#Movement Mortgage

[mfi-miami]

Movement Mortgage Has Settled With Feds For $24 Million

Movement Movement Has Settled With The Feds For $24 Million Over Allegations Of  Underwriting Fraud On Government Loans Movement Mortgage has settled with the federal government for $23.75 million. The settlement is came after the government accused the lender of underwriting fraud. The government alleged movement improperly originated and underwrote mortgages insured by FHA and the VA.  The…

[itistimetodisappear]

Yes we've all heard aroace people complain about the 'you haven't met the right person' line. But to the idiots citing this as the reason aroace people 'aren't oppressed’: No, micro aggressions aren't what's oppressing us.

I could talk about corrective rape, but I'm not going to because that's not what scares me the most. The worst thing about being aroace (aromantic, and asexual to a certain extent) is that society is set up for couples.

Being aromantic is a crushing economic disadvantage. As a couple, you can save more. As a legal couple, you can borrow more. This puts Mortgages out of reach for a lot of aromantics. Adopting too. Although aro people can adopt, you must have a similar income to a couple, which again, rules out a lot of aros. Don't forget Immigration, spousal visas will never be an option for us.

Being poor and aro means you're denied housing, family, international movement, basically anything that allos of a similar income would get. And anything you can get, you'll have to jump through many more hoops for. But we can't fix this by legalising aro marriage, like we did for the gays. Until our society's economic system is completely revolutionised, we'll be waiting.

It's impossible to compare oppression. You can't objectively say which minority group has it worse and I really mean that. But also I'd rather be called slurs and hated by Christians all fucking day.

[cheaphousespending]

Movement Mortgage Announces New Movement Boost Program

[Indian Land, SC] – Movement Mortgage, a national top 10 retail mortgage lender, is excited to announce Movement Boost, a new down payment assistance program for borrowers eligible for Federal Housing Administration (FHA) loans.  Movement Boost helps qualified FHA borrowers* with the required 3.5% down payment via a repayable second lien with a 10-year amortization term and a rate at 2% above the…

[gutterfuuck]

sukuna smut… ur his nephew’s hot new best friend from college…

cw: mdni!!, agegap (sukuna in late 40s, reader in early 20s), modern au, dad/daddy kink, sukuna is high key problematic, lmk if i missed anything this is just a little thing so i can continue on my writing streak haha!!

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna is so hot. he’s tall, covered in tattoos, had muscles that flexed with the slightest movements… god he was so fine. he asks you if you want to feel his biceps one day after he catches you staring at him working out, sitting up from the rusty bench press and lowering the weighted bar onto the frame as he wipes his forehead with his forearm. he smirks as you approach him timidly, “c’mon, i don’t bite.” he chuckles, taking your shaky hand into his and pressing it to his arm, making you press your thighs together with how close he was to you.

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who starts sending yuji to the store or on little errands when you’re over at the house, spending the time his nephew was absent flirting with his sweet little friend. “skirts a little too short, don’t you think?” he’d say as if he was making a joke, raising his eyebrow when you’d become flustered with your words and start stuttering. you’d worn that skirt just for him, you were so glad he’d noticed! yuji comes back almost an hour later with shopping bags in his arms, thinking nothing of the way his uncle gives you a slip of ripped paper with his number on it.

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who makes you feel like, so grown up! you and him start to hang out together, he takes you out on his motorbike and lets you drink beer with him! he treats you like a real real adult, like the adults who have mortgages and homes. you two were just two adults, doing adult things!

ur bff yuji who catches on to it and is like, sooo grossed out! he yells at sukuna, something about him being a scumbag, right in front of your face when he realises his uncle’s hand inching up your skirt. of course you’d go after him, but later… you were too wasted to leave the house now, it was dark outside and creeps were out and about!! you’d apologise to yuji later, try and get sukuna to apologise, too! it wouldn’t be hard to tell him you guys weren’t dating, because you really weren’t! sukuna just… liked to get handsy. he’s from a different time, don’t you know it was polite to grope girls as a compliment?

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who tells you since you’re an adult, just like him, maybe it’s ready for you to do adult things together, behind closed doors. your worry shifted from what you’d tell yuji later to the stiff rod that poked you in your thigh as sukuna slotted his hips into yours, kissing you softly before licking your lip and nipping on it, making you gasp as he pulled away and pinched it between his teeth before he let go. “c’mon, it’ll feel good… you want your first time to be with someone experienced, right?” he coaxes as he licks your ear, his hands softly gripping your body.

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who’s got you dry humping him, hips melding against each other as you both made out sloppily, his strong arms holding you in place so he could rub his clothed hard cock right against your slickening pussy. he’s somewhat gentle until you accidentally call him dad- and then uncle- and then finally sukuna, a slip of tongue like when someone would call a teacher ‘mom’ on accident. sukuna didn’t care, he wanted to tear your clothes straight off of your body. young pussy was the best, especially young drunk pussy. he couldn’t wait to promise you only the tip, just so he can keep budging himself into you until he bumped right against your cervix… couldn’t wait to bounce you up and down til you were squealing out his name all high pitched and bubbly with your sweet voice cracking—

“filthy nasty bitch- was that really an accident or did you really wanna call me dad? uncle, maybe? you like it when uncle’s balls deep in your wet cunt…? h-hah, nh- did you really just tighten up just now, fuckkk… dirty little slut loves dad’s dick, hm? fucking d-disgusting— you’re getting off more than me now, hnm?” he talks and you can hardly process his words, fucked dumb with your eyes rolled up into your skull…

sukuna couldn’t wait to show off his new pretty little thing to his friends. if he’s feeling generous, maybe he’d let them take you for a test drive too. it was only last week he listened to toji bitch and moan about how he hadn’t had good pussy in a while and it really didn’t take much for you to listen to your bff’s older, tattooed, tall and hot uncle sukuna…

[ninyard]

I was thinking about Aaron; older, his twins almost 10 or 11, and everything is… normal? His daughters get to say my daddy is a doctor or my mommy is a scientist when their teachers in school ask about their jobs. He goes to dance recitals, or little league tournaments, Katelyn bakes little cakes for the school bake sale when she has the time to do so. Most evenings he comes home to a home cooked meal, or he’s happy to hand his wife a hot plate of food when she’s finished a long shift. They have a mortgage, and bills, and insurance and a college fund for the girls - they wave to the neighbours when they pass them in the mornings, or have a beer on each others porches in the evenings. They have to water their grass. They help their kids with their homework. He’s been to therapy. He sleeps at night. He wakes up in the morning. They’re a family, and they work, and everything is normal.

One day their youngest by four minutes is having a shower in their main bathroom. He should’ve fixed the lock when he said he would. Katelyn is at work, she should be home soon - he’s in the kitchen, the radio is on behind him, the extractor fan is loud. He doesn’t pay attention to the first round of banging, leaning over the check that there was nobody knocking on their front door, and then he hears it again. Three, four solid knocks of fist on wood from the upstairs bathroom. The older of the two meets him on the stairs just in time for him to hear his youngest calling out, “dad!”

“The lock is jammed!” she yells, and Aaron tries it from the outside. Nothing - no movement, no give.

“Stand back,” Aaron says through the door. “Don’t be scared, just stand back in the tub.”

When he’s certain she’s retreated, he tries it with his shoulder first - nothing. Again with his shoulder, a hard, forceful whack - there’s a little bit of movement, but still not enough. He’s taken a step back before he’s realised what he’s doing, and aims his foot for just below the door knob. The second his heel meets splintering plywood, he hears it. The thumping against a wall, or maybe it’s just the pounding heart in his chest. As the door swings open he feels the racquet in his hands, the blood on his face, the hands in his hair.

This has been in my drafts for so long that I’ve lost where I was going with it but something something Aaron accidentally being triggered by/around his kids and having to deal with that, knowing he’s scaring them, knowing they don’t know whats happening. Aaron feeling so far away from his past but being transported back in an instant.

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Retirement and How to Retire

How to start saving for retirement

Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One?

Procrastinating on Opening a Retirement Account? Here’s 3 Ways That’ll Fuck You Over.

Season 4, Episode 5: “401(k)s Aren’t Offered in My Industry. How Do I Save for Retirement if My Employer Won’t Help?”

How To Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Workplace Benefits and Other Cool Side Effects of Employment 

Your School or Workplace Benefits Might Include Cool Free Stuff

Do NOT Make This Disastrous Beginner Mistake With Your Retirement Funds

The Financial Order of Operations: 10 Great Money Choices for Every Stage of Life

Advanced retirement moves

How to Painlessly Run the Gauntlet of a 401k Rollover

The Resignation Checklist: 25 Sneaky Ways To Bleed Your Employer Dry Before Quitting

Ask the Bitches: “Can I Quit With Unvested Funds? Or Am I Walking Away From Too Much Money?”

You Need to Talk to Your Parents About Their Retirement Plan

Season 4, Episode 8: “I’m Queer, and Want To Find an Affordable Place To Retire. How Do I Balance Safety With Cost of Living?” 

How Dafuq Do Couples Share Their Money? 

Ask the Bitches: “Do Women Need Different Financial Advice Than Men?”

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 3, Episode 7: “I’m Finished With the Basic Shit. What Are the Advanced Financial Steps That Only Rich People Know?” 

Speaking of advanced money moves, make sure you’re not funneling money to The Man through unnecessary account fees. Roll over your old retirement accounts FO’ FREE with our partner Capitalize:

Roll over your retirement fund with Capitalize

Investing for the long term

When Money in the Bank Is a Bad Thing: Understanding Inflation and Depreciation

Investing Deathmatch: Investing in the Stock Market vs. Just… Not 

Investing Deathmatch: Traditional IRA vs. Roth IRA

Investing Deathmatch: Stocks vs. Bonds 

Wait… Did I Just Lose All My Money Investing in the Stock Market? 

Financial Independence, Retire Early (FIRE)

The FIRE Movement, Explained 

Your Girl Is Officially Retiring at 35 Years Old

The Real Story of How I Paid off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years 

My First 6 Months of Early Retirement Sucked Shit: What They Don’t Tell You about FIRE

Bitchtastic Book Review: Tanja Hester on Early Retirement, Privilege, and Her Book, Work Optional

Earning Her First $100K: An Interview with Tori Dunlap 

We’ll periodically update this list with new links as we continue writing about retirement. And by “periodically,” we mean “when we remember to do it.” Maybe remind us, ok? It takes a village.

Contribute to our staff’s retirement!

Holy Justin Baldoni that’s a lot of lengthy, well-researched, thoughtful articles on the subject of retirement. It sure took a lot of time and effort to finely craft all them words over the last five years!

In case I’m not laying it on thick enough: running Bitches Get Riches is a labor of love, but it’s still labor. If our work helped you with your retirement goals, consider contributing to our Patreon to say thanks! You’ll get access to Patreon exclusives, giveaways, and monthly content polls! Join our Patreon or comment below to let us know if you would be interested in a BGR Discord server where you can chat with other Patrons and perhaps even the Bitches themselves! Our other Patrons are neat and we think you should hang out together.

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[cordeliawhohung]

simon riley x reader | drabble | fluff | artists

written as a non-canon addition to in limbo but can be read by itself

If it wasn’t for the porch light, the thick umbra of the new moon would have swallowed you whole. 

The crisp night air bites at the back of your neck with icy teeth. It was a welcomed feeling when you had first exited the sweltering oven that Sapori grew into during service. Something that licked away the thin beads of sweat that clings at the base of your skull. Now, it’s incessant. Its jaw clenches until it digs its canines deep enough to break skin, and your fingers tremble too much for you to properly sort through the keys on your chain to escape it. 

Snowy fur brushes against your knuckles as your arctic fox keychain dances with your stiff movements. The sensation coaxes a smile to your lips as glittery blue eyes catch the soft illumination of the bulb above you. Soft like a kiss. Gentle like a lover. 

Eventually, you find the correct key. It flashes beneath the light as you gently slide it into the lock. Freshly oiled, the door hardly makes a sound as you swing it open and embrace the warmth swirling around you to welcome you home. Well, almost home. Your name isn’t on the mortgage, but your clothes linger on the floor, and you know just how far to turn the knobs in the shower to get the water temperature just how you like it. 

You shut and lock the door behind you as your shoes slip off your feet with an unceremonious thud. Amber light seeps into the entryway, and the quiet murmur of the late time news beckons you closer. You follow its call with a heavy body. Every tendon is tightly wound within your body. Shrinking until you curl inward on yourself like a decaying leaf wasting away in the bored sunlight. 

Simon is sleeping on the couch. Swathed in warm light, his hair illuminates as if it’s captured the essence of the sun. He’s faced away from you, head propped up on the arm rest closest while his feet rest on the other. You tread lightly on the pads of your toes, curiosity piqued as you close in on him like a skittish cat sniffing out a good meal. A scavenger ready to feast on just the faintest scent of carrion. 

His arms are crossed over his chest, flattening and widening his biceps to fill out the width of his sleeves. You gawk, eyes glued to the ink that paints his skin as his chest quietly rises and falls with his breaths. Dreams — or perhaps it’s your presence? — forces his eyelids to flutter, and you’re drawn to his face. Thick scars. Some thin. Silvery and light, or rough and red. You’ve never seen his face like this; upside down. You soak in the view. The texture of his skin. The bump of his nose and the… 

… curve? 

You’ve never noticed it before, but there’s a slight sway to his nose where the tip isn’t exactly in line with the bridge. It deviates from its intended path, going right instead of straight (or… technically it’s his left). Curious fingers extend, tips gently grazing against his forehead before traveling along his nose. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you paint him with your touch. You feel and savor every bump; every angle. 

“You were supposed to call.” 

His lips part and dance without warning, and it has your hand retracting from him as if he tried to nip at you. Squeaking, your fingers lock over your mouth as if you can keep the temporary fear bottled up inside of you, but it still rips through your throat. Smirking, his eyes flutter open to soak in your surprise for himself. His lashes are thick enough that they nearly obscure his irises, but you’d recognize the color of home anywhere. The butterflies that were swirling in your stomach a moment before now lay in the unforgiving acid with shredded wings. 

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” you divert. 

“Am now,” he hums. 

Grunting, Simon sits up properly. Thick fingers dig into the back of his neck as he reaches for his phone. The screen flickers to life, proudly displaying 2:03 AM and a lack of messages from you. He turns to you, shaking his phone like he’s shaming a cat for scratching furniture. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks. “Better not’ve walked ‘ere. Don’t want you doin’ that this late.” 

“You know I’m too chicken for that,” you giggle. “Bee gave me a ride. 

Once again he hums. The grasp of sleep still clings to him in the form of heavy eyes and lethargic movements, but his limbs act as if they’re full of helium. Airy and floating, he places his phone on the coffee table before pushing himself to his feet. For a man half awake, he moves fast. Arms snaking around your head, he pulls you close, nearly smothering you in his embrace. He’s warm enough to melt the frost still clinging to your clothes; you can feel the way it thaws and drips on the floor at your feet. 

“Still shoulda called me,” he reiterates. His words rattle your skull as his lips press against your forehead. Whatever ice still left on your body sublimates within a second. 

“Worried about me?” you tease. 

“Always.” 

Arms still wrapped around you, he begins to walk. Your legs stumble backwards as you giggle and chastise him, demanding he unhand you so you can walk properly. He refuses to relent. Just pushes you along with him like he’s herding you; corralling you in until you’re right where he wants you. 

Right where you belong. 

Simon falls back asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. Greedy man, you think to yourself. Sapping all your drowsiness and using it for himself. He’s snoring. Light and quiet enough that it wouldn’t keep you awake if you were tired. Something that fills the air with white noise. Mellow shadows softly veil over his body, but you can still make out the features that adorn his face. 

Wandering fingers eventually make their way back home, and you are once again tracing his nose. Every bump, curve, angle; it’s all memorized. Ingrained in your being just like the road back home. You anticipate the change. The turns. Simon is your childhood house. You know every crack in the ceiling and the coziest spots to perch. His snoring stops abruptly with a snort. Each inhale and exhale is nothing but a gentle wind against the palm of your hand. 

He nuzzles into your touch like a dog begging for more and it isn’t long before he’s cradling your head into the side of his chest. You’ve been tracing his features — painting him until every inch of him is loved — and now he returns the favor with music. It’s all thick drum and bass against the shell of your ear while the quiet melody of his lungs weaves between the beats. The ringing in your ears cease — drowned out by devotion and life — and your achy mind quells. 

In the morning it is not the warmth of the sun that wakes you. It is the placid caress of weathered fingertips against your knuckles. Roused from your sleep, you do not stir. Instead, you stay still; the perfect canvas to be adorned with art. Each other’s muses, each other’s masterpieces, you’ll wear his love until the paint he brushes you with dries and cracks.

[brewed-pangolin]

Drabble request for Super Soap Sunday:

Soap and you find yourselves in an unusual place/set of circumstances when the mood strikes. How does he A) let you know what he wants and B) how does he get you in the mood too?

Domestic Bliss

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI: Explicit smut, some fingering, P in V, backseat sex, slightly Dom-ish Soap, tons of dirty banter, Soap being a needy little horn dog

This 'drabble' turned into a one-shot because I can't control myself.

Synopsis: You and Soap take the next step in your relationship, and his not so subtle attempt to rile you up in public ends with an impromptu session in the parking lot.

Reference for where this man takes you to Poundtown here

Word count: 2k

"Alright, ma'am. If I can just you to sign here, here, and here. Then we should be all set up." Your advisor instructed as you sifted through yet another mountain of paperwork. Your eyes growing numb and your fingers beginning to ache from the repeated minor motion of signing your life away.

You pushed the last pile of paperwork over the advisors desk with gentle smile curling into your lips. Glancing over at the man sitting next to you with that same smile, a loving fondness in your eyes as you both took the next pivotal step in your relationship.

A mortgage.

Soap's demeanor was calm. Stoic even. Letting you take the lead in this circumstance as you were the one going to habitate the home more often than he would. A thought you both pushed aside for now to savor the wave of domestic bliss that came along after you signed the final piece of paperwork.

Yet his cool facade couldn't hide the cerulean maelstrom swirling within the whites of his eyes. A look you knew all too well, and one that never failed to send a quick shiver down your spine.

But here? At the bank?

Your smile quickly curled into a smirk, rolling your eyes at him as you turned your attention back to the advisor across the desk. You couldn't feed into Soap's growing needy desires. Not in public at least.

Pursing your lips with a heavy sigh, you tried to maintain your composure by focusing on the task at hand. Eyes trained to the quick movements of fingers across the keyboard as your consultant effortlessly entered your information into the database.

However, even the light clicking of keys couldn't keep your attention as you caught the sudden tremor of his knee in the lower periphery of your vision. The frantic cadence of his boot heel hitting the floor tearing at your concentration yet again, forcing you the bring the knuckles of your right hand up to your mouth to hide the apparent grin quickly forming on your lips.

With as subtle movement as possible, you placed your left hand on the top of his knee to quell his growing feverish motion. Gripping your fingers into the fabric of his jeans and pushing towards the floor in a physical attempt to ease his obviously heightening arousal.

“Ookay. That’s done. Let me get this all printed out and you two should be all set.” 

“Thank you, sir. Appreciate all your help with this.”

You share a quick glance with your advisor as he stands, his eyes momentarily shifting to Soap with a subtle curl in the corner of his mouth. You keep a close eye on him as he exits the office, finally turning to face Soap with a furrowed brow and address the apparent tension erupting between you two.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny. Would you please calm down?” You scolded playfully. Your lips a thin line of a smile, obscuring your clenched teeth as you dug your fingers further into his jeans.

“How much fuckin’ longer is this gonna take, bonnie? ‘Cause I'm 'bout to bend ya over this goddamn desk if he don't speed this shit up. He can bloody watch for all I care.” 

"We're almost done, Johnny. He just needs to give us the paperwork, and then we can go. So just, keep it in your pants for another five fuckin' minutes."

Your tone of reprimand barely able to combat the deep, rumbling brogue in his voice. Shifting slightly in your seat to quell the growing ache pulsing within your core. A gesture that most certainly did not go unnoticed as you took in the hungry blaze radiating within his eyes.

"Johnny. Don't. No!" Your frivolous attempt to stop him was broken down immediately as he thrusted his hand between your legs. Pressing his knuckles into the base of your heat through your jeans. Shifting to bring his chair closer and caress his mouth and tease you with his whispering brogue to the nape of your neck.

"Gonna fuckin' wreck ya, bonnie. Forget th'mortgage. This my down payment fer tha sweet pussy a'yers."

"Goddamit, MacTavish. Not here, ya fuckin' horn dog."

"Horn dog?" He questions with that distinctly mischievous grin. Pulling away as he eyed your advisor walking back into the office. His calmness in complete contrast to the excited flush bellowing from your chest as you quickly swat his hand away, scolding him quietly under your breath.

"Overconfident bastard."

"Alright. You two are all set up. You should be getting a call within the next five business days once you qualify. Other than that, welcome to home ownership."

"Thank you." You shook your advisor's hand, grabbed at your paperwork, and made an immediate bee line for the door. Beating Soap at his own game as you left him in the office with an obvious growing hard on. Already midway to the exit of the bank when you eyed him barreling out of the office in your periphery.

You didn't want to lose focus again. Not now. Now when you had the upper hand. You Kept your eyes locked onto the 4Runner at the back of the parking lot as your feet moved quickly at their own accord. Your ears perking to the sound of its alarm, a wave of triumph rolling over you as the locks sprung free.

You opened the backseat passenger door to toss your purse and paperwork on the seat. Expecting to see Soap at the driver side as you tried to close the door.

Tried.

You glanced questioningly at the door. Only then did you notice Soap's hand gripping on the edge. Spinning on your heels as you came face to face with a fiery blaze and a hungry look in his eyes.

"John?"

"Get in."

"John?!"

"GET IN!"

You felt his hands on your hips the moment his voice registered within your mind. Thrusting you into the back seat, an excitedly victorious giggle escaping your chest as he crawled in before slamming the door behind him.

"Yer such a fuckin' lit'le minx, y'know that? Leavin' me th're wit a full bloody stonner." He growled, pulling your shoes off and tossing them to the side, frantically moving to the front of your jeans as you continued to laugh in triumph at his feverish need.

"Makin' me do the goddamn walk o' shame and...why are these fuckin' buttons so goddamn small?!"

"Ooohhh, what happened to that cool confidence, Soap? Thought you could handle yourself under pressure. Bein' a demolitions expert an' all."

"Yer pushin' it, lass." He spat back. Relinquishing the fight with the buttons in favor of simply tearing your jeans off.

"M'also not tryin'a fuck tha bombs, smartass."

Soap tossed your garments to the back, flaring his nostrils with a darkened veil in his eyes as he spread your legs to take in the sight of your silken arousal. Moving onto his haunches with a deep inhale, his eyes rolling back as he took in the scent of your growing excitement.

“Mhmm. Could smell tha’ sweet pussy in th’re. An’ ya already so fuckin’ wet fer me, aren’t ya, bonnie?”

Words escaped you as he pushed two of his fingers inside your soaking heat, your eyes fluttering closed as he slowly pumped up to his knuckle, teasingly preparing you for what was to come. Unable to restrain your body’s reaction as your walls reflexively clenched around him.

“Donnae think I didn’t feel tha’. I know what ya need, lass. An’ m’gonna give it to ya.” Soap lured to you with a husky purr, your eyes fluttering open in response to take in the sight of him stroking himself through his jeans. His steely blue gaze boring into your soul as he effortlessly worked at the buckle of his belt. A throaty growl reverberating within him as he teasingly pushed the waist of his jeans below his hips to expose his painfully hardened cock.

"Johnny, I-" Your pleasured whimper was cut short as he throw his muscular frame on top of you, sealing his mouth over yours in a wet and desperately needy kiss. His strong hands gripping into the flesh of your thighs, guiding them around his waist as he teasingly pushed his throbbing erection into your moistened cunt. Filling you to the brim in one fluid thrust.

"Th's s'my home, bonnie. Right 'ere. B'tween yer legs an' deep in th's beautiful fuckin' pussy a 'yers."

Soap didn't give you time or air to respond as he encapsulated your mouth once more and immediately began pistoning himself into your core. The force of his thrusts wiping whatever thoughts and words out your mind, only focusing on the feel of him as he caged you against the backseat with his arms bent on either side of your head.

"Steamin' hell yer tight, lass." Soap growled into your lips, pressing his chest down into yours, keeping you still and allowing him full reign to pound his hardened length into your heat.

His bulbous tip kissing the flesh of your cervix with each forward thrust before pulling out almost entirely to only throw himself back into you once more. The continuous motion forcing your back to arch off the backseat, pushing your pelvis into his to stimulate the sensitive flesh of your clit.

Soap pulled his mouth away in repsonse to your shifting position, leaning forward to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. His hot breath cascading down your skin as he grunted and moaned with every subsequent thrust, his relentless pounding forcing you to grip into his shoulders to keep yourself stable beneath him.

"Johnny...Johnny..." you whispered softly against his temple. His name the only coherent word you could manage to let fall from your lips as your mind and body fell into the depths of his desperate and needy pleasure.

"Jus'...lemme 'ave th's, bonnie."

"Only g'nna need...an'ther minute.."

Soap's gasping breaths washed over the flesh of your neck, his voice rumbling within his throat like an otherworldly mixture of a growling whimper.

And the moment you felt his hips begin to falter, you pushed aisde your own pleasure in favor of reaching his. Only focusing on him. His needs. His desperate compulsion to always need to fill you and mark you as his own.

"C'mon, bonnie. Come for me."

You responded to his grunting demand by simply pressing your lips to the flesh of his temple. Wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, letting him vigorously thrust his throbbing cock into your cunt until you felt the warmth of his release erupt deep inside you.

Soap's movements then halted all together. Burying himself into your heat as he rode out the relentless pulses of his climax.

Even within this impromptu moment, with him panting against your neck and you hunched beneath him in the backseat, there was always a certain level of intimacy that seemed to meld between you in the bliss of the afterglow. Cradling him in your arms as he slumped over in a limp and gasping mess.

"Fuckin hell, bonnie." He whispered, softly panting against your neck as he lightly pursed his lips against your neck.

"Jesus, Johnny. If I knew home ownership got ya this worked up, I'd it done years ago."

"Shut it, lass."

"Can't wait to see how hard ya get when I do my taxes."

Soap remained silent to your playful banter, responding only by continuing to kiss the curve of your neck as his body trembled, slowly coming down from the high of his release.

His mouth gently curled into a smile as he placed a series of gentle kisses up the nape of your neck. Chiding in once more to your jesting, his distinctive brogue thicker and more hoarse as he purred against your flesh.

"Won't 'ave ta, hen. Unless yer 'nta doin' a threesome."

"What?" You questioned, pulling him out of your neck to meet his steely blue gaze with a coitish smile.

"Uncle Sam already fucks ya in the ass, bonnie. It's the only time I'm yer designated sloppy side piece."

You can't hide the smile that emerged over your lips, pushing a piece of sweat ridden hair out of his eyes as you lovingly gaze up at him.

"Then I guess I'll be needing another down payment in advance. Just for good measure."

And of course, Soap obliges. Thrusting his still hardened cock deep into your core as he mutters those two words you love to hear.

"Yes, ma'am."

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @kkaaaagt @havoc973 @writeforfandoms @luismickydees

[lilacxquartz]

a bump in the middle of the night

oc male!demon × human female!reader

w.c: 1.1k

plot: a potential intruder sets midnight completely off and you learn just how dangerous he can truly be.

other works in this series.

—

The area I lived in was once decent, but now it was struggling.

A dwindling economy does that to a place. Most businesses that were once thriving were forced to close and those who could afford to leave, did just that.

Others stayed but they also struggled. I otherwise had the luxury of this apartment belonging to my grandparents so the mortgage was long settled, leaving me behind with only the regular bills to pay.

Most of the people that lived here did their best to just get by though, so for the most part it was safe.

But then the break-ins started to happen more often.

So maybe it was a blessing that I had a literal live-in demon cohabiting with me.

Keeping an eye on the things that went bump in the middle of the night.

Not that I could trust it. I still couldn’t bring myself to do so. Not one bit.

I woke up earlier during the night to a strange sound, though. I was a lighter sleeper than Midnight and would at oftentimes wake up to subtle sounds. This was initially annoying to me, but I quickly learned that as long as Midnight remained asleep, then there was nothing ever to worry about—so I always just dozed off again.

It was something about instincts, he said. If he’s awake during the night along with me, then that’s when I can feel worried.

I woke up to a noise just now, either way.

My eyes parted slowly, feeling the curl of his tail that looped around my legs. I could sense his breathing change and as he almost jolted awake. I shuddered at the sensation of his stare intensify at the back of my head as his body stretched, pulling me closer towards his chest.

Tonight, his instincts were on high alert.

“Quiet,” he whispered, noticing that I was awake too.

My voice remained hushed as I turned to face him, “Is someone else in here…?”

“Not yet,” Midnight replied, slowly bringing himself up to a sitting position, reluctantly letting go of me, “stay in bed.”

Something dangerous stirred within his presence and I harboured more fear for Midnight than the prospect of an actual intruder. It was as though his words were laced in something much more sinister, like a threat.

When the lock to the front door finally gave in, I could feel a change in the atmosphere almost right away. Midnight kept me grounded in bed by pressing his one arm behind him, locking me into place against the mattress. The way that he seemed to be guarding me felt territorial once again.

I remained deathly quiet as I felt the air continue to grow heavier; some type of droning sound playing from Midnight’s lips. His body reacted on instinct, almost, as his head jerked in slight movements—as though he was tracking something, or someone.

The hum slowly phased into a low growl, filling up the space with an unsettling aura that wafted through the confines of my home.

It was as though Midnight was making his presence known to send a warning.

People were reckless though. That’s what I started to understand after just a couple of weeks with him. Humans acted unpredictably, especially if influenced by fear.

So, perhaps he was just trying to strike enough unease into this person into leaving, but this didn’t seem to be the outcome just yet.

Midnight was gentle with me up until this very moment. He spent the last couple of weeks trying to gain my trust but he seemed to have a different priority right now. The way he seemed so tense during his investigation was quite jarring, especially now that he seemed hostile. Malicious, even.

Closer to an actual demon than ever before.

I felt afraid.

Noticing this, his demeanour softened for a moment, although it felt forced. He turned to face me, sensing my unease.

Cupping my face into his palms, he leaned in with a sedating kiss, “I’ll be right back.”

While his tone seemed calmer and while his touch bordered feather light, it was that same type of kiss that dulled my senses like all of those other times before.

Usually it was used as a nightcap for when I couldn’t get to sleep or for the earlier days when I couldn’t bring myself to relax within his company. However, it seemed to be for something else tonight.

Something seemed off.

His body language was different—almost erratic.

I drifted off into a fabricated sleep and phased on and off back into lucidity against my control. Certain sounds played in my mind, like screaming and low drawn out whines. Like bones waning and cracking. Faint imagery burnt into my mind of bloodied flesh and torn skin.

Under any other circumstance, I would have shaken that off as a vivid nightmare but it felt all too different this time.

Especially since the atmosphere since then felt even heavier than before and to an extent, almost suffocating.

My breath locked in my throat as I felt an anchoring presence settle over me, sinking me further into the mattress. I writhed just a little bit as my body tried to readjust into comfort, but I couldn’t move much at all.

I knew Midnight was on top of me, that much was clear.

I opened up my eyes once again, feeling the sedative finally fade. It was almost a jarring sensation, as if the ease washed away along with it. The air continued to thicken but now tinted with the smell of copper, my senses recoiling as something warm dripped from his lips and onto mine.

(Blood…?)

I couldn’t see him too clearly, but from the brief moments that the moonlight shone through the blinds—I could see it. He looked feral, almost as if he was drunk on something.

My breathing remained shallow as I felt some sort of innate fear settle deep within my core. I was starting to slowly understand why I felt so terrified in this very moment—my eyes widening in panicked realisation. I finally got it. My breath caught in my throat again as the dream-like stupor finally faded away, replacing itself with striking lucidity instead.

Midnight was savouring the taste of something.

Or someone.

Yet, despite catching onto my suspicion, he tried to brush away my almost overwhelming concern.

“Please don’t worry,” he cooed, that same soft tone returning as he finally settled, the one that carried the same facade as before, “go back to sleep, it will be okay.”

“But-“

“—the danger is gone, I promise,” Midnight purred as he stroked my cheeks with his fingers, leaning in closer as he licked the dried blood off of my lips, “in fact, the intruder isn’t just dealt with, he’s…”

“You didn’t?” I asked, finally able to say something. My voice sounded hoarse, almost dry.

Midnight simply smiled, his pointed teeth momentarily illuminated by the passing moonlight. He wasn’t going to elaborate even if he did suspect you knew. Instead, he fed you a cryptic response, sealed with yet another soothing kiss.

“Let’s just say that… he’s gone for good.”

[thebearer]

i feel like donna would be like “that’s who you’re gonna end up with? someone who posts on instagram, and you’re a michelin chef?” and carmen just barks back

“so you do all the work… and she takes a picture and posts it? wow, so you’re gonna make all the money, do all the work, and she’s just gonna spend it, carmy? i’m sorry i just… I don’t get it.” donna slurs, the table eerily quiet. “you know, claire she’s-she’s got a real job. she’s a doctor and she’d make money. not just lean on you.”

“hey, mom, let’s not do this.” sugar is incredibly uncomfortable. carmen’s got that look in his eyes that he might kill donna, you look like you want to crawl under the table and die, and everyone else looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“it’s a really hard job, d. harder than it looks, and she’s real good at it. the best. knows the algorithms and how to do everything, and-“ richie is trying too. he’s gotten used to helping sugar out, being her right hand man.

“-taking a picture?” donna scoffs, wine splashing over the lip of her glass, her nasally laugh mocking you from down the table. “you’re telling me she’s,” a long, red manicured nail is pointed in your direction. “making mortgage payments on that new, big house by taking a photo? please, you can’t make that much-”

carmen shoves the table, plates and silverware clanging furiously at the movement. “alright, sugar, I tried. i fuckin’ tried, and-and I told you if she started this shit I was done.” carmen sneers. “and she makes more than me, sometimes, alright? when we were gettin’ started, her ‘pictures’ kept our lights on. she works which is more than you can say, ma. when’s the last time you had a listing, huh?“

[mfi-miami]

loanDepot Is Suing Movement For Poaching Loan Officers

loanDepot Is Suing Movement Mortgage In Delaware Federal Court For Poaching Loan Officers Did Movement Mortgage entice former loanDepot employees with six-figure bonuses to help them poach other loanDepot employees? loanDepotis suing Movement Mortgage In Federal Court. The company is accusing competitor Movement Mortgageof damaging its business by poaching it’s employees. The company alleges…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The new globalism is global labor

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

Depending on how you look at it, I either grew up in the periphery of the labor movement, or atop it, or surrounded by it. For a kid, labor issues don't really hold a lot of urgency – in places with mature labor movements, kids don't really have jobs, and the part-time jobs I had as a kid (paper route, cleaning a dance studio) were pretty benign.

Ironically, one of the reasons that labor issues barely registered for me as a kid was that my parents were in great, strong unions: Ontario teachers' unions, which protected teachers from exploitative working conditions and from retaliation when they advocated for their students, striking for better schools as well as better working conditions.

Ontario teachers' unions were strong enough that they could take the lead on workplace organization, to the benefit of teachers at every part of their careers, as well as students and the system as a whole. Back in the early 1980s, Ontario schools faced a demographic crisis. After years of declining enrollment, the number of students entering the system was rapidly increasing.

That meant that each level of the system – primary, junior, secondary – was about to go through a whipsaw, in which low numbers of students would be followed by large numbers. For a unionized education workforce, this presented a crisis: normally, a severe contraction in student numbers would trigger layoffs, on a last-in, first-out basis. That meant that layoffs loomed for junior teachers, who would almost certainly end up retraining for another career. When student numbers picked up again, those teachers wouldn't be in the workforce anymore, and worse, a lot of the senior teachers who got priority during layoffs would be retiring, magnifying the crisis.

The teachers' unions were strong, and they cared about students and teachers, both those at the start of their careers and those who'd given many years of service. They came up with an amazing solution: "self-funded sabbaticals." Teachers with a set number of years of seniority could choose to take four years at 80% salary, and get a fifth year off at 80% salary (actually, they could take their year off any time from the third year on).

This allowed Ontario to increase its workforce by about 20%, for free. Senior teachers got a year off to spend with their families, or on continuing education, or for travel. Junior teachers' jobs were protected. Students coming into the system had adequate classroom staff, in a mix of both senior and junior teachers.

This worked great for everyone, including my family. My parents both took their four-over-five year in 1983/84. They rented out our house for six months, charging enough to cover the mortgage. We flew to London, took a ferry to France, and leased a little sedan. For the next six months, we drove around Europe, visiting fourteen countries while my parents homeschooled us on the long highway stretches and in laundromats. We stayed in youth hostels and took a train to Leningrad to visit my family there. We saw Christmas Midnight Mass at the Vatican and walked around the Parthenon. We saw Guernica at the Prado. We visited a computer lab in Paris and I learned to program Logo in French. We hung out with my parents' teacher pals who were civilian educators at a Canadian Forces Base in Baden-Baden. I bought an amazing hand-carved chess set in Seville with medieval motifs that sung to my D&D playing heart. It was amazing.

No, really, it was amazing. Unions and the social contract they bargained for transformed my family's life chances. My dad came to Canada as a refugee, the son of a teen mother who'd been deeply traumatized by her civil defense service as a child during the Siege of Leningrad. My mother was the eldest child of a man who, at thirteen, had dropped out of school to support his nine brothers and sisters after the death of his father. My parents grew up to not only own a home, but to be able to take their sons on a latter-day version of the Grand Tour that was once the exclusive province of weak-chinned toffs from the uppermost of crusts:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Tour

My parents were active in labor causes and in their unions, of course, but that was just part of their activist lives. My mother was a leader in the fight for legal abortion rights in Canada:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/8882641733

My dad was active in party politics with the New Democratic Party, and both he and my mother were deeply involved with the fight against nuclear arms proliferation, a major issue in Canada, given our role in supplying radioisotopes to the US, building key components for ICBMs, testing cruise missiles over Labrador, and our participation in NORAD.

Abortion rights and nuclear arms proliferation were my own entry into political activism. When I was 13, I organized a large contingent from my school to march on Queen's Park, the seat of the Provincial Parliament, to demand an end to Ontario's active and critical participation in the hastening of global nuclear conflagration:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53616011737/

When I got a little older, I started helping with clinic defense and counterprotests at the Morgentaler Clinic and other sites in Toronto that provided safe access to women's health, including abortions:

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/morgentaler-honoured-by-order-of-canada-federal-government-not-involved-1.716775

My teens were a period of deepening involvement in politics. It was hard work, but rewarding and fundamentally hopeful. There, in the shadow of imminent nuclear armageddon, there was a role for me to play, a way to be more than a passive passenger on a runaway train, to participate in the effort to pull the brake lever before we ran over the cliff.

In hindsight, though, I can see that even as my activism intensified, it also got harder. We struggled more to find places to meet, to find phones and computers to use, to find people who could explain how to get a permit for a demonstration or to get legal assistance for comrades in jail after a civil disobedience action.

What I couldn't see at the time was that all of this was provided by organized labor. The labor movement had the halls, the photocopiers, the lawyers, the experience – the infrastructure. Even for campaigns that were directly about labor rights – campaigns for abortion rights, or against nuclear annihilation – the labor movement was the material, tangible base for our activities.

Look, riding a bicycle around all night wheatpasting posters to telephone poles to turn out people for an upcoming demonstration is hard work, but it's much harder if you have to pay for xeroxing at Kinko's rather than getting it for free at the union hall. Worse, the demonstration turnout suffers more because the union phone-trees and newsletters stop bringing out the numbers they once brought out.

This was why the neoliberal project took such savage aim at labor: they understood that a strong labor movement was foundation of antiimperialist, antiracist, antisexist struggles for justice. By dismantling labor, the ruling class kicked the legs out from under all the other fights that mattered.

Every year, it got harder to fight for any kind of better world. We activist kids grew to our twenties and foundered, spending precious hours searching for a room to hold a meeting, leaving us with fewer hours to spend organizing the thing we were meeting for. But gradually, we rebuilt. We started to stand up our own fragile, brittle, nascent structures that stood in for the mature and solid labor foundation that we'd grown up with.

The first time I got an inkling of what was going on came in 1999, with the Battle of Seattle: the mass protests over the WTO. Yes, labor turned out in force for those mass demonstrations, but they weren't its leaders. The militancy, the leadership, and the organization came out of groups that could loosely be called "post-labor" – not in the sense that they no longer believed in labor causes, but in the sense that they were being organized outside of traditional labor.

Labor was in retreat. Five years earlier, organized labor had responded to NAFTA by organizing against Mexican workers, rather than the bosses who wanted to ship jobs to Mexico. It wasn't unusual to see cars in Ontario with CAW bumper stickers alongside xenophobic stickers taking aim at Mexicans, not bosses. Those were the only workers that organized labor saw as competitors for labor rights: this was also the heyday of "two-tier" contracts, which protected benefits for senior workers while leaving their junior comrades exposed to bosses' most sadistic practices, while still expecting junior workers to pay dues to a union that wouldn't protect them:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/25/strikesgiving/#shed-a-tier

Two-tier contracts were the opposite of the solidarity that my parents' teachers' union exhibited in the early 1980s; blaming Mexican workers for automakers' offshoring was the opposite of the solidarity that built transracial and international labor power in the early days of the union movement:

https://unionhall.aflcio.org/bloomington-normal-trades-and-labor-assembly/labor-culture/edge-anarchy-first-class-pullman-strike

As labor withered under a sustained, multi-decades-long assault on workers' rights, other movements started to recapitulate the evolution of early labor, shoring up fragile movements that lacked legal protections, weathering setbacks, and building a "progressive" coalition that encompassed numerous issues. And then that movement started to support a new wave of labor organizing, situating labor issues on a continuum of justice questions, from race to gender to predatory college lending.

Young workers from every sector joined ossified unions with corrupt, sellout leaders and helped engineer their ouster, turning these dying old unions into engines of successful labor militancy:

https://theintercept.com/2023/04/07/deconstructed-union-dhl-teamsters-uaw/

In other words, we're in the midst of a reversal of the historic role of labor and other social justice movements. Whereas once labor anchored a large collection of smaller, less unified social movements; today those social movements are helping bring back a weakened and fragmented labor movement.

One of the key organizing questions for today is whether these two movements can continue to co-evolve and, eventually, merge. For example: there can be no successful climate action without climate justice. The least paid workers in America are also the most racially disfavored. The gender pay-gap exists in all labor markets. For labor, integrating social justice questions isn't just morally sound, it's also tactically necessary.

One thing such a fusion can produce is a truly international labor movement. Today, social justice movements are transnational: the successful Irish campaign for abortion rights was closely linked to key abortion rights struggles in Argentina and Poland, and today, abortion rights organizers from all over the world are involved in mailing medication abortion pills to America.

A global labor movement is necessary, and not just to defeat the divide-and-rule tactics of the NAFTA fight. The WTO's legacy is a firmly global capitalism: workers all over the world are fighting the same corporations. The strong unions of one country are threatened by weak labor in other countries where their key corporations seek to shift manufacturing or service delivery. But those same strong unions are able to use their power to help their comrades abroad protect their labor rights, depriving their common adversary of an easily exploited workforce.

A key recent example is Mercedes, part of the Daimler global octopus. Mercedes' home turf is Germany, which boasts some of the strongest autoworker unions in the world. In the USA, Mercedes – like other German auto giants – preferentially manufactures its cars in the South, America's "onshore-offshore" crime havens, where labor laws are both virtually nonexistent and largely unenforced. This allows Mercedes to exploit and endanger a largely Black workforce in a "right to work" territory where unions are nearly impossible to form and sustain.

Mercedes just defeated a hard-fought union drive in Vance, Alabama. In part, this was due to admitted tactical blunders from the UAW, who have recently racked up unprecedented victories in Tennessee and North Carolina:

https://paydayreport.com/uaw-admits-digital-heavy-organizing-committee-light-approach-failed-them-in-alabama-at-mercedes/

But mostly, this was because Mercedes cheated. They flagrantly violated labor law to sabotage the union vote. That's where it gets interesting. German workers have successfully lobbied the German parliament for the Supply Chain Act, an anticorruption law that punishes German companies that violate labor law abroad. That means that even though the UAW just lost their election, they might inflict some serious pain on Mercedes, who face a fine of 2% of their global annual revenue, and a ban on selling cars to the German government:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/10/an-injury-to-one/#is-an-injury-to-all

This is another way reversal of the post-neoliberal era. Whereas once the US exported its most rapacious corporate practices all over the world, today, global labor stands a chance of exporting workers' rights from weak territories to strong ones.

Here's an American analogy: the US's two most populous states are California and Texas. The policies of these states ripple out over the whole country, and even beyond. When Texas requires textbooks that ban evolution, every pupil in the country is at risk of getting a textbook that embraces Young Earth Creationism. When California enacts strict emission standards, every car in the country gets cleaner tailpipes. The WTO was a Texas-style export: a race to the bottom, all around the world. The moment we're living through now, as global social movements fuse with global labor, are a California-style export, a race to the top.

This is a weird upside to global monopoly capitalism. It's how antitrust regulators all over the world are taking on corporations whose power rivals global superpowers like the USA and China: because they're all fighting the same corporations, they can share tactics and even recycle evidence from one-another's antitrust cases:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/05/big-tech-eu-drop-dead

Look, the UAW messed up in Alabama. A successful union vote is won before the first ballot is cast. If your ground game isn't strong enough to know the outcome of the vote before the ballot box opens, you need more organizing, not a vote:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

But thanks to global labor – and its enemy, global capitalism – the UAW gets another chance. Global capitalism is rich and powerful, but it has key weaknesses. Its drive to "efficiency" makes it terribly vulnerable, and a disruption anywhere in its supply chain can bring the whole global empire to its knees:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

American workers – especially swing-state workers who swung for Trump and are leaning his way again – overwhelmingly support a pro-labor agenda. They are furious over "price gouging and outrageous corporate profits…wealthy corporate CEOs and billionaires [not] paying what they should in taxes and the top 1% gaming the system":

https://www.americanfamilyvoices.org/_files/ugd/d4d64f_6c3dff0c3da74098b07ed3f086705af2.pdf

They support universal healthcare, and value Medicare and Social Security, and trust the Democrats to manage both better than Republicans will. They support "abortion rights, affordable child care, and even forgiving student loans":

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-05-20-bidens-working-class-slump/

The problem is that these blue-collar voters are atomized. They no longer meet in union halls – they belong to gun clubs affiliated with the NRA. There are enough people who are a) undecided and b) union members in these swing states to defeat Trump. This is why labor power matters, and why a fusion of American labor and social justice movements matters – and why an international fusion of a labor-social justice coalition is our best hope for a habitable planet and a decent lives for our families.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/20/a-common-foe/#the-multinational-playbook

[cheaphousespending]

Ustun and Sturman named co-Branch Leaders of The Home Team powered by Movement Mortgage

INDIAN LAND, S.C. – Movement Mortgage (Movement), the nation’s sixth-largest retail mortgage lender, is excited to welcome Home Team Mortgage to the Movement family with the hiring of co-Branch Leaders James Ustun and Brandon Sturman, along with 160 employees in 20 locations up and down the East Coast. James Ustun Operating as The Home Team powered by Movement Mortgage, Ustun (NMLS #9136) and…

[decolonize-the-everything]

I just found out about Jasmine Sherman and they look really cool. Like, the policies that they say they’re going to do? The fact that they have an audiobook option for people to listen to what the policies say on their platform? (If people don’t have JAWS or screen readers on their devices, JAWS for computers.) I really hope they get far enough in the presidential race.

vid source

It's time to actually put the people in America first. We do that by meeting everyone's basic human needs. This includes guaranteed housing, universal healthcare and education, UBI, and environmental/infrastructure reform. In doing this, we give people a fighting chance to create a more sustainable model for society that ensures the general welfare of people within our borders for generations to come.

1) Housing- Decommodify housing and eliminate rent, mortgages and property taxes 2) Healthcare- 100% coverage including vision and dental 3) Education- universal education up to and including doctorate level studies 4) UBI-a monthly disbursement based on the cost of living in a resident's state 5) Environment/Infrastructure reform- Abating the damage caused by climate change through sustainable development and creating an infrastructure that fosters community

The Jasmine Sherman for President campaign envisions organizing through various strategies. They aim to leverage social media and technological advancements for rapid outreach to a wider audience. Direct action and mutual aid will be prioritized to attract like-minded individuals and build a strong support base. The campaign will also focus on nurturing relationships established through past coalition-building efforts, aiming to strengthen connections and amplify the campaign's impact. By combining these approaches, Jasmine Sherman's campaign aims to effectively engage, mobilize, and expand its reach in pursuit of its organizing goals

Source on ballotpedia

Their campaign site:

MISSION STATEMENT/ Political Views

Jasmine Sherman wants to help the at-risk and vulnerable communities by providing Guaranteed housing, Landback, Universal basic income, Free Education, and Universal healthcare, for all. They also believe in the rights of the child, the rights to gender affirming care, ending the disability restrictions, restorative justice, abolishing the police, abolishing prisons, triple bottom line accountability for corporations, reparations, a progressive tax, an index living wage, immigration policy reform, sustainable energy, decriminalizing all drugs and sex work, age caps and term limits for all elected officials, and rewriting the constitution.

••••

They seem like a very good candidate and I hadn't heard of them before, tysm for bringing them to my attention!

Looks like the Green Party has ballot access in 46 states as well! Additionally, The Green Party will host a primary debate on May 11th. Definitely something to pay attention to!

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for July 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Peeping by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [E, 16k, Harry/Louis]

Louis hates his job as an accountant and desperately wants to be a teacher. Of course, that would mean going back to uni, which he can’t afford if he wants to keep up the mortgage payments on his house. It’s Niall that suggests Louis gets a housemate.

Harry is great around the house, loves cooking and cleaning, and everything is fine, lovely even. That is until Louis locks himself out of the house, and in his attempts to get inside, he stumbles upon Harry wanking to a video of Louis playing footy.

OR Louis has a thing for his housemate, Harry is under the impression that clothing around the house is an optional extra, and neither of them seem to be able to stop wanking long enough to get their shit together and admit their true feelings.

＊ Unbonded by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [E, 24k, Louis/Harry]

“Look,” Louis says firmly. “Last time I checked, I’m still the pack leader, so you damn well better listen to me. It was Harry who worked out what I’d been poisoned with, then nursed me back to health. And it was Harry who thwarted the plan for my second assassination attempt by literally throwing himself in front of an arrow intended for me, nearly dying in the process, which is why we’re even having this argument in the first place. So if you think I’m going to set foot outside of this hut until he’s fully healed, you’ve all seriously misread the situation, and even more importantly, you’ve all seriously misread me.”

OR the one where Harry is an omega who has been cast out from his pack, Louis is the alpha leader of the pack where Harry finds a new home, Liam is an alpha with heart of gold, and Niall is a cook who can't seem to stop setting himself on fire.

＊ frightened by the bite, no harsher than the bark by localopa / @voulezloux [T, 21k, Louis/Harry]

louis loves going to the barricade during his shows. if it’s because he’s got a bit (lot) of touch deprivation and is using it as an excuse to have his big alpha bodyguard, harry, touch him, well, that’s a secret he doesn’t need to tell.

＊ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux [T, 10k, Harry/Louis]

it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

a don’t be afraid to love (and love again) time stamp. Part 2 of trans louis verse

＊ If Life Is a Photograph by @allwaswell16 [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Harry gets plucked out of the crowd to take Louis’ crew pic on stage in Guadalajara.

＊ It Was Electric Touch by @allwaswell16 [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Harry, assistant to The Snuts' manager, has been indulging in fantasies about the headliner and founder of the Away From Home Festival, Louis Tomlinson. He gets the chance to indulge in the real thing at the after party.

＊ Tastes Like Violets by @allwaswell16 [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Pop star Harry Styles has a bit of a crush on his makeup artist's brother.

Or Louis has a death metal band, Harry doesn't mind public challenges via Twitter, and Lottie thinks they're both hopelessly chaotic.

＊ Coração selvagem by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter [NR, 50k, Louis/Harry]

Louis keeps his eyes on the Wolf, careful about every movement he makes. He keeps his head tilted, deliberately showing the right side of his neck; the mating gland is on the other side, but this still shows he’s not a threat. Zayn answers at the third ring. “Lou?” he asks, confusion seeping into his voice. “Zed,” Louis says quietly, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible. “Zed, I’ve found Harry. He’s feral.”

Or, Louis' life in his newfound Pack gets disrupted by an old flame coming back for him, shifted and feral.

＊ No Surprises by @louislittletomlintum [E, 21k, Harry/Louis]

The thing was, Louis worked in an office, and it was fine. It could be worse.

But maybe, it could be better.

“I smoke socially, sometimes. Depends who I’m with,” Harry shrugged, taking another puff. Louis watched his soft little lips wrap around it and purse just slightly on the inhale. It wasn’t the first time he considered if Harry was perfectly made just to torment him.

“Hm. I won’t send you to jail for now, then. On crimes of fibbing,” Louis decided benevolently. He was about to open his mouth to spout off some other shite before he saw Harry had a bit of a pensive look in his features despite how his eyes were a little glassy.

“Lou,” he began, and god Louis loved that he’d earned that little nickname off of him. “Can I ask you summat?” Harry added, tapping the ash of the cigarette in the tray before taking another puff.

“You just did,” Louis smiled because Harry walked right into that one. “But I’ll give you another,”

“How did you know you were queer?”

or; an office au where louis is a loveable brat and harry is working himself out

＊ Listening to Intuition by @lululawrence [NR, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Now that Zayn was laying it all out like this, Louis got to wondering… could it be possible that he was never able to get a really good handle on what exactly aromanticism was because he’d never felt romantic attraction, and without that key piece, how could he possibly figure out what it truly meant to be lacking it?

Louis has a good grasp of his own identity and how all the pieces of him fit together in his life as a queer man in a committed relationship with his partner. Or so he thinks until his favorite aroace TikTok creator shows him another possibility he may have previously overlooked. Part 1 of Looking for a Good Time

＊ Smells Like TEAM Spirit by @persephoneflouwers [NR, 10k, Harry/Louis]

Punk Louis and quarterback Harry have been secretly dating for years. Feeling overwhelmed by his commitments, Harry suggests a short break, fearing he can't give Louis enough time. As Louis reflects on his vulnerabilities, Harry struggles on the field without him. Part 1 of ~ Pocket Tales unfolding on Screen ~

＊ If Control is My Religion… by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 14k, Louis/Harry]

“So just to recap, you’ve been vomiting every single morning, and then you seem to be fine for the rest of the day?”

Louis nods. “Except for yesterday when Liam was eating a tuna sandwich after practice and it smelled vile. Who the hell even likes tuna sandwiches?”

Niall sighs in the way that a disappointed parent might. “Louis, please don’t take this in the wrong way, because I’m not judging you at all. But is there any possibility that you’re pregnant?”

Louis scoffs. Technically, it is possible. Louis’ known he was a male carrier since his routine physical when he was sixteen. But it isn’t actually possible, not really. He and Harry always use a condom.

Except for that one day a few weeks ago when Louis had forgotten to buy more and they couldn’t wait. And the time the week before that when the condom had broke, but they both figured it was probably fine.

Shit.

(Or the one where Louis is a professional football player, who’s in a very mutually beneficial no-strings-attached relationship with the team’s medical trainer Harry. Everything in Louis’ life is exactly how he wants it. Until he finds himself unexpectedly pregnant).

＊ Forward by itsraininginengland / @ilovellama14 [E, 10k, Harry/Louis]

Harry and Louis must keep moving forward.

Quiet scenes from an older Louis and Harry, who are always working to be better together.

＊ Yesterday’s gone (it’ll be better than before) by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Leo’s frown. His attempt to call after Louis. Ed saying he was surprised to see Louis here. All those little moments fell into place the moment he spotted Harry Styles.

Harry Styles, his former bandmate.

Harry Styles, who he hadn’t seen face to face in over three years.

Harry Styles, who was technically still Harry Tomlinson-Styles.

OR Louis and Harry run into each other at the Euros, there's a mix up at the hotel and they have a past

＊ Following the Good Vibes by @lululawrence [NR, 6k, Harry/Louis]

"Oh my god, I can't believe it's really you!" Zayn said with a wide smile, hands on his hips as if he was truly stunned over the fact this guy was sitting just a couple of seats behind him. "I thought it might be when I heard your voice, but I haven't seen you in years! How are you doing..."

It was then Zayn realized he didn't have a fucking clue what this guy's name was and he was pretending they were long lost friends.

After an awkward pause, Zayn finally tacked on, "...Chad!"

When Zayn rescues a stranger named Harry from an awkward plane ride beside a total dick, he doesn't think much of it. Harry as the chance to pay it forward on a later flight, and in doing so he just might set into motion pieces that will determine the path his future takes. Part 2 of Looking for a Good Time

＊ It's Not That I Don't Want You by @parmahamlarrie [E, 12k, Louis/Harry]

It begins with a benign comment during a night in watching a show with his lovely boyfriend, Louis, and leads Harry to a months long journey to understand himself better. Will Harry figure out what makes him feel so different from everyone else? And will he find the courage to tell his boyfriend?

Or a character study into Ace Harry with the most supportive boyfriend, Louis.

＊ I'd Rather You (Hold Me)by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 14k, Zayn/Louis]

He frowns when he hears the dial tone. By now, he knows just how many times the sound will come through, tinny on the speakers, before it clicks over to voicemail, and yet he still feels his heart trip over itself whenever the voice first comes through.

“Hi, you’ve reached Zayn-”

He sighs, rubbing at his forehead, where his headache always tends to bloom when he’s stressed. “Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, disconnecting the call and resisting the childish urge to redial immediately, knowing that if Zayn’s not picking up now, he won’t no matter how much Louis bugs him.

It’s just - this isn’t like them. It isn’t like Zayn to dodge his calls for days, not unless he’s seriously incapacitated or dead, but if that were the case, Louis would’ve heard. Because Louis is his emergency contact, for one, and both their families know how much they mean to one another. Someone would’ve called, if something had happened, unless Zayn was dead in his own house, and, oh God, what if Zayn’s dead in his own house and Louis has been mentally calling him a dickhead while he’s rotting on the bathroom floor?

Spoiler: Zayn isn't dead. There is however, suddenly a baby.

＊ coming home by @nouies [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

It’s coming home, one way or another.

＊ Never Wanted Love, Just A Fancy Car by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [M, 7k, Harry/fLouis]

“Anyways,” the man says, “someone as handsome as you shouldn’t be sitting all alone with an empty glass. Can I get you a drink?”Louis raises an eyebrow, snorting. “It’s an open bar,” he says. “The company is buying the drinks.”“Well.” The man laughs nervously. “I suppose so. But it is my company, so. I guess I already bought you a drink?”Louis feels his head jerk up in surprise, his mouth falling open as he looks into the face of COO Harry Styles, son of founder and CEO Desmond Styles.

When graphic designer Louis gets asked out by C-suite executive Harry, he thinks Harry is trying to take advantage of him. But he's willing to take advantage of him right back, if that's what it takes to get ahead in life and get his sister's new business off the ground.

＊ your brightest star by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 35k, Louis/Harry]

“My baby,” Louis whispered into Harry’s neck, closing his eyes tightly into the embrace. Harry squeezed him closer and Louis could feel him nodding into his throat before he kissed him gently behind the ear.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

He tried to move closer, but they were already pressed together from cheek to where their ankles were tangled precariously together. “Me too, me too.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, just for Louis’ ears. They swayed slightly, like a delicate dance to the distilled noise around them.

“Oh, darling. Sunshine.”

Or a series of timestamps from the sunshine, baby! universe 𖤓 Part 2 of you're the sun to me

＊ we could be enough by @hellolovers13 [M, 5k, Harry/Louis]

“You know I am flirting with you, right?”

Louis freezes mid-bite. Just manages not to choke on his steak.

Harry laughs a bit too loudly, almost like he’s nervous. “Yeah, should’ve known you weren’t the observant kind. You think I get this dressed up for a random dinner with a mate on a Tuesday night?”

or Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is.

Then he meets Harry.

＊ Just The Way You Are by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 780 words, Louis/Harry]

"Do you miss it?" "Miss what, love?" He could hear the frown in Louis’ voice, and tried to subtly release soothing pheromones into the kitchen "You know...sex and all that." "Where's this coming from, Haz?"

Or, the one where Harry confesses his worries, and Louis reassures him. Part 1 of I Just Wanna Love You

＊ This Feels Like Home by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 300 words, Harry/Louis]

After one too many nights alone in a hotel bed, Harry flies home on a whim to surprise his husband.

[seven-oomen]

When the world's at stake | Poolverine fic | Chapter 2 preview

New York, 2024, Earth - 10005

“Oh, Peanut!” Wade sings as the back door swings open.

He raises a single eyebrow in acknowledgment while sliding the fresh baked pancake onto Laura’s plate in one smooth movement. “Oh, you’re back.”

The dry drawl earns him a giggle from the cub and a good-hearted chuckle from Althea.

“Like a goddamn cockroach, Logan. He ain’t going anywhere.” She laughs.

“Very funny, Al…” Wade sneers, then gasps as he walks into the kitchen. “Are those homemade Canadian buttermilk pancakes with fucking, genuine maple syrup?”

Wade reaches for the pan and he quickly slaps him on the fingers with the wooden spatula.

Wade squeals in response. “OUCH.”

“Hands off, bub. Either take a seat or beat it.”

“That’s both really hot, and hurts my feelings.” Wade’s eyes trail his form for a moment, a slow smile forming on his lips. “Hmmm, I’m not sure what I like better. The apron or the cook. Bright pink is your color.”

Wade is referring to the apron he’s currently wearing. It’s almost ironic that it reads; no bitchin’ in the kitchen in white letters.

It’s been three months since the party and their lives have finally settled somewhat. The TVA came through in getting him access to the other Logan’s bank accounts and his own ID and driver’s license. Allowing him to get a decent down payment for a mortgage on a four bedroom house in Jamaica, Queens. As far as neighborhoods go in New York, you can do a lot worse than that.

“Are you sitting down or am I stapling you to your chair? Which is it gonna be?”

“Please spank me.” Wade sighs as he takes a seat at the head of the table.

“Gross.”Laura groans, nudging Wade’s chair with a foot until it topples and Wade sprawls onto the kitchen floor. “I’m trying to eat.”

“That was uncalled for, young lady!” Wade springs up and points an accusing finger. An action that earns him nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

He’s definitely not smiling or shaking his head at the domesticity of it all. As if.