#Shutter security Alarm System

[terrainsecure]

[contemplatingoutlander]

Technocrats argued that liberal democracy had failed. One Technocracy Incorporated pamphlet explained how the movement “does not subscribe to the basic tenet of the democratic ideal, namely that all men are created free and equal.” In the modern world, only scientists and engineers have the intelligence and education to understand the industrial operations that lie at the heart of the economy. Mr. Scott’s army of technocrats would eliminate most government services: “Even our postal system, our highways, our Coast Guard could be made much more efficient.” Overlapping agencies could be shuttered, and “90 percent of the courts could be abolished.” [color emphasis added] —Jill  Lepore , PhD, Harvard Professor of American History & Professor of Law

The historian Jill Lepore demonstrates how there are disturbing parallels between Elon Musk's recent political beliefs and that of his technocrat grandfather Joshua Haldeman.

According to another article by Davi Ottenheimer, Haldeman "fled" Canada to South Africa in 1950:

"Because he was under pressure following his 1940 arrest in Canada for being a part of an illegal political organization to destroy democracy called Technocracy. "Canada outlawed the political party as it had been determined to be a national security risk (anti-semitic, racist, and Nazi-adjacent)."

This is a gift🎁link, so there is no pay wall. It is worth reading, because it explains where many of Musk's peculiar beliefs about the importance of technocrats like himself taking over political systems. It also explains his weird fascination with "X."

Below the cut are some excerpts from the article.

Four years ago, I made a series for the BBC in which I located the origins of Mr. Musk’s strange sense of destiny in science fiction, some of it a century old. This year, revising the series, I was again struck by how little of what Mr. Musk proposes is new and by how many of his ideas about politics, governance and economics resemble those championed by his grandfather Joshua Haldeman, a cowboy, chiropractor, conspiracy theorist and amateur aviator known as the Flying Haldeman. Mr. Musk’s grandfather was also a flamboyant leader of the political movement known as technocracy. Leading technocrats proposed replacing democratically elected officials and civil servants — indeed, all of government — with an army of scientists and engineers under what they called a technate. Some also wanted to annex Canada and Mexico. At technocracy’s height, one branch of the movement had more than a quarter of a million members. Under the technate, humans would no longer have names; they would have numbers. One technocrat went by 1x1809x56. (Mr. Musk has a son named X Æ A-12.) Mr. Haldeman, who had lost his Saskatchewan farm during the Depression, became the movement’s leader in Canada. He was technocrat No. 10450-1. [...]

Technocrats argued that liberal democracy had failed. One Technocracy Incorporated pamphlet explained how the movement “does not subscribe to the basic tenet of the democratic ideal, namely that all men are created free and equal.” In the modern world, only scientists and engineers have the intelligence and education to understand the industrial operations that lie at the heart of the economy. Mr. Scott’s army of technocrats would eliminate most government services: “Even our postal system, our highways, our Coast Guard could be made much more efficient.” Overlapping agencies could be shuttered, and “90 percent of the courts could be abolished.” [...] Nevertheless, technocracy endured. Its spectacles grew alarming: Technocrats wore identical gray suits and drove identical gray cars in parades that evoked for concerned observers nothing so much as Italian Fascists. Mr. Musk’s grandfather was a technocracy stalwart. In 1940, when Canada banned Technocracy Incorporated — out of fear that its members were plotting to undermine the government or the war effort — Mr. Haldeman took out an ad in a newspaper, proclaiming technocracy a “national patriotic movement.”

Weeks later, when he tried to enter the United States for a technocracy speaking tour, he was denied entry at the border, possibly because of a new passport regulation that barred travel into the United States to “an alien whose entry would be contrary to the public safety” (something of an irony, given the current administration’s border policies). In Vancouver, British Columbia, he was arrested, convicted and sentenced to a fine or two months in jail. He later joined the antisemitic Social Credit Party, becoming its national chairman.

Mr. Haldeman retired from politics in 1949 and soon began thinking about moving to South Africa, which in 1948 announced the policy of apartheid. In 1950 he moved to Pretoria, where he wrote and distributed typewritten conspiratorial tracts. (Most have disappeared, but in 2023 I discovered several in university and private collections.) In May 1960, for instance, he wrote a pamphlet called “The International Conspiracy to Establish a World Dictatorship and Its Menace to South Africa,” a response to the unrest after the Sharpeville massacre. During those protests, Nelson Mandela was among 11,000 people arrested and jailed. Mr. Haldeman suggested the uprising had been staged.

He furthermore believed the West had been the subject of an “intensive mass mind conditioning” experiment, in which ideas he considered ludicrous, like the equality of races and the immorality of apartheid, were being spread by newspapers, magazines, radio, television and especially university professors. Convinced that the government was riddled with waste, he also proposed a finance committee to combat inefficiency, writing in all caps, “A watchdog financial agency is needed.”

That Mr. Musk has come to hold so many of the same beliefs about social engineering and economic planning as his grandfather is a testament to his profound lack of political imagination, to the tenacity of technocracy and to the hubris of Silicon Valley. [...] In 1995, after studying at the University of Pennsylvania, Mr. Musk left a Ph.D. program at Stanford to become a tech entrepreneur. He started a company called X.com in 1999. “What we’re going to do is transform the traditional banking industry,” he said. (Technocrats also planned to abolish banks. “We don’t need banks, bandits or bastards,” Joshua Haldeman once wrote.) Mr. Musk made a fortune when eBay acquired PayPal, which had merged with X.com, but in 2017 he bought back the URL, and it was at hand when he purchased Twitter and renamed it X, hoping to kill what he called the “woke mind virus” — echoes of his grandfather’s “mass mind conditioning.” Much that Mr. Musk has attempted to do at DOGE can be found in the technocracy manuals of the early 1930s.

Mr. Musk’s possible departure from Washington will not diminish the influence of Muskism in the United States. His superannuated futurism is Silicon Valley’s reigning ideology. In 2023 the venture capitalist Marc Andreessen, who helped staff DOGE, wrote “The Techno-Optimist Manifesto," predicting the emergence of “technological supermen.” It consists of a list of statements:

We can advance to a far superior way of living and of being. We have the tools, the systems, the ideas. We have the will. … We believe this is why our descendants will live in the stars. … We believe in greatness. … We believe in ambition, aggression, persistence, relentlessness — strength.

Mr. Andreessen cited, among his inspirations, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, who in 1909 wrote “The Futurist Manifesto,” which glorified violence and masculine virility and opposed liberalism and democracy. It, too, is a list of statements:

We want to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and rashness. We want to exalt movements of aggression, feverish sleeplessness, the double march, the perilous leap, the slap and the blow with the fist. … We want to sing the man at the wheel. … We want to demolish museums and libraries, fight morality, feminism. … Standing on the world’s summit, we launch once again our insolent challenge to the stars!

Ten years after Mr. Marinetti wrote “The Futurist Manifesto,” fists raised to the stars, he co-wrote the founding document of the movement led by Mussolini: “The Fascist Manifesto.”

Muskism isn’t the beginning of the future. It’s the end of a story that started more than a century ago, in the conflict between capital and labor and between autocracy and democracy. The Gilded Age of robber barons and wage-labor strikes gave rise to the Bolshevik Revolution, Communism, the first Red Scare, World War I and Fascism. That battle of ideas produced the technocracy movement, and far more lastingly, it also produced the New Deal and modern American liberalism. Technocracy lost because technocracy is incompatible with freedom.

That is still true, but unlike his forefathers, Mr. Musk does have a theory for the assumption of power. That theory is to seize power with the dead robotic hand of the past. It remains for the living to wrest free of that grip.

[sparks-and-wires]

Purge - 2P England x Reader

⚠️Warnings: The purge obviously, mentions of blood, attempted breaking and entering, Oliver's a stalker nothing new, the reader is not making smart decisions ⚠️

Word count: 1,004

All you see is a blur of strawberry blonde hair as you quickly make your way home. He's following you yet again. It's annoying sure, but what can you do about it? Confront him and be gaslit into thinking you're crazy all over again? It's too much effort, it'd only be pissing him off further. Today would be the worst day for him to be set off, so why would you bother risking it?

You have to take a long breath as you step inside your home, activating the home security system. It's that time again. Fear, death, blood, the screaming you'd hear the moment that the clock hits midnight. You have to make a mental list of people who may actually want you dead this year. Your eyes are trained on the TV, waiting for the blaring alarm and yearly announcement of commencement. You know one way or another, you're screwed.

------

Too many people have a distaste for you this year. Even with the precautions, so many people out there are sure to have equipment that could tear through the metal stutters. You'd be left utterly defenseless. A measly gun wouldn't even stun a hunter at this point, but you still keep it close as you bury yourself in the back of your closet.

You have to focus on the set of cameras on the small device in your lap now. You have to force yourself not to panic when you see him walk up your driveway like he would any other day. You think you can see blood staining his clothes but the camera is grainy when he isn't up close to the porch.

------

He doesn't even care if he's caught on camera, smiling like a Cheshire cat before the camera feed turns to snow once again. You let out a short scream of anger, you know he broke it. He just had to take out the most important camera in your entire system. You knew he'd get in this year, without a doubt, and you have to force yourself not to panic as you switch to another camera feed.

No matter what you do, what precautions you set up, he will get in. This is the one day of the year that no one will be able to help you. You're left at the mercy of your oh so friendly stalker. You curse the British government for picking up on the American's 'holiday of bloodshed'. 'A promise of economic prosperity' they stated, sure. It's just less people around to oppose the government, since they were exempt from participation.

-------

You can hear muffled screams and the whirl of machines just outside the metal shutters. You can't dwell on the thoughts of your neighbors, you can't even trust people to stay with you to bunker down due to last year. 'Never again', you promised yourself, you couldn't let yourself become a target for harboring someone else's enemies in your home. You had to feign being apathetic tonight, you could mourn later.

Then there's the harsh sound of metal on metal, piercing your ears as you turn to the camera the sound was emanating from. He was cutting through the shutters with a circular saw. You wouldn't have believed it could be done if you weren't watching it live. You were letting yourself panic now, he's figured a way in this year. A painfully slow way in, but even if got bored and left now others could finish the job for easy prey.

---------

Then you make what you know is the stupidest decision of your life to save what little protection you have. Praying for mercy, you disable the security system, scaring the absolute hell out of him and almost launching the saw into Oliver's head due his quick attempt to jump back. Then you watched. He'd paused for a moment confused before trying for the door with a lockpick. The circular saw long forgotten as it lays on the concrete outside your back door.

The moment he's inside the security system is immediately put back into place, scaring him once again with the loud slam of the shutters. You can't even say he's trapped inside with you, you could see the blood on him with the indoor cameras as he searched with a feverish curiosity. You're choking on air, just let it be over already.

--------

As he get closer and closer you can't help but just close your eyes, jumping at every little sound before remembering the gun. You were legally allowed to kill him with no consequences. You drop the tablet and grab the gun, cocking it and simply waiting as you had it pointed at the entrance of the closet.

Seems like hours before he finally entered the room. The tapping of his heels on the wooden floors you once hated gave you an advantage.

"I know you're here."

---------

You count off in your head as he grabs the closet door. Three. Two. One. Nothing, you can't seem to press the trigger as you pointed it at the strawberry blonde softly smiling at you.

Fucking hell, why did you have to freeze up? You could have shot him! Freedom was right in your hands and you blew it! You curse yourself as he's taking the gun from your hands before you could say a word. He pulls you to your feet and out of the closet with a lovesick expression. There's blood smearing onto your clothes and body and all you could do is wince and try to break from his hold.

"Everything's going to be ok. I'll deal with whatever gets past the security system. Thanks for letting me in dear."

This is not what you expected to happen this year. Between the blood on your body and him coddling you like a child you can finally let yourself shut down. Why put up a fight if he isn't even there to kill you? You let the rest of the night become a blur as you blankly stare into nothingness.

End Note: I'll be jotting down scenarios that come to me as blurbs. Don't forget that what I post will be related to bots sooner or later. Also I am not new to creative writing.

[avastrasposts]

Not An Easy Man To Find

Hello!

🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈This my contribution to @romanarose Pride Event 🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

It's the result of one of those "what if?" conversations that sometimes happen. I've never written m/m and I was curious to see if I could come up with a language to get across feelings and emotions between two characters that I love very much and still remain true to them. What would they express if they find themselves in a situation where they no longer need to deny the tension and attraction between them?

A/N - set after the events of Triple Frontier, mild spice, nothing too explicit.

The house was small, more of a cabin really, and set back from the small country road, right at the end of a narrow lane. The thick forest around the building had been cleared and the approach to the house was exposed. The second the man set foot on the property, flood lights lit up the yard. Even in the heavy rain he could see the cameras mounted on the porch, one aimed at the drive, the other at the front door. 

Frankie saw the lights go on in his yard, and he immediately reached for the gun on the coffee table but he remained on the couch, the book he was reading now face down beside him. Most likely it was just an animal crossing the yard, alarms wouldn't go off until someone tried to force entry. He waited for the lights to go off again, the knock on the door almost made him jump. Quietly he got up from the couch, moved through the house to the hallway and tapped the screen mounted on the wall. The man on the other side of the door was soaked through by the rain underneath his cap and he gave the camera a nod as if he knew Frankie was watching him. 

He should know Frankie was watching him. After all, he taught him how to set up the system. 

Pope heard the door unlock and couldn’t repress the smile creeping up as it swung open. 

“You’re not an easy man to find, Fish.” 

“Pendejo, where the fuck have you been?!” 

Frankie tossed Pope a towel after he peeled off his wet jacket, leaving it dripping onto the floor of the small hallway. The door was closed again, locked and bolted, and Pope nodded approvingly at the security system his friend had set up.  

“How did you find me?” Frankie asked as Pope toweled his wet hair, following him into the kitchen, “I’ve been staying off the radar as much as possible, Will told me a couple of guys came after you?” 

“Yeah, some of Lorea’s men. I got rid of them and I had to move location again. But Will had a hunch about where you might be so I checked it out and one thing led to another.” 

He hung the towel over a chair and sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen island as Frankie leaned against the counter. 

“Do I need to worry that someone else might find me that way?” he asked, raising his eyebrows but Pope shook his head.

“No, you’re good, Fish, I found you because I know you. How have you been?” 

“Shit.” 

Frankie spat the word, his eyebrows pulling together as he rubbed a large hand over his face. 

“Like absolute shit. I’m not sleeping, Tom’s death…it’s still….”

“Yeah, I know,” Pope said, “the nightmares have been brutal.”

“I keep reliving that fucking moment up on those rocks, when Tom…”

Frankie trailed off and Pope nodded. 

“Yeah, Tom, the heli crashing, Will getting shot, that fucking donkey…I have nightmares about that fucking donkey, you go over with it too, Fish, I keep dreaming the same sequence, seeing you tumble over the side, pulled down by it.” 

Pope glanced over at Frankie who was shaking his head with his eyes closed as if he was trying to shut something out.

“Don’t….” Frankie muttered, meeting Pope’s dark gaze. 

The two men fell silent for a few moments, eyes locked on each other,  the rain hammering against the shutters and a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Something made the lights flicker and Pope broke the stalemate, glancing up at the ceiling. 

“I’ve got a backup generator,” Frankie said, “and extra fuel. The power goes out pretty often when trees fall on the power lines.”

Pope nodded, “Always prepared, Fish.”

Frankie shrugged in response, seemingly waiting for the other man to say something else. Pope could feel the tension building in the small kitchen and he couldn’t face it, even if he was the only one who felt it. 

“You got a beer?” He motioned to the fridge but Frankie shook his head. 

“No, I’ve been staying sober, on all accounts, since we got back. I…I lost custody of the kids, after the divorce.” 

“I heard, man, I’m sorry. That’s fucked up,” Pope shook his head as Frankie shrugged again. 

“Shit was bad when I got home, she’d changed the locks, tossed my things, got the divorce papers ready. And I went on a bender, totalled the truck and then the court awarded her full custody,” Frankie shook his head, glancing down at his feet, “Can’t blame ‘em, and it was probably for the best. Some people were sniffing around the house a few months later but I’d already moved away. At least this way she and the kids aren’t in any danger.”

Frankie looked up at Pope, still damp, his shirt clinging to his shoulders as he leaned on his forearms on the wood countertop. His friend’s dark eyes looked apologetic as he listened to Frankie.

“Could’ve used your help, Pope.”  

“Fuck, Frankie, I’m sorry. I only just heard from Will that you got divorced, if I’d known I would’ve helped out, you know.”

“Yeah, well…” Frankie said, “It was my mess, I guess I had to deal with it.” 

“Yeah, but Fish, you’re family. Will and Benny have each other, Tom always had Molly and the girls, and then it’s you and me,” Pope said, getting off the stool and coming around to lean against the opposite counter, giving Frankie’s shoulder a clap. Frankie gave him a dismissive snort. 

“We’re family but you’ve stayed away for two years? Living off what’s her name's money? Not even a word to confirm that you were still alive?” 

“That…that didn’t work out,” Pope said, hesitating a little, “Turned out she wasn’t that interested when I’d already gotten her and her brother out of the country. And I always…” Pope trailed off and shrugged. He seemed to consider his next words, meeting Frankie’s questioning look for a few heartbeats before he continued, “Yeah…it didn’t work out. I came back to the States about eighteen months ago.”

Frankie’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at Pope’s answer. 

“Eighteen months ago? And you only just now got in touch? What the fuck, Pope?” 

“Like I said, you’re not an easy man to find, Fish.” 

“Bullshit, Will always knew how to find me, I made sure, you just didn’t bother.” 

Frankie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Pope who just shook his head, but still met his gaze. 

“I thought you were still married, Frankie, you had your own family. I didn’t wanna crash that.” 

“Still, could’ve used your help, even if I wasn’t divorced. If you really mean we’re family and-” 

“It was too hard, Frankie, you know that,” Pope interrupted, pushing himself off the counter and taking a step towards Frankie who stared back at him. Pope shoved a frustrated hand through his hair, “Seeing you with her, the kids, happy family life. You must’ve known how I felt, seeing you run back to her the second we were done in Columbia.” 

“Pope…” Frankie said in a low voice, his eyes dropping to his boots as his fingers twitched, he looked ready to crawl out of his skin. 

But Pope ignored him, tension dripping off him as he paced the small kitchen, “You know, right, Fish? This has always been here, this,” He pointed between the two of them, almost poking Frankie’s chest as he stopped by the counter again. “This…this friction, you and me, and now…you always just stand there and say nothing.” Pope shoved his hand through his hair again and slumped back against the counter, “Frankie, half the time I don’t know if I want to hit your or fuck you.”

Frankie suddenly exploded into action, two long strides and his fists grabbed Pope’s shirts, slamming their bodies together as his mouth found Pope’s. Pope grunted in surprise and took hold of Frankie’s sides as he stumbled back with the force of the other man’s kiss. Teeth and lips clashed as Frankie pulled Pope closer, tongues meeting and Frankie groaned, tasting rainwater on Pope’s lips. Pope wound his arms around Frankie’s waist and up his back, grabbing the shirt and pushing the other man into him as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Panted breathes filled the silent kitchen, a low moan from Pope as Frankie wrapped his hand around the back of his head. 

“I fucking missed you,” Pope mumbled, still pressed against the other man’s lips, and Frankie’s soft tongue came out to taste Pope again. A mouthed fuck and Pope’s hand slid down and grabbed Frankie’s hip, his touch going soft as he let himself feel the outlines of his body properly for the first time. 

“How long?” Frankie asked, his voice low as he pulled back a little, meeting Pope’s eyes. 

“Since basic, I guess. But I denied it for years.” 

“Yeah,” Frankie breathed out, barely a whisper, his eyes on Pope’s mouth. Pope tightened his grip on Frankie’s hip again and pulled his friend close, the kiss softer, less rushed. Frankie’s body was tense under his grip, uncertain as he shifted his weight and opened his mouth to Pope’s tongue. Pope moved slowly, feeling his way around Frankie’s stiff muscles, caressing his back, leading the kisses as the other man slowly began to relax. 

When Frankie groaned into his mouth and pushed forward, almost bending Pope backwards over the counter, Pope took hold of Frankie’s hips again and pulled him along. Leading him backwards into the living room. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sank down and Frankie toppled over, on top, his long body covering Pope’s, legs tangled together. 

A moan escaped Frankie when he felt the hard length of the other man against his thigh and he rolled his hips, seeking friction for himself, his body reacting faster than his mind, the primal urge to rut into the warm body underneath him almost taking over. Pope’s mouth was warm, heavy breaths panted into his own, as he squeezed his eyes shut. Pope’s hands were caressing his back, trailing down over his ass, grabbing and pressing them together, calloused fingers sliding inside his jeans and Frankie froze, pulling back an inch, panic flaring up in his throat. 

Pope’s dark eyes met his as Frankie pushed himself up, hovering over Pope on his forearms, not meeting his friend's look.  

“Have you done this before, Frankie?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless from the kisses, but calm, and Frankie wanted just to bury his face against Pope’s warm, flustered, neck, hide his face and not show the intensity he felt was written across it.

“Just a hookup, when I was drunk,” he mumbled in response, his hands suddenly felt too big, he didn’t know where to put them when all that was under him was Santiago. He shifted uneasily.  

“Cálmate, Francisco,” Pope mumbled, cupping his hand around Frankie’s head, his fingers finding damp, soft curls, “Relax.” 

Frankie nodded and dropped his head to Pope’s chest, exhaling deeply. The steady heartbeat under the shirt told him his friend was still calm, hadn’t lost his cool, wasn’t rushing into anything. Warm hands resumed their movements up and down his back but now they were slow, and didn’t touch his skin. He felt his nerves calm, this was just Santiago, Pope, his oldest friend, who knew the darkest things he’d done because he was right next to him when it all went down. If anyone would understand, could reach inside and soothe the panic in his chest, it was this man. 

He lifted his head from Pope’s chest and cupped his cheek, a slow, uncertain movement, running his thumb across the thick beard, shot through with more gray now than last time. The sensation was unfamiliar to his fingers, not used to touching him in this way, the texture of the beard different from his own scruffy patches. Pope parted his lips as Frankie’s thumb traced across them, pausing briefly to press into the bottom lip. Frankie watched as the soft skin gave in under his thumb, making Pope part his lips more. When he leaned forward and gave an experimental lick to the pink bottom lip, Pope hummed under him, his hands stilling on Frankie’s back. He let Frankie lead the way, taking it at his pace, meeting his tongue as Frankie opened his mouth and licked into Pope’s. 

This time it was Frankie who reached for Pope’s skin, sliding a hand in under his shirt, not even thinking about what he was doing, just needing to feel more. Pope shifted under him, letting the buttons come undone and the shirt slid open. The palms that skated across his skin were calloused and familiar, but never in this way, never with this soft touch, followed by a hot mouth and tongue lapping at his skin. 

He could help himself, “Frankie,” he moaned, the roll of Frankie’s hips grinding against his own hard length clouding his mind, “Frankie, are you sure?” 

A muffled Yes and a nod came from Frankie, his tongue exploring Pope’s skin with increasing fervor. When his hand cupped the hard length straining against the fabric of his jeans, Pope’s breath hitched and he groaned loudly. It egged Frankie on, suddenly he felt a desperate need rise inside him and he grabbed Pope’s hand, dragging him off the couch. 

“Bedroom,” he muttered, tugging the other man with him, the two of them stumbling the short distance to the small bedroom at the back of the cabin. 

Pope grabbed Frankie’s shirt and pulled it off, shrugging his own shirt on to the floor, and then Frankie’s hands were skimming up and down his sides as they climbed onto the bed, buttons being undone, jeans discarded. It wasn’t the first time they’d been naked in front of each other, far from it, but the new situation gave them cause to look at the other man in another way. Pope took in the trail of dark hair on Frankie’s soft belly, leading down to his achingly hard cock. Frankie couldn’t just look, his hand came out and closed around Pope’s stiff length, making him huff a strangled Frankie before he pulled him down over him. 

After, when their bodies were slick with sweat and the room reeked of cum, Pope cupped his hands around Frankie’s scruffy cheeks and kissed him firmly, holding the other man tight as their heart beats slowed down. 

“I should’ve come back much sooner, Francisco,” he mumbled, when he finally broke the kiss. 

“Should’ve done this much sooner,” Frankie muttered in reply, his hands wrapped around Pope’s shoulders, sharing his breath and still tasting the salty tang of his own spend on Pope’s lips. 

Pope nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back on the pillow with his fingers tangled in Frankie’s soft curls. He'd never known Frankie's hair was so soft, but he’d often thought about curling his fingers around the tufts that always stuck out from underneath that damn cap. Now he slowly ran his fingers through them, still damp from their exertion.

Frankie shifted his weight, resting his head against Pope’s shoulder, his leg hooked over the other man’s thigh. When the air in the room cooled, he reached over and tugged the comforter over both of them, rousing Pope from his light sleep. He shifted down, pulling Frankie into arms so that he could look him in the eyes. 

“What now, Francisco?” he asked, his voice already thick with sleep, and Frankie kissed him. The soft lips and rough voice now his to claim. 

“Nothing, just this, Santiago,” Frankie replied, “We sleep, we wake up, and then just this.” 

Tagging the lovely people who were excited to read this when I blabbed about writing it. @legendary-pink-dot @lady-bess @nerdieforpedro @i-own-loki @mysterious-moonstruck-musings and last but not least @for-a-longlongtime for beta reading and being incredibly supportive! Love you all!

[master-john-uk]

The rise in rural crime, and theft of farm machinery is alarming, to say the say the least. Even the Windsor Castle estate had two valuable items of farm equipment stolen in a break-in in 2024... and they have armed police nearby!

While my company can assist with surveillance cameras, alarm systems and security doors/shutters... these do not always fully protect property in remote rural areas.

The criminal gangs know that they are unlikely to be heard by any neighbours. And if alarms do sound, or they are spotted on CCTV... who would brave enough (or silly enough) to try and interrupt the thieves?

This DNA marking technique is invisible to the naked eye, and can not be scratched off. When trials of this DNA system were trialled in North Yorkshire, farm thefts reduced by a dramatic 91%.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 2: #78866B

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

[I sacrificed Damian's POV for more time of Jazz, and everything jumps around a little, but I refuse to feel regret. Notes on the timeline are at the bottom.]

-

Two hours went by way faster than Jazz thought. Between gathering the emergency bags, counting cash, and raiding the lab, she barely managed to herd her parents out the front door on time. Luckily, the two doctors didn't put up a fight, so she still had ten minutes to lock up. Like she said, Jazz hadn't touched the portal besides locking it down. The portal's power supply had been re-routed to an emergency shield, blocking anything from getting in or out. As long as it was still on, that shield would hold.

Jazz blew a strand of hair out of her face as she sat on the front porch for a moment. The door was locked, she had everything, and her parents were waiting like scared kids for her a few feet away. All she had to do was arm the security system using the bug Tucker had sent her. It was relatively easy; she had to take off the casing to the alarm next to their doorbell and use a connector to plug her phone in. It took her a moment, admittedly. It wasn't easy to mash tiny buttons when her hands shook with adrenaline.

While she waited for the virus to load, Jazz glanced at her parents, watching them. They looked lost. A little guilty, perhaps? They both looked gaunt and had unshed tears in their eyes, looking positively miserable for all the world to see. They hadn't said a peep after she had stormed off. Not even when she came back to clamp 'Shade Shackles' onto their wrists, hissing something to them about behaving. The shackles were heavy and bulky, restricting them from their wrists to their elbows and locking their arms together.

The shackles wouldn't hold Jack for long, she knew. Not if he was actually trying to escape. But honestly, the man was probably worse off than his wife. He just kept staring into space, dissociating.

Jazz thought they deserved it. After a few more seconds of fiddling, her phone finally beeped, indicating the upload was complete. She unplugged her phone, packed the cord into one of her bags, and stood again to close the alarm casing. Shutters slammed shut over every entrance into Fentonworks. Maddie flinched at the loud noise.

"And now," Jazz muttered, picking up her bat. "We can't go back." The redhead swung like a professional, slamming her weapon into the alarm, setting it off like a loud pig. She took her anger out on the plastic, smashing the buttons and hardware to bits, sending wires flying. Even the brick beneath the alarm was chipped in many places. Well, if there was one thing her parents did right, it was make a decent bat. The creep stick didn't have a scratch when she finally stepped back.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Jazz took in her handiwork. Getting some extra aggression out of her system slightly cleared her head, and she smiled at the ruined building. The alarm was going off at max volume, and some of the floodlights her parents had installed a few years ago lit up the whole neighborhood with flashing red. If the Fentons hadn't had people’s attention before, they sure as hell did now.

"What'd you do that for?" Maddie said, horrified. Guess she was breaking her silence.

Jazz scoffed, turning to pick her bags up and sling them over one shoulder. "Because while I'd love to burn this place to the fucking ground-"

"You can't!"

"Shut up. It's not up to you, Maddie." Jazz spat. "And it's not up to me. Danny gets to decide what happens to Fentonworks. Whether you like it or not, this is his final resting place. I'm not going to rob him of closure."

Maddie snapped her mouth shut.

"Final resting place?" Jack finally returned to himself as he cried at his daughter's words. Thick tears dripped down his face. Jazz had never seen her father so distraught, not even when Vlad moved away to Europe last year. He looked heartbroken.

Jazz sneered, poking her father in the chest with her bat. "You heard me. That fucking portal, your goddamn pride and joy, is what got Danny killed in the first place. That lab is where he died in front of his friends because you two are idiots who refuse to follow any sort of rule."

"No, that's not-"

"Not what?" Jazz rounded on her mother, who shrunk back in the face of her fury. "Not right? That's not what happened? Is that what you were going to say?"

They were attracting a crowd. People were being drawn out of their houses by the alarms and shouting, staring at the two Fenton parents with mild distaste. Everyone knew their children put up with a lot, even if the doctors were well-meaning. Did they finally cross the line?

"It was hard for us too!" Maddie insisted. "All those late nights, his avoidance of us, how he looked at us! It was horrible."

"THAT'S BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM!" Jazz roared. She was as red as her hair now, and the little ectoplasm that ran in her veins made the edges of her form blurry. As if she was a heat mirage. "YOU KILLED HIM, AND NOW YOU'RE KILLING HIM AGAIN BY HANDING HIM TO THE GHOST INVESTIGATION WARD!"

"Th-they just wanted to study him," Jack sobbed. "T-to avoid and prevent any ghost disease breakouts."

"BULLSHIT!" Her voice echoed down the street. It boomed unnaturally, drowning out the sound of sirens that were a few blocks away. A few neighbors were going pale as they realized the severity of the situation. "You two are doctors! You know how science works! You two built and sold weapons to them! Don't pretend to be ignorant and blame it on the fucking ghost flu."

"You disgust me," Jazz continued. She descended the steps and shoved past her parents. Maddie landed on the ground with an oof! "I hope I never have to see you two ever again." She adjusted her bags and started marching toward Nasty Burger, cutting through the crowd like she was fucking Moses. The police were a block away now. She didn't want to be there when they got to the house.

"Where are you going?" Her mother called. Pleaded, really. "We can talk this out!"

Jazz ignored her calls and walked on. When they spotted the murderous look in her eyes, everyone on the sidewalks quickly got out of her way. She had two minutes now, but the others probably wouldn't mind her tardiness. Her phone buzzed, and she snapped it open.

From: TheFuck

4:12pm yo ms evie just blasted ur rant 2 myspace and yt

4:13pm for an old lady she sure has quick fingers

4:13pm dani just showed up at nb we just waitin on u

Rather than replying, Jazz pushed the door to Nasty Burger open and beelined towards the trio's usual table. Tucker was glued to his phone while Sam and Dani mumbled, pouring over several sheets of paper. She tapped Tucker on the head, making him jump.

"I'm already here."

Tucker spun around. "Nocturn's starry underwear, Jazz!" He whined. "You could have just texted me!"

"Didn't feel like it," she shrugged, suddenly feeling very tired. The restaurant was mostly empty, so she threw her stuff into the booth beside them and slid in next to Tucker. The Fenton creep-stick was rested against the edge of the table, acting as a warning. The others had already set aside their bags and weapons in the other booth. Not a single Nasty Burger employee came over to tell them they couldn't have swords at the table, so Jazz didn't bother thinking about it.

Danielle, her free-spirited youngest sister, glanced up at her with a weary smile. She looked rough. The wind had tangled her shorter hair, and her clothes seemed horribly displaced and damp. (She'd passed through a tropical storm half an hour ago.) Dani was swaying where she sat, desperately trying to stay engaged with Sam even though exhaustion was no doubt clawing at her mind.

Jazz felt her mood soften. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that Dani was only a few years old by human and ghost standards. While Danny was also a baby ghost, he had a lot more stamina as a human to make up for it. Flying from New Zealand had taken its toll on the girl.

"Here, Danielle, switch me." Jazz stepped out of the booth, guiding her little sister to sit next to Tucker, who wouldn't mind if the girl fell asleep on his shoulder. Dani didn't protest and conked out almost immediately, soft snores being the only indication she was alive. Sam nodded her greeting and shuffled some papers Jazz's way.

"Here's everything so far," she stated. "We're doing this on paper until Tucker can set up a server."

Jazz flipped through the pages. Each one had a little tab in the corner sticking out so things wouldn't get mixed up. The pages were even color coordinated, just how she liked it. She scanned through sheets of numbers, reports on agent activity, stolen research, manufacturing contracts, and so on. Everything she saw was dated back at least a year, and Sam had taken the time to highlight the discrepancies between all the paperwork. It was the very definition of thorough.

Time for business, I guess, she thought. "To start with, how's the town?"

Tucker got right into it. He turned his PDA around to show her the screen. A tiny map of the town was displayed, with red dots pinned to random spots. "All the monoliths Danny set up are primed and ready. They'll tap into the ley lines in the area to power the ghost shield we set up. I'll set it off when we leave the city borders."

"I called Cujo and Wulf," Sam added. She had a paper version of the town map with more random spots marked in green. "They are rounding up the ghost animals, and I got Grandma Ida to scare a few more human ones into helping. Some of the A-listers are doing a sweep to drive out anyone who stays behind."

"What about the GIW equipment?"

"Dash is getting his football and baseball teams together. Wes is going to load them with a virus before they smash it all to bits."

"Teenage boys are always destructive no matter the species." Jazz remarked dryly. Sam gave her a Look, but she ignored it. Yeah, she was being hypocritical. Who cared? "How's the tracking going?"

Tucker patted the sleeping Danielle on her head. "Thanks to a little miss, I got a lock on his ecto-signature much faster this time. But his aura is big, and we'll still need to raid at least four locations before I can pinpoint him."

Jazz sighed in relief, tilting her head back. Everything was falling into place, and soon, Danny would be safe by her side.

-

Danny woke up with a knife in his chest.

He choked, breathing in the air for the first time in a while. He couldn't feel a heartbeat, but the knife was too close to his core. It was too close to his fractured core. The weapon twisted, digging itself deeper, and he screamed silently in fear. His limbs spasmed, knocking into whoever was standing over him and throwing them across the room with a thud.

Free of the pressing weight, Danny rolled to the side, dropping to the floor and scrabbling at the knife still in his chest. Fabric was tangled with his legs, making it difficult to stand. Had he been placed in a bed? He jerked the knife out, letting it clatter to the ground.

Danny keened as precious ectoplasm leaked from his chest. From his core. Flaps of skin that hadn't healed yet tore back open, ripping fresh scabs and making him lightheaded. Half-formed organs were trying to slip free of his body, and he could barely scoop them back in. His fingers felt thick, and the task seemed endless. What if his core slipped out? How would he know? Could he catch it?

Was this how Dani felt when she was melting? He briefly wondered. A sob tore its way out of his throat. God, everything hurt so much. He tried to inhale, to breathe through the panic attack, but his lungs were either shriveled from disuse or missing. He couldn't breathe. Oh god, he couldn't breathe. The fabric felt like shackles against his legs, stiffing and trapping him further as ice crept through the room. He couldn't feel his lungs, he couldn't feel his heart, he couldn't feel his core. His core was here; he knew it. Where was it? Where was his soul?

Danny curled in on himself, letting go of his skin in favor of shoving a hand into his chest, searching for his tiny core amongst all the ectoplasm and body parts. It was like trying to find a ping pong ball in a pool of Oobleck. The base of his head felt heavy, and he just wanted to cry even more than he already was.

where is it where is it where is it

His body shuddered as Danny started folding in on himself. The heavy feeling got worse. Bones slipped from his joints and pressed oddly against his skin, making it poke out in strange positions. He screwed his eyes further shut as he kept reaching past his ribs. His fingers were ice cold and sent shocks up his spine, making him spasm again. Flimsy organs were slipping past his arm; he tried not to pierce them as they landed back onto the floor with an ugly splat.

Danny kept crying, even as he felt the tips of his fingers finally brush his core. It was ice cold, colder than his skin. He could feel a deep crack in the surface, and he mourned for himself as he pulled his arm back out of his body. He wanted to scream so bad. To yell. To wail. To call for his family and friends and heal in his haunt surrounded by love.

But he didn't have any of that right now. His parents had given him away to the GIW, saying he just needed help, that he just needed to be fixed. That he needed healing. His haunt wasn't safe anymore, and Sam and Tucker had to stay behind to protect the other ghosts. Jazz wasn't even home the last time he checked. And now he was somewhere new, having a meltdown as he lost more blood than he cared to think about. He felt so goopy.

Danny's ears twitched as footsteps rushed towards his room. Was he underground? Everything was echoing. The person he'd tossed sat patiently against the far wall, probably staring at the mess he'd made. He was still whining in a high-pitched kind of way, which was his version of a ghost sob. The door burst open, making him flinch, but he was too weak to defend himself with ice. Danny could only lay there and try to pull himself back together.

-

"The boy is awake."

One of Ra's messengers bowed deeply to him, eyes cast to the floor. The papers he'd been going over were forgotten as he shoved them aside and focused on the messenger.

"I heard he was not due to wake until his organs regrew." Ra's commented lightly.

The messenger's frame tightened up a fraction. "The Demon's Thumb has returned," they intoned. "And has decided to greet the new Demon's Heir."

Ra's hummed, standing up. "I suppose I should have expected this. News does travel quite fast these days." He gestured for the messenger to lead the way, and they stood to do so. The walk from his main office to the medical wing was short as more of his retainers gathered around him. Dr. Vanessa, a thin woman with a vicious fire in her eyes, rushed to join his little circle as they passed the research hall.

"I apologize, sir." She seemed harried, if not a little ticked off. "My calculations must have been off. I-"

"It was not your fault, doctor." Ra's cut her off. "My granddaughter seems to have stopped by for a visit and wanted to pay her respects to the new heir, it seems."

"Ah." Dr. Vanessa's anger at herself vanished, and her face was carefully blank. "In that case, I shall adjust the boy's treatment plan accordingly."

They said nothing else as they approached the boy's room, admittedly at a quick pace. The bind around Ra's heart was urging him forward, to be faster and be by the boy's side when he awoke. The mere knowledge that the boy was in danger made his blood boil as his body revolted against this mind. By the heavens, he couldn't wait for this contract to be fulfilled. He hated magic so much.

Turning the final corner, a loud, keening cry assaulted everyone's ears. Dr. Vanessa flinched. A few guards pulled out their weapons, adopting a more defensive position. Ra's could barely stop himself from rushing through the group during the last few steps. He grits his teeth as another opens the door.

They were treated to the sight of a frost-covered room. The boy was on the floor, tangled in his blankets as he tried to shove unfinished organs, which was a gaping hole that led to nothing. Lazarus water was leaking from his body in copious amounts. His skin was practically translucent, and Ra's could spy his bones shifting unnaturally underneath it all, creating strange angles and planes that did not belong to a human. The boy's eyes were screwed shut, and he was crying even more Lazarus water, but Ra's would bet that his eyes were glowing that same bright green. The keening noise seemed to be coming from him, even though his mouth was shut tight.

Ra's glanced around again. A knife was on the floor next to the boy's head, covered in his blood. Mara al Ghul, his granddaughter and leader of the Demon's Fist, was sitting against the far wall with thick sheets of ice covering her from the neck down, trapping her in place. She was still wearing her mask, so Ra's couldn't see her face, but he knew she wasn't happy. Foolish girl.

Dr. Vanessa glanced at him. "May I approach the patient?" She asked. Ra's nodded his approval, and she cautiously stepped forward, trying to avoid the puddles of bodily fluids.

The doctor knelt, and she adopted a soft look to soothe the boy. "Hello, young man." Her voice dripped with honey. She reached out to tap the boy on his shoulder. "My name is Dr. Vanessa, and I'm-" She got cut off as soon as she made contact. A flash of light blinded everyone, and suddenly, Vanessa was encased with ice. She was essentially a statue now, still with a sweet look on her face.

Interesting. Ra's thought. One of his attendants moved the frozen doctor out of the way so he could walk forward, stopping right at the edge of the Lazarus water.

"Boy," he ordered. "Listen."

The boy's cry petered off at the sound of a human voice and he cracked his eyes open, staring straight at Ra's unblinkingly. He warbled something in a language that grated on everyone's minds. Ra's understood him, though, and switched tongues as easily as he would clothes.

"Boy," he repeated. His voice cracked, and Ra's could feel his granddaughter's burning questions engraved into his back. No one had heard him speak like this before. However, the boy finally opened both eyes wide, which he counted as a win. His interest was piqued. "Boy, listen to me."

The boy's mouth didn't move as he replied, "Hurts..."

"I know. But you are hurting others, and hurting yourself. Let us help."

The boy shivered. "Hurts. Can't. Pain."

"My people will not harm you," Ra's promised. The weight of the promise hung in the air like a bird, and the boy's eyes widened. Making promises in the tongue of the dead was a serious thing. "Calm yourself, and let us help you into bed. You are losing lifeblood. We cannot help if you freeze my people."

A humorless laugh was his reply. "Already dead." The boy informed him. "Almost dead again. It hurts. Please?"

Ra's motioned for the assassins to pick the boy up. He squeezed his eyes shut as hands touched his body but relaxed as one of them handed him his liver like it was a stuffed toy. The ice in the room started melting, releasing the two ladies from their bonds. The attending nurse quickly got to work collecting all the extra things that had fallen out of his body and placing them gently back inside the boy's gaping chest like he was playing Operation.

Once he was situated with all his goopy organs back in his body, the boy tried apologizing to Mara and Vanessa. "Sorry for the cold." He rasped.

Mara glanced at her grandfather, who didn't bother to translate. "I will be informing Mother Soul of this development," she said stiffly before turning and marching out of the room, two assassins at her heel. Dr. Vanessa was likewise escorted out to be taken care of.

Ra's stepped closer to the boy's bed. He didn't pay any mind to the blood, Lazarus goop, and now melting ice that stained his robes; they could be replaced. But he needed answers. He needed to figure out how to get out of this deal with the Gardener. And he needed to know how much power one child could offer him.

"Child." The boy looked lazily up at him. The effort of being awake was taking its toll. "I am Ra's al Ghul, the leader here. May I have your name?"

"Mmm." Some of the boy's bones shifted as he wiggled around, trying to relieve the weird pressure pressing against his skin. Ra's reckoned his whole skeleton might be out of place. "Call me Phantom," he eventually hummed.

Ra's knew that wasn't the boy's true name, but he'd work with it for now. He simply inclined his head in acknowledgment, watching as Phantom started nodding back off to sleep. Oh dear. He couldn't let him rest yet; Ra's needed answers.

"Do you know why you are here, Phantom?"

The boy licked his cracked lips, but still couldn't use his voice. His words were just echoing into the air like he was projecting his thoughts for everyone to hear. "No..."

"You were given to me. By a being who called themselves the Gardener. I am to take care of you."

"In exchange for what?" Phantom was struggling to stay awake. But he instantly caught onto the double meaning, which proved he had a brain somewhere.

Ra's considered his words. "Power," he said simply. "I care for you as if you were my own, and in exchange, you would be the key to granting unimaginable power and knowledge."

Phantom wrinkled his nose but seemed to accept that answer. "Undergrowth is so shady sometimes. But I'll acknowledge the deal between you two. Let me take a quick nap, and then you can let me know what you need..." He trailed off as sleep finally claimed him.

The Demon's Head wasn't pleased that the conversation was cut short, but the bind around his heart had loosened its noose, and he felt it was unavoidable. Now that his foolish granddaughter was out of the way, he would leave and return later. Phantom, while boyish in nature, seemed quite mature once he was lucid enough to talk. Perhaps Ra's wouldn't regret making him the Heir.

-

Jazz was getting antsy. It had been weeks, and they still hadn't found Danny. Raiding GIW bases with just the four of them took a toll on the group, especially since they kept losing supplies (like her beloved creep-stick, RIP). A few times, Danielle had to fly off and keep the peace in other cities, as the ghosts were finding different ways into the mortal realm now that Amity was shut off from the world. She'd taken up Danny's name as Phantom and was exhausted from flying across the country constantly. So, really, it was mostly the three of them.

Luckily, Kitty and Johnny showed up recently, and Dani got them to spread the word about Danny's disappearance and the group's country-wide manhunt. No ghosts had shown up since then.

"We're here," Tucker snapped her out of her thoughts, pulling her to an instant stop. This was one of the four bases Tucker had narrowed their search to. They'd destroyed the other three, gathering evidence and doing what was necessary to defeat the agents inside. And now they were standing in front of the final one, deep inside Yellowstone National Park. It looked like a rest stop with a bathroom, but Jazz knew that the compound was actually underground and most likely ten times the size of the shack.

Sam wrinkled her nose. "This place looks abandoned," She noticed. "At least the others had a front going on. I don't want to ride in a dirty bathroom that's really an elevator. I'd rather go back and fight those creepy clown performers from the pizza place."

"I can just phase us down." Danielle offered.

Jazz shook her head. "Nah, you need to save your energy, kiddo. Who knows how deep this one is."

Tucker crouched, fiddling with his PDA. "This spot does have a front," he told Sam. "It's a rare geocache spot. The only hint for it online that I can find is a shitty riddle that was posted, like, last week."

"Oh, what is it?"

"Uh, here. It says:

Below the keep, just six feet deep, lays a weathered path, born from wrath. A white beast rests, who troubles his guests, so find the key, and beware the banshee."

Danielle snorted. "You're right. That riddle sucks. Who wrote that? Skulker?"

Jazz smiled but considered the words seriously. "I mean, it seems pretty literal if you know the context behind it. Why not search for the cache and see if it has a key?"

"Good idea."

With that plan in mind, the four split up to scan the terrain. None of them had ever been geocaching before, but it was a popular tourist activity around Amity. It shouldn't be that hard, could it?

The answer was yes, it was. The group searched for an hour before Tucker finally gave in and sat on a log to take a break. The log promptly crumbled in half, and Tucker shouted in surprise as he landed ass-first on a hard tackle box.

"Oh, come on!" He groaned. "This log isn't even made of plastic! It's cardboard! Who makes a geocache out of cardboard?? It literally rained last night, my ass is wet now!"

Danielle giggled for the first time in weeks. Jazz ruffled her hair, earning a swat of protest, and then walked over to help Tucker to his feet. Sam swooped in to claim the first dibs on the box as soon as he was clear.

The lock was no issue for her as she simply bashed it open with a sharp rock. Sam seemed eager to find more clues and crowed triumphantly when she dug out a key card still attached to a GIW lanyard. "Fucking finally!"

"Good job, Sam." The four gathered around the tackle box. The card seemed legit, right down to the near-invisible security numbers engraved on the back. Their enhanced eyesight allowed them to spot that detail, which was a blessing when sniffing out fake leads.

Dani shot up excitedly. The fact that they were so close to finding Danny renewed the spark in her eyes. "I'll go look for the entrance!" She sped off, turning invisible to avoid any inside cameras. She found it within minutes, and returned to share the good news.

It was, indeed, in the tiny bathroom.

Sam groaned. "I need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

"I'm fine with that, honestly. You loud-mouthed mother-OW!" Tucker stumbled through the doorway to the bathroom, too slow to avoid the whack Sam had given him.

"That's 'loud-mouthed BITCH' to you," she scolded playfully.

The eldest shook her head and ignored them. The bathroom truly was tiny, and hadn't seen the loving touch of a mop in years. Spiders were making webs in the corners and Jazz was pretty sure something had been using the toilet as a litter box. It looked awful and smelled even worse. A smug look from Danielle told her that the girl had simply stopped breathing, and therefore didn't have to deal with the scent of actual bear shit.

She ignored Danielle, too. Jazz could feel her little sister's smugness radiating as they searched everywhere for the secret card scanner. Jazz couldn't stop her organs at will yet, and the twins always took full advantage of that to mess with her. They eventually figured out that the empty soap dispenser was what they were looking for, and the scanner beeped when they swiped the card. The whole room started to shake as they moved down.

Sam and Tucker stopped their petty back-and-forth as they heard the grinding of the elevator cable. "When was the last time this was used?" Tucker sounded alarmed.

"Probably when they built it." Sam grimaced at the sight of the dirty toilet water moving and pointedly moved to stare at the wall. "I want to set myself on fire right now. This is so gross."

"I'll hand you the match."

"I will douse you in gasoline, Tucker."

"Not the time, guys!" Jazz glanced at the ceiling, where she imagined the cable would connect. It squealed and screeched, but eventually, the world's worst elevator trip came to an end, and the one wall with nothing attached to it split open to reveal the pristine tunnel of a GIW facility. All four of them bolted for the hallway, and not just because they were eager to start trashing the place.

"Danny better fucking be here because I do not want to ride that thing ever again." Gasping, Sam rested her arms on her legs, breathing in stale, underground air. At least it didn't stink.

Danielle giggled again (that was twice now!!) and changed forms. "I'll go scout ahead," she informed them. Jazz bid her good luck before she faded from visibility. She wasn't too worried about the girl. Dani had her radio and knew to avoid GIW sensors as a ghost.

Tucker lay on the ground, staring into nothing while they waited. "My ass is still wet," he commented after a few moments of silence.

"No one needs to know that, Tucker."

"Too bad. I might get a rash from this. Did you know I ran out of underwear last week? I'm on my last pair, and now I'm gonna get a fucking diaper rash from them."

Sam gagged. "That's disgusting. Don't tell me this shit. I'm cursing your bloodline just for that."

"You gotta tell me these things," Jazz chided. "I would have gotten you a new set."

Tucker waved his arm in a 'whatever' motion. "Eh, honestly, it isn't that bad right now. I've done worse. Danny and I once tried to see how long we could go without showering or changing in middle school. I went two weeks before my parents hog-tied me and hosed me down in the front yard. Danny managed to go a full month before you did the same."

Realization struck Jazz and her eyes widened. "That's what that was about? Oh my god, he was yowling like a cat when I caught him, and it took three rounds of shampoo just to wash his hair! He's never forgiven me for it!"

"Sounds about right." Tucker shrugged. "I promised him a ticket to the observatory if he won, but you caught him the day of the showing, and he missed it."

"Why don't I remember this?" Sam demanded.

"It was right before y'all moved to town. It's the incident that caused the 'Fenturd' nickname."

Jazz put her head in her hands and groaned. Sometimes, she really wanted to smack her brother.

Danielle popped back into existence, making all three of them jump. Her mood had drastically changed, and she seemed really uncomfortable. "As interesting as that story is, and I definitely want to hear about it later," she said nervously. "This whole place has already been raided. There's no one here except a couple of soulless bodies. And an open portal. Someone was here before us."

All three shot up. "Lead the way," Jazz demanded. Everyone ran down the still-pristine hallway. Barely any dust had settled, and none of them smelled blood. Who had gotten here first?

They slid to a stop before a big metal door. Dani ducked through it to open it from the other side, and everyone was assaulted with the smell of rotting bodies and days-old blood as soon as it started moving. The door was literally so thick it had trapped everything inside. Including some agents, it seemed. A few bodies were pressed against the door and fell toward them when it opened. Tucker screeched and jumped back.

Sam, a true crime girlie at heart, crouched to examine the closest one. "Their fingers are worn through, almost to the bone," she noticed. "I bet if we closed the door again, we'd find scratch marks."

Dani floated above the corpses. "Yeah, it looks like something cut off all the exits and hunted them one by one."

"But what killed them?"

Sam toed a body until it flipped over. The eyes of the agent had been ripped from their skull, and frostbite warped their skin so bad she couldn't tell what their original features were. Danielle floated closer to Jazz, looking highly uncomfortable. "Danny's ecto is all over the place," she whispered. "He was definitely here."

"Right." Jazz hardened her heart. She was here to find her brother, not feel sorry for brutally mutilated government agents. "Let's get going. Stick to the battle buddy system, and keep your comms on."

They proceeded cautiously, only touching a body if it blocked their path or to find a key card. Tucker remarked that if this was a horror game, he probably would have played it, but living it was so much worse. Every single corpse had its eyes removed, and it was starting to wear on Jazz's mind. Dani mentioned their souls were gone, too.

Eventually, after some detours and backtracking, they reached the labs where Danny would have been held. Rage filled Jazz's chest as she saw ectoplasm mixed in with the bloodstains. A table had been set up to restrain a ghost with specialized handcuffs that had FENTONWORKS printed across them in bright green letters. Shattered glass was scattered across the floor and a few organs were decaying quite rapidly. A scientist was slumped across the table, a small knife still in hand. Jazz kicked the corpse.

Without Danielle telling her, she could feel it. This is where Danny had been tortured. Probably vivisected, too. Those were his organs that were rotting on the floor. His blood stains the ceiling. She was seeing red. She wanted to scream. Her baby brother had been tortured by these horrible people, and she didn't even get to kill them??

Danielle tugged on her arm, quietly bringing her back to herself. "The portal," she reminded Jazz. "It's in the next room."

"Sam, Tucker, see what you can recover from in here." Jazz gritted her teeth and let Dani guide her away from that room. "Dani's gonna show me the portal. Scream if you need us."

"Be careful!" Sam called back.

They left the room, going two doors down to what looked like a near-perfect copy of the Fenton's lab. She stiffened as she spied the portal. It wasn't set into the wall like the original but rather floated a few feet in the air in front of it. It looked like a tear in reality, similar to something Wulf could make, but on a much larger scale. She felt dwarfed by it, and dreaded to think about what could come through a portal this size.

Dani pointed out some blinking computers, the only ones still with power inside the entire compound. "They were working on a new portal," she said. "The Fentons sold their research. I'm not sure how we missed it, but they were really close to getting it figured out."

"This isn't from the GIW?" Jazz asked, gesturing to the behemoth of a disaster still swirling next to them.

"No, I don't think so," Danielle zoned out. Her eyes glowed, and she looked at things Jazz couldn't see. "This was opened from the other side. I think someone broke in, took Danny, and left after killing everyone."

"Someone from the Ghost Zone?" Jazz frowned. She bent over the computer, trying to click around for security footage. "But who do we know that is strong enough to kill everyone so physically? Vlad swore to never interact with us again, even if it was life or death. Undergrowth would have left plants behind, Nocturn doesn't like killing in the mortal realm, and Vortex can't sustain himself underground. None of the normal rogues are strong enough, either. Unless they got Desiree to help?"

"Nah, she may be a bitch, but she refuses to participate in murder of any kind. Plus, she's a neat freak. This isn't her work. It isn't Ghost Writer either; he doesn't like writing horror stories."

"What about Frostbite or Pandora?"

Dani wrinkled her nose. "Maybe? Frostbite is a pacifist who is more likely to rescue Danny without killing anyone. And the portal is too small to let Pandora through. She could've sent her warriors, though."

"It was Danny."

Jazz glanced up from the computer. Sam and Tucker were standing in the door, looking pale.

"We pulled recordings from the labs dating back two months. Danny was the one who killed everyone."

"...Pardon? It's only been a few weeks since he disappeared."

"I don't know." Tucker frantically typed away at his PDA, pulling up the downloaded footage and shoving it in Jazz's face. "But it's definitely him. I pulled their files, too. They were looking into time travel, Jazz. The day Danny showed up in their records, Operative K and Operative O were also logged in, even though they were 100% still in Amity during that time. They suddenly added on the time travel stuff a day later."

Jazz zoned out, numb to Tucker's near-hysterical rant. She just watched the tiny screen blankly as Danny was tortured over and over again but refused to give up the secrets the agents were asking for. Every time he refused, he was punished by having his organs taken away and put into jars for study. Then he'd be pumped full of pure ectoplasm, and just like Prometheus, he was back the next day with fresh organs for harvest. The dates in the recording went back weeks. Way before Danny disappeared.

Dani sobbed and looked away from the screen. Jazz couldn't even blink. The turning point in the experiments was when they brought in a little girl, a human girl, in front of Danny. The girl was about five, probably homeless or kidnapped, with pretty blonde hair done up in pigtails. Jazz noted she had been crying and had the number '27' pinned to her shirt. Danny was wary, sure it was a trick until he spotted something off-screen that they couldn't see. He jerked forward, straining to reach the girl, panic in his eyes.

But he couldn't reach her. Two scientists simply wrote down some observations before nodding in the same direction Danny was looking. Without asking a single question, the agents killed the little girl in front of Danny.

Jazz's hands shook as tears filled her eyes. Danny, her sweet baby brother, looked on in horrified shock as the cameras switched. Agents dumped the girl's body in a barrel of ectoplasm and waited patiently until a blue wisp rose from it. Then, using a Fenton peeler, they zapped the child's soul without mercy. Normally, the peeler stripped the disguise off a ghost to reveal their real form. But to a fresh soul as weak as that?

Her soul was burned into nothing.

Danny started screaming and imploded in on himself like a star.

The camera blacked out for a few moments, flickering between glimpses of her brother and blackness. She barely recognized him. His form had warped into something unrealistic. Something straight out of a movie. He was impossibly large now, barely able to walk on two legs when he stood amongst his broken restraints. His chest was a gaping cavern, and when he turned towards the camera, she could spy his tiny core exposed to the world. It was acting like a black hole, pulling at Danny's own skin and flesh like it was trying to suck him in. It was beautiful and strange in a horrible way.

He was too fast for the camera to really keep up with, but Tucker had doctored it to slow down each frame. Danny's face was splitting in two from a silent scream. His hair was flowing wildly, falling over his body, so it looked like he had a white, shaggy cloak.

His hunt never stopped. He didn't slow or hesitate to pounce on everyone he saw. His body was stained red from the gouging of people's eyes, which was the fastest way to reach a human soul. The group watched in horror as Danny leaned over his victims, opening his splitting maw even wider and devouring every soul he could, ensuring that they wouldn't even get peace in death. The churning of his core was getting worse, and at some point, he was spreading ice with every step he took. It looked like he was really struggling to stay standing by the time a few scientists were the only ones left in the compound. Jazz was afraid of what would happen if he collapsed completely. Would his core devour him?

At some point, the cameras really did die, and the screen went dark. Jazz realized she was crying, and moved to give the PDA back to Tucker.

"There's more," he shook his head. "But we didn't watch that far ahead because an outside force added it when I downloaded everything."

Like he said, the screen crackled back to life after a moment. The group realized it was from Danny's point of view. All the agents were dead, and he was stumbling through the halls in a daze, unable to keep his bigger form. He finally made it to the room they were in now, probably drawn to the familiarity of the lab layout. Before he could reach the unfinished portal, however, the freestanding one opened and out stepped a very familiar figure.

"Clockwork?" Jazz muttered, surprised.

As if hearing his name, Clockwork looked directly through Danny, straight at her. "The flow of time has been disrupted." He said softly. "I'll take our young Guardian here to a safe place. We have much to talk about, Miss Jasmine. You, too, Samantha, Tucker, and Danielle. I'll see you soon."

Then, the older ghost's focus switched back to Danny, and it was like he'd never spoken to them at all.

"Daniel," he coaxed. "It's time to go."

Danny groaned but stumbled forward and passed out in Clockwork's arms, promptly ending the video.

Silence descended over the room. Jazz could hear blood rushing through her body, and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She thought over what they'd found in the facility, about the state of Amity Park, her parents, and most importantly, her brother. About how he was tortured to the brink of insanity and how he still found it in his heart to love others. To protect them. To care and grieve for someone he'd never met. He must be feeling so much hurt.

Deciding on the next step was easy.

"We need to find Clockwork."

-

[I realized the timeline is kinda confusing, and I promise it'll all match up in the next chapter, but here's a chart on what it looks like right now so it's easier to understand.]

[The top one is the timeline Ra's and the rest of the DC characters are on. The middle is Jazz and the others. Danny is separate from both timelines right now because of the Time Medallion that Dan forced into his core. Right before the start of the story, which is marked in bright colors, Danny and the agents he's traveling with get involved in a time anomaly and are transported two months into the past. The agents still take him to the Yellowstone compound, but the incident makes the GIW speed-run their research on the Ghost Zone and, now, time travel. The timelines sync up again when Tucker finds the video from Clockwork. The total amount of time that has passed since the start of the story to the sync-up is about three weeks.]

[greatrunner]

It is a truth universally accepted that when critiquing anything regarding AO3/OTW, reactionaries enter the building, and critical thinking and discernment gets locked out.

Nia Ola (on Substack) attempted to raise the alarm about AO3's changes in Terms of Service. This bit in particular:

Nia Ola: "[...]AO3 just updated their terms and conditions so that the only way you can use the site now is that you consent to them taking your data (so, works that you've written, distributed, saved, bookmarked, etc, everything) and give that data and information to the government."

In my time reading Terms and Conditions of Service, websites claiming that they're "duty bound" to provide data uploaded to the site to the govt, depending on jurisdiction, is not a surprise. You will not be informed or told by the site(s) when the government accesses/obtained your information. All on the pretense that it would "interfere with an ongoing investigation".

It isn't dissimilar to the one I've read here for Tumblr. The bit that says (legalese-y) that anything you post on the site can be used as evidence (IIRC) if it becomes "necessary."

But as usual, the AO3 brigade worked like hell to shout them down. Folk focused a lot on how OTW made their TOS "easier" to understand. They claimed Nia Ola was spreading misinformation. Most have gone as far as quibbling with her phrasing, "giving your information to the government" (which they would be doing) based on their personal interpretation of her meaning.

After making the video (they posted on TikTok) private, Nia Ola continued to encourage people to use security measures like VPNs and secure Browsers (they mentioned Firefox; I'm sure others are recommending Tor, Brave, and lesser-known browsers with better security features than Edge or Chrome) and to back up information they didn't want to lose.

Is it an explicit consequence of the election? Probably not. AO3/OTW knows entirely that they're hosting grimy shit on their website and refuse to do anything about it. AO3/OTW, like other websites, are "all-ages". Meaning OTW knows kids as young as 13 (and lets face it, younger) are using AO3. If the US or any other country decides it's politically advantageous to go after them, AO3/OTW is gonna cover their asses and throw you under the bus.

Point-Blank-Period.

That said, I think it would be irresponsible to exclude the election as a factor altogether. Organizations (govt or otherwise) are hang-wringing about rustling conservative feathers, and censoring themselves to avoid the wrath of a Trump Admin.

KOSA and COPPA are still in play. And there's the bill targeting non-profits to consider that's likely (and did) to pass not long after it got shot down.

When Tumblr wanted the favor of the Apple Store and their advertisers, they targeted sex worker blogs and fashion and art bloggers (primarily Black/non-Black). Then, they created an AI flagging system that still doesn't work.

When enough people (and advertisers) made enough noise about the NC-17 content that FanFiction (dot net) hosted on their site (at the height of its popularity, mind you)? They made a choice that allowed the website to survive and eliminate the target on their back. Both were financially motivated, yes, but if it's a choice of annexing content to stay online or getting shuttered?

AO3 will not be an exception. It's already embracing that "Obeying in Advance" phrase y'all are in love with right now.

Nia Ola is not the only one raising the alarm or alarmed by this decision. In your haste to fall on the sword for an organization that does not care about you, try not to make an ass of yourself by dog-piling people with experience regarding the consequences of data collection stemming from policies meant to criminalize sexual content, yeah?

This will continue unless we establish actual policies, education, and protections to prevent the mass surveillance of adult spaces under the pretense of "decency" and "protecting children." Additionally, we must address the ongoing elimination of healthy and safe spaces for children.

Because in our govt's haste to claim their concern for children, the corporations they serve have been demolishing child spaces and media online to save a couple of bucks (Cartoon Network's website comes to mind), and pushing children into adult spaces. And if they're not pushing kids into adult spaces, they're inviting adults into so-called kid spaces to increase their profits (Roblox and its attempts to become anything but a game for children, to say nothing of their monetization of the ideas that kids make).

Until our culture/society overhauls its approach to sex education, divorced from white supremacy, the actual intention of creating spaces that aren't sex-negative and don't prey on uninformed children will probably always exist in short bursts.

That means our politic has to rid itself of the reactionary ilk that (a) demonizes all things sexual and (b) refuses to practice discernment and critical thinking in their so-called sex-positive spaces. Both are why places like AO3 manifest and then ultimately help no one.

And it does not help anyone that reactionary AO3 loyalists will always fight to keep conversations about the site politically and socially stunted and unchanging.

Not all censorship and moderation is or should be sex-negative or censorious to the point of infantilizing. But, if the goal is maintaining free speech and freedom of expression (as we like to think of it vs how the govt allows it), it cannot be to the detriment of itself or for the sake of it (i.e., anti-censorship is not the answer any more than autocratic censorship is).

[dcdreamblog]

What became of Gernsback, the All Star Squadron's robit butler, I hope he's okay :D

Oh this is one of my favorite parts, and I can actually pick up from my last story. So, Background! "Gernsback" was made out of the remains of the Elektro robot that was something of a star at the 1939 World's Fair but after the Phantom of the Fair's reprogramming and a battle with the Sandman and the Crimson Avenger he was a little...

Totally and utterly smashed. While we don't have direct sources saying so, our best guess is that he was just left on site for the next couple of years in the middle of the wrecked ballroom where his assassination attempt against George VI has been foiled. It explains how he was discovered by Robert Crane, the original Robotman, when the fairgrounds were given to the All Star Squadron as a base...

Those of you who are familiar with this era of history know Robert Crane is a VERY enigmatic figure

(A file photo of Crane as Robotman, very much the clearest photo of him as part of the Squadron's 1944 yearbook) To the point that it wasn't until recently the name "Robert Crane" was known. For most of his career he was known under the false name of Paul Dennis and he purposefully retired into obscurity after the end of his career.

One thing that IS known about him...

Is that he was a NOTORIOUS tinker. (Photo taken from the Squadron's 1940 yearbook, this time a candid shot with Johnny Quick's name on the back. Its the only picture of Robotman in the candid photos of any of the Squadron's 5 yearbooks and implied by Quick's name and caption on the photo, it was taken without Crane's knowledge) Said caption being: "tin man being antisocial again but he's good to have around, even if he does prefer scrap to people." For several months he fiddled with the pieces of the robot and was able to rebuild and upgrade it in various fashions. Because the All Star Squadron didn't have any civilian staff he eventually set the machine as a combination doorman/butler/security alarm...

(Liberty Belle and Gernsback from the Squadron's 1940 yearbook. "Sometimes he's the best conversation around here" in Liberty Belle's handwriting written beneath) The robot's "artificial intelligence" if it could be said to have one was VERY basic. Limited to answering knocks at the door (as in hearing a knock and physically opening the door), prompting for a security passcode and fetching small items around the base Robotman rechristened the robotic butler "Gernsback" presumably after science fiction editor Huge Gernsback. Which is one of the few insights we have into Crane's personal life/preferences He served the Squadron for the rest of the war until the organization was shuttered after the war, after most of its members retired or dropped from the public eye in the aftermath of the Red Scare and the disbanding of the JSA Gernsback was left on site undisturbed for several decades. Now you may remember me saying I give tours of the national park that's been made of site now. Let me show you one of my favorite parts of my job...

He's out doorman, lol. I walk past him every time that I bring in a tour group where I get to make a big show of introducing him to the group and speaking the passcode to let us in. (We still have to use the passcode because we can't figure out how to turn the security system off ^^") Don't ask what happened to his legs, we don't know. Safe to say though we keep him in perfect working order and shiny for the visitors. He'll live out his golden years as a freshly polished centerpiece. In case anyone was worried.

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Red Handed - Nick Fowler x OC

warnings: cat burglar x cia agent, strangers to lovers, one night stand (maybe?), smut, 18+

word count: 6.8k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1458283445-red-handed-kara

vibe: “Clock’s ticking, handsome.” 

He sighed, rolled his eyes as if the whole thing was an inconvenience and casually tipped the gun away from himself with a finger. 

“Nick,” he said, casual as anything. “Nick Fowler. And you are?” 

She searched his eyes, looking for the lie. When she didn’t find one, she lowered the gun. 

“Kara.”

Masterlist

3…2…1…showtime.

Kara counted down the seconds on her watch and then boosted herself up and over the wall that bordered the property. Keeping low, she skirted around to the back porch and crept delicately up the paved steps, deftly avoiding the motion detectors for the lights surrounding the outdoor pool. She reached the box that connected to the house alarm and pried open the cover. 

“Piece of cake,” she murmured with a satisfied smile as she snipped through the wires that powered the security system.

The back door proved no match to her lock-picking skills either and it was less than a minute before she was standing in the darkened kitchen, the door closed tight behind her. From her memory of the plans and the drone flyover she’d done the day before, she knew exactly where to go. The bedroom was easy to find and a decent search provided her with four high-end watches and a dozen pairs of solid gold cufflinks. She left the room as neat as she’d found it - she was a thief, not an animal.

The office was next. Kara didn’t find anything of value in the desk so she began to search the shelves that lined the back of the room. A statue caught her attention, a small sculptural piece, and she reached out to check the base for a maker’s mark. It didn’t lift completely but instead tilted forwards. At the same time, a large section of shelving swung open to reveal a hidden safe. 

“Bingo,” she whispered in satisfaction but faltered as a loud mechanical whirring echoed around the empty house and the windows were covered over by thick metal shutters.

“Well, shit!” 

She darted into another room. The same metal shutters covered the windows. 

“Shit!” She fought to keep her breathing under control as she paced around the room. “Okay, if you panic, you’re screwed. There has to be a way out of here, all you have to do is find it.”

Kara had been doing this her whole life. Her dad taught her how to pick locks when she was a kid and her career took off from there. She’d always been quiet, always blended into the background… perfect for her profession. 

Not so great when it came to other aspects of her life, though.

But right now, blending in was going to have to be her greatest asset. 

She scoured the rest of the house, rushing through the kitchen and down a long hallway with marble floors until she found a door at the end of it. Just as her fingers wrapped around the handle, she felt something cold pressed against the back of her neck. 

Kara froze, eyes wide as all of her breath was sucked from her lungs.

“Don’t. Move.”

The voice was soft with a touch of gravel to it. It made her head buzz and her stomach flip. That’s when she noticed that that incessant whirring noise from the alarm had stopped. All she heard was the rustling of his clothes and rush of his breath.

“Please—“

“I'm not interested in begging, prințesă.” His laugh was as cold as the barrel of the gun that he pushed deeper into her skin. “I should execute you right here, right now.” 

Her breath stopped completely at the coldness of his words. Her mind blank as she stood still as a statue, not even daring to breathe in fear of what he'd do to her. 

This had never happened before. It shouldn't have happened now when she was prepared and had planned for weeks how to get in and out quickly. Undetected.

So much for that, she thought.

"Show me both hands, up and palms open." The command was soft. Calm as a snake. 

She hesitated for a second and it made him press the barrel harder into her skin and her hands jolted up instantly at the threat.

“Good girl,” he rumbled with a click of his tongue. He kept the gun in place, pressure lifted just a little but still the threat was there. As was the airy flutter in her stomach. “Now, I’m only going to ask you this once. What are you doing in my house?” 

Kara swallowed, fought back the roll of her eyes and the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue. 

In the beat of silence, she heard him take a step forward, the light tap of an expensive shoe on the polished floor. The barrel of the gun dug in again, warm now, and when he spoke this time, it was close enough for his breath to send a loose hair tickling her jaw. 

“Answer me, sweetheart. Or you’re not gonna like how this goes.”

“I think I’ll plead the fifth,” Kara replied, trying to turn her head but freezing as the pressure against her neck increased slightly in warning.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he purred. “Who do you work for?” In any other situation his tone would have elicited a completely different reaction but Kara swallowed thickly against the knot of fear in her throat.

“What sort of C.I.A statement is that?” She snarked, straightening her shoulders with a bravado she didn’t truly feel.

“Oh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say, sweetheart.” A large hand curled itself around her bicep. “Now I need to know who sent you.”

“Since you decided to play nice,” Kara teased in a sardonic sing-song voice, feigning nonchalance.

It was hard when he sounded like that. 

Even harder when he was a heartbeat away from watching her brains splatter against the eggshell paint on the door. 

His shiny shoes squeaked on the floor and as he moved closer, her senses were flooded with the smell of spice and sage. His lips pressed against the shell of her ear.

“Tell me, prințesă. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Natasha.” She grabbed the name out of thin air, but when he stiffened against her body, she knew she was on to something. 

Suddenly, she was spun around and slammed against the door. The gun was tucked beneath her jaw and Kara found herself face to face with a set of stunning cerulean eyes with flecks of olive and navy near his pupils. They glittered like a dark ocean, piercing hers. The rest of him was just as easy on the eyes. Sharp cheekbones, a strong square jaw, and full lips that curled into a vicious smile. Everything was topped off with short dark hair and a bruise on his cheek.

“You lie,” he spat. “I killed her in Kyiv.”

First mistake about this line of work? Never give out more information than you should.

“You’ve got a lot of enemies, blue eyes.”

She was just making an assumption based on how wealthy he was. Good guys don’t have secret doors leading to big ass vaults.

“So that’s why you’re here?” His voice was a snarl and the sneer on his face grew wider. “If you wanted to kill me, you’re doing a shit job of it.”

“Am I?” She purred. “Because you seem pretty shaken up right now.”

“Am I?” He mimicked with a shine in his eyes. “Tell me, sweetheart, how much do you actually know about me?” 

Kara frowned as he urged her on with a firm press of the gun into her jaw, leering at her in the dark. 

Her eyes flit over his features, lit partially by the moon through the window. Up close he was handsome, dark stubble and a soft dimple in his chin. In fact, his whole face was softer than his manner, a harsh contradiction, and suddenly, it all clicked into place. 

“I know you were a double agent, probably still are…” she replied, confidence lacing her words. “The type to fuck over a friend or two.” 

And that must have hit a nerve because Mr Blue Eyes faltered for just a second before he regained composure and shoved her into the door once more.

His handsome face curled into a snarl as he ripped off her backpack, the muzzle of the gun still jammed dangerously into the soft flesh under her jaw. Throwing her bag far off to the side, he let one hand slide expertly over her side, her ass, and around each leg, searching her for any hidden weapons. He didn’t find any, of course, but he obviously wasn’t satisfied as he forced her to face the wall once more. It was then, with a gun pressing into the back of her neck for the second time that night, that Kara heard the jingle of metal and a pair of cuffs were snapped around her wrists.

“What the fuck?” She spluttered as she was manhandled onto the leather couch on the other side of the room and forcibly made to sit.

“Listen,” he sighed, pulling the desk chair before her and perching on it, his posture indicating his exhaustion. “If Natasha sent you, your intel is obviously way out of date. I really don’t have the energy to clean blood off my $3000 rug tonight so if there’s anything you feel the need to share then now’s the fucking time.”

Kara met his icy stare. There was always the possibility of dying in her occupation, but she never really thought she’d encounter it before. Now, there was a glock pointed right at the spot between her eyebrows being held by an incredibly hot, but incredibly dangerous man. She could tell by the way he searched her that he was law enforcement. 

And that CIA comment really seemed to piss him off. 

Her eyes darted around the room and she heard him cock the hammer.

“Eyes on me,” he snarled. “You don’t look at anything, you don’t touch anything, do you understand me?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and he took a step toward her. 

“I asked you if you understood—“

“I do,” she snapped. “The gun is a little distracting.”

“Well, you made your bed. Now it’s time to lie in it.”

She quirked a brow.

Now there’s an idea

“You always keep cuffs on you?” Kara asked, lips curled into a smirk. “Is that like, a thing? ‘Cause I gotta say you do seem like the type—”

Blue Eyes cut her off with a glare, jaw tight and throat bobbing heavily as he swallowed. 

“You’ve got too much of a mouth on you to be one of Natasha’s,” he commented, eyes narrowing. 

Heart thudding in her chest, Kara peered up at him and decided it was time to up the ante if she was ever going to get out of there.

“Is that so? Why don’t you let me out of these cuffs and I can show you just what this mouth can do? Then you can decide if it’s a hindrance.”

“How ‘bout we see what you were after first and then I’ll decide,” he said with the barest hint of a smile.

Hooking his foot into the strap of her backpack, he pulled it towards himself and rifled through it, tutting and shaking his head in dismay before pulling out one of the watches she’d pilfered.

“The Director gave me this for excellent service,” he admonished, holding it up. “You don’t work for Natasha, you’re nothing but a petty thief. You don’t even have any weapons on you.”

Kara shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m not a petty thief,” she said indignantly. “I’ll have you know I’m very skilled at what I do. If you weren’t such a psycho with your security you wouldn’t have even known I’d been here until you wanted to change your watch.”

 “To your credit, you’re the first chancer to even make it in the house,” he mused, appraising her with fresh eyes, 

Kara could feel his gaze as it scanned over her, the intensity of it raising goosebumps on her skin. With what seemed like a resigned sig he leaned forwards, he face as close as the barrel of the gun that was still pointed in her direction.

“If I take off the cuffs are you gonna be a good girl?” He purred.

“That all depends on what you’re going to do for me.”

He lifted a brow as he let her backpack fall to the floor with a dull thunk, stepping over it and drawing a small shape on her cheek with his pistol. 

“You came into my house and stole my shit. You’re in no position to bargain.” He cocked his head to the side, using the barrel of the gun to turn her head. “Beg, maybe…” 

His suit was tailored. Custom fabric, too. Italian silk. No brand name, either. One of the first things she learned was being able to clock just how expensive something was on sight. Custom Italian leather shoes, silk socks, and expensive cologne. Tom Ford… she was pretty sure, at least.

The Rolex on his wrist was fake, though. The real one was in her backpack. 

He tucked the gun into his pants and pulled her to her feet. 

He worked quickly, freeing her hands with a click and pressed the gun against her neck.

“You don’t work for anyone, do you? You’re just a lost little—“ 

Kara snatched his wrist, twisting his arm until the gun tumbled from his grip. He let out a pained yelp as she spun around, kneeing him in the gut. He hit his knees and instantly reached for the gun, but she was faster, scooping it up and pointing it at him. Instantly, he put both hands in the air. It was hard not to let her eyes wander too far from his face. In the fight, the buttons on his dress shirt had popped open and she saw a small gold chain resting against a chiseled chest.

“Lost your edge, blue eyes?” She taunted.

Those eyes glittered as that malicious smile returned.

“How much do you know about art?”

“Enough to steal the good shit,” she replied, cocking the hammer. "Tell me your name."

He chuckled, licking his lips as his eyes lingered on her body.

“You first, prințesă."

Kara huffed, he really was a cocky son of a bitch. 

Taking a step forward, she bent at the waist and reached out. Blue Eyes hissed as she skimmed the tip of the gun along his stubbled cheek, curving across his sharp jaw on its way down to his chest. She hooked the chain around the barrel — a dainty St. Christopher pendant dangling between them now as she pointed the gun under his chin much like he had done earlier. 

“Clock’s ticking, handsome.” 

He sighed, rolled his eyes as if the whole thing was an inconvenience and casually tipped the gun away from himself with a finger. 

“Nick,” he said, casual as anything. “Nick Fowler. And you are?” 

She searched his eyes, looking for the lie. When she didn’t find one, she lowered the gun. 

“Kara.” 

“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Kara, but well…” 

“Rude,” Kara sniffed,  gesturing to the sofa she had recently vacated with the barrel of the gun. “Take a seat, Nick Fowler,  I guess we need to talk.”

Nick rose from the floor slowly, warily, and perched on the edge of one of the leather cushions. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forwards slightly, feigning nonchalance, although his clenched jaw gave him away. Kara took his place on the desk chair, crossing one leg over the other as she learned back and rested the gun against her thigh.

“So, you mentioned art?” She asked, her brow cocked with barely-disguised interest.

He stood up and poured a drink, despite the fact that the gun was still aimed at him.

“You like whiskey, Kara?”

“I’m more of a cosmo girl, myself.”

“Well, I’m fresh out of vodka.” He set two intricately designed crystal glasses on the bar cart, pouring a generous amount of amber liquid into them. 

She liked the way his hands flexed around the neck of the bottle. Her throat tightened along with her stomach in quiet anticipation. She could still feel the cool metal from the gun when he brushed it across her cheek, making her whole body light up. Suddenly, she needed that whiskey more than she needed to get out of this fucking house.

“I have a very wealthy client who’s interested in fine art. The kind of shit people crowd around the Louvre to see. He wants a very specific painting in his house, and he wants me to help him get it— now, I'm good at my job, but I'm not a thief-- here.” 

His expression was soft as he approached, eyes more vibrant and pleading. Her fingers wrapped around the glass as Nick settled into the seat beside her, both of them taking long pulls from their drinks. 

“Since when does the CIA help criminals?” Kara asked.

“Probably since we shot JFK,” Nick snorted into his glass.

Kara huffed out a small laugh of her own and took another sip of her drink, relishing the burn as she swallowed. 

“So you what? Want me to steal it for you? Because let me tell you, my services are not cheap.” 

“You’re a petty thief—“ Nick started, a sigh behind his words. 

“I resent that,” she replied pointedly. Making herself comfortable, she curled her legs up beneath her. Nick followed her movement, scowling. “We’ve already established I’m highly skilled, and you clearly need me to pull this off so… what are you offering?”

Nick looked her over, mulling his options and doing a piss poor job of hiding his interest in more than just her skills as his eyes lingered on her lips. 

“What does a thief need that they can’t just take?” He asked her, his head tipping to the side in question as a conniving smile spread across his face. 

“The same thing CIA agents need.” A tight, clipped laugh tumbled from her. 

Nick’s blue eyes watched her, flickering quickly to hers before he feigned disinterest. “What would that be?” He asked. 

“I see the way you look at me,” she said, “and I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t thought about it,” Kara cooed. Nick studied her expression and let her continue.“Oh come on…Affection without strings, human intimacy.” 

Nick’s hand flexed around his glass, a small but noticeable shift in his steeled demeanour.

“Are you lonely, Mr Big-shot? That’s it, isn’t it?” Kara pressed, a sly smile creeping across her face. 

“You heard of Wrightwood 659?” Nick asked with a cough, not-to-subtly changing the subject.

“Chicago, right? From what I know it’s a pretty exclusive gallery,” Kara replied, leaning back in her chair with a smug smile - she knew she’d touched a nerve.

“Exclusive gallery, expensive artwork,” Nick confirmed.

Kara rose from the desk chair and curled up on the sofa next to Nick, a little too close for a business meeting, and tucked her legs under her. 

“I’m listening,” she said.

“There’s a certain painting there that my client would like to…acquire,” he continued, swallowing as she ran a finger down the silky fabric of his lapel.  “I can handle the security, I can even get rid of the local police. What I can’t do is actually get the damn picture.”

“And I’ll bet that frustrates you no end, right big guy?” Kara giggled softly, taking a sip of her drink.

“You watch that mouth,” Nick growled, but Kara was ready to sink her teeth into him.

He seemed to like it. His jaw ticked, his cheeks turned pink, and he gripped that glass even tighter when she riled him up. Men were fucking easy, it was embarrassing. 

“How much does it bother you?” She purred, reaching out to gingerly brush her finger along his sharp jaw. 

Nick’s breath hitched, lips pursing at her touch. He looked angry, furious, even, that she was challenging him like this. Taunting him like this. But the growing tent in his pants told her he liked it.

“How much does what bother me?”

“Not being the biggest, baddest, smartest man in this room?” She grinned, chewing on her lip as she let a little bit of the whiskey run the most impulsive parts of her brain. 

“Do you want the job, or do you want that gun in your mouth?” He countered.

“Oooh," she let out a teasing whimper that made his cock jerk. "Don’t tease me, Agent Fowler…”

Kara watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, his narrowed blue eyes stayed on her as his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. So much for being a big powerful agent, he wouldn't last a day if it was this easy to get to him. 

"Do you want the job?," he took in a sharp breath, clenching his jaw as he did, "or not?" 

"I still have yet to understand what's in it for me," she smirked, running her hand into her long black hair, "other than you not killing me" 

Nick took a large gulp from his whiskey glass, and tilted his head to the side, "Fifty grand if everything goes off without complications, and you get to keep your life and name out of my books" 

"Seventy five and you forget who I am completely," she countered. 

With a snort, he turned his attention back towards her, "You think you're in a position to bargain with me?" 

Kara shrugged, "You're the one who seems to be in need of my services to keep your client happy, so yes actually,"

Nick heaved a sigh and ran his hand over his face. 

"I'm gonna regret this," he muttered before shifting in his seat and offering his hand. "Deal. But do not fuck this up for me." 

Kara slid her palm against his; soft, warm skin enveloping hers as they shook on it. 

"No promises," she whispered, a cheeky little grin on her face. 

Hand still in his, she dragged her gaze from their fingers curled around each other to his face, neither of them moving and the tension thick enough to suffocate. Nick's teeth sunk into his bottom lip, tongue trailing slick and wet over the small indents they left in the skin and Kara's breath hitched as he tugged lightly on her hand.

“I mean it Kara,” his voice dropped in a husky tone as he stared her down. “There are a lot of places for a thief to go missing and if you screw me over I will hunt you down.” 

“All this flirting a girl’s going to think this is a date.” Kara’s eyes flickered to his lips. 

“You have a mouth on you, one of these days it’s going to get you in trouble.” Nick warned. His hand still gripping hers tightly. “You better be careful.” 

“Being careful is boring, Agent Fowler.” She mocked with a smile on her face. She knew he was trying to intimidate her but a familiar warmth blossomed in her stomach with every veiled threat.

“Is that why you got caught?” He fired back, eyes blazing. 

Anger bloomed in Kara’s chest, hot and unrestrained. It seemed like Nick enjoyed riling her up, too. What really pissed her off is that she thought everything was perfect when she'd broken in here. That she’d disabled the alarms and gone through every single step to ensure she'd be in and out within twenty minutes. She wasn’t as prepared as she should have been.

Maybe it was fate, but did fate have to make her look like such an amateur?

“I got caught because you have a shitty home security system.”

“If it caught you, I'd say it's worth every penny." Nick sipped at his whiskey. "Wouldn't you?"

“You know what I mean.”

“That I made you look like a fool?”

His vicious little sneer made her want to smack him or kiss him to shut him up. 

She didn’t like failure. It was part of her profession, sure, but not like this. She was used to having lock picks breaking off mid-heist, not being caught by the world’s most embarrassing alarm. 

“What the hell are you doing installing metal shutters on the windows and automatic locks? Is the hope diamond in this fucking house?”

Nick reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and she bristled at his touch, spine straightening instantly as her cheeks warmed.

“You’re pretty when you’re angry."

Despite the heat under her skin, made evident by a betraying pink blush no doubt, Kara quirked an eyebrow.

“Seriously, that’s the line you’re going with?” 

Nick’s fingers trailed across her skin, soft along her jaw until he cupped her cheek and pressed his thumb to her bottom lip. 

“Is it working?” He murmured, blue eyes flickering from her mouth to meet her gaze then back again. “Because I know you caught on to how I’ve been looking at you, but don’t think you’re so subtle either, sweetheart.” 

Kara tried to shuffle back but was met by the arm of the couch. 

“This isn’t a wise move if we’re going to work together, Agent Fowler,” she warned, ignoring the quickening of her heart and swoop of her stomach as Nick dragged his thumb across her lip and left a shiver-inducing tingle in its wake.

“A wise move would have to skip this house and hit the next one.” He said leaning closer. “A wise move would have been to do your research before breaking in.” 

Nick stared at her and it made her skin tingle as she fought to catch her balance with the furniture pressing into her back. 

“Looks like you’re all out of wise moves.” He watched her, gauging her nervous reaction.

“You said careful was boring, right?”

A ravenous void filled her belly as the weight of his words pinned her to the couch. Everything about him was dangerous, and probably a lie. 

But it was just a job, right? 

His knuckles brushed her cheekbone, the smell of his cologne overwhelming her senses as he leaned in closer. Warm breath fanned against her skin and her heart pounded. Nick’s mouth curved into a defiant smirk as he licked his lips.

“Are you afraid of me, Kara?”

Her voice caught in her throat and his hand wrapped around the back of her neck. The whiskey on his breath was intoxicating, making her feel light headed. She sucked in a shaky breath and Nick’s eyes danced around her face. He seemed to be taking note of every muscle twitch, every shiver, and he could definitely feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Strange how all of that fire you had just… vanished.”

There was that flare of anger again, and this time when he licked those plump lips, she couldn’t help herself.

“Fuck you.”

Her mouth crashed against his in a hungry and vicious kiss. Nick groaned as she clawed at his biceps through his suit jacket. Quickly, it was clear who was really in control as his tongue pushed against hers, licking and stroking every inch of her mouth. It was like he was searching for something.

Nick tore his mouth from hers, mouth bitten-red and his pupils almost eclipsing the beautiful blue of his eyes.

“There she is.”

"Shut up," Kara whispered sharply, as she stood straight, pressing her body against his before gripping the collar of his suit jacket and spinning them around, caging his body against the couch with her own.

His hands found purchase on her waist, tangling his fingers into the leather of her jacket. Just the look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief moment a flash of softness came across Nick's features before he pulled her closer and attached their lips once more. 

This was a bad idea. Kara knew it. But the charismatic bastard was a damn good kisser and seemed to present a challenge that no one had given her in a long time. He knew what she needed before she even knew herself.

Nick nipped at her bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, hot and wet. Kara bit back, teeth and tongue. His hands trailed up over her sides until he cradled her breasts in her palms. The heat of his hands wandering her body made her tense up, instinct telling her to stop but it was too good, too much of what she hadn’t had in so long.

Nick tore his mouth away, panting and with a flushed cheeks. He stared up at her with a little smile and a curious glint in his eyes. 

“Look at you. All fire and fight, are you always like this, prințesă? Or are you gonna a let me see your soft side?” Nick murmured, swaying forward again until his lips were a mere whisper from hers. “Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

“You’ll have to work hard to find her but she’s there,” Kara hummed as Nick’s hands roamed over her thighs up to her hips before curling his fingers into the band and tugging her hips toward him. 

“I don’t mind the dirty work,” he smirked and dug his fingers into her ass, rolling the material down to feel her skin as she arched her back toward him. She watched him with intent as he kissed a warm, wet path of kisses across her exposed skin. Every shimmy of the fabric revealing more of her as the two of them sunk to the floor. His eyes darted over her thighs, taking in each scar and blemish with brief pause, each one would tell a story of past jobs. But Kara didn’t care for the tiny flicker of pity that crossed his face. 

“Do you need a formal invitation or?” She sat up on her elbows and stared down at him, his blue eyes flickering up from between her now bare thighs.

Nick flashed her a toothy grin that made her heart flutter before trailing his lips up and down her her inner thighs. His stubble set her skin ablaze and she tipped her head toward the ceiling, a soft sigh slipping out as he used his teeth. Gently. Too gently. She reached out, gripping his hair tightly.

“Do you think I’m too delicate?” She whispered.

Nick sunk his teeth into her supple skin, biting down hard enough to make her cry out. This time, when he lifted his head, his smile was triumphant.

“I think you put up so many walls you don’t even know who you are anymore.”

She scoffed as he soothed the bite with a flick of his tongue, slowly trailing it along her warm skin. 

“I came here to steal your shit, not get psychoanalyzed,” she bit back.

Nick grabbed her lace panties with his teeth, snapping them against her hip. Kara let out a yelp and he chuckled, making it up to her by teasing her clit through the soft fabric. Agonizing circles that made her shake despite the defiance that was bubbling up inside of her. She was smart, ferocious, and resourceful. This man didn’t know a damn thing about her— and knowing exactly where to touch her didn’t count.

“Come on, Be sweet for me."

She huffed a laugh and he nuzzled into her thigh, his hot breath fanning against her cunt.

"You give me what I want, I give you what you want.” He quirked a brow. “Symbiotic relationship.”

With that, he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking it through the fabric. Kara gasped, her back bowing as she wrapped both legs around him and squeezed tight.

“Symbiotic relationship,” she moaned.

He was too damn good at this.

His deep chuckle against her cunt sent a shiver through her body, the tip of his nose brushing lightly against her clit before he placed a gentle, teasing kiss on it, "Good girl," he rasped. 

Kara's head pressed back into the cold marble floor as her body screamed for him. The coolness of the floor contrasting the fire that burned underneath her skin every time his blue eyes looked up at her from between her thighs. 

Nick's fingers hooked into the band of her lace panties as he pressed a wet needy kiss onto her hip bone, "Can I take these off, Kara?" 

"God please," she breathed out, wiggling and lifting her hips to help him out. 

Slowly, Nick pulled the fabric from her body, trailing his fingers down her legs as he did so, adding more fuel to the already scorching fire that she was feeling. Tucking the lacey fabric into his suit jacket pocket with a smirk, his fingers grasped her ankle, "If you keep being good for me, you can get those back" 

He trailed his lips from her ankle down to her inner thigh, leaving bite marks and soft licks in wake, pulling every sweet sound from Kara's throat that she could muster. This man was more dangerous than she could have imagined.

“Keep them,” Kara whined as he began to climb back up her legs, each kiss warmer than the last and the heat that filled her body was insatiable. “As a token of my gratitu—“ she moaned as the ticklish scruff of his sculpted jaw brushed against her inner thigh.

“Speak up Kara,” His breath fanned over her clit, completely lost under his spell she almost started to beg him for more but swallowed the urge. 

“Get to work,” she said instead, hiding beneath the harsh exterior in a feeble attempt to control the situation as his tongue lapped through her at a torturous pace.

His low chuckle sent her into overdrive, both hands in his hair as her hips bucked and she tried to get more pressure, but he was a fucking menace. Whenever she thought he’d hit the right spot that would send her tumbling over the edge, he switched up the pressure and pace. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as a painful sense of desire took root in the pit of her stomach, stretching through every nerve ending like tree roots. 

He was fucking teasing her, his fingers dancing up and down her thighs. The softest touch as he gave her swollen clit gentle flicks with the very tip of his tongue. 

“More,” she begged. “I need more.”

He stopped, lifting his head and meeting her gaze. His eyes were swirling with storm clouds, nearly all black as he drank in her half naked form.

“All you have to do is beg.”

“P—“ She stumbled over the words and he chuckled, teasing her pussy with one finger. 

“How hard is it? Having to ask for what you need?”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Fowler,” she snarled.

He pushed one finger inside of her, curling it until she whimpered. Nick’s power enveloped her like a tidal wave and she knew her only choice was to give in or deal with this knot in her stomach on her own time. There was no fucking way her shower head was going to compete with that tongue and those lips.

“Be a good girl and say please.”

"Please," Kara whined, bucking her hips against his hand, her moan echoing through is office. 

He was going to pay for this, she thought to herself in the midst of her pleasure. 

His finger curled inside her as his tongue flicked over her clit, and she could feel him smiling into her and relishing in every whine that dripped from her lips. 

"Much better," he whispered into her cunt, pulling her clit between his teeth before sucking on it.

Nick’s free hand gripped her thigh and lifted her leg to rest on his shoulder. Spreading her open on the floor and allowing him to sink his tongue deeper. She shuttered around him, barely able to form a word as he slipped a second finger into her centre.

“Talk to me,” he instructed between tiny nibbles, pulling away just long enough to make her miss the feeling of his teeth against her clit. “Let me hear all those pretty sounds.” 

“Oh,” she whined, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as Nick curled roughly against her cunt and drove his tongue upward through her. 

“Louder,” he demanded and Kara’s skin tingled from the sound.

She let out another whimper and he lifted his head again, giving her a break she didn’t want.

“I said talk to me, sweetness. Tell me what makes you feel good.”

She panted and squirmed, her pussy aching for more. His mouth was perfect and he licked her with just the right amount of sweetness. Her toes curled, missing that tongue deep inside her.

“D— fuck.” She groaned. “Do that thing with your tongue again.”

“As you wish, prinţesă.”

With that, he nestled between her thighs, fingers sinking so deep into her flesh he was bound to leave more marks. His marks. Not scars. Something beautiful. And she wanted all of it. 

His tongue dove back inside her, curling upwards as the bridge of his perfectly straight nose bumped up against her clit. Kara gasped for air, fire in her blood as she twisted the soft strands of chestnut hair between her fingers.

“Just like that,” she cooed. “Oh, fuck, Nick!”

The cord in her belly wound tightly the more his tongue worked. Kara could feel every sense of herself falling apart for him as her thoughts swam through her pleasure. 

"God -" she cried out, her nails digging into the marble beneath them, trying to ground herself. 

Another deep chuckle rattled through her center, "There's no god here, just me" Nick rasped out, before diving back in. 

She could tell the cocky shit was enjoying every moment of having her completely in his control, and for once, she wasn't about to stop it. This was one time she didn't mind being under a man's spell. This man specifically. 

A sharp gasp left her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, her pleasure building deep in her belly, "Nick, I can't-" she whined, her hips moving in rhythm with his tongue. 

Nick shook her head, pulling her clit between his lips and sucking, keeping up his pace as he worked her perfectly. 

"Sing for me, Kara," he whispered into her. 

And just like that, the cord in her belly snapped. Her vision went fuzzy as she cried out, her pleasure echoing through the marble office. One of her hands curled into his chestnut brown hair, holding him in place as she let her orgasm wash through her entire body.

Kara let her head fall against the floor, hand still laced in his hair she rode the euphoria down until her vision cleared and she could breathe again. Nick’s hand tangled with hers, linking it into his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles as he sat back. His thighs flexed against the fabric of his pants, tightening as he sat back to admire her. 

“What a pretty mess you are,” he licked what remained of her off his bottom lip and sighed as his eye dragged over her disheveled figure slowly. She felt like he was all over her skin even now.

“I need to start making more deals with hot CIA agents,” Kara panted, pushing up onto her shaky elbows.

Nick got to his feet, refilling their drinks and helping her back onto the couch. Kara reached for his cock, and he snatched her wrist, clicking his tongue gently. His hands were soft and he linked his fingers in hers, a surprisingly tender gesture for someone like him. Her brows knit together in confusion and she tilted her head. What did she do? Why wasn't he fucking her?

"You don't want me?" She asked, trying to keep the humiliation out of her voice.

Nick latched on to her vulnerability like a shark smells blood in the water. 

"I never said that." His eyes raked over her messy hair and glistening skin. "What I do want is leverage. You do this job, you get the money and I'll make you scream as much as you want. For a whole weekend. You won't leave my bed."

Kara scoffed into her drink.

"Withholding your cock like it's some kind of prize is quite the negotiation tactic. Did you learn that in spy school?"

Nick slowly licked her arousal off his fingers, smirk growing wider by the second.

"It's working, isn't it?"

She sighed into her glass, relaxing against the sofa as his hand slid up her thigh.

"What do I need for the job?"

"Everything you brought. I'll take care of your wardrobe, hair, and makeup. We can even pretend to be newly engaged." He grinned. "I'll make you rich, Kara. I promise you that."

Maybe getting caught wasn't so bad after all.

[sephirthoughts]

Father: Verb

Summary: 11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine.

no ships/gen rating: teen and up (prev chapter and ao3 linked at bottom)

Chapter 9: The Variable

The few remaining Shinra staff, along with what security forces could still be mustered, were now gathered according to emergency protocols, in the deepest sub-basement level, which housed the arena and specimen containment, and most importantly, the evacuation tunnels.

Helmeted Shinra guards, looking very uneasy, patrolled the area, trying not to think too hard about the slavering masses of claws and fangs, in the paddocks all along the walls. Their commander wanted to evacuate the director, Professor Hojo, right away, but the old man would hear none of it, and they were engaged in a debate about it, at the moment.

“Our last communication from HQ confirmed that Shinra forces were inbound, to handle the situation,” the guard commander was saying. “We should evacuate now and rendezvous with them. They can protect you.”

Hojo gave a derisive snort. “Protect me? Don’t make me laugh. If Shinra want to pour their men into the meat grinder, what is that to me? I have experiments in progress that I will not have interrupted.”

“With all due respect, director, you can’t really think the asset is any match for several hundred highly-trained Shinra soldiers,” the commander said dubiously. “He’s a child.”

“Ha! If he can’t handle such a petty little thing, then he was a waste of the calories used up to raise him. If they can kill him, good riddance. I’ll haul his corpse down here and put his cells to better use.”

Just then, the rumble of an explosion shook the earth around them, rattling the light fixtures and causing dust and little bits of masonry to sprinkle down from the ceiling. The commander and other guards looked up, startled, and the staff and scientists gave exclamations of alarm.

“You were saying?” Hojo smirked.

The guard commander looked a bit green in the face. “That…could have been the Shinra reinforcements.”

“Then why don’t you and your men make yourselves useful, and escort the other personnel out of the building. As for the asset, let him come to me. I can control him.”

“But sir—”

“That’s an order, commander! Have you forgotten who’s in charge, here?!”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Uh, what about that one?” the commander asked, jerking his chin toward the upright dolly, on which Vincent was still restrained.

“Eh? Oh. He’s not personnel, he’s just another subject. Leave him.”

Waving the man away, Hojo turned his attention to the control panel he was tinkering with. While the guards rounded up the civilians and hurried them away, toward the emergency escape tunnel, Vincent was slumped against his restraints, staring blankly into the middle distance. He didn’t have to worry about what the old monster was going to do. He already knew.  

“I won’t kill him, for you,” he said, as Hojo brought out a syringe filled with a glowing, magenta-red substance and jammed it into his neck.

“But does he feel the same about you? We shall see,” Hojo replied, with a crafty leer.

Tossing the syringe away, he stepped back into the control room and pulled a lever, that made the heavy, steel blast door and shutters slam down, turning the room into a secure temporary shelter. These measures had been put in place in the case that any of the highly dangerous specimens regularly released into the arena got out of control. Perhaps not exactly as intended, they were now serving as the mad scientist’s insurance policy against his own creations turning on him.

“What say we add a few more variables to the experiment, eh?” Hojo said, his nasal voice echoing shrilly through the arena’s PA system.

Typing a command into the console, he triggered the override, that controlled the specimen paddocks. Alarm klaxons blared, as the heavy gates creaked slowly open, releasing the monstrosities inside. Sleek, black and red bloodhounds, densely muscular wrath hounds, and two-headed hellhounds, which were the most intelligent and dominant of the bunch.

They ventured out uncertainly, at first, then as more emerged, they began snarling and baying, jostling and snapping at one another. Suddenly, over the noise of the hounds, a man’s hoarse, wailing screams rose up, echoing in the cavernous, stone-walled space, as they warped and distorted, into the nightmarish howls of some horrific beast.

At once, the horde of huge, mutant canines cowered and whined, and went scrambling away, tails between their legs, like whipped curs. The evacuation tunnel was closed behind the retreating personnel, so the only way they could go was toward the archives and the other labs. The way the asset would be coming down.

The foe from which they fled was a gigantic, bipedal creature, more leonine than a canid, with demonic red horns and a long, black mane, almost like a person’s hair. Its hideous, sinuous hide, was covered in strange metallic embellishments. Its hind and foreclaws were golden and hooked like scythes, and its dragon-like tail was covered in gold spikes, with a battleaxe at the very end, though it was not clear whether it was clad in some kind of armor, or if those were features of its natural hide and bone.

It stood to its full height and let out a deafening roar, which shook the walls and rattled the light fixtures. Far away, down the corridor they’d escaped into, the mutant hounds yelped and sped their steps…only to find themselves caught suddenly, between Scylla and Charybdis.

From the other direction, came a horror unlike any they’d ever known. Their legs shook and they lowered their heads. It was a creature of an ancient and evil will, so potent it blinded their eyes and rendered them senseless and sick with dread. In its hand it held a long blade, that appeared to be forged from the frozen light of stars.

Whimpering like newborn pups, Shinra’s bloody-mawed guard beasts cowered and crawled on their bellies, some pissing themselves in terror, as Sephiroth walked leisurely past them, not even bothering to cast a glance at the pathetic things.

Hojo’s deranged laughter crackled through the room’s PA system, as Sephiroth stepped into the cavernous arena, black boots ringing out sharply on the stone floor. The old man was visible in the control room, through the bulletproof glass and the open slats in the blast shutters.

“I see you’ve been amusing yourself, boy,” he sneered. “I hope you didn’t embarrass me, playing around with that cannon fodder Shinra sent.”

“The soldiers are dead and the manor is destroyed,” Sephiroth answered flatly. “I also burned the secret archives, along with your laboratory, and all the remaining samples from ‘Project S’.”

Hojo gave a growl of anger, then waved it away. “Well. Nevermind all that. I trust you got what you wanted from your tantrum? Relieved your feelings, have you? And all it cost was several hundred human lives. Such a perfect little monster.”

“You would know.”

Just as Sephiroth said this, there was a blur of motion in the corner of his eye, as a massive, hideous beast sprung from the shadows and leapt at him, with a bloodthirsty roar from its slavering maw, ten-inch fangs bared to rend flesh and bone.

Slit pupils contracted in blue-green eyes. Sephiroth’s body seemed to flicker in place. There was a flash of cold light, and the next second, the titanic beast was tumbling backward across the arena. Its huge claws hooked into the concrete floor, cutting long gashes as it skidded to a stop.

Unfurling his black wing again, Sephiroth rose into the air and spread his arms wide, holding Masamune angled slightly downward toward the floor. An arrogant gesture of challenge, that made Hojo cackle with laughter, through the speakers.

The beast snarled and bounded forward again, like a shot from a cannon, with terrifying speed and agility for a thing of such tremendous bulk, dodging left and right as Masamune’s sword light slashed at it from all directions.

Golden claws missed Sephiroth’s wing by a hair’s breadth, as he evaded to the left, but the slash was only a feint. Using the momentum of its swing, the creature brought its armored tail swinging around in a deadly arc, the huge battleaxe aimed to cleave Sephiroth’s head.  

Masamune came up just in time to block the attack, the blades throwing sparks as they collided. Sephiroth was forced out of the air, by the sheer weight of the blow. The thing came down on top of him, attempting to crush him with its huge body, but he rolled out of the way and leapt back to his feet, throwing a fusillade of fireballs as he did so. They struck the beast all over its torso and face, in explosions of golden sparks, making it roar and thrash, but not doing any real damage.

To Sephiroth’s surprise, it threw back a blast of crimson fire, about twenty times the size of his little distraction flares, which he was forced to leap into the air to evade.

“Best watch yourself, boy,” Hojo advised gleefully. “Even an old dog still has a few tricks up its sleeve.”

Sephiroth had no idea why he’d call this thing a dog, being that it was clearly some kind of lion-like creature, but he didn’t particularly care. At the moment, he was busy dodging the massive chunks of masonry the thing was now tearing up from the arena floor and hurling at him. They smashed into the paddocks and destroyed guard railings, and one even exploded against the control room’s blast shutters, interrupting Hojo’s maniacal laughter, as he gave a startled cry.

When there was a pause in the beast’s assault (because it was catching its breath, of all things), Sephiroth held out a hand palm upward and raised it, like he was lifting something. As he did, all the gigantic hunks of concrete and rebar that the beast had thrown rose into the air.

Sephiroth smiled. With a flick of his wrist, several tons of masonry went flying back at the beast, like an artillery barrage.

Having no way to evade, it ducked and crossed its arms to block what it could, as its huge body was struck hard and heavily, battered and buffeted about by exploding missiles of concrete and stone.

It withstood much of the attack by virtue of its sheer size and toughness, but there were deep, bleeding gouges in its arms and legs, from the twisted spikes of rebar, that had been sticking out of the concrete blocks.

Pleased with the results, Sephiroth dismissed Masamune and raised both hands this time, ripping massive sections of concrete out of the floor on his side, and sending them raining down on the beast like a hailstorm from hell.

Enraged, the beast reared up to its full height, of nearly fourteen feet, threw its head back, and let out a thunderous roar, unleashing an explosion of what looked like tentacles made of crimson fire, which deflected all the incoming debris and sent it all exploding outward, in addition to knocking Sephiroth back a few feet.

In the split-second that the boy was righting himself, the beast made a tremendous, arcing leap through the air, smashed into him like a freight train, and slammed him to the ground, coming down on top of him with all its weight, which must have been several thousand pounds.

Sephiroth lay there stunned, with the wind knocked out of him, for long enough for the beast to slash at him, slicing long, bloody gashes across his chest and his face, from the right side of his forehead, to his jaw on the left, exposing bone in places. Blood ran into his eyes and blinded him temporarily.

Ignoring the shooting pains in his definitely cracked ribs, he pulled up his knees and kicked the creature hard, with both legs. It flew back and staggered to a stop, before mastering its momentum and charging back toward him. But that had given Sephiroth the few seconds he needed to clear his eyes and regain his bearings. The hideous slashes across his face and chest were already knitting themselves closed, at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Gathering dense masses of shadow in both hands, he stood his ground, planting his feet wide apart, and let the beast come. At the last possible millisecond, he raised his palms, throwing up a black, convex shield of whirling shadows, and the two combatants collided like a sonic boom.

The black energy Sephiroth had used as a shield, reacted with the fire energy the beast had thrown into its attack, and set off a devastating explosion. Both were thrown backward in the blast. The bulletproof window on the control room exploded, pelting Hojo with flying glass. Pillars crumbled and scaffolding came crashing down. Sections of the ceiling collapsed and huge boulders smashed down from above.

Sephiroth threw a sedan-sized concrete slab off himself, and leapt up. Hojo dragged himself to his feet in the control room, pushing his now cracked spectacles up, and brushing the glass off his clothing.

“I see you’ve got a few surprises in you, too, boy!” he crowed, through the few, crackling speakers that had survived. “Here I thought you’d only disappoint me, like usual.”

Sephiroth ignored him and summoned Masamune. Stalking toward the place where he saw the beast fall, he used a telekinetic blast to throw the pile of rocks and rubble away. What he uncovered, however, was not the hulking form of the beast, but a much smaller heap of what appeared to be crimson fabric.

Sephiroth stood at bay, Masamune’s razor-sharp tip trained on it, as the figure stirred. There was a wheezing cough, and it turned laboriously onto its back.

Vincent’s eyes blinked heavily open. One was dark crimson, as usual, but the other had a ring of gold in it, glowing so brightly now, it almost swallowed the red entirely. His beautiful face was smudged with dirt, and black blood trickled from his nose and between his ashen lips. Under the tattered, dust covered leather armor, his chest rose and fell weakly, with his wet, sucking breaths.

“Seph,” he choked out, causing more inky blood to bubble up and pour down his porcelain cheek. “Run…run away. Get out of here, while you c—while you can.”

“Ah, what a touching reunion,” Hojo crooned. “The boy and his guard dog, back together. But, don’t tell me you caused all this trouble, just because of your delusional attachment to this creature. Tsk, tsk. How very childish.”

“Silence, old devil!” Sephiroth thundered, in a super-resonant voice, that far overpowered the amplified one from the PA system. “This is all your doing! You intentionally pushed me to the breaking point! You instigated my rebellion against Shinra and lured me here to fight him!”

“Hahaha! Not as stupid as he looks!” Hojo chortled, frank and unapologetic about his cruelty, as always. “What better way to test your capabilities? How you perform in real combat, when in extreme emotional distress, is the only reliable way to judge how weak you really are, at your worst. You should thank me, you lazy brat. Now that you’ve shown Shinra what you can do, they’ll be bending over backward to accommodate you, when you go to take command of the other members of the SOLDIER program. More importantly, all my years of work will finally be recognized and duly rewarded.”

“Are you insane?” Sephiroth demanded. “I destroyed the manor and killed more than a hundred Shinra troops. Why would they—” He broke off and his expression changed to one of disgust. “I see. It was their plan, all along. They sacrificed all those people, just to test my abilities. This was all a show, for the ones in charge.”

“And one well worth the price of admittance,” Hojo casually confirmed. “What are a few hundred replaceable staff and an old building, compared to their most valuable asset?”

“After all you’ve done to me. All the torture, all the lies, all the inhuman experimentation, at your hands…what makes you think I’ll cooperate? Why wouldn’t I just kill you, now?”

“Because, I am the only person who knows where your mother is.”

“My mother died.” Sephiroth pulled the locket out from under the collar of his uniform, where he always wore it, and held it up. “You told me she died, after I was born! You gave me her picture!”

“Yes, well. Turns out she’s not quite as dead as I believed, when I told you that. I only recently discovered her whereabouts. She’s quite close by, in fact. If you behave yourself, like a good boy, I’ll take you to see her.”

“You’re lying,” Sephiroth faltered. “If she was close by, she’d have come to find me. She would never have left me all alone, to be tormented by you people!”

“I suppose I could be lying, but what reason would I have to do that?” Hojo shrugged. As he did, he pressed the button to raise the blast door, and came out of the control room, as if making a gesture of sincerity, by abandoning his defensive position. “Besides, are you really willing to take that chance? Are you really willing to risk your one chance to see her, after all these years?”

“Tell me where my mother is!” Sephiroth roared, pointing the tip of the long sword at him. “Tell me, right now!”

“Temper, temper. You really must work on controlling your emotions. I will be happy to take you to your mother. In exchange for one thing.”

Sephiroth gritted his teeth. “Well? What is it?”

Hojo stepped forward with a malevolent grin, pushing his spectacles up, which made the cracked lens glitter in the amber emergency light. “Nothing much. I just want you to kill an old dog, that’s outlived its usefulness.”

“Seph, go. Go, before it’s too late,” Vincent rasped, trying to struggle to a sitting position.

Masamune flashed back around and stopped within centimeters of his face, but Sephiroth was still looking up at Hojo. “What are you talking about? What dog?”

“That dog,” Hojo said, pointing a gnarled finger. “Kill Vincent Valentine, and I will take you to your mother.”

The blade wavered, and was drawn back from Vincent’s face. “No, I…I can’t. I won’t.”

“Clock’s ticking, boy. It’s time to choose. This dead dog, a failed experiment, whose life isn’t worth half a breath of yours? Or your dear mother, from whom you’ve been separated your entire life, and who has been longing for you, all these years. Longing to see her little baby.”

Masamune shook in Sephiroth’s usually rock-steady hand. The other was clenching and unclenching spasmodically by his side. The voices of his future selves were raging, in his head, suddenly in conflict with one another. One of them was stronger than the others, and was causing the discord. Many of them fell into line with that voice, and joined it in urging Sephiroth on.

Kill Vincent.

He is the variable. 

Kill him. 

Kill him now, and rewrite destiny. 

The others still disagreed, and tried to shout down the larger party, only adding to the confusion and chaos. Sephiroth clutched his forehead with his free hand, squeezing his eyes shut, against the dizziness, caused by their cacophonous argument.

Then, very gently and quietly, below all the other noise, he heard the voice of his older version, from eleven years in the future. It spoke only three words, but that was enough.

Eyes clear and cold, and glowing brilliant green, Sephiroth looked up at Hojo, raising Masamune again. Then, with a single, lightning-quick flash of silver, he thrust the gleaming blade into Vincent’s heart.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY hojo: i totally know where your mother is and she's not even a dismembered deadass alien in a fishtank so don't even trip   THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING ELSE TO SAY i listened to one-winged angel while i wrote the whole fight scene it was very inspiring and hilarious THEY FUCKING CHANT SEPHIROTH 💀

prev chapter

[myhauntedsalem]

The strange story of the doll that vanished!

Located in Key West Florida, a number of spooky sightings and weird sensations have been witnessed in Audubon House, which was the home of Captain Jack Geiger, a well-known wrecker, and his 12 children more than 200 years ago.

These stories include the terrifying true story of the ‘Camera Shy Doll’ that lived there.

The doll is said to have got up and walked out of its home in front of frightened witnesses. A maid is said to have found the doll under a bush in the garden.

Originally the doll is thought to have belonged to the girl, whose strangely eerie portrait still hangs in the house and has moved some visitors to tears. The picture is said to wail at night.

Hundreds of visitors and passers-by have witnessed apparitions of children laughing, crying and playing in the nursery. The captain himself has even been seen walking with his daughter Hannah in the gardens.

When a cholera epidemic was sweeping town, many sick children were brought to the nursery, where they would spend their last days in the oppressive room, shuttered away from the fearful town folk. So many children died here that the room itself took on a chilling aura of death.

The house was opened as a museum in 1960, at which time the doll was placed in a toy pram, in the corner of the faithfully recreated nursery.

After an elaborate security system was installed, the museum manager was constantly being called back to investigate alarms tripped by movement in the house. The activity would always be from the children’s room. Security Staff frequently reported seeing someone or something in the window but, when they went to investigate, no-one was there.

One night the doll vanished, from the alarmed locked room.

[freeexcitedtool]

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[superiorelectric21]

Why Surge Protection Is Essential for Every Fort Lauderdale Home

When most homeowners think about protecting their property, the first things that come to mind are often security systems, smoke alarms, and maybe even hurricane shutters. But one critical aspect that often gets overlooked is surge protection. In Fort Lauderdale, where thunderstorms, power outages, and electrical grid fluctuations are all too common, having a proper surge protection system is not just a smart move—it's a necessity.

What Is an Electrical Surge?

An electrical surge, or power surge, is a sudden spike in voltage that travels through your home’s electrical system. These spikes can originate from a number of sources, including lightning strikes, downed power lines, faulty wiring, or even from high-power appliances cycling on and off. While many surges are small and go unnoticed, others can be powerful enough to damage or destroy electronics, appliances, and even your home’s entire electrical infrastructure.

Why Homes in Fort Lauderdale Are at Higher Risk

Living in South Florida means frequent exposure to extreme weather, particularly during hurricane season. Fort Lauderdale experiences a high frequency of thunderstorms, which can lead to sudden and severe voltage fluctuations. In such an environment, your home is consistently at risk of electrical surges. This makes electrical surge protection services in Fort Lauderdale more than just a convenience—it’s a safeguard for your home and family.

The Cost of Not Having Surge Protection

Many people assume that using power strips or plug-in surge protectors is enough to defend their electronics. While these devices do offer some level of protection, they are often not equipped to handle large surges. Here’s what you’re risking by not investing in whole-home surge protection:

Damage to Electronics and Appliances: From your smart TV and home office computer to refrigerators and washers, today’s appliances contain delicate electronic components. A single surge can render them useless.

Fire Hazards: Severe electrical surges can cause overheating, which may result in fires. This risk is especially dangerous during storm season.

Loss of Data: Power surges can corrupt or erase data stored on devices like computers and servers, a devastating loss for both individuals and home businesses.

Benefits of Professional Surge Protection Services

A professional surge protection service in Fort Lauderdale offers whole-house protection by installing devices directly into your electrical panel. These systems are designed to intercept surges at the source, preventing them from reaching and damaging your electronics.

Here are a few key benefits:

1. Comprehensive Protection

Whole-home surge protectors defend not just your gadgets, but everything connected to your home's wiring—HVAC systems, lighting, security systems, and kitchen appliances. With a professional installation, you’ll have peace of mind knowing your entire electrical system is protected.

2. Cost Savings

Replacing fried electronics and appliances can cost thousands of dollars. Surge protection is a relatively small investment compared to the potential losses. It’s one of those rare home upgrades that can actually pay for itself many times over.

3. Enhanced Home Safety

Reducing the risk of electrical fires makes your home a safer place to live. For families with children or elderly residents, this added layer of protection is invaluable.

4. Insurance Benefits

Some insurance providers offer discounts or incentives for homes with certified surge protection systems. It’s worth checking with your provider to see if you qualify.

Choosing the Right Surge Protection for Your Home

Not all surge protectors are created equal. For the best protection, consider a layered approach:

Primary Protection: Installed at your main electrical panel, this serves as the first line of defense.

Secondary Protection: Plug-in protectors for sensitive electronics like computers, TVs, and routers.

Service Line Protection: For homes with cable or telephone lines, it’s important to guard against surges coming through these paths as well.

Working with a trusted provider of electrical surge protection services in Fort Lauderdale ensures that the system you install is tailored to the specific needs and layout of your home.

Final Thoughts

In a place like Fort Lauderdale, where power surges are a common threat due to frequent storms and grid inconsistencies, surge protection should be viewed as essential—not optional. It's not just about protecting gadgets; it’s about securing your investment, preserving your peace of mind, and most importantly, ensuring the safety of your loved ones.

If your home doesn’t yet have whole-house surge protection, now is the time to act. Don't wait for the next storm or unexplained outage to remind you why it matters.

[southport-printing]

Security Plantation Shutters: Enhance Your Home’s Safety and Style

When it comes to home security, we often focus on alarms, cameras, and sturdy doors. However, an often-overlooked yet highly effective solution is the installation of security plantation shutters. These shutters provide a blend of aesthetic appeal, practical functionality, and enhanced security that can significantly elevate your home’s safety. In this article, we will explore what security plantation shutters are, their benefits, and why they should be considered as part of your home’s security strategy.

What Are Security Plantation Shutters?

Plantation shutters are a popular window treatment characterized by wide slats, which allow homeowners to control light, airflow, and privacy. Traditionally made from materials like wood or composite, these shutters also serve as a stylish feature that complements various home decors.

However, security plantation shutters go a step further. They are specifically designed to offer additional protection against break-ins and to keep your home secure. These shutters are often made from durable, reinforced materials such as aluminum or steel, which makes them far stronger than regular plantation shutters.

Unlike regular window coverings, security plantation shutters combine form with function, offering you both an aesthetically pleasing option and an effective layer of protection.

The Benefits of Security Plantation Shutters

Enhanced Security and Protection The primary advantage of security plantation shutters is the added security they provide. When properly installed, these shutters act as a deterrent to intruders. The robust, tamper-proof construction of security shutters makes it harder for burglars to gain access to your home. They also provide an extra layer of defense when your windows are open, ensuring that criminals cannot easily break into your home.

Privacy and Light Control Just like traditional plantation shutters, security shutters give you complete control over light and privacy. With adjustable slats, you can easily regulate the amount of natural light entering your home while preventing prying eyes from peering inside. Whether you’re trying to enjoy a sunny day or a quiet evening, security plantation shutters allow you to maintain your privacy without sacrificing comfort.

Improved Aesthetic Appeal Security plantation shutters are available in a wide range of styles, materials, and colors to complement your home’s design. Whether your style is classic, modern, or rustic, you can find security shutters that enhance your home’s curb appeal. The sleek, clean lines of plantation shutters can add a touch of elegance to any room, making them a versatile choice for homeowners seeking both security and style.

Energy Efficiency Security plantation shutters can also help in improving your home’s energy efficiency. The solid, insulated panels provide an extra barrier against heat and cold, which can help regulate indoor temperatures and reduce reliance on heating and cooling systems. This can lead to lower energy bills, making security plantation shutters a cost-effective long-term investment.

Durability and Long-Term Investment Security plantation shutters are built to last. Made from tough materials like aluminum, steel, or high-quality composites, these shutters are resistant to wear and tear, weather damage, and fading. They can withstand harsh weather conditions, such as storms and high winds, making them a great option for homes in areas with extreme climates.

Easy to Maintain Security plantation shutters are incredibly easy to maintain. Unlike curtains or blinds, which can gather dust and stains over time, shutters can be wiped clean with minimal effort. Their design also prevents dust and dirt from accumulating, reducing the need for frequent cleaning.

Why Choose Security Plantation Shutters?

When choosing security features for your home, it’s essential to balance protection with aesthetics. Many security options can be unsightly or intrusive, but security plantation shutters provide a seamless way to secure your home without sacrificing beauty. Here are a few reasons to consider them:

Customizable Fit: Security plantation shutters are custom-fitted to your windows, ensuring a perfect look and optimal functionality. You can choose from a variety of sizes, materials, and finishes to match your home’s unique style.

Increased Home Value: Homes with security features like plantation shutters often see an increase in market value. Potential buyers appreciate the added protection, privacy, and aesthetic appeal, making your property more attractive on the market.

Low Maintenance: Unlike other security systems, which may require periodic checks and maintenance, security plantation shutters are low-maintenance and easy to use. Simply adjust the slats to your preferred position and enjoy the benefits of both security and style.

Installation of Security Plantation Shutters

Installing security plantation shutters requires professional expertise to ensure that the shutters are securely fitted and function correctly. While some DIY options may exist, professional installation ensures that your shutters provide maximum protection and durability. A specialist will ensure that the shutters are properly anchored, which is essential for their effectiveness in preventing break-ins.

Final Thoughts

Security plantation shutters are a fantastic addition to any home, providing a combination of beauty, privacy, and enhanced protection. By offering a durable and stylish solution to securing your windows, they can act as a barrier against potential intruders while adding an elegant touch to your home’s design. Whether you’re looking to increase privacy, regulate light, or improve your home’s security, security plantation shutters are a smart investment that you can enjoy for years to come.

Key Takeaways:

Security plantation shutters provide enhanced protection against break-ins.

They offer privacy, light control, and energy efficiency.

These shutters improve your home’s aesthetic appeal and can increase its value.

They are easy to maintain and made from durable materials that last for years.

Professional installation is recommended for optimal security and functionality.

Investing in security plantation shutters is a step toward creating a safer, more beautiful home while improving your peace of mind.

[master-john-uk]

Theft of machinery from UK farms has been steadily increasing for several years... as well as other incidents, such as cattle rustling and fly tipping.

My London based company provides farms with CCTV and alarm systems at a discounted price, as well as helping to strengthen physical barriers such as gates, doors, shutters and locks.

But no additional security measures can make farms 100% safe without the back-up from a reliable rural policing team.

The farm on the Windsor Castle estate had two vehicles stolen last October, after thieves broke in... close to where the Prince and Princess of Wales were sleeping. That estate has armed police on site... but they were not monitoring the road entrance, or the farm that night. (Procedures have since been updated.)

CCTV and alarm systems are not enough to deter most criminals. Being in rural areas, even the loudest alarm siren might not be heard by neighbours. And if a farmer responds to an alarm, he is likely to be attacked by the intruders.

The main entrance to my Dorset farm, close to where the expensive farm machinery is usually kept, is protected by two supposedly truck-proof gates. (These were delivered by helicopter with the help of RNAS Yeovilton in 2019.) These gates do not guarantee security... but, I would be surprised if any intruder could past the Ginger cat who has been sitting on my garden wall for the last ten years!

[georgiakathy]

Smart Living: Integrating Home Automation in Dubai's Luxury Villas

Dubai’s luxury villas are embracing a new era of innovation through smart living. Home automation is no longer a futuristic concept, it’s a modern necessity that enhances comfort, security, sustainability, and convenience. Here's a deep dive into how smart technology is redefining luxury living in Dubai.

Personalized Routines & AI AdaptabilityAdvanced AI in home automation systems learns and adapts to your daily habits. These smart systems streamline everyday tasks by adjusting the environment to suit your lifestyle, offering comfort without requiring constant manual input.

For example, smart lighting adjusts to your activities; it automatically dims for movie time or gradually brightens in the evening. Geysers are timed to your shower routine, and your coffee brews as you enter the kitchen. These personalized automations bring ease and flow to your daily life.

Enhanced Security & Peace of MindSecurity is a top priority for luxury homeowners. With smart home security systems, you gain real-time monitoring and instant alerts to keep your property safe whether you're inside or away.

Key smart security features:

Biometric entry systems and digital locks

Smart doorbell cameras with two-way communication

Motion sensors, intelligent alarms, and surveillance cameras

Remote locking, shutter closing, and electronic shutdown via smartphone

These systems are becoming popular choices for interior fit-outs in Dubai Marina.

Sustainable Energy ManagementLuxury living today involves eco-conscious choices, and home automation makes that easy. By automating how and when energy is used, homeowners reduce waste without giving up comfort.

Smart thermostats adjust temperature based on your habits and the time of day. Lighting systems automatically dim or shut off when natural light is sufficient. Smart irrigation systems stop watering when soil moisture levels are just right.

These technologies not only help cut down on utility costs but also support a greener planet.

Voice Control & AccessibilityVoice-activated assistants like Siri, Google Assistant, and Alexa make home management effortless and hands-free. These AI-powered helpers respond to natural language, making home automation easy for users of all ages. From adjusting lights and temperature to playing music or triggering routines like “Good Morning,” voice control simplifies daily tasks, making smart living accessible and intuitive for everyone. IoT-Powered Smart Home EcosystemsThe Internet of Things (IoT) connects multiple smart devices into a single network. This enables them to work together, increasing efficiency and functionality throughout your home.

For example, you can manage lighting, temperature, and appliances from one central app, while sensors can detect gas leaks, smoke, or water damage. This is highly useful for kitchen renovations in Dubai Marina. Even your garden can be equipped with smart tech to track sunlight, temperature, and moisture. This level of integration keeps your home intelligent and responsive at all times.

Seamless Compatibility & Centralized ControlCompatibility is central to the beauty of modern smart homes. Devices from different brands and systems now work effortlessly together, offering homeowners control through a unified hub.

Supported platforms include:

Apple HomeKit

Amazon Alexa

Google Assistant

Custom automation systems

This seamless connection enhances both convenience and user experience.

Future-Ready Living with Custom SequencesSmart homes go beyond individual tasks. You can set up automated sequences that trigger multiple actions based on a single event.

Examples of custom automation sequences:

When arriving: Lights turn on, your favorite music starts, and AC adjusts

When leaving: Doors lock, lights switch off, and alarms activate

These intelligent sequences bring personalized luxury and effortless living to your villa.

Integrating home automation into the interior design of luxury villas goes beyond aesthetics. it’s about creating a space that’s smart, secure, and sustainable. With these home automation features, homeowners enjoy reduced utility costs and a new level of convenience, making daily life more efficient and enjoyable. Altogether, smart living brings a sophisticated edge to modern villa design, transforming your home into a space that’s not only beautiful but brilliantly functional.