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chubby-bun-bun · 2 months ago

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untitled (part 3)

You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, descriptions of a panic attack, bossman is here yay

“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”

“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”

“Yup, congratulations!”

You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”

Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.

There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.

And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?

“Thanks…” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”

“No problem!”

Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.

You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.

In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.

Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.

For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.

—

You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.

It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.

The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.

Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.

You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.

Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.

In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.

Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.

Could it be…?

The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.

“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.

Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.

Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.

You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!

You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.

You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.

You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.

“Tell me about it.”

The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.

It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.

Blood.

A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.

You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.

You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.

“Sweetheart.”

The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.

You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.

And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.

note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

check out my other works!

#ori.writes #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #love and deepspace #sylus fluff #sylus angst #sylus hurt/comfort #sylus comfort

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 month ago

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It's pretty easy to cut $2 trillion from the federal budget, actually

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. THIS IS THE LAST DAY to pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

If Elon Musk wants to cut $2t from the US federal budget, there's a pretty straightforward way to get there – just eliminate all the beltway bandits who overcharge Uncle Sucker for everything from pharmaceuticals to roadworks to (of course) rockets, and then make the rich pay their taxes.

There is a ton of federal bloat, but it's not coming from useless programs or overpaid federal employees. As David Dayen writes in a long, fact-filled feature in The American Prospect, the bloat comes from the private sector's greedy suckling at the government teat:

https://prospect.org/economy/2025-01-27-we-found-the-2-trillion-elon-musk-doge/

The federal workforce used to be huge. In 1960, federal employees were 4.3% of all US workers; today, it's 1.4%. Zeroing out the entire federal payroll would save $271b/year (while beaching the US economy!), a mere 4% of the federal budget.

On the other hand, zeroing out the budget for federal contractors would save over a trillion dollars – the US spends 4 times more on private sector contractors than it does on its own workers, and while some of those contractors are honest folks giving good value for money, the norm is for federal contractors to pick the public's pocket and then use the proceeds to lobby for more fat contracts.

One key job we ask our federal employees to do is root out private sector fraud in federal contracting. We should hire more of these people! Private contractors steal $274b/year from the public purse – nearly enough to pay for all the employees in the federal government:

https://www.gao.gov/assets/gao-23-106285.pdf

Musk doesn't know any of these, and he doesn't care to know. As Dayen writes, he's doing "policy by anecdote." Take Ashley Thomas, the director of climate diversification for the US International Development Finance Corporation. Musk sicced a mob on her, decrying her for doing a "fake job" that was somehow related to "DEI." But Thomas's job isn't employment diversification – it's crop diversification.

If Musk wanted to run DOGE as a force for waste-elimination, he wouldn't be attacking the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and PBS (whose budget accounts for 0.012% of federal spending). He wouldn't be attacking federal fiber subsidies (he's mad that he can't get more subsidies for his dead-end satellite service that caps out at one ten-millionth of the speed of fiber). He wouldn't be attacking high-speed rail (which competes with his Tesla swasticars). He wouldn't be fighting with the SEC (which defends the public from costly stock swindles, which is why they've been investigating Musk for seven years).

He could, instead, go after private sector Medicare waste. 33 million seniors have been suckered into switching from federally provided Medicare to privately provided Medicare Advantage. Overbilling from Medicare Advantage (whose doctors are ordered to "upcode" patients to generate additional bills) costs the public $83b/year:

https://www.medpac.gov/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Mar24_ExecutiveSummary_MedPAC_Report_To_Congress_SEC.pdf

Medicare Advantage patients are, on average, healthier than Medicare patients (Medicare Advantage giants like Unitedhealtcare cream off the cheapest-to-service patients). Yet, this healthy cohort costs more to treat than their sicker cousins on the public plan – the fraud costs us about 11-14% of the total Medicare bill, and we could save $140b/year by zeroing that out:

https://pnhp.org/system/assets/uploads/2023/09/MAOverpaymentReport_Final.pdf

Zeroing out Medicare Advantage overbilling would pay for "an out-of-pocket spending cap, a public drug benefit, and dental, hearing, and vision benefits" for every Medicare patient with tens of billions to spare.

Of course, as Dayen points out, the guy in charge of Medicare is Dr Oz, who has spent years shilling for Medicare Advantage, while holding massive amounts of stock in Unitedhealthcare, the nation's largest Medicare Advantage provider, and the worst offender for Medicare Advantage overbilling.

Then there's Medicare itself. Rates for Medicare doctor reimbursement are set by committees of specialists, who award themselves sky-high rates while paying rock-bottom wages to the frontline general practitioners who do the heavy lifting. Lowering specialists rates to match the rates paid in Canada and Germany would save the federal government $100b/year:

https://cepr.net/rfk-jr-physicians-pay-schedules-and-the-elites-big-lie/

Then there's Big Pharma. For years, Congress legally forbade Medicare and Medicaid from negotiating drug prices, which is why the US government pays the highest rates in the world for drugs developed in the US, with US federal subsidies. US drug prices are 178% more than other wealthy countries, and many drugs are sold at 20-30x the cost of production:

https://aspe.hhs.gov/reports/comparing-prescription-drugs

A few of these drug prices are going to come down in the coming years, thanks to timid, but long overdue action from the Biden administration. To really tackle a source of government waste, the US government could use its "march in rights" to federalize production of the most expensive drugs:

https://prospect.org/day-one-agenda/force-drug-companies-to-lower-prices/

One possibility floated by economist Dean Baker is for the US government to invest $100b/year in clinical trials, keeping the patents for itself and licensing multiple manufacturers to compete to produce these publicly owned drugs, which would save an estimated $500b/year:

https://cepr.net/financing-drug-development-what-the-pandemic-has-taught-us/

Then there's price-gouging, useless middlemen like Group Purchasing Organizations who soak the public purse for $20b/year – a "moderate" enforcement action could cut that to $10b. Speaking of eliminating middlemen, community health centers are a way cheaper source of care than big hospitals – $2371/year cheaper per patient, per year. By subsidizing these, the US government could save another $20b/year:

https://www.ohiochc.org/news/310956/Landmark-Study-Confirms-Medicaid-Cost-Savings-at-Health-Centers.htm

Next, Dayen moves onto the Pentagon, which pulled in $841b last year but has failed seven consecutive audits:

https://thehill.com/policy/defense/4992913-pentagon-fails-7th-audit-in-a-row-but-says-progress-made/

The DoD firehoses money over private sector contractors, like the $3.6b it hands over to Musk's Spacex every year – a number Musk hopes to grow through Spacex's participation in a new consortium:

https://www.ft.com/content/6cfdfe2b-6872-4963-bde8-dc6c43be5093

Military contractor wastage is the stuff of legend, like the $2t F-35 Joint Strike Fighter, a lemon that has over 800 outstanding defects and was just greenlit for another year's worth of full funding:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-07-13/lockheed-f-35-s-tally-of-flaws-tops-800-as-new-issues-surface

This kind of wasteage isn't merely shameful, it's illegal. The Nunn-McCurdy Act requires that these large-scale boondoggles be reviewed with an eye to shutting them down. But when beltway bandits like Northrop Grumman’s produce expensive lemons like Sentinel, the DoD continues to hand public money to them, citing "national security":

https://www.defense.gov/News/Releases/Release/Article/3829985/department-of-defense-announces-results-of-sentinel-nunn-mccurdy-review/

The DoD contracts out so much of its essential functions that it literally doesn't know what it has. It pays contractors and subcontractors to produce parts for its systems, but has no way to know if those parts have actually been produced. Meanwhile, private equity rollups like Transdigm have merged every single-source aerospace supplier and jacked up the price of spare parts for existing military systems, pulling down 4,500%+ markups:

https://theintercept.com/2019/05/28/ro-khanna-transdigm-refund-pentagon/

To estimate the easy military savings – the ones that won't require shutting down jobs programs scattered in every key Congressional district – Dayen takes the CBO's estimate and cuts it in half, to get an annual savings of $150b/year.

Then there's general prodcurement, where the GAO estimates the US loses $150b/year to bid-rigging and another $521b/year to fraud (the USG also spends $70b/year on management consultants who do no discernible useful work). Dayen estimates the annual savings from "stringently enforcing fraud and abuse, insourcing operations, and no longer paying for bad advice" at $150b/year.

Then there's tax cheating. The IRS estimates that it undercollects about $606b/year in taxes. The top 1% account for $163b/year of that (Elon Musk's own effective tax rate is just 3.27% as of the five years preceding 2021, the year for which we have his leaked tax return; he paid no taxes in 2018). Every dollar the IRS spends on auditing brings in $2.17 in tax, and every dollar the IRS spends auditing the wealthy generates $6.29 in tax. A dollar spent auditing the top 10% brings in $10:

https://www.timesfreepress.com/news/2024/dec/01/opinion-the-irs-shows-what-government-efficiency/

Audits are durable sources of tax. People who've been burned by an audit are far more honest in the decade after that audit.

The GOP has zeroed out Biden's IRS increases. The CBO estimates that a fully funded IRS could easily increase the taxes it collected by a net figure of $200b/year.

There's also new sources of tax. Dayen likes Dean Baker's proposal for taxes on stock returns: just add dividends and stock appreciation at the end of the year, then multiply by the tax rate. Baker says this is a loophole-free way to bring the effective corporate tax rate up from 20% to 25%, generating $65b/year:

https://cepr.net/winning-the-tax-game-tax-stock-returns/

This would be especially hard on heavily financialized companies with "impossibly high stock price/earnings ratios" – e.g. Tesla.

Dayen also proposes rejigging the tax rate on retirement and health insurance plans, where nearly all the tax breaks are scooped by the highest earners. The Tax Policy Center has $1.12-$1.38t/year worth of other tax reforms that would shift the tax burden from working people to the idle rich:

https://taxpolicycenter.org/briefing-book/what-are-largest-tax-expenditures

Dayen says, "let's ask for about 20% of that" and ballparks the tax income at $200b/year.

How about subsidy cuts? $10b/year in fossil fuel subsidies. Eliminating the notorious sources of fraud in crop insurance would save $5b/year:

https://www.gao.gov/assets/gao-06-878t.pdf

There's $7b/year in subsidies to the Home Bank Loan system and $5b/year lost to pass-through entity loopholes.

Add it all up and you're saving $1.4215t/year without even breaking a sweat, just by tacking (some of) the country's worst looting and tax evasion. Dayen points out US expenditures will fall even more than this, because it won't be paying as much T-bill interest if it doesn't spend this money. We could also just make the Fed stop using the blunt, expensive tool of interest rate hikes to manage inflation. There's plenty of scenarios where interest payments result in the remaining $580b/year in savings, bringing the total up to $2t.

Now, sucking $2t/year out of the US economy all at once – even $2t in waste and fraud – would not be good for America! That kind of economic shock would bring the US economy to its knees, for years to come. All that money still fuels the demand side of the economy. But a slow rampup, and more public spending on useful programs (say, climate resiliency and retrofitting), would strengthen the economy while still bankrupting the fraud sector.

DOGE is wildly unpopular with the American electorate – even large pluralities of Republicans think its stupid. Campaigning on cutting fraud and profiteering would be a wildly popular way for Democrats to separate themselves from Republicans. Few Democrats are rising to the occasion, though.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/27/beltway-bandits/#henhouse-foxes

Image: Steve Jurvetson (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/jurvetson/52005460639/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic #doge #elon musk #Vivek Ramaswamy #beltway bandits #procurement #government efficiency #public sector capacity #gao #government accountability office #david dayen #the american prospect

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jetblack4realz · 2 months ago

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the gun girl - kayce dutton

summary - kayce has a thing with guns, you work at a gun store, it's the perfect love story

word count - 1.8k

tw - guns

again, short but sweet, and i'm obsessed with kayce dutton

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"i'm looking for just a basic .22 remington," kayce said, leaning against the counter with his eyes on tate as he roamed the aisles of ammo. you stood from where you were organizing a few boxes of the stuff, smiling at you stood across from the stranger.

"right handed or left?" you asked, stepping back to glance at the stock behind you. he finally looked at you, staying silent for a few moments as he tried to remember what you'd asked - his eyes wide as he stared. he didn't remember bass pro having such attractive employees.

"right," he answered shortly, watching as you approached the .22 section.

"okay, well we've got a couple brownings in stock currently. they're a bit pricey, but if i'm being honest i prefer them to the rugers or weatherbys. what are you hunting?" you asked, fingers running over the butt of the guns on the wall as you looked to him again.

"elk," kayce said. "little man's coming with this time."

your eyes were drawn to the six year old that had come to his side, a small smile pulling at your lips as he grinned up at you. you leaned over the counter a bit to see him better.

"you excited, bud?" you asked. he nodded, leaning into his father's side more as he smiled at you.

"he said i should get a new gun to commemorate it," kayce said, earning a small laugh from you. you looked back up at him, raising your brows as a teasing smile settled on your lips.

"oh i'm sure he did," you said. "i'm sure he thinks the browning is the best pick for you too."

"well, i've got the weatherby and the ruger, so it's the last real option," he laughed. he ran a hand through the little boy's hair. "he doesn't like them either."

"i'll get it rang up for you two then," you told him, smiling still as you pulled the proper box from the wall. you moved to the till, scanning it in. "do you have a rewards number?"

"oh, uh, yeah," kayce said, giving it to you then.

"kayce dutton?" you asked, looking up with raised brows. he nodded and you returned to your typing. "i think we've met before. or at least, i've met your father. he was here when we opened the store."

"your family owns the store?" he asked.

"mhm," you hummed. "when i was fourteen. i've helped run it since."

"i haven't seen you here before," he said. you shrugged.

"how often are you buying new guns?" you asked, laughing lightly as you clicked the computer. "need any ammo or are you set?"

"i should be fine," he said with a nod.

"alright, just go ahead and swipe your card then," you told him, nodding at the pinpad. he did just that. "i'm y/n by the way. it's nice to meet you."

"kayce," he said, before realizing you already knew that with a furrow of his brow. he laughed awkwardly before gesturing down at his son. "this is tate."

"hi!" tate chirped with a wave. you laughed lightly, waving back at him.

"it's nice to meet you, tate," you told him. you passed kayce the box and ripped his receipt, handing that to tate. you smiled at the boy. "hide this from your mommy. i'm sure your daddy doesn't want her to know he bought another gun."

your tone was teasing and a flush rose to kayce's cheeks, but not because of it. he was quick to jut in. "oh, i'm not married or with anyone, so no worries there."

"oh," you said, sounding awfully surprised. somehow, this endeared you more to him - even though you already found him incredibly endearing. he was single - win! - but he was also a single dad who actually cared about his kid. your heart warmed as you smiled up at him. "well then, no one to worry about how much money you're spending on guns. sounds great."

"it has it's benefits," he agreed with a smile.

"well, i will see you two around the store, likely," you said, glancing between tate and his father as kayce stepped away. "good luck on your hunt."

"thanks, i'll let you know if we get anything," kayce said.

"looking forward to it," you replied with an easy smile. you waved at tate, your smile widening slightly. "bye tate."

"bye!"

kayce didn't look away from you until he had to turn around to head down the stairs to the main level of the store, and even then he glanced back as you returned your attention to the inventory behind you.

seriously, when did bass pro employees become so attractive?

it was only a week later that you ran into tate again, the little boy running up to you as you reorganized the men's huntingwear section.

"i know you!" he cheered as he approached, an older man following behind him as he eyed you curiously.

"oh, hi tate!" you laughed, bumping his knuckles with yours once he held his out. "how are you buddy? you guys get any elk last weekend?"

tate nodded eagerly. "a big one! dad got it from so far away!"

"600 yards," the older gentleman added, smiling down at his grandson. he looked back up at you. "you're y/n y/l/n, right? their oldest daughter?"

"yeah," you nodded, matching his smile. "it's nice to see you again, mr. dutton."

"last time i saw you, you were just a little girl," he hummed, a warm smile on his lips. "you're all grown now. you helping your dad?"

"every day," you affirmed. "he's getting older, so i've been helping him and my brothers get this place to a good state to pass along. devin's gonna take over here in the next few years."

"oh, is that right?" john asked gruffly, nodding slowly as he tried to recall your oldest brother.

"mhm," you nodded. you glanced down at tate again as he began messing with the beanies on the rack across from you. "i met your son last week, kayce."

"yeah, i heard," john nodded, his voice gruff as he looked to tate. "seemed to have caught the attention of both of those boys."

tate smiled up at you as he pulled a carharrt beanie over his head. you laughed, rubbing his head with a soft hand.

"may i ask what you mean by that, sir?" you wondered. he shrugged, looking around the store with an ill-disguised smile.

"nothing really," he said. he pulled the beanie off of tate's head as tate reached for it again, shaking his head. "you've already got three of these, buddy. let's put it back." he looked back up at you with a polite smile. "see you around, y/n."

you waved to tate as they walked off, returning to your work folding clothes with a small smile on your lips. you thought of kayce and wondered briefly what exactly his father had meant by what he said.

it was your final shift before the weekend and you were extremely bored. you were back at the gun desk, sitting on your little wooden stool as you scrolled your phone.

"you guys stock smith & wessons here?"

you looked up with wide eyes, standing quickly as you looked to whichever customer was asking about handguns on a random friday afternoon.

you let out a short laugh as your eyes landed on none other than kayce dutton, his hands on the glass case in front of you as a small smile pulled at his lips. you eyed his pretty cowboy outfit, his carharrt vest and wrangler jeans causing you to realize just how much your type he really was.

"i guess you do buy guns a lot," you hummed, leaning back against the counter behind you. "heard you got a nice buck last weekend."

"oh, you did now? from who?" he asked.

"your father," you answered. "he was here a few days ago with tate. said you caught it at 600 yards. that's pretty impressive."

he shifted his weight on his feet as he leaned against the gun case again, smiling. "yeah, i felt pretty good about it. you get anything yet this season?"

"i haven't gone out yet. got drawn for one over in section seven though," you said.

"that's over by my family's ranch," he told you. "i could show you a few good spots. i've gotten a fair few buck over there."

"i'd appreciate that. i ain't ever shot over there," you said, smiling softly at the man in front of you. a few moments of silence passed over the two of you before you glanced to the side at the racks of guns propped up. "so, you looking for a smith & wesson?"

"well," he said simply, shrugging as his smile grew a bit. "i actually came here for something else."

you raised a brow. "and what's that?"

"i was hoping a date," he said, an awkward yet hopeful smile on his smile as one corner of his lips raised. you eyed him, matching his smile slowly as you pushed off the counter, folding your arms over your chest.

"i think i can do that," you answered. he let out a breath of relief as his smile grew more full. "when are you thinking, cowboy?"

"tonight, at seven? the outlaw saloon? they've got some good food and 've got some music playing tonight," he answered.

"that sounds like fun," you said, stepping towards him as you stood across from the case. "i think i'm free tonight."

he grinned, leaning further towards you. "perfect. i'll pick you up."

"wouldn't expect anything different," you said with a soft smile. you pulled your phone from your pocket, holding it out to him. he took it, your fingers brushing as he did. "put your number in, text yourself, and i expect to see you at my door tonight."

he glanced up at you as he created a contact for himself and sent a text, his own phone buzzing in his pocket as he did so.

"i'll see you tonight," he said, tipping his hat as he stepped away after handing your phone back.

"see you tonight," you said, matching his smile before he finally turned and walked down the stairs, sparing a few glances your way as he walked through the doors and out to his truck.

you watched him all the way down, letting out a happy laugh before finally turning away, running a hand through your hair. you turned on your phone - three hours until you got off, five until kayce picked you up. you looked at the boxes of ammo and guns, deciding in that moment you needed to reorganize them.

"back to work," you hummed to yourself.

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

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

#kayce dutton #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton x y/n #kayce dutton fanfic #kayce dutton imagine #luke grimes #luke grimes x reader #luke grimes x y/n #yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone x reader #yellowstone fanfiction #yellowstone tv #beth dutton #rip wheeler #tate dutton #john dutton

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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"When Francois Beyers first pitched the concept of 3D ocean farming to the Welsh regulators, he had to sketch it on napkins.

Today the seafood farm is much more than a drawing, but if you walked along the Welsh coastal path near St David’s, all you’d see is a line of buoys. As Beyers puts it: “It’s what’s below that’s important.”

Thick tussles of lustrous seaweed suspend from the buoys, mussels cling to its furry connective ropes and dangling Chinese lantern-esque nets are filled with oysters and scallops.

“It’s like an underwater garden,” says Beyers, co-founder of the community-owned regenerative ocean farm, Câr-y-Môr. The 3-hectare site is part of a fledgling sector, one of 12 farms in the UK, which key players believe could boost ocean biodiversity, produce sustainable agricultural fertiliser and provide year-round employment in areas that have traditionally been dependent on tourism.

Created in 2020 by Beyers and six family members, including his father-in-law – an ex-shellfish farmer – the motivation is apparent in the name, which is Welsh for “for the love of the sea”. ...

Pictured: Drone shot of Câr-y-Môr, which is on the site of abandoned mussel farms. Image: Scott Chalmers

Ocean farming comes from the technical term ‘integrated multi-trophic aquaculture’, which means a mixture of different seaweed and shellfish species growing together to mutually benefit each other. But it’s not just a way of growing food with little human input, it also creates ocean habitat.

“You’re creating a breeding ground for marine animals,” explains Beyers who adds that the site has seen more gannets diving, porpoises and seals – to name a few – since before the farm was established.

Ocean farms like Câr-y-Môr, notes Ross Brown – environmental research fellow at the University of Exeter – have substantial conservation benefits.

“Setting up a seaweed farm creates an exclusion zone so fishermen can’t trawl it,” explains Brown, who has been conducting experiments on the impacts of seaweed and shellfish farms across the UK.

Brown believes a thriving ocean farming industry could provide solutions to the UK’s fish stock, which is in “a deeply troubling state” according to a report that found half of the key populations to be overfished. “It would create stepping stones where we have safe havens for fish and other organisms,” he adds.

But UK regulators have adopted a cautious approach, note Brown and Beyers, making it difficult for businesses like Câr-y-Môr to obtain licenses. “It’s been a tough old slog,” says Beyers, whose aim is to change the legislation to make it easier for others to start ocean farms.

Despite navigating uncharted territories, the business now has 14 full-time employees, and 300 community members, of which nearly 100 have invested in the community-benefit society. For member and funding manager Tracey Gilbert-Falconer, the model brings expertise but most importantly, buy-in from the tight-knit local community.

“You need to work with the community than forcing yourself in,” she observes.

And Câr-y-Môr is poised to double its workforce in 2024 thanks to a Defra grant of £1.1 million to promote and develop the Welsh seafood industry as part of the UK Seafood Fund Infrastructure Scheme. This will go towards building a processing hub, set to be operational in April, to produce agricultural fertiliser from seaweed.

Full of mineral nutrients and phosphorous from the ocean, seaweed use in farming is nothing new, as Gilbert-Falconer notes: “Farmers in Pembrokeshire talk about their grandad going down to the sea and throwing [seaweed] on their farms.”

But as the war in Ukraine has caused the price of chemical fertiliser to soar, and the sector tries to reduce its environmental impact – of which synthetic fertiliser contributes 5% of total UK emissions – farmers and government are increasingly looking to seaweed.

The new hub will have capacity to make 65,000 litres of sustainable fertiliser annually with the potential to cover 13,000 acres of farmland.

But to feed the processing hub, generate profit and reduce their dependency on grants, the co-op needs to increase the ocean farm size from three to 13 hectares. If they obtain licences, Beyers says they should break even in 18 months.

For now, Beyers reflects on a “humbling” three years but revels in the potential uses of seaweed, from construction material to clothing.

“I haven’t seen the limit yet,” he smiles."

-via Positive.News, February 19, 2024

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lunastryinc · 3 months ago

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hi babes! we are so excited to announce our new planned event we have coming to you guys for this month. from december 13th until december 18th, you are all invited to spend 5 nights in the slopes of st. moritz, switzerland. we have several things on the itinerary for you all to enjoy and it can be found in the cut below.

this event is optional. if you are interested in attending, please give this post a like! the cut off date for signing up is december 8th. there will be no exceptions for late sign ups this time so that we are able to finalize the final details before the dates of the event.

dec 13th - arrival day: you will arrive and check in to the resort and find your assigned cabin. on this day, you may get rested up from the travels or explore the cute little village of st. moritz.

dec 14th - charity events: lunastry is excited to announce that we will be hosting a charity event for anyone who wants to participate! during the day, there will be a vendors market for people to sell their goods as well as a skills competition for the athletes in the group. at night, there will be an open mic/karaoke event for those of you who are more musically inclined. we will leave it up to writer discretion to decide how you will contribute! all proceeds raised by lunastry will benefit charities that help families throughout the holiday season. to participate, we will make another post where you can sign up for the charity events and let us know what your muse will be doing.

dec 15th - free day: take your time and enjoy the resort! you can hit the slopes with your friends or stay bundled up inside, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. the main lodge also includes a small day-spa and sauna for you to relax and warm up after a day out in the snow.

dec 16th - snow in: the weather forecast is predicting a snowstorm to hit the mountainside early morning of the 16th. although the lodge is well equipped to deal with blizzards, you might all find yourselves snowed in your respective cabins for a few hours until the lodge employees are able to dig you out. be sure to stock up on blankets and snacks!

dec 17th - snowman building contest: like we did with the pumpkin carving contest, we will be hosting a snowman building competition! first place winner gets an exclusive interview in the next edition of eclipse media magazine. more information on how to participate will be posted on the 13th to give everyone time to find the perfect snowman to share.

dec 18th - checkout day: time to pack up and head on out back home- and maybe snag one last cookie before you go

we are super excited for this laidback event and hope you are to! as always, if you have any questions, you can send us an ask, slide into our dms, or message us directly on chats @ lunaincmods x

#linc.event

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wondersinwaynemanor · 1 year ago

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Does Tim forget he's officially a Wayne now? That, or his mind is too full with many ideas and he's easily distracted from one thought to the next. I think it's all of the above.

During a board meeting at Wayne Enterprises, employees try to get his attention cus sleep-deprived Tim is analyzing stock markets and investments, and planning on what he should to Mr. Freeze tonight because that bastard almost blasted Damian with his freeze gun, and he's wondering what country he could explore with Kon on the weekend.

When Jason asked, "How do you handle everything, Timmy??" Tim answered, "It's quite easy." Dick worries for his younger brother's mental health. Bruce constantly checks in on Tim on how's he doing with his different responsibilities and if he needs to step down as CEO for now and let Lucius handle it for him. But Tim is full of determination and intelligence- Bruce admires that about his son. Those traits are very present in his family.

Employee 1 - Mr. Wayne, what do you think of this project? Do you think it can benefit us?

Tim - ..... (on his mind - "I'm gonna rip that suit from Mr. Freeze till he apologizes for what he did to Damian. I'm gonna kill-").

Lucius - Mr. Wayne. (he doesn't usually call Tim this way but they're in a professional setting right now so it's a given).

Tim is fnally out of the trance from his own mind - Yes, Mr. Fox. Sorry, my apologies. That project is amazing... (and he continues to speak about the project like he didn't just get lost there).

And the board of members continue to be impressed by young Timothy Wayne.

#tim drake #red robin #dc incorrect quotes #pls give this boy a break???#dc universe #batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #lucius fox #protective tim drake #a bit of timkon here #batfam #batbros

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wayward-dreamer · 1 year ago

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New Blood

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!Supe!Reader

Word count: 4,750

Summary: The executives at Vought American are enamoured by the new supe at the annual shareholders party, hoping to make her a new addition to Payback. Soldier Boy isn't pleased with the idea, as he's the only one who gets to decide who joins his team. He tells her this fact, and braces himself for a fight, but gets something much better out of their encounter.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Swearing, angst, SB being an asshole, misogyny, smut: dirty talk, rough sex (like insanely rough, they're supes after all), using powers during sex, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex.

A/N: I got an anon Soldier Boy fic request to write something similar to the Homelander/Stormfront sex scene from 2.05, so here it is. It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I just hope it reads well. I may even be up to writing a part 2. Happy reading! :) @that-sarcastic-writer for your kinktober writers list ;)

Vought never really needed an excuse for a huge party.

With the company gaining more stock in the last few years, there were plenty of things to celebrate. There had been talk recently that there was a chance for them to become an international corporation, as more supes were added to their registry and employees of Vought American were being promoted around the clock. The annual shareholders party kept getting bigger and bigger with every year the company was earning more credibility, and the year of 1984 was the most decked out the foyer on the 40th floor had been in recent times.

The champagne was free-flowing, the hors d'oeuvres were endless as waiters walked through the crowd, and all the shareholders had their attention on the supes in the room. The members of Payback were scattered around, some in deep conversations with the higher-ups in Vought, and others that cared more about finding a way to entertain themselves for the night.

Y/N threw her head back with an exaggerated cackle, taking a sip of her champagne as she turned her face away from the shareholder she was talking to, rolling her eyes. She faced him again, a smile plastered on her face as her hand smoothed down the shoulder of his charcoal suit.

“So, how much control do you have over those powers?” he asked, a slick grin pulling at his lips.

“Well sir, if you’re asking what I think you’re asking… I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love it when things get a little heated,” she replied, as she lifted her hand, a small flame appearing between her thumb and forefinger. Gently, she hovered her fingers close to the skin of his jaw, causing him to jump at the faint burn.

Their eyes met as they both laughed, his hand sliding down her back and resting on her hip. Y/N tried not to show her disgust as she continued to smile, a few more of the shareholders and members of the board joining them, all of them intrigued by the newest supe to join the Vought family.

“You certainly have a better handle on things than those fucking twins,” another one of the suits stated, briefly looking back at the TNT twins across the room before he turned to her, “you’d make a better contribution to Payback than they are right now.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, clinking her glass with his.

In truth, she had no desire to be on the team for any personal gain, but if being a part of it offered greater benefits for her family back home then she was more than willing to do what needed to be done.

Soldier Boy leaned against the high-top table as he sipped his whiskey, his line of vision directly on the woman across the room at the bar, surrounded by all the corporate fuckers that had barely spoken two words to him all night. The only thing he had heard was an earful from Stan Edgar about the last mission he had gone on, but it was all a bunch of hypocritical bullshit. He continued to ignore the man as he stood in front of him, his eyes focused as he watched her, observing her every move as she practically threw herself at all of them.

“We need to do some damage control before you head off to Nicaragua,” Edgar added, stopping as he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere. “If you want to stay relevant, Ben, I suggest taking some of my advice on board.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Soldier Boy asked, a quick glance at him before he nudged his chin towards the woman in question.

“Ember,” Edgar replied, curtly. “Y/N. Promising up and comer from Detroit. VPs think she might be a good fit for the team, that we need some new blood around here.”

“My team?” Soldier Boy turned towards Edgar, jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrowed into a glare.

“I believe you mean Vought’s team,” Edgar countered, unfazed by the way the supe was staring him down. “But she’s no one to concern yourself with. Leave that to us.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, taking another sip from the tumbler in his hand as he looked back at Y/N. She stood in the middle, champagne in one hand and cigarette in the other, charming the men that circled her, and even a few women. His scowl deepened as he watched her laugh, show off her powers and flirt with them. They were all hanging on every word she said. Usually it would be him cracking jokes with all the suits, inviting them to after parties with the best drugs, booze and women. They hadn’t even looked his way this entire time.

He didn’t know much about Y/N apart from her supe name, Ember, but there was no way she was getting into Payback, into his team, without his approval. He smirked in as he saw her excuse herself, strutting away from the group with an exaggerated swing of her hips, the tight latex bodysuit accentuating the curve of her ass. He threw back the rest of his drink, leaving the glass on the table as he adjusted the front of his suit, walking away from Edgar and whatever lecture he was about to continue.

The smile grew on his face as he saw her walking down the hallway, the heels of her thigh-high boots clacking against the marble floor. He shook his head as she took one last puff of her cigarette and threw it on the ground, putting it out with the toe of her boot before she made her way to the restrooms.

She definitely needed a lesson about who was in charge around here, and who she needed to impress to be in the team.

Y/N stepped out of the cubicle, blowing a large bubble of her gum and popping it, washing her hands under the gold and ivory tap of the black marble skin. She turned the water off, shaking the drops off her hands before she reached for the paper towels, wiping them thoroughly. She threw the paper in the trash along with her gum, turning on her heel to look at herself once more in the mirror. She placed her hands over her covered chest, pushing her breasts up slightly, giving herself more cleavage in her tight suit before she headed back to the party. She opened the pack she had attached to her hip, taking out her silver cigarette case and opening it, grimacing when she found it empty.

“Fuck,” she breathed, as she snapped it closed and shoved it back in the small pack.

With one last look at her figure in the mirror, she turned towards the door and walked out into the hallway. Her heels clicked against the floors for a couple steps before she stopped abruptly, her sight fixed on the man leaning against the wall, who’s own eyes drifted up the length of her body, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he placed a cigarette between them.

“Got a light?” he asked, winking.

With a playful roll of her eyes as she clicked her fingers, a tiny flame igniting. He leaned forward, the tip of the cigarette burning as he inhaled, pulling it out as he blew the smoke out in rings. Their eyes met as neither of them made the move to step aside, staring each other down. Y/N knew exactly who he was, and she even had a feeling she knew what he wanted, but there was no way he was going to get it so easily. She wasn’t going to hold out completely, she was far too curious about him for that to happen.

“Ember… right?” he inquired, even though he already knew.

She gave him a firm nod, boldly reaching for the cigarette between his fingers and placing it to her lips, taking a large drag herself. She blew it out slowly, right in his face, slightly annoyed that he didn’t react. “Whatever you want, Soldier Boy… you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“Oh come on, doll, I just wanna talk,” he reasoned, shifting closer to her as he gazed into her eyes.

“I have a name,” she stated, her features void of any emotion. She wasn’t in the mood for whatever he was trying to do.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and husky as he uttered the word.

She felt a shiver run down her back as she heard him speak her name, but she tried not to show the sudden effect he had on her. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we talk?” he asked, nudging his chin in the direction behind her. “Somewhere private.”

She took another pull from the cigarette, blowing it out as she dropped it on the ground, putting it out with her boot again. She glanced up at him with a smile, tilting her head with curiosity. “Only if you got something stronger.”

His smirk widened as he offered her his arm, waiting for her to take it. She lifted her eyebrows in an amused, silent ‘really?’, before she stepped forward, her heels echoing on the floors as she walked towards the elevators. She stepped in and waited for him, feeling her stomach turn as he pressed the last button, ‘50’ for the penthouses. They stood in silence as the elevator moved up the floors, but she was very aware of his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking. The doors opened to the 50th floor, letting them walk out into the short hallway to the door that had “Soldier Boy” in shiny gold letters. He tapped in a few numbers into the keypad, the green light allowing him to open the wooden door into his loft.

Y/N sauntered in, taking in the décor around her and noting the theme was of course the same as his look and aesthetic. Dark shades of green in the rug and the cushions on the black leather couch, gold flakes in the black marble of the bar in the corner of the room, a gold bust of a Bald Eagle with its wings spread as the centerpiece on the surface. It was his all-American hero persona all over the apartment, and if she wasn’t itching to find out what he wanted she’d be impressed. She watched as he walked over to the bar, his suit tight and accentuating all the right parts of him. He picked the decanter filled with bourbon and poured a generous amount into two tumblers, reaching under the bar to retrieve the small bag of coke he always kept there.

“So… you wanted to talk?” she asked as she wandered over to the bar.

“All that fun you were having back there…” he started, as he made short lines of coke with his knife across the top of the bar. “It’s a fucking problem, and we’re gonna do something about it.”

Their eyes locked briefly as he offered her the rolled up dollar bill, before she bent down and snorted the first line, throwing her head back to inhale it properly. She did the same with her left nostril, wiping up the remaining powder that had fallen on her lips and rubbing it on her gums. She picked up the tumbler and took a sip, moving away from the bar and taking in the view from the floor-to-ceiling window.

“The crab cakes were fucking better than this coke; not such a crime to enjoy that,” she stated.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me, sugar.”

She turned around, staring him down as he did the same with her, both trying to figure each other out and as quickly as possible. The air around them was thick with tension, and it was going to go one of two ways.

“I wasn’t doing anything other supes haven’t done,” she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders. “Give these guys a great pair of tits and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of and they’re drooling like dogs with a fucking bone.”

His expression was blank, completely unimpressed with her pretense. He leaned down towards the bar, pinching the side of his nose as he dragged it across the surface, snorting up the white substance. He leaned back as he sniffed, humming softly as his eyes opened, glancing back at her with a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Whatever you’re tryin’ to get outta those shareholders back there, tryin’ to convince them by letting them put their hands all over you… they just want a couple hours between your legs and won’t give you what you want.”

“And you know what I want?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“You want to join Payback,” he replied, as he walked towards her, slowly. “And there’s only one way you can.”

“Really?” she scoffed. She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes, knowing what he was implying, but choosing to rile him up. “How?”

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” he thew back, his features pulling into a deep glare. She was hitting a nerve already.

“No, what’s obvious�� is that you’re fucking jealous of all the attention being on me,” she replied, calmly. She squared her shoulders, unafraid of him even as he stood taller than her. “You can’t stand the fact that someone might take your spotlight. That you don’t get a say about what happens with Payback anymore. Everyone knows Noir’s the only valuable player for Vought. The rest of you… you’re gonna end up C-listers, with crummy deals at amusement parks and running Herogasm into the fucking ground.”

“Watch it, Y/N,” he warned.

“And as for you…” she chuckled. The sound was almost evil. “You know they’re all just humoring you, right? Countess, the twins… I mean fuck, even Edgar just gives you shit to do so he doesn’t actually have to deal with you. He’s probably got a replacement lined up for you already.”

Soldier Boy’s jaw clenched as he scowled down at Y/N, reaching forward and grasping her arm in his tight grip. The glass fell out of her hold, shattering on the floor as he pinned her hand to the wall behind her, pressing his body into hers to keep her from escaping. She growled as she struggled against his strength, lifting her free arm to swipe at him, but he was too quick for her, repeating the action and holding it to the wall. She glared up at him, breathing heavily as her forearms started to heat up, her skin covered with an orange glow. He grunted as it singed the flesh of his palms, but he made no move to let her go.

“Are we gonna fight or fuck this out? ‘Cause I’m getting some really mixed signals here,” she snapped between gritted teeth.

The heat under his palms became overwhelming, causing him to step back as he groaned. Y/N raised her curled fist, ready to strike him but a gasp escaped her as he pushed her back against the wall once more, his hand around her neck. Their gazes locked as they glared at each other, an eerie silence falling between them, both of them waiting to see what the other was going to do. It seemed they both had the same thought, their lips meeting in a rough, searing kiss as her hands fell to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Their mouths moved together, each of them fighting for dominance over the other, her grip tightening as she tried to get control over him. She bit down on his bottom lip, her teeth nipping the skin hard, a growl leaving him as he pulled back. He swiped his thumb across his lips to check if he was bleeding, seeing a spot of crimson on the tip.

“Oops,” she whispered, smirking at him.

“Is that all you got?” he questioned, his eyes darkening as he pressed down on her neck.

She wheezed slightly, chuckling as she scowled up at him. “I don’t think you want to see my worst.”

She lifted her hand, the tips of her fingers lighting up with embers, slowly developing into small flames. She raised an eyebrow as they continued to look at each other, the flames diminishing as he eased his grip, his hands landing on her hips. He turned her around and slammed her down on the bar, the decanters of liquor falling off the surface from the force of her landing and smashing on the ground. Their lips met again, just as rough and frantic as before, their hands snatching at each other’s suits trying to get them off. He pulled down the zipper of her latex bodysuit, peeling it off her shoulders and down to her hips, his mouth traveling down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts, his teeth nipping harshly at her skin. She let out a guttural moan as her hand pulled at his soft hair, a frustrated growl escaping him as she forced his eyes to meet hers.

“I think I’d rather have that mouth between my legs,” she ordered.

He snatched her hand away, gripping it tight between his fingers, slowly twisting it back as his green orbs blazed with anger. “I don’t get on my fucking knees for anyone, doll.”

“Too hard at your age?” she mocked, cackling.

Soldier Boy glared down at Y/N as he pulled her fingers back, a harsh grunt passing her lips at the force, fearing he would snap them clean off. She squared her shoulders, tugged her hand out of his grasp, pressing both of them against his clothed chest and pushing him back with all her strength. He yelled as he skidded across the marble floor, his back hitting the leg of the dining table, causing it to shift back several inches. He stared back at her as his rage continued to grow, watching as she sauntered over to him, half-naked, the broken glass on the ground crunching under her heeled boots. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she wriggled her fingers, small embers turning into short flames as she rubbed them together, taunting him.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that,” he threatened, slowly rising to his feet.

She moved closer to him, tilting her head so that her mouth was inches from his. “Let’s see you fucking try.”

She reached for the tactical vest he was wearing, unbuckling it quickly before ripping open the gathered collar of his suit just as fast. He flicked her hands away, grabbing her by her hips and taking control, turning around and pushing her down on the table. She grinned wickedly as her face pressed into the wooden surface, letting his hands roughly peel her suit down her body, her boot-clad legs and tossing it aside once it fell around her feet. He removed the top of his suit, kicking her legs apart as he unzipped his pants, stroking himself as he lined up to her entrance. He placed his hand between her thighs, his fingers feeling how wet she was already, bringing a smirk to his face as he brought them to his mouth and sucked at her arousal.

In one quick thrust of his hips, his cock was sheathed by her walls, a loud moan escaping her as she felt the stretch. He wasted no time, setting a brutal pace to his thrusts, fucking into her hard and fast. He grunted as his fingernails dug into the skin of her hips, his pelvis smacking against the curve of her ass as he continued to pound into her. The table shook under their weight, the creaking getting as loud as the sounds of pleasure coming from both of them, the wood starting to crack at the legs.

A squeal left her as one of the legs gave way, the table tilting as it broke from the force of their rigorous movement. He caught her in his arms just in time, her back pressing into his bare chest as he pulled her back. She laughed as she shook her head, rolling it back onto his shoulder as his hand slid up the front of her body, his fingers curling around her neck. She moaned wantonly as he applied pressure, his hips unrelenting as he felt the way she clenched around him so perfectly.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, wrapping his arm around her hips to keep her close. “Stretched so perfect around my-”

She reached back and smacked her palm around his mouth, rasping short breaths leaving her. “Shut up.”

He suddenly pulled out of her, causing her to whine at the loss of him. He grabbed her by her arms and walked her towards the wall, pushing her up against it. He held both her wrists together in one hand against her back, leaning over her as he smirked, his cock teasing her folds.

“You fucking ass,” she muttered, sending him a glare over her shoulder. “Just put it back in.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “That kind of talk’s not gonna cut it if you get on my team, Y/N.”

His deep and husky voice in her ear sent a shiver down her spine, and he no doubt noticed. “Last I heard, it’s not your decision.”

“You couldn’t be more fucking wrong, doll,” he whispered, the words sinister as he leaned further into her.

He took hold of his cock and pushed back into her, his head tilting back with a grunt as he felt her walls around his shaft once more. A loud whimper fell from her lips as he kept the same pace as before, his hold still on her wrists as his other hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pressed her against the wall. She tried to free her hands from his grasp, but he was far stronger than her. He was the strongest of all supes, so it wasn’t a surprise. She had caught him by surprise a couple of times, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“You like that, sugar?” he asked, smirking as he nuzzled his nose along her jaw. “Like the way my cock fucks you hard and fast, fucking deep into your tight little pussy…”

“Fuck,” she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to ignore his words. She couldn’t let him know just how much she was truly basking in the feel of him inside her. “I-I…”

“Come on, doll, use your words,” he taunted, his breath fanning against her ear. “You’re gonna cum so hard on my dick, I can feel it. I can feel the way you’re squeezing around me right now, it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

She whimpered as she tried to hold herself back, but he was right. She was already close and she needed that euphoric release from him more than her own dignity in that moment. She managed to tug her hands out of his hold, one of them reaching up and cupping his jaw tight. She dug her nails into his skin, a pained growl coming from him as embers singed his flesh. He recovered quickly, the skin healed as he lifted both her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head, his hips smacking harder against her. She moaned as she felt the heat blaze deep in her core, the coil ready to snap at any moment.

“Better play nice, Y/N,” he husked, holding her hands in a death grip as he pressed his forehead against the side of hers. “Be a good girl and I just might take you in… I can fuck that attitude outta you everyday, it’ll be our little secret…”

She felt him deep inside, the head of his cock pressing against the wall of her cervix with each thrust. She turned her head back to stare up into his green orbs. His pupils were blown wide from the drugs and the pleasure coursing through him, and she knew they both couldn’t hold on much longer. One hard snap of his hips against her had her cry out, her walls contracting around him.

“Fuck, please,” she panted. “Please make me cum.”

He grinned as he heard the desperation in her voice. He knew he had her.

“Cum for me, doll,” he groaned, one of his hands slipping down her arm and into her hair, tugging the strands tight between his fingers. “Fucking soak my cock.”

Soldier Boy’s words were all Y/N needed to push her over the edge. A string of moans turned into a loud shriek as she felt the coil snap, her arousal covering his shaft. His own release wasn’t much further behind her, his neck strained back as his cock pulsed inside her, a drawn out “fuckkk” escaping him, spurts of seed coating her walls. He breathed heavily, trying to come down from his high as he pulled out of her, turning away to pick up the top of his suit and dress himself. She hissed as she felt the ache between her legs, pressing her thighs together to keep his cum in. She moved away from the wall, finding her suit on the floor and picking it up. She got ready quickly, zipping herself up and fixing her hair before she faced him.

They stared at each other as she felt his seed inside her, her mind making a quick note to stop at the restrooms again before heading back to the party. She spotted his drink still sitting on the bar and walked over, ignoring his gaze as she moved past him. She picked up the drink, turning around and finally meeting his eyes.

“I don’t need your approval to be in Payback,” she began, tossing back the amber liquid in one shot. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to Mr. Edgar.”

“You’re wasting your fucking time with him, Y/N,” he stated, glaring back at her.

She scoffed, sauntering over to him, her heeled boots echoing on the marble floors. She looked up at him, a silence falling between them once more as they continued to figure each other out. A mischievous smile pulled at her lips as she lifted her hand, round and small embers glowing on her fingers as she smacked his cheek. He jolted slightly at the brief sting against his skin, causing her to giggle as she stepped back, relishing in the way he scowled at her.

“See you around, Ben.”

Without another glance at him, she left the glass on the bar and walked towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. Soldier Boy shook his head, his rage getting the better of him as he picked up the glass and threw it across the room, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces as it hit the wall. He had no desire to return to the party, his mood completely soured now, thanks to her.

He picked up the bottle of bourbon and the bag of coke, walking back into his room. They’d be a better use of his time than talking to any of those fucking suits at that party.

Six weeks later, Y/N AKA Ember was named the newest member of Payack. She accepted the new position and all the congratulations with a huge smile on her face, shaking the hands of her new teammates and bosses, members of the board and shareholders in Vought American, soon to become Vought International.

No matter how wide she grinned, however, she couldn’t enjoy the accolade. It was all tarnished by the events that came before, in honor of Soldier Boy’s heroic sacrifice in a nuclear blast. She wanted to be able to rub it in to him, making him jealous of all the attention she was getting and get him riled up, in hopes they’d have a repeat of what happened that night of the shareholders’ party.

It was a strange feeling, to wish that he was there. She just had a feeling that Vought wasn’t being completely honest about what happened to him. She couldn’t think about that, though.

She had a country to protect, people to save, and an image to uphold in order to help her family. That had always been her top priority.

No matter how much the greatest supe of all time plagued her thoughts.

Join my taglist(s)! If you’re crossed out I couldn’t tag you :(

Forevers: @hintsofhoney // @makeadealwithdean // @writercole // @flamencodiva // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @foxyjwls007 // @maliburenee // @waynes-multiverse // @weepingwillowphoenix // @kyjey // @leigh70 // @savagemickey03 // @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone // @agentorange9595 // @buckybarnes-1917 // @lunarmoon8 // @stoneyggirl2 // @hobby27 // @sweetcyanidemilkshake // @envyaurora95 // @jassackles // @ircngirl //

The Boys: @lacilou // @kazsrm67 // @smellingofpoetry // @krazykelly // @nancymcl // @quincessimus //

Soldier Boy: @emoryhemsworth // @spnwoman // @akshi8278 // @katelyn--renee // @candy-coated-misery0731 // @deans-spinster-witch // @deans-baby-momma // @mariaenchanted // @globetrotter28 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @lyarr24 // @stephv213 // @perpetualabsurdity // @lessons-of-red // @redbarn1995 // @xlynnbbyx // @recoveringpastaaddict // @maggiegirl17 // @rebeccathefangirl // @ladysparkles78 // @sl33pylilbunny // @smolone88 // @chernayawidow // @deansbbyx // @ultimatecin73 // @solariklees

#reader request #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader One Shot #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Soldier Boy Smut #Soldier Boy One Shot #Soldier Boy Fanfiction #The Boys Smut #The Boys One Shot #The Boys Fanfiction #Soldier Boy #the boys tv

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anundyingfidelity · 11 months ago

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YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff. Slow updates oops.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I | Chapter II

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #sam x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean x reader x sam #sam wesson #dean smith #supernatural fanfiction

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mostlysignssomeportents · 21 days ago

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“The Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets”

This week only, Barnes and Noble is offering 25% off pre-orders of my forthcoming novel Picks and Shovels. ENDS TODAY!.

While we truly live in an age of ascendant monsters who have hijacked our country, our economy, and our imaginations, there is one consolation: the small cohort of brilliant, driven writers who have these monsters' number, and will share it with us. Writers like Maureen Tkacik:

https://prospect.org/topics/maureen-tkacik/

Journalists like Wired's Vittoria Elliott, Leah Feiger, and Tim Marchman are absolutely crushing it when it comes to Musk's DOGE coup:

https://www.wired.com/author/vittoria-elliott/

And Nathan Tankus is doing incredible work all on his own, just blasting out scoop after scoop:

https://www.crisesnotes.com/

But for me, it was Tkacik – as usual – in the pages of The American Prospect who pulled it all together in a way that finally made it make sense, transforming the blitzkreig Muskian chaos into a recognizable playbook. While most of the coverage of Musk's wrecking crew has focused on the broccoli-haired Gen Z brownshirts who are wilding through the server rooms at giant, critical government agencies, Tkacik homes in on their boss, Tom Krause, whom she memorably dubs "the Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" (I told you she was a great writer!):

https://prospect.org/power/2025-02-06-private-equity-hatchet-man-leading-lost-boys-of-doge/

Krause is a private equity looter. He's the guy who basically invented the playbook for PE takeovers of large tech companies, from Broadcom to Citrix to VMWare, converting their businesses from selling things to renting them out, loading them up with junk fees, slashing quality, jacking up prices over and over, and firing everyone who was good at their jobs. He is a master enshittifier, an enshittification ninja.

Krause has an unerring instinct for making people miserable while making money. He oversaw the merger of Citrix and VMWare, creating a ghastly company called The Cloud Software Group, which sold remote working tools. Despite this, of his first official acts was to order all of his employees to stop working remotely. But then, after forcing his workers to drag their butts into work, move back across the country, etc, he reversed himself because he figured out he could sell off all of the company's office space for a tidy profit.

Krause canceled employee benefits, like thank you days for managers who pulled a lot of unpaid overtime, or bonuses for workers who upgraded their credentials. He also ended the company's practice of handing out swag as small gifts to workers, and then stiffed the company that made the swag, wontpaying a $437,574.97 invoice for all the tchotchkes the company had ordered. That's not the only supplier Krause stiffed: FinLync, a fintech company with a three-year contract with Krause's company, also had to sue to get paid.

Krause's isn't a canny operator who roots out waste: he's a guy who tears out all the wiring and then grudgingly restores the minimum needed to keep the machine running (no wonder Musk loves him, this is the Twitter playbook). As Tkacik reports, Krause fucked up the customer service and reliability systems that served Citrix's extremely large, corporate customers – the giant businesses that cut huge monthly checks to Citrix, whose CIOs received daily sales calls from his competitors.

Workers who serviced these customers, like disabled Air Force veteran David Morgan, who worked with big public agencies, were fired on one hour's notice, just before their stock options vested. The giant public agency customers he'd serviced later called him to complain that the only people they could get on the phone were subcontractors in Indian call centers who lacked the knowledge and authority to resolve their problems.

Last month, Citrix fired all of its customer support engineers. Citrix's military customers are being illegally routed to offshore customer support teams who are prohibited from working with the US military.

Citrix/VMWare isn't an exception. The carnage at these companies is indistinguishable from the wreck Krause made of Broadcom. In all these cases, Krause was parachuted in by private equity bosses, and he destroyed something useful to extract a giant, one-time profit, leaving behind a husk that no longer provides value to its customers or its employees.

This is the DOGE playbook. It's all about plunder: take something that was patiently, carefully built up over generations and burn it to the ground, warming yourself in the pyre, leaving nothing behind but ash. This is what private equity plunderers have been doing to the world's "advanced" economies since the Reagan years. They did it to airlines, family restaurants, funeral homes, dog groomers, toy stores, pharma, palliative care, dialysis, hospital beds, groceries, cars, and the internet.

Trump's a plunderer. He was elected by the plunderer class – like the crypto bros who want to run wild, transforming workers' carefully shepherded retirement savings into useless shitcoins, while the crypto bros run off with their perfectly cromulent "fiat" money. Musk is the apotheosis of this mindset, a guy who claims credit for other peoples' productive and useful businesses, replacing real engineering with financial engineering. Musk and Krause, they're like two peas in a pod.

That's why – according to anonymous DOGE employees cited by Tckacik – DOGE managers are hired for their capacity for cruelty: "The criteria for DOGE is how many you have fired, how much you enjoy firing people, and how little you care about the impact on peoples well being…No wonder Tom Krause was tapped for this. He’s their dream employee!"

The fact that Krause isn't well known outside of plunderer circles is absolutely a feature for him, not a bug. Scammers like Krause want to be admitted to polite society. This is why the Sacklers – the opioid crime family that kicked off the Oxy pandemic that's murdered more than 800,000 Americans so far – were so aggressive about keeping their association with their family business, Purdue Pharma, a secret. The Sacklers only wanted to be associated with the art galleries and museums they put their names over, and their lawyers threatened journalists for writing about their lives as billionaire drug pushers (I got one of those threats).

There's plenty of good reasons to be anonymous – if you're a whistleblower, say. But if you ever encounter a corporate executive who insists on anonymity, that's a wild danger sign. Take Pixsy, the scam "copyleft trolls" whose business depends on baiting people into making small errors when using images licensed under very early versions of the Creative Common licenses, and then threatening to sue them unless they pay hundreds or thousands of dollars:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/

Kain Jones, the CEO of Pixsy, tried to threaten me under the EU's GDPR for revealing the names of the scammer on his payroll who sent me a legal threat, and the executive who ran the scam for his business (I say he tried to threaten me because I helped lobby for the GDPR and I know for a fact that this isn't a GDPR violation):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/13/an-open-letter-to-pixsy-ceo-kain-jones-who-keeps-sending-me-legal-threats/

These people understand that they are in the business of ripping people off, causing them grave and wholly unjust financial injury. They value their secrecy because they are in the business of making strangers righteously furious, and they understand that one of these strangers might just show up in their lives someday to confront them about their transgressions.

This is why Unitedhealthcare freaked out so hard about Luigi Mangione's assassination of CEO Brian Thompson – that's not how the game is supposed to be played. The people who sit in on executive row, destroying your lives, are supposed to be wholly insulated from the consequences of their actions. You're not supposed to know who they are, you're not supposed to be able to find them – of course.

But even more importantly, you're not supposed to be angry at them. They pose as mere software agents in an immortal colony organism called a Limited Liability Corporation, bound by the iron law of shareholder supremacy to destroy your life while getting very, very rich. It's not supposed to be personal. That's why Unitedhealthcare is threatening to sue a doctor who was yanked out of surgery on a cancer patient to be berated by a UHC rep for ordering a hospital stay for her patient:

https://gizmodo.com/unitedhealthcare-is-mad-about-in-luigi-we-trust-comments-under-a-doctors-viral-post-2000560543

UHC is angry that this surgeon, Austin's Dr Elisabeth Potter, went Tiktok-viral with her true story of how how chaotic and depraved and uncaring UHC is. UHC execs fear that Mangione made it personal, that he obliterated the accountability sink of the corporation and put the blame squarely where it belongs – on the (mostly) men at the top who make this call.

This is a point Adam Conover made in his latest Factually podcast, where he interviewed Propublica's T Christian Miller and Patrick Rucker:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_5tDXRw8kg

Miller and Rucker published a blockbuster investigative report into Cigna's Evocore, a secret company that offers claims-denials as a service to America's biggest health insurers:

https://www.propublica.org/article/evicore-health-insurance-denials-cigna-unitedhealthcare-aetna-prior-authorizations

If you're the CEO of a health insurance company and you don't like how much you're paying out for MRIs or cancer treatment, you tell Evocore (which processes all your claim authorizations) and they turn a virtual dial that starts to reduce the number of MRIs your customers are allowed to have. This dial increases the likelihood that a claim or pre-authorization will be denied, which, in turn, makes doctors less willing to order them (even if they're medically necessary) and makes patients more likely to pay for them out of pocket.

Towards the end of the conversation, Miller and Rucker talk about how the rank-and-file people at an insurer don't get involved with the industry to murder people in order to enrich their shareholders. They genuinely want to help people. But executive row is different: those very wealthy people do believe their job is to kill people to save money, and get richer. Those people are personally to blame for the systemic problem. They are the ones who design and operate the system.

That's why naming the people who are personally responsible for these immoral, vicious acts is so important. That's why it's important that Wired and Propublica are unmasking the "pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" who are raiding the federal government under Krause's leadership:

https://projects.propublica.org/elon-musk-doge-tracker/

These people are committing grave crimes against the nation and its people. They should be known for this. It should follow them for the rest of their lives. It should be the lead in their obituaries. People who are introduced to them at parties should have a flash of recognition, hastily end the handshake, then turn on their heels and race to the bathroom to scrub their hands. For the rest of their lives.

Naming these people isn't enough to stop the plunder, but it helps. Yesterday, Marko Elez, the 25 year old avowed "eugenicist" who wanted to "normalize Indian hate" and could not be "[paid] to marry outside of my ethnicity," was shown the door. He's off the job. For the rest of his life, he will be the broccoli-haired brownshirt who got fired for his asinine, racist shitposting:

https://www.npr.org/2025/02/06/nx-s1-5289337/elon-musk-doge-treasury

After Krause's identity as the chief wrecker at DOGE was revealed, the brilliant Anna Merlan (author of Republic of Lies, the best book on conspiratorialism), wrote that "Now the whole country gets the experience of what it’s like when private equity buys the place you work":

https://bsky.app/profile/annamerlan.bsky.social/post/3lhepjkudcs2t

That's exactly it. We are witnessing a private equity-style plunder of the entire US government – of the USA itself. No one is better poised to write about this than Tkacik, because no one has private equity's number like Tkacik does:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

Ironically, all this came down just as Trump announced that he was going to finally get rid of private equity's scammiest trick, the "carried interest" loophole that lets PE bosses (and, to a lesser extent, hedge fund managers) avoid billions in personal taxes:

https://archive.is/yKhvD

"Carried interest" has nothing to do with the interest rate – it's a law that was designed for 16th century sea captains who had an "interest" in the cargo they "carried":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

Trump campaigned on killing this loophole in 2017, but Congress stopped him, after a lobbying blitz by the looter industry. It's possible that he genuinely wants to get rid of the carried interest loophole – he's nothing if not idiosyncratic, as the residents of Greenland can attest:

https://prospect.org/world/2025-02-07-letter-between-friendly-nations/

Even if he succeeds, looters and the "investor class" will get a huge giveaway under Trump, in the form of more tax giveaways and the dismantling of labor and environmental regulation. But it's far more likely that he won't succeed. Rather – as Yves Smith writes for Naked Capitalism – he'll do what he did with the Canada and Mexico tariffs: make a tiny, unimportant change and then lie and say he had done something revolutionary:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2025/02/is-trump-serious-about-trying-to-close-the-private-equity-carried-interest-loophole.html

This has been a shitty month, and it's not gonna get better for a while. On my dark days, I worry that it won't get better during my lifetime. But at least we have people like Tkacik to chronicle it, explain it, put it in context. She's amazing, a whirlwind. The same day that her report on Krause dropped, the Prospect published another must-read piece by her, digging deep into Alex Jones's convoluted bankruptcy gambit:

https://prospect.org/justice/2025-02-06-crisis-actors-alex-jones-bankruptcy/

It lays bare the wild world of elite bankruptcy court, another critical conduit for protecting the immoral rich from their victims. The fact that Tkacik can explain both Krause and the elite bankruptcy system on the same day is beyond impressive.

We've got a lot of work ahead of ourselves. The people in charge of this system – whose names you must learn and never forget – aren't going to go easily. But at least we know who they are. We know what they're doing. We know how the scam works. It's not a flurry of incomprehensible actions – it's a playbook that killed Red Lobster, Toys R Us, and Sears. We don't have to follow that playbook.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/07/broccoli-hair-brownshirts/#shameless

#pluralistic #Maureen Tkacik #the american prospect #corporate sociopaths #pixsy #luigi mangione #propublica #doge #coup #elon musk #guillotine watch #adam conover #private equity #citrix #tom krause #looters #marko elez

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