sense of the user's current location but also chronicles when they visited specific places.

Location Tracker proves its versatility by catering to a range of tracking needs. Parents can maintain a vigilant eye on their children's movements, ensuring their safety. Businesses, too, can benefit by keeping track of their employees' locations. Additionally, for those curious souls, they can personally track their own movements throughout the day. Families can get alerts when their children depart or arrive home, and companies gain insights into their employees' field activities. Such a feature set ensures peace of mind for families and operational efficiency for businesses.

In essence, Location Tracker aims to enhance familial safety. Its core utility is in monitoring loved ones, ensuring their well-being, and offering security.

Gps Tracker doesn’t just stop there. Once you input phone numbers, you can immediately get a glimpse into the lives of family and friends. Track daily commutes, learn about school attendance patterns, or even the work schedules of your acquaintances. With this tool, you gain the peace of mind knowing your loved ones are secure.

Key Features:

📍 Real-time Location Tracking: Get immediate updates. 🗒 Location History: View past movements and patterns. - Duration Logs: Understand how much time is spent at particular locations. - Battery Status: Receive immediate updates on your contacts' battery levels. - Sound Profile Checks: Understand if a contact’s phone is on silent, especially when they’re unreachable. - Battery Efficiency: Continuous GPS usage in the background may impact battery longevity. - Remember, with great power comes great responsibility. Use phone tracker wisely and respect individual privacy.

With gps tracker, you're never left in the dark about your family's whereabouts. Our mission with phone tracker is to offer you peace of mind, ensuring that you always know the real-time location of your loved ones. Every feature of phone tracker is meticulously designed to give you the most accurate and timely information. Whether you're tracking a child's journey home from school or checking in on an older family member, phone tracker is your reliable partner. What sets phone tracker apart is its precision and user-friendly interface, making location tracking easier than ever. So, when it comes to keeping your family safe and staying informed, choose phone tracker the most trusted name in mobile location tracking.

[hypokeimena]

i love long distance / online friendship specifically. very much. like there are... patterns and ways that distance creates bubbles of understanding and knowledge and intimacy... wanna be able to tell when you're on your way to work because you backread on your commute and i see you in my notifs. 2 of my friends put their feet in the opposite sides of the atlantic ocean on a phone call once. love getting people's flight numbers so i can see on the tracker that they're delayed on tarmac and text them to cheer em up. love a shared playlist love a spotify jam love streaming. getting a goodnight message while you're making lunch and knowing how time is passing for someone halfway around the world... love making dinner and getting ":V :V :V" reactions in the chat and having to figure out what dinner emoji to reply with. when you get to hear all the little things... you know? sometimes you are actually closer to someone when you are riding around in their pocket all day.

[jennytwosheds]

[numbertrackerpro]

Know the Unknown: Track a Cell Phone Location by Number Tracker Pro

Have you imagined the importance of tracking a phone number location for your safety and security? Thanks to modern technology, it brings a real time tracking scenario which is helpful for the users. There are many reasons for theft, loss, or monitoring of someone with a phone.

Tracking a cell phone location refers to determining the presence of a mobile phone location that is associated with the number.

Following are the methods that someone can track the location with phone number:

GPS Tracking: When users consent to share their GPS location with various apps, websites, and companies, these entities gain the ability to pinpoint the user's exact whereabouts at all times.

IP Address Tracking: The practice of IP address tracking primarily revolves around locating devices connected to the internet. By scrutinizing the IP address assigned to a device, one can deduce its approximate geographic location.

Cell Tower Triangulation: Mobile devices maintain connectivity to the cellular network through ongoing communication with nearby cell towers. Cell tower triangulation involves analyzing the strength and timing of these communications from multiple nearby towers to estimate the device's location. Consequently, cellular companies and individuals with access to their data can readily triangulate the location of a user's phone.

Can You Find Owner's Name and Address From the Phone Number?

Yes, You can find mobile number details with owner name and address by using the mobile number tracker. Utilize the Reverse Phone Number Lookup feature, which scours multiple databases to furnish precise details about your target individual.

Just input the phone number you wish to validate, hit the Start Search button, and let it handle the rest. A mobile number tracker provides the current location of any phone number worldwide.

How to see who someone is texting?

Have you received text messages from an unknown number, one question that comes to mind is: Who is this number texting me? It is possible to track text messages on your mobile device more conveniently. You can use many apps to track text messages remotely. Number Tracker Pro is the best app to track a cell phone location by number. This tracker app uses GPS tracking so that you can track the exact location. 

There are numerous phone tracker by number solutions. Phone Tracker By Number is undeniably a valuable tool. Wondering about the installation process? Initiating the process is straightforward: simply download and install the app on your device to get started.

How does the number tracker pro work on your mobile phone?

Many people spend time in various apps to know the exact location of their loved ones. Every mobile phone possesses a distinct identification number.

Smartphones can determine their location using cell tower signals. By installing a mobile number tracker pro app, users can easily identify whole information about someone including their name, phone number, address, education, relationship status, and also job profile. 

Number Tracker Pro offers a comprehensive solution for individuals concerned about their loved ones' safety or tracking their business assets.

Final Thoughts

No matter which free phone tracker number you opt for among our selections, you'll receive swift and precise results. Our top pick, Number Tracker Pro, stands out for its exceptional feature set and user-friendly interface. With Number Tracker Pro, you can send a geolocation link to the phone you wish to track. Once the recipient opens the link, their phone will transmit information regarding its current location. If you need to locate someone quickly, give it a try! 

Read our full blog on source link below:

[hoshifighting]

Really enjoyed the screaming back reaction. Could you do one where reader actually leaves the house after an argument.

seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. the second you grab your coat and storm out, he’s right on your heels. “where do you think you’re going?” he asks, grabbing your wrist gently before you can reach the end of the driveway. “we’re not doing this, not like this. let’s talk, okay? i’m not letting you walk out.” he’s frustrated, as if the mere thought of you leaving makes his chest tighten, he wants to give you space, but the thought of you out there, alone and upset because of him, eats at him.

jeonghan watches the door close behind you, an incredulous smile tugging at his lips. “seriously?” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. he thinks you’re just blowing off steam, that you’ll be back in no time. but as the minutes tick by, then hours, his confidence wavers. the sky outside darkens, and with it, his composure. he finally picks up his phone, dialing your number with shaking hands, his voice frantic when you answer. “where are you? are you okay? please… just come home.”

joshua moves faster than you expect, cutting you off before you can make it out the door. “you’re not driving like this,” he says calmly, but there’s an edge to his voice. he takes the keys from your hand, his expression softening as he sees the anger and hurt in your eyes. “i’m not letting you go out there when we’re both like this. let’s just… let’s talk, okay? please?” his voice is gentle, coaxing, but firm, making it clear that he’s not letting you leave.

junhui feels his heart drop the moment you walk out, tears welling up in his eyes almost instantly. he tries to hold them back, but by the time the door closes, he’s already crying. hours pass, and he doesn’t move from the spot, tears still falling freely. when you finally come back, you find him sitting on the floor, eyes red and puffy, still crying. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, barely able to get the words out through the sobs. “please don’t leave me like that again.”

hoshi is livid. the moment you leave, he starts typing out a series of furious texts, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “so, you’re just going to run away?” but before he hits send, he pauses, the reality of what he’s doing sinking in. with a frustrated sigh, he deletes the messages, knowing he’s being childish. “damn it,” he mutters, feeling guilty for letting his emotions get the better of him. he paces the room, running a hand through his hair, not sure what to do next.

wonwoo stands frozen as you walk out, the sound of the door closing echoing in his ears. he doesn’t chase after you, doesn’t say anything, just stares at the door, his mind reeling. it’s only when the silence becomes unbearable that he snaps out of it, panic setting in. he grabs his keys, heart pounding in his chest. without even thinking, he pulls up the tracker he’d secretly put on your car for safety, his guilt mounting as he realizes he’s going to use it to find you now. “please be okay,” he whispers to himself, racing out the door.

woozi sits back at his desk, but the music project in front of him might as well be a blank sheet. his mind is elsewhere, replaying every word of the argument, each one more painful than the last. he’s never been good with emotions, and now, with you gone, he feels like he’s drowning in them. after what feels like an eternity, he can’t take it anymore. he picks up his phone, calling you over and over until you finally pick up. when you do, you can hear the tremor in his voice, the barely-contained sob he’s fighting. “please… come back,” he says quietly, the desperation clear.

minghao follows you to the door, standing there with his arms crossed, a scoff escaping his lips as he watches you go. “so, this is how you deal with things? running away?” he calls after you, frustration evident in his tone. he stands there for a moment, waiting for you to turn around, to say something, anything. but when you don’t, when you step into the elevator without even a glance back, his heart sinks. the door closes, and he’s left standing in the hallway.

mingyu can’t let you leave. as you make a beeline for the door, he moves faster, blocking your path with his broad frame. “you’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice shaky. you try to push past him, your frustration boiling over, but he holds his ground, his eyes pleading. “please, don’t go,” he whispers, and when you hit his chest in frustration, the tears finally spill over. you collapse against him, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as you both break down.

seokmin is a mess from the moment you walk out. he grabs his phone, typing out a series of long, heartfelt texts, pouring out everything he didn’t get to say in the heat of the argument. each message is more desperate than the last, filled with apologies and reassurances, but he knows none of them will reach you right now. with a frustrated sigh, he throws his phone onto the couch, his hands shaking.

seungkwan paces the room, his mind racing. he hates fighting with you, hates the way it makes him feel, the way it makes everything feel wrong. he’s torn between running after you and giving you space, his heart pulling him in both directions at once. he runs a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, “what do i do?” the thought of you being upset, especially because of him, makes him feel sick. finally, he collapses onto the couch, staring at the door, waiting, hoping you’ll come back soon.

vernon is left standing in the middle of the room, the silence after the argument ringing in his ears. he looks up at the ceiling, trying to process everything that just happened, but all he can think about is the way you left without looking back. the apartment feels different now, emptier, and the echoes of your argument replay in his mind, each word cutting deeper than the last. he sits down on the couch, burying his face in his hands, wishing he could take back everything he said.

chan feels his anger drain away the second you walk out, leaving him feeling empty, he knows he should chase after you, but his feet feel like they’re stuck to the floor. he slumps onto the couch, pulling a blanket over himself as if that could somehow make the ache in his chest go away. eventually, he drifts off into an uneasy sleep, the uncomfortable position on the couch mirroring the discomfort in his gut. when you finally come back, the sight of him curled up, asleep, and clearly still upset, makes your heart ache.

[trackimeiindia]

In a generation ruled by generation, our smartphones have ended up a critical part of our lives. These devices save a wealth of private statistics, making them attractive goals for theft or loss. To deal with this issue, the International Mobile Equipment Identity (IMEI) smartphone tracker has emerged as an essential tool for shielding our gadgets and the sensitive statistics they include.

[adragonprinceswhore]

Make You Feel My Love

Aemond Targaryen x Ex-Girlfriend

Summary: A few months after you break things off with your boyfriend, Aemond, you start receiving strange messages and phone calls from an unknown number. Things escalate when you’re sent a video secretly filmed half a year ago, of you and Aemond having sex.

Warnings: 18+, dark themes (mind the tags!), obsession, stalking, exhibitionism, blackmail, threats of violence, emotional manipulation, DUBCON (drunk sex), degradation, dirty talk, fingering, deepthroat, breathplay, spanking, P in V, hairpulling

A/N: Based on a request by anon, I hope you like this! Another spooky fic for the spooky season, Happy All Saint's Eve! 🖤

Word Count: 5100

Your breath turns into small clouds in the cold air as you step out of the office building, the chill of late autumn biting through your wool coat. 

It’s already dark outside. The tall lamp-posts lining the empty streets cast a pale light over Cobbler’s Square, the business hub of King’s Landing. As you fumble with your gloves to put them on, your phone vibrates, breaking the silence of the still night. You glance down and see a message from an unknown number:

"Working overtime again?"

Your eyes linger on the screen. The message makes you shiver, it’s uncomfortably familiar yet oddly unsettling. You scan the sidewalk, wondering if someone from work might be pulling a prank at your expense, but there's no one around, just the faint murmur of traffic in the distance. 

After a second of consideration, you decide it must’ve been someone texting the wrong number, so you slip the phone back into your pocket, and head toward the underground.

The one good thing about staying late at the office is that there’s always a free seat on the train. You take a seat, put in your earbuds and close your eyes, relieved that another stressful day is behind you. 

Still, the strange text you’d received leaves a knot of unease tightening within you. 

Your mind drifts to recent news reports about a man harassing women across the city. He’d been lurking around office buildings, the stories said, learning his victims’ routines, showing up at the same places, always at the wrong times. 

The coincidence is eerie, almost too frightening to think about. So you pull out your phone, trying to distract your wandering mind. 

You scroll through recent news, and just as you feel yourself relax a bit, another reminder of your recent distress pops up on your screen,

Aemond Targaryen.

It’s hard to keep up with recent affairs and not bump into him. 

A member of the Targaryen family, one of the most powerful media dynasties in the country, he was untouchable, the kind of person people said was destined to rule the world. At first, he’d seemed like the everything a woman could wish for: captivating, attentive, always ready with grand gestures.

But as time passed, his attention turned darker. 

His texts became constant, then invasive. 

He’d ask where you were at all hours, demanding you kept your location tracker on at all times. He would question your friends, arguing they were ‘beneath you’. He even hinted at you quitting your job as a political reporter, a position you had studied and fought for for 8 years, to come work for him. “I’ll make you my personal assistant”, he’d said, “Keep you close in case I need anything.”

His controlling tendencies, paired with his arrogant worldview was what ultimately led you to break things off with him . And when you finally did, he’d accepted it with chilling calm; no fight, no anger, just a quiet nod.

You force the thought from your mind, stepping off the tube and onto the platform. 

Once you’re home, you kick off your shoes, lock the door, and sink into the quiet solace of your apartment. You’re pouring a long-awaited glass of wine when your phone vibrates again. 

The screen lights up, the same unknown number.

"I hope you got home safe."

The pit in your stomach returns.

It started off with little things. 

Strange texts that seemed harmless enough. Then came the letters, always printed and neatly folded, never including a return address. 

At first, you brushed them off. It was easy to wave away the unease, convincing yourself that it was a prank, a mix-up, maybe just a wrong number. They were never addressed specifically to you anyway. 

A little discomfort, nothing more. But as the days turned into weeks, the messages began to change. 

They weren’t just random or generic anymore; they became specific, too personal, with a familiar vocabulary that made your skin crawl. Whoever was sending them seemed to know you intimately; your routines and habits. 

Things you had never shared with anyone. 

The messages were like an invisible set of eyes, always watching from places you couldn’t see.

You still remember the first time you felt true fear. It was a Friday night when your phone rang, and you answered to hear nothing but dead silence. 

No voice, no background noise, just the suffocating, empty void on the other end of the line. Stunned into silence, you waited, but the call never broke the silence. 

Eventually, you hung up, convincing yourself that it was nothing, probably a misdial. But then the calls started coming more frequently. And with each passing second you had to listen to the silence on the other end, your unease grew. 

The letters were even worse. 

They began appearing not only in your mailbox, but slipped under your door as well, tucked into the gaps like sinister little secrets. 

You remember holding one, your fingers trembling as you read the words, each line making your apartment feel smaller, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. The messages never outright threatened, but their tone was unsettling, implying that the sender knew where you lived, what you did, even how you spent your quietest, most private moments. 

Before they were impersonal, now they included your name as well. 

You really shouldn’t walk alone at night. 

The city is full of dangers, and someone as precious as you deserves better. I watch you sometimes, you know. 

I watch the way you clutch your bag a little tighter when the shadows loom over you, how you shiver when the wind cuts through your coat. It makes me want to keep you safe.

You work so hard, staying late at the office. It must be exhausting, always pushing yourself. But don’t worry. I’m never far away. Watching. Waiting. Ready to step in if you ever need me.

Sleep well tonight. 

I’ll be thinking of you.

The animalistic fear the letters brought out in you caused tears of despair to shine in your eyes. Never before had you felt so unsettled; robbed of your sanctuary and stripped bare under the unrelenting gaze of an unknown threat. 

When you thought things couldn’t get worse, you notice it in the corner of your eye whenever you get off the tube. Someone has started following you home. 

As with the other terrors, it began subtly. 

A shadow moving just out of your line of sight, footsteps that kept the same rhythm as yours, only to fall silent when you turn to look. 

Initially, you brushed it off as paranoia. The strange texts, calls and letters had made your nerves stand on high alert at all times. So you walk faster, clenching your keys in your hand, telling yourself you were imagining it.

But by now, it’s become undeniable. 

On more than one occasion, you’ve glanced back and caught the outline of a figure lingering just far enough away to melt into the darkness. 

Once, you thought you saw someone duck into an alley when you turned around too quickly, and the image haunted you for days. 

Each night, the walk from the tube station to your building feels longer, the streetlights casting distorted shadows that play tricks on your mind. In retaliation, you cross the street randomly, change your route, but the feeling never fades.

The worst part is that the presence doesn’t make itself known. 

It doesn’t shout or approach. 

It simply waits. 

Watches.

Now, whenever you walk home, every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes your heart beat fast and hard. You know someone is out there, tracking your every move. 

Always lurking just out of reach. 

The world around you has become a riddle of dark mysteries and hidden threats, and the sense of safety you once had feels like a distant memory.

You feel it every evening, that unnerving prickling sensation of being watched. 

At the office, you catch glimpses of people who seem too familiar, faces that never linger but somehow stay with you. 

On the train, you feel eyes on you, shadowy figures that seem to mirror your every move. Once or twice, you’ve even taken detours down different streets, slipping into shops just to lose whoever’s following you. But somehow, they’re always there, just at the edge of your vision, close enough to make your skin crawl but too far to confront.

Tonight, as you step onto the station platform, your heart hammers in your chest. It’s crowded, people weaving through the tiled halls, but even among the sea of strangers, you feel that presence nearby, watching. 

You keep your head down, slipping into the crowd with hurried steps, your fingers gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline. Your throat feels tight, and each breath becomes an effort as you board the train and move toward an empty seat.

Sitting by the window, you try to focus on the reflection in the glass. Your face looks pale and unfamiliar; a distorted version of yourself, yet it’s the background you watch carefully, searching for that familiar silhouette or lingering stare. The lights flicker across the train’s interior as it pulls away from the platform, the steady hum of the tracks doing little to calm the creeping dread in your chest.

You finally reach your destination and exit quickly, walking down the street to your house in hurried steps. 

Your eyes scan the dimly lit surroundings, every shadow and alleyway filling with the possibility of someone lurking. Halfway to your building, you spot it—a figure across the road, barely illuminated by the faint glow of the surrounding lamp-posts, watching you. 

They don’t approach.

They don’t call out. 

Just watch.

A chill crawls up your spine, but you force yourself to keep walking.

Each step feels like a lifetime as you quicken your pace, the distance to your front door stretching endlessly before you. The familiar sound of footsteps follows behind, soft but persistent, a reminder that you’re not alone. 

You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking far too much for you to be graceful, and the moment the door swings open, you slip inside, pushing it shut and twisting the lock with a desperate click.

Safe. 

At least, you think so.

You move to the window, pulling the curtains tightly closed and double-checking every lock, heart still racing. The eerie silence of your apartment only serves to amplify the tension, and you try to steady your breathing, pressing your back against the wall, reassuring yourself that you’re alone. But then your eyes fall to your phone on the counter, the screen lights up, casting a cold, unsettling glow across the room.

Another message from the unknown number.

“You looked scared tonight. No need to be. I’m just looking out for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and the room suddenly feels colder. 

They were there, watching, close enough to see the fear in your eyes. You swipe through the messages, reading the last few words again and again, each one making it feel like the blood in your veins slowly turns to ice. 

Every instinct tells you to delete everything, to block the number, but it won’t change the fact that they were there. They saw you. They know where you live, and they know you’re alone.

You check the locks once more, willing yourself to believe it’s just a cruel prank. But deep down, you know this is no mistake, no accident.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself, you’ll file a report. You’ll talk to the police, maybe find a friend to stay with for a few nights. But as you lay down, staring into the dark, the words echo in your mind,

"No need to be scared. I’m just looking out for you."

You close your eyes, but the sleep you need feels too far away to be attainable, and all you can feel is that presence. 

Just beyond the walls. 

Watching.

Waiting.

It’s late at night when your phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up the dark room. 

You’ve become almost numb to the sound of notifications, each one feeling like another weight to the stones of anxiety heavy on your chest. 

You almost dismiss it, too exhausted to care for more ominous messages, but then that rush of fear washes over you once more. 

It’s not a text message. 

It’s a video, sent from the same unknown number that’s haunted you for weeks.

You hesitate, one finger hovering over the screen as dread, dark and thick like petrol, pools in your stomach. 

Slowly, you tap to open it, holding your breath in fear of moving even slightly. The video is shaky, filmed through a crevice from a distance, as though captured by someone hiding just out of sight. 

Still, you recognise the setting instantaneously. 

The Targaryen summer house. 

The video depicts two silhouettes; one laying on the bed of one of the many guest rooms of the vast mansion, the other with their head between the first person’s thighs. 

The filmer zooms in on the long, silver hair of the person kneeling next to the bed, and your heart beats so fiercely it feels like it’ll leap out of your chest as the camera moves upwards, until it lands on your face, twisted in pleasure. 

You remember the day clearly. 

It was Aemond’s brother Aegon’s yearly summer party, an elaborate excuse for the Targaryen’s oldest boy to get shit-faced with the elite of Westeros. 

Aemond, never a fan of crowds or parties, had lured you into one of the guest bedrooms for some ‘quality time’ together, which quickly escalated into sex on the crisp, expensive cotton sheets. 

You raise the volume, and can clearly hear the shameless moans leaving your mouth as your ex boyfriend makes you come on his tongue. 

Your stomach turns. 

The camera lingers far too long on your face, zooming in and out, capturing not only the sounds of your bliss, but each twitch and change in your face. 

An overpowering sense of nausea washes over you as you realize that even then, someone was there. 

Someone was watching, recording your most vulnerable moments from the shadows.

The video cuts off abruptly, and a new message appears beneath it,

“Even then, I was closer than you thought.”

Your blood runs cold, and your hands start to shake. 

The message confirms your deepest fear. 

This isn’t a recent obsession. 

Whoever this person is, they’ve been watching you for far longer than you imagined, lurking in the background of your life, inserting themselves into your most private memories. 

You try to breathe, to think clearly, but the walls of your apartment once again close in on you, trapping you inside your body, fighting to run yet with nowhere to go. 

The sense of violation is suffocating, and questions flood your mind. 

How long have they been there? 

How much have they seen?

Desperate and out of options, you swipe your thumb over the screen of your phone, and call the only other person who might have some answers. 

Aemond’s fingers tap restlessly against the rim of his coffee cup. The twitch in the corner of his mouth tells you he's annoyed, and the speed of which his eye darts around the coffee shop, refusing to look directly at you, lets you know it’s your fault. 

You’re not sure if he can see the tears shining in your eyes, he’s barely looked at you since you came. He always saw crying as a sign of a weak mind, and so you do your best not to blink, scared a tear will fall and reveal just how pathetic you feel. 

It’s not like you’re doing a good job hiding it anyway. The dark circles under your eyes and the paranoid pleading in your gaze betray all your recent troubles. 

“I-, I’d like to thank you for coming here after how things… ended”

Your voice is steady, yet there is a thickness in your throat that makes you sound a bit strange, like you’re trying too hard to remain neutral. A performance you’re not quite pulling off, despite your best efforts. 

“Mm”

He’s still not looking at you, stern face reflecting both disinterest and agitation. The relentless tapping of his finger continues, practically screaming at you to hurry up and confess why you asked your ex to meet up. 

“I’ll get straight to it. Yesterday, I received a video of… us. At that party where we-”, you search his face for recognition, chase his eye so it meets yours. Your voice lowers, practically a whisper, 

“-you know” 

“No, I don’t” 

“Aegon’s summer party… We snuck off to the guest room and-, you know”  

Aemond finally lets his gaze meet yours, inspecting your features with a narrowed, suspicious eye. 

Does he not believe you? 

Before he can call you crazy, or dismiss your clear distress with a condescending laugh, you pull out your phone and show him the video. It’s a bit dark and gritty, but it’s clear that it’s the two of you, Aemond’s head between your legs, your own thrown back on the bed in bliss. 

“Do-, do you know who could’ve done this?” 

Aemond takes your phone and watches the video closely, pausing and zooming in on your half-naked body. He’s seen you bare and crazed with desire countless times when you were dating, yet your cheeks heat up and you feel unexplainably vulnerable as he carefully examines the video. 

After a few moments of contemplation, he hums again and hands your phone back, 

“I’ve no clue. I’ll ask Criston for the guest list, probably just one of Aegon’s insufferable friends having a laugh” 

He stands to leave, and you momentarily panic at the thought of being alone again. Just as he turns towards the door, your hand desperately grabs the fabric of his coat, and those tears that had been threatening to spill from your eyes do just that, 

“Aemond, please, I have more” 

You sound so small. So defeated. 

He looks at you with the same harsh, unimpressed look even as you silently cry. 

So cold. 

Maybe it’s what you deserve? 

“I need you, Aemond. Please just stay for a few more minutes and let me explain” 

He’s frozen for a while, contemplating whether he should indulge you or leave, surely eager to dismiss you just as you had done to him, only a month ago. 

With a sigh, his features soften somewhat, and he steps back, once again taking the seat opposite you. 

“Go on then” 

“I-, I’ve been getting all these-”, your voice breaks into a sob as you speak about your recent nightmare. 

You hadn’t dared speak to anyone about your recent terror, too afraid to acknowledge that what had occurred wasn’t simply some insane fever dream. 

“-all these messages and letters from the same number that sent the video. I don’t know why but this person seems obsessed with me” 

You hide your face behind one of your hands, mortified by the humiliation of openly crying at a cafe, next to your ex nonetheless. 

Aemond observes you for a moment before reaching out to place his hand over yours, warming the skin of your cheek. He catches one of the tears falling from your lashes with his thumb, 

“Send me screenshots of it all and I’ll have Criston’s team look through them. You know we own majority of King’s Guard Security, we’ll find whoever’s harassing you” 

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe without a heavy stone of anxiety crushing your lungs. 

You grab Aemond’s hand, warm and strong in your trembling grip, and squeeze it slightly, 

“Thank you, Aemond” 

Aemond convinces you to take a taxi home, lock the door, and distract your unease with something calming, like taking a bath. 

You do just that, and the warm water enveloping you feels wonderfully comforting. 

You sink deeper in the tub, disappearing into the calm warmth. Just as you breathe out a deep breath that had been stuck in your throat for far too long, a sharp knock to your front door disturbs your peace.  

It’s as if a bucket of ice cold water has been dumped over you, and suddenly you shiver in the warm bath, feeling a chill overtaking you from within. 

Another knock. 

You’re frozen in place.

Immobile.

Stuck in fear. 

You don’t know how long you sit in the tub, waiting for the courage to stand, dry off, and peek out of the bathroom. 

There are no more knocks, and when your fingers are wrinkly and stiff, you finally get out. 

Peering out of the bathroom and at your front door, everything looks the same. Your eyes dart around the room until they fall on the small, white piece of paper on the floor. 

You pick it up with trembling fingers, and open it. 

Before, the letters you’d received had been neatly placed in envelopes and never hand-written. 

This note is different. 

Let me in. 

Tears of desperation well up in your eyes once more and you toss the piece of paper away as if it had burned you. 

Utterly hopeless, you reach for your phone, dialing the number to the one person that had been occupying your mind all day. 

Aemond sends for a car to come pick you up, going as far as instructing the driver to personally come get you from your flat since you feared the stalker was still somewhere nearby, watching you. 

It was Criston Cole himself that showed up at your door, a high-ranking security specialist at King’s Guard Security, often invited to do risk analyses for the government. 

Being reduced to a chauffeur was definitely far below his station, but when Aemond Targaryen hands you a task personally, you comply. 

You wearily eye the pistol strapped to his waist as he walks you to his car. Your glad that precautions are taken to ensure your safety, but also devastated by the fact that it's even necessary. 

Will this be your new normal? 

The drive to Aemond’s place doesn’t take long, and when you arrive, he offers you a slightly awkward hug in reassurance before pouring you a double whiskey,

“To calm your nerves” 

You accept the drink and take a seat on the leather sofa placed in the middle of the large room. In front of you, tall windows show an exquisite view of King’s Landing, including all famous landmarks like Maegor’s Holdfast. To your right, tall bookcases of dark wood line the wall, cutting into the modern sleekness of Aemond’s home, making it more him. 

You take a large sip of the whiskey, not minding the sharp taste that overtakes your mouth. The numbness of alcohol feels inviting after being on edge for so long. 

Aemond takes a seat next to you, his knee bumping into yours as he sits closer than necessary on the wide sofa, 

“You can stay here as long as you want” 

“Thank you, Aemond. That’s very kind of you” 

A small smile forms on his lips at your compliment, and he looks down at his hands. It’s almost a bashful look, and suddenly you guilty for the way you had so cold-heartedly dumped him. 

Sure, he had been controlling, but if the last couple of weeks had proven anything, it was the fact that danger really lurks around every corner. 

Maybe he had only been so controlling because he knew how dangerous King’s Landing truly is for young women? He had direct access to all cases filed with King’s Guard Security, he’s surely seen a lot. 

When you’ve finished your glass, Aemond wordlessly tops it up. 

You finish that too, chatting a bit about work and what you’d been up to recently, prompted by Aemond asking and eagerly listening. 

Your cheeks feel hot from the whiskey, and when you’ve finished your second drink, you place it on the glass-covered coffee table and lean into Aemond only a little more, surprisingly relaxed. 

Your eyes feel heavy as you look up at him, 

“Thank you. For everything today” 

When he smiles, those dimples that you once adored appear in his cheeks. He’s so beautiful in the soft light. So inviting. 

“Don’t mention it. The only thing I care about is that you’re safe” 

You’re not sure if it’s a sudden wave for adoration, the long-awaited relief, or the whiskey, but when you stretch your neck to kiss him, Aemond cups your cheek and runs his tongue over your lower lip. 

Your fingers feel tingly as they play with the buttons of Aemond’s crisp shirt. Your face is still comfortably warm, and when his kisses travel down to your neck, you sigh in content and throw your head back. 

You watch the skyline of King’s Landing through the tall windows of Aemond’s home; white lights decorating the skyscrapers competing in height. There’s a strange, red dot decorating one of them, occasionally blinking. 

Your eyes narrow to inspect it further, but quickly close as Aemond’s fingers slip into your underwear, 

“I’ve missed this”, he murmurs into your neck, and sucks at the skin. 

“Me too”, you sigh. 

His fingers know exactly how to work you, and after a few more tender kisses to your neck and deliberate flicks to your clit, you meet his fingers with your hips, desperate for more. 

Just as you’re about to fall apart, Aemond withdraws his hand. 

He slowly licks your essence from his sticky fingers, amused by your pathetic frown, 

“Please, Aemond. Don’t be mean” 

Seeing him savour the taste of your cunt only makes it ache more. 

“I’m not. You know what I want” 

Maybe if you had less alcohol in your body, you’d realise how bad this is.

Fucking your ex is never a good idea. 

But the heat of the whiskey warming your senses makes you reckless, and you smile as you kneel on the floor in front of him. 

With eager fingers, you pull down his zipper and take his cock in hand, already hard and pulsating in arousal. Wasting no time, you lean forward to lick the tip before ungraciously taking him into your mouth, sucking as if your life depended on it. 

Aemond tuts above you, a disapproving noise you know from when you were dating. You look up just as he moves his hands to cradle your face, mischief dancing in his eyes,

“You can do better than that” he says and pushes deeper, until his cock is in your throat and you can’t breathe. 

He releases a prolonged sigh and stays buried in your throat, stealing air from you. 

The harsh pounding between your thighs intensifies as the oxygen to your brain cuts off. You look up at Aemond, who regards you with a sinister grin, and shoves his foot between your kneeling legs, pushing at your clit.

It’s the last push you need, a playful kick to your swollen nub, and you come with his cock still deep in your throat. 

With no air to inhale and an excruciatingly consuming orgasm coursing through your body, you feel too light-headed to keep your eyes open, ready to succumb and disappear into the abyss of bliss that is the orgasm Aemond forces out of you. 

Before you lose consciousness, Aemond pulls out, a glistening sting of spit falling from your lips and spilling down your chin. 

Your ears are pounding from the rush of finally being able to breathe again, yet you hear it, like an echo in the distance. 

He’s laughing. 

“Fuck, that’s a good little slut”, he praises you, “Getting off on choking on my cock” 

He catches the drool on your chin with one hand, and forces you to stand with the other. Your legs still shake, and you stagger forward, almost falling into him. 

He laughs again, amused or condescending, you can't tell, and manoeuvres you to kneel on the sofa facing away from the city landscape. 

He brings the hand covered in your drool between your cheeks, and trails it down to your clit. You gasp at the sting of overstimulation, but Aemond’s hand doesn’t budge,

“You weren’t supposed to come from that, dirty girl”, he taunts you with a playful yet harsh smack to your ass. You whine and try to pull away, it’s all too much. 

“I wanted to tease you for a bit longer”, he whispers into your ear, and you can feel the leaking tip of his cock press between your cheeks, 

“I won’t be mean though. My precious girl deserves better” 

He slides in easily, the mess of your slickness, spit, and Aemond’s precum easing his path. 

You lean forward to brace yourself against the backrest of the sofa as he starts to fuck you, pace quick and hard, just as you remember him liking it. 

"Aemond", you moan and he goes harder, the smacks of his hips hitting the meat of your ass loud and vulgar in the quiet night, 

“Say it again”, he orders and pulls at your hair so your head falls back, “Just like that, baby, you look so fucking hot when I fuck you”

When you don’t comply fast enough, he pulls at your hair harder. You cry out his name, and he rewards your submission with a kiss to your cheek, 

“Good girl” 

After that day, things change. 

Aemond sends cars to pick you up from work so you won’t have to get on the tube. He distracts you from the eerie shiver that’s settled into your bones by bringing you out to dinner, to the cinema, to a new wine bar. 

He allows you to lean against him whenever you talk about the nightmare that the last few weeks have been. He even puts an arm around you, and occasionally presses his lips to the crown of your head. And he always listens carefully. 

The controlling tendencies that had previously chased you away now provide comfort. 

He knows where you are at all times, so no one can steal you away. 

He always answers your calls, so you never have to feel alone. 

He always meets your needs, whether it’s letting you talk shit about your boss for hours, or excitedly chat about a book you just read. 

He's always near. 

Always ready. 

Always watching.

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you liked this and want more, check out my fic The Commune!

[grimdarling69]

Another Dan and ellie deaged p2

Dick wasn't unaccustomed to getting calls at five a.m., but he wished it had happened less. He reached his hand out from the haphazardly placed blanket and fumbled for his ringing phone. Finally finding it, he quickly answered to the call. I swear if this is an arkham breakout, it better be the goddamn joker. He will be very upset if Tim just calls him in for condiment king.

"Hello?" He says sleepily. He winces and rubs his eyes away from the bright light of the phone.

"Dick. I need your help, Damian got spooked somehow and ran away. I'm pursuing him but i can't get him to stop."

His heart drops. Immediately awake, he jumps up from the bed and tries to find the suit pieces he threw around when he crashed last night.

"What happened?" I found myself asking, hoping this was just a misunderstanding. "I don't really know. We were down in the cave, and I guess he knocked a tool off and woke me up. I asked him what he was doing, but he didn't answer me and just ran to the bikes."

He could hear the slight panic in Tim's voice. "I'll call him."Wait -" I hang up.

I quickly dialed Babs number. If Damian left as fast as tim says he did, he probably didn't have his phone. I glance at the windows, one of my gloves is placed on the seal. Rain is still coming down hard. Thunder rumbling distantly.

"This better be goddamn joker." Me and Babs always thinking the same thing, I think fondly.

"Damian ran away, and I need you to connect me to his comms."On it now. I'm calling in the others just in case."

A click is heard, and I can hear slight wind and heavy breathing through my own comms. I hang up the call.

"Dami?" I ask hesitantly. His baby brother son was out there alone in the rain.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, but he doesn't speak. I quickly throw open the windows after grabbing my last glove. Skillfully and methodically climbing down. Throwing myself on my bike. Come on, Dami, answer me.

"Whatever is going on, you can tell me, okay? I'll help you no matter what. I promise." He meant every word.

The bike starts, and I race down the streets in chase of the tracker. I just need to make it to Gotham in time.

__________

Bruce was no stranger from his kids running away. They'd all done it at least once. It never got any better whether they were running from him or others didn't change it. He just had to remember they always came back.

Alfred watches off to the side. Making sure if i start to go down, he could catch me. I won't. A few broken ribs and a sprained ankle won't stop me. He had gotten the call in his bedroom. Alfred had finally wrangled him into sleeping when the call came through.

"Bruce. Damian fled the nest. Dick and Tim are in pursuit, but i don't think he's stopping anytime soon." Her tone heavy but focused.

He had quickly made his way down to the cave. Alfred had stopped momentarily to wake up his other son. He would be down soon.

I start to make my way to my suit, but I'm quickly thwarted.

"Master Bruce. You will be no help with might i remind you of five broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and a stab wound." Alfred told him stepping in front.

"My son is out there. i need to find him."he said with a deep voice heavy with memories. He knew Alfred was right he would only be a hindrance. He could walk off his injuries they were barely flesh wounds, but he wasn't good with emotions. He had plenty of arguments with his kids about it before. Whatever scared Damian into running, he couldn't help him.

Duke's footsteps sounded out behind him. He walked past, gancing at him concerned but determination on his face. He turned around and limped back to the batcomputer. He just had to trust his sons to bring their brother home.

‐---------

Jason was no stranger to long nights. He hadn't even made it to his safe house anyway, too busy with the storm, making sure all the alley kids had a warm and dry place to sleep for the night.

Stormy nights were the worst for alley kids. He hated them when he ws on the streets. The cold rain freezing your clothes to you, the cold rain soaking your shelters, the cold rain ruining any halfway edible food. He's seen a lot of kids get sick from the rain and die. If you were sick, you had to hide. If others found out you were sick, they'd leave you in a heartbeat. It caused a lot of fights with Bruce in the early days. He hid his injuries or sick days in case Bruce finally saw how weak he was and threw him out.

"Damian fled the nest. The rest of the batboys are already heading out after him." Oracle spoke into his comms.

The Batboys. What O had recently started calling Dickhead, Timbo, Duke, Demon brat and him ever since the batgirls left to Hong Kong together.

Demon brat, his obligation in the league. When he left, he'd assumed he'd never see him again, or if he did, it'd be from opposite sides. Sometimes, it felt a lot like opposite sides regardless.

Jason revved up his bike again he was mostly done with his people anyway. He would have to have some of his trustworthy men on the lookout for stragglers.

He pulled up his tracker to Damian. He winded through the streets following it.

---------

Crack

Thunder sounded out. Dick had hated the rain ever since... He just hated it. It was worse, so with Dami out there all alone. He didn't even know what had scared him enough to run. Damian would never run just cause what he knocked a tool over? That didn't sound like his brother son. Something else must have happened. He just had to figure out what.

"Nightwing. Report." Bruce growled into the comms suddenly. His throat felt dry. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't speak.

"SHIT!" A crashing sound loud enough to echo on the comms could be heard. Tim, dami, please be alright. He was just now reaching the Gotham border. Just hold on, I think desperately.

"Red Robin, what's happening on your end." Bruce demanded.

"Red Robin is fine. Damian deployed the bike sludge. He had to grapple backward to avoid the sludge. I think his leg is broken."

"Be careful, Signal, one wrong move with your powers, and you could light that right on up." Jason attempted to banter. Jason and his bad habit of deflecting by using humor. Something he's gotten in trouble because of before.

"We are on the warehouse that we busted yesterday with that drug deal across from Gotham Bridge. We lost sight of him." Duke ignored Jason's comment and carried on.

"Damian has stopped near gotham bridge hurry. Cameras aren't looking good."

"Oracle. Report, what do you see?" He can hear Bruce's gravelly voice tinged with desperation. Please don't do what I think you're going to do.

"I think he might jump."

The silence was suffocating.

Click.

Damians comms came back online.

"Damian?" Bruce's voice sounded distorted and echoes to his ears.

"Dami, can you hear me?" He knew he could.

"Yes."

"Master Damian, please come home." Alfred didn't beg, but he swore he could hear it in his voice.

"We can help you. Damian, don't do whatever you're planning. Please." Jason's voice was desperate.

" Please, Damian, listen to us. Let us help you."he was begging at this point, but he couldn't care less.

"I'm sorry Richard, but I don't think you can."

Click.

Crack

Lightning broke the illusion of quiet peace. The rain thundering just as loud against the ground.

-------

Jason drove as fast as he could, but by the time he and dick made it, the bike was the only thing left of his brother.

"Damian!" Dick tried jump off after him. "Dick! Stop!" "Let me go! I have to save him. Please..." His voice was thick and course. His brother's mask was starting to peel from the wetness.

"I know. I know..." He collapsed to the ground, taking his brother with him.

The headlight flickered ominously in the heavy rain.

[dandelionsresilience]

whether the internet becomes an intolerable surveillance state, ubiquitous subscription model, or unusably ad- or AI-ridden shithole, I think we need to remember

how to do things offline

either on your personal hard drive (just because it’s an app doesn’t mean the information is stored in your device) or on paper. I’m not saying the collapse of the internet is imminent, and I’m not suggesting we do everything completely without technology, or even stop using it until we have to. (to be clear, I also don’t think the internet will just blink out of existence, suddenly stop being a thing at all; rather I think it might continue to lose its usefulness to the point where it’s impossible to get anything done. anyway) but some people may have forgotten how we got by before the internet (I almost have!), and the younger generation might not have experienced it at all.

I figure most people probably use the internet mainly for communication with friends and family, entertainment and creation (eg. writing), and looking up how to do things, so here’s how to do those things offline:

First and most importantly, download everything important to you onto at least one hard drive and at least one flashdrive! files can get corrupted and hardware can get damaged or lost, but as long as you keep backup copies, you have much-closer-to-guaranteed access versus hoping a business doesn’t decide to paywall, purge, or otherwise revoke your access. I would recommend getting irreplaceable photos printed as well

download and/or print/write down:

anything important to you - photos/videos, journals, certificates, college transcripts

contact info - phone numbers and/or addresses of friends/family (know how to contact them if you can’t use your favourite messaging app), doctors (open hours would be good too), veterinarians if you have pets, and work

how-to’s - recipes (one, two), emergency preparedness (what do I do if… eg. I smell gas)

other things you might google: cleaning chemicals to NOT mix, what laundry tag symbols mean, people food dogs and cats can and can’t eat, plant toxicity to pets

and know offline ways to find things out - local radio station, newspaper, a nearby highway rest area might have a region map, public libraries usually have a bunch of resources

also, those of you who get periods should strongly consider not using period tracking apps! here’s how to track your period manually

free printable period tracker templates (no printer? public libraries usually charge a few cents per page, or you can recreate it by hand)

moving on to entertainment, you can still get most media for free! it’s completely legal to download your favourite movies to your own personal hard drive, you just can’t sell or distribute copies (not legal advice)

movies: wcostream.tv (right click the player) - the url changes every once in a while but usually redirects; I recently noticed that it’s hiding a lot of movies behind “premium,” so it may or may not work anymore | download youtube videos

music: how to get music without streaming it | legal free downloads

games: steamunlocked.net - doesn’t have every game and can be slow to update, but very reliable

books: free online libraries | legal free downloads

otherwise passing time:

active outdoor games

for road trips (social verbal games)

for when power’s out

for sheltering in place (not all offline, but good ideas)

board games (often found at thrift stores)

ad-free customisable games collection (mobile)

read, write, draw, or whatever your craft is, sing, dance, clean, reorganise, take a bath

go outside - excuses include napping (if safe), eating, reading, finding cool plants/animals/rocks, playing with the dog

places to go include:

zoos and museums can be surprisingly cheap

parks and nature preserves

library, mall, or game shop

and a few miscellaneous things for good measure:

time budgeting | household management

how to use a planner | I’ve had success with visually blocked-out schedules like these

please add on if you have any other offline alternatives to common uses of the internet!

[adalindofcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies | chapter two

summary: the one where jake realizes the complexity of a supposedly simple plan.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.4K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: i love this chapter. it was so much fun to write jake's first meeting with mc. the game left many unresolved questions and i will try to answer them based on the information we already have and a little imagination.

masterlist

Without any hesitation, he nodded. There was no point in lying now, not after everything they had done to get Hannah back. And, even if it bothered him a little, Barbara had won his trust.

“A penny for your thoughts.” The hacker asked, seeing the confusion in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's a long story.”

“I have time.” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

Jake took a deep breath to calm himself. They definitely didn't have time. However, he knew he would need to do his best to make her trust him again.

“Long story short, an old alert from Nym-0s showed results yesterday saying that you bought a plane ticket to Switzerland. Since the airport was close to Duskwood, I thought I'd better investigate.”

“Have you been following me since New York?”

“Not exactly, I bought a nonstop flight from Tokyo to Zurich.”

“Why didn't you tell me who you were when we bumped into each other at the airport?”

He hated the fact that his tone was more hurt than angry. Jake opened his mouth to apologize, then closed it. Looking over her shoulder, he noticed the presence of a hooded figure standing in front of the open door of the chinese restaurant, hunching his shoulders against the pouring rain.

Barbara's cell phone immediately started ringing with a call. Frowning, she reached for the device inside her bag, and Jake didn't need to understand portuguese to know what was written on the screen.

“Unknown number?”

“Yes.” She lifted her head, meeting Jake's eyes.

“Great.” He said ironically, taking the cell phone from her hand and sliding his finger to the left to reject the call. “Come on, I'll explain everything to you on the road.”

“All right.” Barbara answered, allowing Jake to lead the way. “But if you're lying about who you are, I'll break your nose.”

“It's fair.”

The hacker kept walking , and she ran to keep up with him, dodging a puddle of water. Two minutes later, they stopped in front of a gray Mercedes-Benz crowned with a red convertible roof parked behind the Gates Hotel.

“Please tell me it’s not stolen.”

“It's not stolen!” Jake looked at her offended, opening the passenger door.

“Sorry! It's just that in my mind you were poor. Which, when you think about it, doesn't make sense, right? How would you do everything you do without money?”

“You are impossible, Barbara.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I can't be impossible, Jake, I exist.” She replied, rolling her eyes theatrically. “I think you meant that I'm unbelievable.”

“Get in the car straight away.” He ordered, but he was smiling, his eyes filled with something like pleasure.

“I have some questions.” Barbara announced when they stopped at a red light.

“Of course you have.” Jake smiled amusedly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Earlier, at the airport, was our meeting on purpose?”

“Yes. I couldn't risk my position by tracking you via cell phone so I had to be creative.”

“Something tells me you're the type to put trackers in people's favorite coat pockets.” She was surprised when he didn't deny it. “Seriously?” Barbara scoffed, rubbing her hands down her arms.

“That worked, didn't it?” He said, undoing his seat belt. “Here, you must be cold.”

Before Barbara could object, Jake took off the leather jacket he was wearing and handed it towards her.

“Thank you, Jake.” She accepted the offer, her cheeks blushing beautifully as she quickly looked away from the defined muscles that were marked by the white t-shirt.

“You're welcome.” He looked straight ahead again, covering his mouth with the back of his left hand to hide a smile of pure satisfaction.

He looked straight ahead again, covering his mouth with the back of his left hand to hide a smile of pure satisfaction.

“Were you in Tokyo this whole time?” Barbara questioned, placing the jacket over her shoulders.

“Tokyo, New Delhi, Manila... I needed to keep myself busy so I didn't think about you too much.”

“I'm unforgettable, aren't I?”

“Too unforgettable for your own good.” He agreed, replacing his belt and accelerating the car to get them moving again.

She sighed loudly.

“Yeah, I guess that explains why the FBI won't leave me alone.”

“What?”

“You have no idea why I'm here, do you?”

“Considering who I saw at the chinese restaurant, I think I might have an idea.”

“They sent some messages yesterday, inviting me to that same restaurant we talked about last time. The writing was very similar to yours, but it wasn't the same.”

“You knew it wasn't me and you came anyway?”

“We had an agreement, and as a future lawyer, I couldn't let them get away with this so easily.”

“What was your plan?” He waited for an answer, but Barbara just shrugged. “What? Didn't you have one?”

“We brazilians work better under pressure.”

Jake had to stop himself from giving her an irritated look.

“Well, at least this time the FBI is innocent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Old habits never die, right? I figured something was wrong when you didn't go directly to Duskwood, so I accessed the security cameras around the hotel and watched the footage from the past two days.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary, but there was one guy who caught my attention. I think I've seen him before. Anyway, I've run his face through facial recognition software and will have confirmation by the end of the night.” He met her eyes, his expression becoming serious. “Barbara, do you understand how…”

“Stupid to come here alone without knowing what I would face? Yes, the reality is starting to knock. In my defense, I would never imagine that someone from the outside could have access to our conversations.”

“Breaking into the FBI database is complicated, but not impossible. This guy was supposed to be looking for information about me and ended up finding you along the way. I'm sorry for bringing you into this.”

She made a nonchalant gesture, dismissing his apologies.

“You're only here because I was impulsive and played my role as a decoy very well, so I think we can say we're even.”

“I will always be in your debt.” Jake declared softly, weaving through traffic with ease.

The rest of the trip flew by, and the next thing he knew, he was parking near the Aurora's curb.

“What are we doing here?” Barbara looked at him uneasily, her voice sounding louder.

“I need to drop you off somewhere safe before I go back to get my gear from the hotel I'm staying at.”

“A bar is the last place I would think of, I have to admit.”

Jake snorted.

“As much as you approve, we only came here to get Jessica's address.”

“I thought you gathered information on all of us when Hannah was kidnapped.”

“I did, but Jessica moved out a few months after Richy got arrested. And since the FBI is monitoring activity around your friends' digital data, I'm forced to do this the hard way.”

“You mean... Talking?”

“Talking to Phil.”

She stifled a laugh.

“You can wait in the car if you want.”

“I'm not leaving you alone with this guy.” He rolled his eyes, stepping out into the drizzle that was decreasing with each second.

“In that case, why not go to Lilly or Dan?” Barbara commented, carefully slamming the car door. “I'm sure it would be less unpleasant for you.”

“I don't want others to know I'm in town.” Jake said, stopping beside her under the bar's canopy. “Not yet.”

“You're avoiding your sisters, aren't you?”

“It is complicated.”

“I know it's none of my business, but they'd be happy to hear from you. Especially Lilly.”

“Since when have you been Lilly's defender?”

“Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are.” Barbara laughed, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her dress. “How do I look?”

Jake analyzed her from head to toe for a few moments, seeing the way Barbara's hair fell over her arm in messy locks, how her smudged mascara highlighted the beauty of her light brown eyes, and how her dress, almost completely dry, outlined each centimeter of her body.

“Beautiful.”

“I'm serious, Jake!”

“Me too.” He smiled adoringly, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Come on, I don't want to prolong this any longer than necessary.”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily