#from near’s hedge fund

[alarici]

m2 post canon vacation in the Swiss alps

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Leveraged buyouts are not like mortgages

I'm coming to DEFCON! On FRIDAY (Aug 9), I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On SATURDAY (Aug 10), I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Here's an open secret: the confusing jargon of finance is not the product of some inherent complexity that requires a whole new vocabulary. Rather, finance-talk is all obfuscation, because if we called finance tactics by their plain-language names, it would be obvious that the sector exists to defraud the public and loot the real economy.

Take "leveraged buyout," a polite name for stealing a whole goddamned company:

Identify a company that owns valuable assets that are required for its continued operation, such as the real-estate occupied by its outlets, or even its lines of credit with suppliers;

Approach lenders (usually banks) and ask for money to buy the company, offering the company itself (which you don't own!) as collateral on the loan;

Offer some of those loaned funds to shareholders of the company and convince a key block of those shareholders (for example, executives with large stock grants, or speculators who've acquired large positions in the company, or people who've inherited shares from early investors but are disengaged from the operation of the firm) to demand that the company be sold to the looters;

Call a vote on selling the company at the promised price, counting on the fact that many investors will not participate in that vote (for example, the big index funds like Vanguard almost never vote on motions like this), which means that a minority of shareholders can force the sale;

Once you own the company, start to strip-mine its assets: sell its real-estate, start stiffing suppliers, fire masses of workers, all in the name of "repaying the debts" that you took on to buy the company.

This process has its own euphemistic jargon, for example, "rightsizing" for layoffs, or "introducing efficiencies" for stiffing suppliers or selling key assets and leasing them back. The looters – usually organized as private equity funds or hedge funds – will extract all the liquid capital – and give it to themselves as a "special dividend." Increasingly, there's also a "divi recap," which is a euphemism for borrowing even more money backed by the company's assets and then handing it to the private equity fund:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

If you're a Sopranos fan, this will all sound familiar, because when the (comparatively honest) mafia does this to a business, it's called a "bust-out":

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

The mafia destroys businesses on a onesy-twosey, retail scale; but private equity and hedge funds do their plunder wholesale.

It's how they killed Red Lobster:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/23/spineless/#invertebrates

And it's what they did to hospitals:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/28/5000-bats/#charnel-house

It's what happened to nursing homes, Armark, private prisons, funeral homes, pet groomers, nursing homes, Toys R Us, The Olive Garden and Pet Smart:

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

It's what happened to the housing co-ops of Cooper Village, Texas energy giant TXU, Old Country Buffet, Harrah's and Caesar's:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

And it's what's slated to happen to 2.9m Boomer-owned US businesses employing 32m people, whose owners are nearing retirement:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

Now, you can't demolish that much of the US productive economy without attracting some negative attention, so the looter spin-machine has perfected some talking points to hand-wave away the criticism that borrowing money using something you don't own as collateral in order to buy it and wreck it is obviously a dishonest (and potentially criminal) destructive practice.

The most common one is that borrowing money against an asset you don't own is just like getting a mortgage. This is such a badly flawed analogy that it is really a testament to the efficacy of the baffle-em-with-bullshit gambit to convince us all that we're too stupid to understand how finance works.

Sure: if I put an offer on your house, I will go to my credit union and ask the for a mortgage that uses your house as collateral. But the difference here is that you own your house, and the only way I can buy it – the only way I can actually get that mortgage – is if you agree to sell it to me.

Owner-occupied homes typically have uncomplicated ownership structures. Typically, they're owned by an individual or a couple. Sometimes they're the property of an estate that's divided up among multiple heirs, whose relationship is mediated by a will and a probate court. Title can be contested through a divorce, where disputes are settled by a divorce court. At the outer edge of complexity, you get things like polycules or lifelong roommates who've formed an LLC s they can own a house among several parties, but the LLC will have bylaws, and typically all those co-owners will be fully engaged in any sale process.

Leveraged buyouts don't target companies with simple ownership structures. They depend on firms whose equity is split among many parties, some of whom will be utterly disengaged from the firm's daily operations – say, the kids of an early employee who got a big stock grant but left before the company grew up. The looter needs to convince a few of these "owners" to force a vote on the acquisition, and then rely on the idea that many of the other shareholders will simply abstain from a vote. Asset managers are ubiquitous absentee owners who own large stakes in literally every major firm in the economy. The big funds – Vanguard, Blackrock, State Street – "buy the whole market" (a big share in every top-capitalized firm on a given stock exchange) and then seek to deliver returns equal to the overall performance of the market. If the market goes up by 5%, the index funds need to grow by 5%. If the market goes down by 5%, then so do those funds. The managers of those funds are trying to match the performance of the market, not improve on it (by voting on corporate governance decisions, say), or to beat it (by only buying stocks of companies they judge to be good bets):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/17/shareholder-socialism/#asset-manager-capitalism

Your family home is nothing like one of these companies. It doesn't have a bunch of minority shareholders who can force a vote, or a large block of disengaged "owners" who won't show up when that vote is called. There isn't a class of senior managers – Chief Kitchen Officer! – who have been granted large blocks of options that let them have a say in whether you will become homeless.

Now, there are homes that fit this description, and they're a fucking disaster. These are the "heirs property" homes, generally owned by the Black descendants of enslaved people who were given the proverbial 40 acres and a mule. Many prosperous majority Black settlements in the American South are composed of these kinds of lots.

Given the historical context – illiterate ex-slaves getting property as reparations or as reward for fighting with the Union Army – the titles for these lands are often muddy, with informal transfers from parents to kids sorted out with handshakes and not memorialized by hiring lawyers to update the deeds. This has created an irresistible opportunity for a certain kind of scammer, who will pull the deeds, hire genealogists to map the family trees of the original owners, and locate distant descendants with homeopathically small claims on the property. These descendants don't even know they own these claims, don't even know about these ancestors, and when they're offered a few thousand bucks for their claim, they naturally take it.

Now, armed with a claim on the property, the heirs property scammers force an auction of it, keeping the process under wraps until the last instant. If they're really lucky, they're the only bidder and they can buy the entire property for pennies on the dollar and then evict the family that has lived on it since Reconstruction. Sometimes, the family will get wind of the scam and show up to bid against the scammer, but the scammer has deep capital reserves and can easily win the auction, with the same result:

https://www.propublica.org/series/dispossessed

A similar outrage has been playing out for years in Hawai'i, where indigenous familial claims on ancestral lands have been diffused through descendants who don't even know they're co-owner of a place where their distant cousins have lived since pre-colonial times. These descendants are offered small sums to part with their stakes, which allows the speculator to force a sale and kick the indigenous Hawai'ians off their family lands so they can be turned into condos or hotels. Mark Zuckerberg used this "quiet title and partition" scam to dispossess hundreds of Hawai'ian families:

https://archive.is/g1YZ4

Heirs property and quiet title and partition are a much better analogy to a leveraged buyout than a mortgage is, because they're ways of stealing something valuable from people who depend on it and maintain it, and smashing it and selling it off.

Strip away all the jargon, and private equity is just another scam, albeit one with pretensions to respectability. Its practitioners are ripoff artists. You know the notorious "carried interest loophole" that politicians periodically discover and decry? "Carried interest" has nothing to do with the interest on a loan. The "carried interest" rule dates back to 16th century sea-captains, and it refers to the "interest" they had in the cargo they "carried":

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

Private equity managers are like sea captains in exactly the same way that leveraged buyouts are like mortgages: not at all.

And it's not like private equity is good to its investors: scams like "continuation funds" allow PE looters to steal all the money they made from strip mining valuable companies, so they show no profits on paper when it comes time to pay their investors:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/20/continuation-fraud/#buyout-groups

Those investors are just as bamboozled as we are, which is why they keep giving more money to PE funds. Today, the "dry powder" (uninvested money) that PE holds has reached an all-time record high of $2.62 trillion – money from pension funds and rich people and sovereign wealth funds, stockpiled in anticipation of buying and destroying even more profitable, productive, useful businesses:

https://www.institutionalinvestor.com/article/2di1vzgjcmzovkcea8f0g/portfolio/private-equitys-dry-powder-mountain-reaches-record-height

The practices of PE are crooked as hell, and it's only the fact that they use euphemisms and deceptive analogies to home mortgages that keeps them from being shut down. The more we strip away the bullshit, the faster we'll be able to kill this cancer, and the more of the real economy we'll be able to preserve.

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/2024/08/05/rugged-individuals/#misleading-by-analogy

[duskrosecreatesstuff]

The Hedge Maze Thing ...

... is finally ready, and just in time to slip in to #HalsinTavWeek in a perfect spot between Day #4 (Magical Mishap) and Day #5 (Bondage). As before, inspiration for this came from this beautiful image, and a wild conversation with @pedros-immaculate-vibes

Garden Party

Halsin and his "little fox" are attending a prestigious masquerade event. As the evening starts to slow down, she suggests they slip away for some "alternative" entertainment.

Pairing: Halsin / Tav

Content warnings: Explicit smut, Outdoor sex, (Very) Light Bondage, Soft Dom Halsin, Orgasm delay, PiV sex.

Word count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Taglist: @thoughts-of-bear @clairetheflower @sensitivesoil1008

Halsin moved through the crowd with ease, using his size to his advantage, parting the clusters of masked party goers still lingering between the flowerbeds.  He moved with purpose, but not too quickly; he still took the time to return a nod here, a word there, cautious to stay blended in with the attendees of this masquerade party.  The last thing either of them needed was to draw attention; after all, they weren’t here as true guests, they were here as representatives of the local wildlife agency, ostensibly to help ensure the event went smoothly, in reality to sneak a careful word here and there in the right ears, and secure their funding for the next year.

How had she snuck through so quickly?  Her choice of a fox mask for this charity event seemed quite appropriate, Although he had chosen a bear, so he didn’t get to judge. His nostrils flared as he neared the roped off entrance to the hedge maze, and caught her scent; her perfume mingled with the bouquet of the sparkling wine she had been sneaking the occasional glass of.  A perk of the evening, she had decided.  As the event had drawn on, he had noticed the sparkle of the wine touch her eyes, perhaps she had helped herself to one too many?  Or perhaps she simply had a devilish idea.

The latter, as it turned out.  She had noticed him standing off to one side, surveying the elite of the local councils and such from behind his bear mask.  He hadn’t missed her sidling up to him, her movements and the smile on her face suited to her delicate fox mask.  

“There you are.  I wanted to see if you might be up for a little fun.”

“Such as?” he murmured quietly, for her ears only.

“I thought you might like to try the hedge maze with me.” She tilted her head to look up at him, her smile and the hint of a raised eyebrow behind her mask suggesting she had more on her mind than a gentle walk through the raised bushes.

“We’ve both been through there before.”

“Yes.  But-” she brought her lips close to his ear, as much to brush them against it, as to ensure her next words were for him alone. “-what if we made it a little game.  I’ll go in, you give me … shall we say …  five minutes head start? And then you follow.  If you catch me before I get to the centre, you win.”

“And what would be my prize, little fox?”

She nipped gently at his ear, as she pressed her body in close to his. “I imagine my bear would love to devour his prey, wouldn’t he?” she whispered.

He gave a low moan, and glanced down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes.  “Two.”

“Two?”

“You get two minutes.  Not five.  Now go.”

*****

Her eyes had gone wide at the time reduction, and he had given her ass a quick swat to encourage her to run.  She had yelped at the sting of it, then giggled as she turned to leave.  Halsin took a deep breath as he watched her go, that giggle echoing in his ears, the skirts of her dress bouncing as she stepped quickly through the throng of people.  It was going to be a long two minutes.

*****

He paused at the entrance to the maze, taking a cautious look around before slipping past the velvet rope barrier. It cost him precious seconds, but he knew once he was out of sight, he had the advantage.  Not only had he done this maze in the past, he had her scent to follow.  He passed between the stone columns of the entrance, and vanished into the shadows.

Straight on, make a right, then a left turn here, left again there.  Right again at that crossing.  He navigated the soft paths with ease and a speed that most would find surprising given his size.  He paused only briefly to scent the air, certain he would find her in time.  Until the flutter of silk and ribbons caught his attention, and he paused to grab the pretty fabric from the branch it was hanging from.  He’d seen this before.  A few hours earlier.

*****

They had laid out their chosen outfits for the evening on the bed. A deep green shirt and simple black dress trousers for him.  An off-the-shoulder dress of pale green velvet with silver leaves embroidered on it for her.  And their masks; his, a bear painted on soft leather, hers, a beaded filigree mask in the shape of a fox, with green crystals accenting the eye holes.

She had come out from the bathroom dressed in the matching set of pink undergarments, everything designed to draw his eye, and yet conceal everything from him.  A lightweight corset, with ribbons lacing the front to snugly mould against her body.  A pretty little garter belt, with delicate straps holding up lace topped stockings.  And the final piece, a whisper of silken fabric between her thighs, held in place with ribbons tied into neat bows over her hips.

He stared unabashedly as she covered the vision with her dress.  He couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted to grab those ribbons in his teeth and pull.  One thing was sure, he was going to have fun with those later, he had promised himself.

And now, she was missing that key piece.  And not only that, she’d denied him the pleasure of removing it himself.  He growled to himself at her audacity.  And again, louder, as he realised he had fallen for the distraction.  Clever little vixen.  He took a deep breath, and felt a rush of arousal as he noticed the extra note to her scent now.  He stuffed the underwear into his pocket and resumed the chase, all the more determined to win now.

He neared the last turn before the central area, and noticed her scent went down the wrong path.  Had she forgotten the way?  Or had that wine gone to her head a little?  No matter.  He had her.  He grinned wickedly as he took the correct path, and made it to the small clearing, the bronze statue of a young owlbear that marked the centre shining in the moonlight.  Its beak was brighter than the rest, where countless hands had touched it, marking their success in achieving the centre of the maze.  He settled himself on the stone bench in front of the statue, and pulled off his mask, resting it against the owlbear’s paw.

He didn’t have to wait long.  She ran through the leafy arch, skidding to a stop when she saw him reclining on the bench. 

“Fuck!” She swore, panting.

“Oh, I intend to, my pretty little thing.”  His voice was low but carried perfectly well to her ears. “Lose your way?”

“No!” she said indignantly.  She huffed. “I tripped as I cast Misty Step, it sent me off course.” she admitted, sheepishly.  He laughed, a deep, low rumble.

“So you did lose your way.  And … I think you lost more than that.”  He pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing the prize he had tucked in there, the pretty item he had plucked from the branch.

She smiled at him coyly. “But the deal was you had to catch me before I got to the centre.  So I win.”

“But you’re not at the centre.” he countered, reaching his hand up to touch the beak of the owlbear statue.  “You know as well as I do, this is the centre.  You’re not there yet.”  He stood up, clearly meaning to block her from it, and fixed her with a predatory smile.  “But you’re welcome to try.”

Her eyes darted around, quickly assessing her options.  The space was not large, but offered just enough space for her to dodge around him.  If she was fast enough.  Misty Step was exhausted until she rested. So cunning it would have to be.  She feinted to her left, watching for him to follow her movement, then leaped to the right, reaching to touch the statue as she jumped.

He was expecting her trick.  And she leaped right into his arms.

They wrapped around her, trapping her, unexpectedly graceful in the way he spun her away from the statue, putting it out of her reach.  He brought them to a stop facing the statue, his hands on her hips, and he pulled her roughly back against him.

“Did you really think that would work?” he laughed,  his lips brushing against her neck.  “No matter.  I win.”

She shivered, breathless for a whole other reason now.  She could feel the growing bulge behind her, as his hands drifted up over her body, brushing over the curve of her breasts, up to her bare shoulders, and then slowly down her arms.  As he reached her wrists, he gripped them both, tugging them behind her, pinning them together with one hand, as the other reached to his pocket.  She felt ribbons being wrapped around her wrists, binding them together.

“I had planned to enjoy taking these off you later.  And you’ve denied me that.  So I’m going to use them to enjoy you another way”

The ends of the ribbons brushed against her palms, and she grabbed at them reflexively. He noticed, and leaned in to nip at her ear.

“Behave.” His voice was a soft growl. “If you pull on those, if you try to free yourself, I'll stop. I’ll stop everything I’m doing to you, and I will leave you wanting.”

She shivered at his commanding tone, but obediently opened her hands to let the ribbons drop.

“Good girl.”  He gently nudged her towards the bench in front of the statue.

“Now,” he stepped in close behind her again, and tugged at the laces that held her mask.  “I don’t want to ruin this.” He took the delicate mask in both hands, and lifted it carefully off her head, reaching forward to place it with his on the statue. “But I do plan on ruining you.”

He spun her to face him, his hands on her shoulders again, and he moved in to kiss her greedily, his tongue demanding entrance that she willingly gave.  His hands trailed back down her body, pausing to cup and squeeze at her breasts, pinching at the hardening nipples, which he could feel poking through, despite the layers of fabric, and she moaned in response.

He moved his hands farther down, to her waist, and he pressed down on her hips, guiding her to sit on the stone bench, keeping close enough to her body to force her knees apart to accommodate him.  He lowered himself to kneel in front of her, and his hands continued their path down, across her thighs, down her calves, to the hem of her skirts.  She gasped, tilting her head down to look at him, as he worked his hands beneath the fabric.  He looked and caught her eye, holding her gaze as he trailed fingertips back up over her stockinged legs, pausing when he reached the lace tops, stopping himself from touching the bare skin at the tops of her thighs.  He caught her leaning back a little, pressing her hips forward for him.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you tonight?”

“Please.” she whispered, feeling the start of an ache in her core, and ache that his touch would relieve.

“Please, what?”

She groaned. “Please touch me.”

She whined as he pulled his hands away completely, but only to gather up her skirts and lift them up to rest around her waist, careful not to touch her bare skin.  He put a hand on each knee, and pressed gently, spreading her open. With her legs this wide apart, he admired the way the moonlight glistened on the moisture already seeping from between her folds.

“Already dripping for me, my love?  I might think you wanted to lose.”

“I wanted to win.” she protested, her breath coming in soft pants.

“Really.” his disbelief clear.  “And instead, you’re all mine.” He brushed his thumbs over the exposed skin of her thighs, and watched the muscles jump at his touch. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” He ran his fingers across her thighs, around to her hips, further back to the plush curves of her ass, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, as he dipped his head to kiss the top of one stocking, then the other.  Then a kiss to one bare thigh, then the other.  She whimpered, arching her hips up to him again.  She could feel his lips curl into a smile.

“So desperate already, my heart?  And I haven’t even reached your favourite spot.  Yet.”

Another kiss, higher still, his nose nudging at the apex of her thighs, breathing in that scent he’d been tracing through the maze. She moaned, writhing her hips in invitation, wordlessly begging for him to give her more.  He pulled his head away for a moment, watching her desperate movements.  But only for a moment, as he admitted to himself how much he wanted to taste her, to take that dripping nectar on his tongue.  He bent his head back down, licking slowly up her slit, spreading her folds apart with his skilled tongue, dipping between them as his nose brushed against her clit.

She let her head fall back as she whined, arching her back to press her hips up to him, a desperate invitation to give her more.  He moved his hands to lightly hold her hips, keeping her still as he pressed his tongue inside her, the taste of her filling his mouth.  He listened to her gasp as he moved his tongue, lapping deeply.

“Halsin … please,” she whispered, and he knew what she wanted.  He slid one hand from her hip, his thumb moving to press circles over her slick, swollen clit.  He could feel the quiver in her thighs, could hear her breath growing ragged, knew he had brought her right to the edge, and knew she wanted nothing more than for him to tip her over it.  Usually, he’d also love nothing more.  But tonight …

He pulled back, and looked up, licking his lips as he listened to her keening moan when she realised he was going to deny her.

“Please!” she gasped, her voice a high pitched whisper.

“Need something?” he asked, his tone feigning curiosity.

“Please,” she begged between gasps, “I need … I want … let me …”

He smiled wickedly at her inability to string a sentence together.  Of course he knew exactly what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to let her have it, not just yet.  Instead he stood up, and she could see the clear, hard outline of his cock right in front of her.  She leaned forward to grab the fastening of his trousers with her teeth, working to release the fabric.  He paused, grinning down at her - he’d indulge her for a moment or two.  She was going to struggle to achieve her goal, and the friction of the fabric as she tugged it back and forth felt good to his swollen self.

She succeeded in opening the button, and worked to open his trousers further, a small growl of frustration vibrating against him, and he gave a low moan of his own, which only served to increase her determination.  Hells, she wished her hands were free, she wanted to push the fabric out her way so badly, but she knew he’d keep his threat, so kept them obediently behind her.

“Let me help you, my little love.”  he offered, releasing himself from the confines of his clothing and she wasted no time in moving her head in close, breathing in that scent of herbs and musk that was so uniquely him.  She reached her tongue out to lick his exposed length, her own aching frustration momentarily forgotten, pressing her tongue flat to taste as much of him as she could, brushing her lips over the smooth skin, swirling her tongue over him, tasting the salt of his pre-cum as it beaded from the tip.

He threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair, and pulled her head back, forcing her to release him from her mouth.  She looked up at him with a whimper.  With his other hand, he scooped up her thigh, and pushed, pivoting her on her ass so she was sideways on the bench.  He knelt between her thighs, reaching behind her to tug the ribbons loose, releasing her wrists.  He placed his hands on her upper arms, guiding her to lay back on the bench, as he loomed up over her, the stone cool and rough against her bare shoulders.  He slid his hands down to her wrists, lifting them up above her head, and looped the ribbons over the armrest and back around her wrists.

She looked up into his lovely hazel eyes, unsure if the spark she saw was a reflection of the light, or that flash of gold he sometimes got when his control was on its edge.  She didn’t have time to figure it out, as he tied the knots again, and leaned in to kiss her, hungrily, greedily pressing his tongue to her lips, which she parted willingly, desperate for any contact with him. He moved a hand quickly down her body, fingers quickly finding her soaked entrance, and sliding a single one inside her, feeling her sigh against his mouth.  He added a second finger, his movements slow as he slid them in and out of her, letting her adjust to the stretch of him, preparing her, feeling her soft moans against his tongue.

He pulled his hand away, using his wet fingers to stroke his cock, spreading her juices over himself, mixing with more of his pre-cum.  He guided himself to line up with her entrance, and pressed slowly inside her, pausing once the head of his cock was nestled within her soft walls.

She wanted so badly to reach for his hips, and pull him deeply into her, but she didn’t dare risk being denied her reward, not when she was so close.  So she settled for arching her back, trying desperately to buck her hips up and force him deeper.

He lifted himself away from kissing her, pausing for a moment to admire her laying there in the moonlight, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving as her breath came in small pants.  He reached around her hips to lift her slightly. He smiled down at her, lovingly.

“More?”

“Please” she whispered breathlessly.

He lifted her a little further into his lap, sliding deeper into her, as she cried out in pleasure.  His fingers dug into her soft curves to hold her steady as he started a slow rhythm, barely giving her time to adjust to the stretch of him filling her, listening to her soft moans at each roll of his hips.  He knew that since he brought her so close to the edge already, that it wasn’t going to take much to have her seeing stars beneath him.

“My pretty little thing, you feel so good.” Her hips bucked up at the praise, her hands tugging at her ties, grasping at air, but still obedient, not pulling herself free.  He rewarded her by increasing his pace, driving harder into her, his cock pulsing as her moans changed to frantic whimpering, her body responding to the pounding, her climax within her reach once more.  He moved a hand to brush a thumb over her clit, watched her jaw clench as she hissed through her teeth.

“Let go, my little fox.  Scream for me.”

She gave a high pitched growl as she came, her body tensing beneath him, her back arching up and her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, as if she wanted nothing else than to merge her body with his completely.  He felt her walls clench around him, a steady pulse as he continued to move deep inside her, his movements rougher as he chased his own climax.  A few more thrusts and he let loose a deep growl, as his throbbing cock pumped his seed deep inside her.  He leaned down to kiss her, her tongue eager to taste him as her body quivered in the cool night air. He reached up to pull the ribbons loose, tucking the scrap of fabric back into his pocket.  She immediately reached to wrap her arms around him, and pulled him in close against her, as their breathing slowed.

Their moment of afterglow was disturbed by a couple of loud bangs, and glittering sparks lit up the night sky.  She smiled at the sight.

“I think I already saw my own fireworks.”

Halsin grinned at her.  “We should get back though, the party is almost at an end.”

She laughed.  “Perhaps a slower walk back.  Not sure my legs could take another race.”

“Good.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Pleasure Is My Business: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: You’re brought back to your high school days with this case. You put that behind you when you graduated, but life has a funny way of bringing you closer to the person who made your life miserable back then.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"The prostitute is not, as feminists claim, the victim of men, but rather their conqueror, an outlaw, who controls the sexual channels between nature and culture." - Camille Paglia

Before you leave for work, you grab the coffee you premade as soon as you wake up. The coffee is right next to your high school reunion invitation. The opened card stares at you whenever you pass by it, begging you to acknowledge it. High school was one of the worst years of your life because not only did kids bully you, but you felt their own pain as your own.

It wasn't fun.

This reunion is in a few days but you're still in Quantico. Looks like you won't get to go, and honestly, you're kind of relieved. Spencer wants you to go and prove to everyone you're this hotshot FBI agent (which you are), but you don't feel like proving to a bunch of people who never gave a fuck about you in the first place.

"Are you gonna go?" Spencer says from behind you.

"We'll, seeing how it's in a few days and we're not in Dallas, I don't think so. It's so stupid because instead of a night, they made it a whole weekend getaway. As if I want to spend more time with them than I have to."

"Maybe you can go to the other one."

All you can do is shrug. You really don't want to get into this right now, plus, you have to get ready for a case Hothc pulled together. Hotch got called to Dallas early in the morning to do a briefing on a case sent by Patrick Jackson, the attorney general.

Hoyt Ashford, a hedge fund manager for a major bank, has turned up dead in a hotel room. Hoyt didn't do too well in the public eye after going on talk shows and talking about how the real estate crisis wasn't a real thing. He posted an apology video about the issue, but once word got out that he died, his lawyers classified it as a suicide.

If you know any better, then that's not true.

According to Hotch, there was Viagra near Hoyt's body. Considering that his wife was at home with the kids, it's safe to assume the prostitute he was with killed him. Something that's confidential and not to be mentioned in any reports is that Hoyt took $10,000 out of a fund in cash. No one saw the prostitute he was with, which isn't surprising since they know how to be discreet. According to Patrick, this is the second murder in Dallas.

You might be able to attend your reunion after all.

"Female serial killers are a fascinating field," Spencer says once everyone is in the air. "We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Take the signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies because there is no sexual gratification when a woman kills. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra."

"So, basically, women are more efficient at killing," you half-joke.

"Historically, they have had body counts in the hundreds."

"Assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?" Hotch asks over the phone.

"Money, drugs, and PTSD. At some point, every call girl, no matter how well paid, gets coerced into an activity she didn't consent to. Aileen Wuornos used to purposefully stage paid sexual encounters as an excuse to murder men she thought would rape her," you explain.

"Wuornos was psychotic and disorganized. I think this girl is poisoning them before she has sex with them."

"She's using Tetramethylenedisulfotetramine. It's a popular rat poison in China which can be easily soluble in alcohol," Spencer explains after reading the files Hotch sent over.

"Poison is the perfect MO. It's quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they're getting lucky." Hotch makes an uncertain noise. "Does that mean something to you?"

"These men are paying $10,000 a night for discretion as well as sex. She has a history with them. She didn't decide to kill them at the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them, and she's doing it before she sleeps with them. She's not just organized, she's also methodical. She decides early which one of her clients is worth killing," Hotch says.

"Maybe the victims all share the same fetish. Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible, and careful of their image. If they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it."

"We're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out."

"Actually, I had some luck there. Hoyt's wife isn't too happy with how he died. She agreed to talk to us but because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement." JJ pulls out her phone to read the statement that was sent to her. "Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.' They're already trying to close ranks."

"Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?" Spencer asks.

"What do you mean?"

"It's the same thing as the murder of the first victim. 'According to the company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home'."

"Y/N and Morgan, start with the wife and see if you can get her to open up. JJ, call the lawyers and tell them I want to meet with both of them."

"You want to play them off each other?"

"I think one of them wrote both press releases. Let's see which one calls us back."

Once you land, you and Derek head over to the Ashford home where Yvonne Ashford is eagerly waiting for you.

"Mrs. Ashford, we're very sorry about your husband," you say.

"I've been getting nothing but condolences all day. I feel like a hypocrite for accepting them, knowing how he died."

"We think your husband might have been targeted because of something sexual he did with this call girl. I know this is hard, but is there anything you can tell us about what he liked?"

"In bed? I can sum it up in one word. Younger."

"How much younger?"

"Twenty-five. That was when I first met him."

"So, your age difference was part of the attraction?"

"Are you kidding? It was the whole relationship."

"Mrs. Ashford, no offense, but your husband spent a lot of money on this woman. Was there anything else at all that he liked from a younger woman besides the ego boost?" Derek asks.

"There's a certain kind of man, Agent, for whom the only kind of sex that matters is the ego boost. In a marriage like ours, you have to work at it or in my husband's case, pay for it."

Your phone rings and you step off to the side when you see Hotch is calling.

"Yeah, Hotch?"

"We got a meeting with a madame that sets meetings up like the one Ashford was in. Spencer is heading over to meet with her. I want you to go with him."

"Sure." You hang up and walk over to Derek. "I got to go. See what else you can find out about Hoyt."

"Yeah."

The madame, Lauren, is hosting an open house where she is able to meet clients discreetly. It's actually pretty smart since people might think they're there for the open house instead of something else entirely.

"This is actually pretty smart," you say when you meet up with Spencer. "Properties like this are safe and an inspection-free investment for large sums of cash."

An older woman walks out of the house with a big smile on her face.

"Well, hello, you two!"

"Are you the--"

"Isn't this neighborhood just fabulous? You're gonna love this house," she cuts your boyfriend off. She escorts you two inside the house for more privacy. "You two need lessons in faking it. I teach a class."

"So, you arrange dates for escorts?" you ask.

"All I arrange are meetings. What happens between two consenting adults when that meeting is over is something I'm not liable for. Now, who wants a scone?" she offers from a platter.

"Listen, we're looking for someone who is a high-end prostitute who takes fees up to ten thousand dollars. She has the intent of killing her clients before having sex with them."

"Oh, yes. We all know about this woman. She's terrible for business."

"I guess there's only so many men that can afford the service you provide, right?"

"Yes, but with the way she's behaving, she's only hurting herself. An escort's client list is the most important investment she has. It's her daily income and her retirement package when she sells the list."

"She's not working with a service then. No madam would allow an escort to kill off the clientele."

"What about the type of work your employees do?" Spencer asks nervously. "We're sort of operating under the assumption that this escort is killing men who make her perform a specific sexual act."

"What did you have in mind, sweetie?" she smirks.

"I... I don't even... I don't know."

"Don't mind him," you giggle. "It's his first time."

"If I may, I think you're looking at this all wrong. Start with this question: why would a man pay a woman five figures?"

"It's not just for sex, is it?"

"Of course, you've got to be good in bed to be successful, but that's the easy part. What men want more than the no strings attached sex is a therapist. Someone who will absorb the worst parts of their personalities."

"They're looking for someone to tell their fears and insecurities to. Everything they can't take home to their wife."

"That's what I groom my girls to do--how to talk to these men and how to listen. Don't get me wrong, deviancy comes with the territory. I can't tell you how many men need to be submissive as an outlet from their extremely stressful jobs. I can tell you that if the sex was the reason she was killing these men, she would have broken long before she charged $10,000."

"It isn't how these men act in bed, it's how they act out of it," Spencer says.

This unsub isn't killing at a specific time because it's whenever her client wants to meet with her. While you've been talking to Lauren, another murder has taken place. You and Spencer leave the open house and immediately head over to an office firm.

Joseph Fielding is found dead inside the elevator, tied to an office chair with X's marked in lipstick on his eyes, and clear tape wrapped around all over his mouth.

"The victim is Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here," Rossi says when you two get there.

"Was he poisoned?"

"Yes, and staged. She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found."

You walk over to the victim but pause when you see the energy left behind by the unsub. It's blue because the unsub is a female, but you recognize this energy. There are eight billion people in this world with eight billion different base energies. Every single person you've met has their own energy signatures, and you're familiar with this one. Not only have you seen this energy before, you know the person attached to it.

You've met and gotten to know this person before.

"I know this unsub," you say.

"You do?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah, but I can't put a name to it yet. I've definitely seen it sometime in my life."

Hotch gives you time to put a name to the unsub, but for right now, he focuses on what he can see physically.

"The lipstick is new."

"It was done postmortem. Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable. Now she wants to be noticed."

There is commotion by the barrier formed by local police by a man trying to get through, which he does eventually.

"Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?"

"Me."

"I'm Larry Bartlett. I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries."

"This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett."

"I know. I spoke to Ellen Daniels, and she said you're a very reasonable man."

"Escort him out, please," Hotch says to one of the officers.

"No, wait. Please." The officer tries to grab him, but he doesn't leave right away. "The press is outside and they can smell blood. Is there any way we can handle this discreetly?"

"We're not about to lie for you," Derek says.

"You don't have to lie. Just don't comment."

"Excuse us."

Hotch takes the team off to the side to talk about the benefits of not commenting on the murder. "Is there any reason to go public yet?"

"Validating her is exactly what she wants. If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake," you say quietly.

"He doesn't need to know that. We need everything you have on Fielding like bank accounts, tax records, and emails."

"Everything?" Larry asks in uncertainty.

"Everything."

"I'll gather everything and send it in the morning."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Whooo is Daenyra? I'm aware that's a broad question, but I'm unfamiliar with this character lol . . . and there's just something so delicious with modern day aus of GoT/HotD ocs ^_^

yes yes yes okay thank you thank you thnk you!!! broad question very appreciated because I can say whatever I want lol

canon daenyra in The Prophecy (cw: incest, she's a targaryen)

the fuck canon fix-it incest au Alicent & Viserys' daughter, probably a year younger than Aemond, in an attempt to foster an alliance with the Starks, Otto arranges for her to be fostered at Winterfell but after a near-miss assassination attempt (organized by Daemon), she knows that she will not be safe. Cragen helps her escape beyond the wall, where she spends the next several years just herself and her dragon (does her dragon become an ice dragon maybe so), when Jace goes to the wall with Cragen he’s shocked to find his long lost aunt Daenyra is a dreamer like her sister and her namesake, comes from a connection to the three-eyed raven which helps her survive when she’s beyond the wall she has a vision of the war and how it all ends and spends years trying to find a solution to avoid so much bloodshed Jace finds her beyond the wall, she tells him to get his mother and bring her to King’s Landing once everyone is gathered she tells them she has a solution to their war aka, what if the two future kings simply shared a wife and mended the broken family lines their children will be heirs in order of birth not based on which man fathered them and Alicent immediately refuses, thinking she means for Jace to be with Helaena Dany is just like nope nope annul that marriage, let Helaena marry Aemond only if it will make her happy says i’m going to marry them and no one else will die Dany says no more dead Targaryens and also fuck you Otto Hightower specifically, Rhaenyra might not get to be queen but her son still gets to be king Everyone is happy except Daemon and Otto and she and i both feel like that’s an acceptable solution

modern daenyra (cw: still targ-cest, implied nsfw) – it had a fic title but then i got indecisive so tbd

in modern day Westeros, the Targaryen family owns a very, very old company. I keep debating what it is but my main thoughts are real estate or finance (specifically finance houses or hedge funds) – or the company has grown enough to have branches in a lot of fields. Viserys is the President of the company with Rhaenyra set to inherit it when he dies or retires, Otto Hightower is his VP, Daemon is tentatively chief of operations, and Alicent wants her eldest son Aegon to inherit the company instead of Rhaenyra, but Aegon does not give a shit at all. (also this leans into book lore with Alicent being older than Rhaenyra because she is not marrying Viserys at 14/15)

The Targaryen children all have far too much money and freedom for their own good, but their access to that money (and ability to live at the family house and/or in various family-owned properties) is dependent on them working for the family business I'm still world building some of the details but it is essentially our world but instead of our countries & cities & etc, it's in Westeros) The concept of Daenyra's AU specifically is that 22 year old Daenyra Targaryen, socialite nepo baby princess (except to her parents, who do not care for her) has just graduated university and returned home. Because her father doesn't really care about her, and is still sexist despite having a female heir/only liking his eldest daughter, Daenyra gets a job as Aegon's personal assistant. It's not too bad, really. Sure, it's a lot of work since Aegon doesn't care about his job and she has to basically babysit him, but he's always been her favourite relative anyway, her job is pretty simple, and she has lots of money to do things she actually likes. Unfortunately for Aegon, what she actually likes is annoying and teasing him until he finally fucks her. She knows he's been checking her out for several years now (and Targaryens are still devoted to keeping it in the family, so to speak), and she's been waiting for this moment for far too long

(also, have an excerpt conversation between Aegon and Daenyra on her first day at work

“What’s the matter?  What's the matter? You’re fucking indecent, Dany!” “I could be wearing snowpants and a parka and I would still be indecent, Aegon.  It’s a peril of being one of the most gorgeous creatures on the planet.” “One of?  I would have thought you’d consider yourself the most gorgeous.” “I am exceptionally arrogant, but that doesn’t make me blind.  I am the most tempting creature on Earth, absolutely, but I know full well that our entire family was handcrafted by God.”

[under-the-eye]

Greetings from Windenburg! Every year a Fellowship Conference is held for all believers in the Watcher, regardless of denomination, to gather in fellowship. This year the Conference was being held in Windenburg, at the Cathedral of St. Cornelius.

In general, Johnathan and I find the Church of St. Cornelius to be too over-the-top, and that all the accouterments they favor distracts from the worship of the Watcher. But Iris, always with an eye for art, fell in love with the building as soon as she saw it! Her face just lit up– it was beautiful to see.

The first day of the conference is mostly sermons and workshops. We heard the most moving sermon from the Father of the Cathedral on the infinite love of the Watcher, and how as faithful people we need to stand together against the Shadow, rather than falling into petty infighting.

On the lunch break we took the time to introduce ourselves to the Father and his family. He and his wife are very somber, serious people. The Watcher is clearly their number one priority, no matter how many decorations they have in their Cathedral.

They have one son named Danny. He seems like a good boy, and don’t think I didn’t notice he and Iris chatting!

Near the Cathedral there’s this adorable chess board park. Isn’t it so cute!

Then we returned to the Cathedral for more workshops. I have to admit, the longer I was in the Cathedral, the more it grew on me. It would be a beautiful place for a wedding.

As for lodging, we secured beds at the local hostel. It’s a lovely historical building– I adore the old feeling of Windenburg!

The next morning, we got breakfast at this adorable little coffee shop before returning to the Cathedral.

The second day of the conference is split into two– the final workshops and sermons in the morning, and Fellowshipping activities in the afternoon.

During the hymns, the Father was nice enough to take Iris up to the pipe organ on the second floor and show her how it worked. She was a natural right away!

In the afternoon, we went for a tour of the famous Von Haunt estate. Most people know it because of the “ghost stories” that surround the place, but the Von Haunts were passionate followers of the Watcher, and contributed much of the funds required to build the Cathedral in the plaza.

There were many interesting things to see, but overall the favorite was definitely the hedge maze. We wandered in there for what seemed like hours!

Of course, Iris found her way to the first instrument she could.

That evening, Iris and I went for a walk alongside the canal. I could see her falling more and more in love with Windenburg– perhaps the Watcher will lead her to this city on Its path for her. I will certainly pray that it will. She’s perfectly suited to the slow pace of the old city.

Yumiko: Hey, mind if I play?

Penny: Oh, uh, sure. If you want to. 

Yumiko drew out a chair and sat down, immediately moving one of her chess pieces. Penny moved hers, then couldn’t resist the curiosity anymore. 

Penny: Aren’t you… cold? 

Yumiko shrugged. 

Yumiko: Not really. I grew up here, so I’m used to it. 

Penny: Oh.

Yumiko looked her up and down. 

Yumiko: So, are you one of them? The Watcher freaks?

Penny flushed hot with shame. 

Penny: I guess. 

They played in silence for several more minutes. Penny put Yumiko into check within five minutes, and the other girl raised disbelieving eyebrows. 

Yumiko: You’re smart. Do you really believe all the Watcher stuff? 

Penny: I believe in the Watcher. 

Yumiko: That wasn’t the question.

Penny bit her lip and didn’t answer. Yumiko stood to leave, but as she was walking away, Penny blurted out another sentence.

Penny: I like your outfit. 

Yumiko turned and gave her a knowing smile, then walked away. 

The next morning, our final day in Windenburg, I made a huge tower of pancakes for the whole family.

Then we took a trip to the Crumbling Isle and visited the old ruins there with the heated springs underneath. The water was heavenly!

Afterwards, we warmed up by a roaring bonfire.

That night, we wrapped up our trip with a cookout at the hostel.

What a fantastic trip! I feel so blessed knowing there are so many other faithful Watcherful people in the world, helping us in the neverending battle against Shadow! Amen!

[12thperigeeball]

is there a drawn out map of the mansion ?? it would be great to have for plotting and stuff

Hi anon!

So i'm gonna be upfront - ever since we got this like 5 days ago, I have been trying very hard to figure out and draw out a rough idea of what I believe the ball looks like.

Unfortunately, I have failed. I am not a skilled architect to place my ideas on paper and make it look workable

SO, TEXT DESCRIPTION IT IS. The ball has always left the grounds amorphous, so people have the flexibility to headcanon in what they need or want to have at a ball, as well as allow people to create their own backdrops for their RPs that they need (such as hedge mazes, kitchens, VIP rooms, secret evil bunker lair under the mansion, whatever!) to achieve whatever their RP threads aim to do!

Here are some things to keep in mind, under the cut:

Canonically, the ball is held in a mansion tucked away at the base of a valley between two mountains near a major city. Far enough away to sell the illusion of being removed from society, yet close enough that it isn't difficult for even the lowest caste of troll to hitch a ride there. The mansion itself is large, with a U shape that hugs a small lake that has pooled in the valley. This leaves the ball with a lovely view of the water and privacy for those who will stay there. The lake itself is swimmable, and has a handful of boats that allow people to traverse it for a romantic moment. The boats, however, are limited, so reserve your turn ahead of time!

As of the 12th Perigee Ball 2022, one of the cliffs that surround the lake was destroyed after the ball ended after an unruly guest with a rocket launcher broke the 'no live weapons' rule. Kilran honestly should have seen it coming.

As of 12th Perigee Ball 2023, with the funding of a VERY rich fuschia clown ancestor-in-law, the cliff has been repaired, re-planted with foliage, and the lake even got terraformed into a heart shape, increasing it's appeal to guests.

The mansion is quite lavish on the inside with a custom foyer depicting paintings of the previous ball Kings and Queens leading into a gargantuan, three level ballroom. On the first floor, social areas with tables and couches are placed to facilitate a place to rest, while the second floor is reserved for dancing. A stage where performers and an orchestra can play lies against the back wall, near the doors to reach the wrap around balcony that allows guests to admire the lake.

The third floor is a simple balcony view, where the VIP guests can enjoy the main hall's music and festivities. These are connected to the VIP rooms, with their own dance floors, performance stages, and social areas. These are accessible through elevators and stairs just off of the main dance hall.

Outside of the ballroom is an extensively decorated garden specifically planted and geared towards beautifying a winter landscape. Ice Sculptures are common, as well as semi-private gazebos and pavilions for couples to have their own romantic moments in.

Next to the main ball rooms are the fully furnished dining rooms, which allow trolls to sit either individually or in a group and order from the waiters who will serve them food. When it comes to the feast time, a large table is placed at the front of the main dining rooms where the host and his personal guests sit.

There are multiple bars situated within the dining room, the ball room, and the outside gardens where trolls may order drinks, but alcoholic drinks aren't served until 11PM when the underage trolls are removed from the premise.

The mansion itself has social rooms for trolls to retreat to beyond the ball rooms. These are wings of rooms on the first and second floor, and are filled with crackling fireplaces and sofas for trolls to lounge on along with butlers who can serve them drinks and snacks.

There are further wings of the mansion that are blocked off during ball time. These are the personal bedrooms of the host, his personal guests, and any VIP guests who would prefer to pay to reside at the ball itself for the duration of the ball. They are heavily guarded with physical and digital security and trolls found leaving the allotted public ball grounds are rebuffed back to where they should be.

There are also spa, makeup, and tailoring services and facilities for trolls who rent a room at the mansion.

[darkmaga-returns]

Doug Casey and Michael Yon discuss their major observations this week. Doug kicks off by questioning FEMA's effectiveness, calling it a wasteful agency that fails to provide real emergency relief, while Michael highlights the troubling development of new FEMA camps in North Carolina. The conversation shifts to the increasing uncertainty experienced by even the most knowledgeable people, with both agreeing that those with plenty of resources still struggle to find safe havens in today's world.

They delve into the weaponization of drug legalization, especially in places like Thailand and the U.S., warning about its economic and social impact. Doug also critiques the decline of American universities, pointing out how elite institutions have embraced woke ideologies while hoarding massive endowments.

On the geopolitical front, Michael discusses the prolonged nature of the Ukraine war and warns that Israel faces existential threats if its conflict with Hamas and Hezbollah escalates. Doug concludes by predicting a significant rise in long-term interest rates, driven by inflation and escalating U.S. debt, which will spell trouble for the economy.

Timestamps

[00:00:00] Matt introduces Doug Casey and Michael Yon, who will discuss three key observations and a prediction.

[00:01:00] Doug on FEMA: Doug Casey shares his skepticism about FEMA's role and effectiveness, recounting his experiences post-Hurricane Katrina and calling FEMA a "giant scam." He critiques its ineffectiveness and focus on equity and climate response, stating that the agency should be abolished.

[00:08:00] Michael Yon on FEMA Camps: Michael talks about new FEMA camps in North Carolina and compares them to military forward operating bases. He highlights how corporations might benefit from land loss in mineral-rich areas post-disaster.

[00:14:00] Uncertainty on Where to Move: Michael and Doug discuss how even the most experienced travelers are unsure of where to settle amidst geopolitical instability.

[00:22:00] Drug Legalization and Weaponization: Doug and Michael explore the rapid increase in pot shops in Thailand and the U.S. They discuss the broader implications of drug legalization, especially as a weapon of psychological and economic warfare, with Michael mentioning the Chinese involvement in U.S. drug distribution.

[00:34:00] Doug on Woke Universities are giant hedge funds: Doug discusses the impact of left-leaning ideologies in universities, particularly Harvard and other elite institutions. He predicts a decline in enrollment and philanthropic support for these woke institutions in the near future.

[00:39:00] Michael on Ukraine and Israel Conflicts: Michael predicts as with the Ukraine conflict, the Israeli war with Hamas will last longer and grow bigger than anyone expects. He suggests that Israel's survival is at risk as the conflict grows.

[00:45:00] Doug’s Prediction on Rising Interest Rates: Doug makes a bold prediction about rising interest rates, explaining how inflation and U.S. debt will drive long-term rates higher, leading to potential economic troubles.

[innytoes]

Inny i am so far behind on things and I am going to be honest with you, a/b/o is my fandom Can't, but: am I correct in saying it's your birthday soon?

Anyway, in honor of that and if not, just the fact that you are awesome, consider this a prompt for the a/b/o prompt and pairing you wish someone would have sent 💖

Thank you, it was my birthday on the 7th! And in honour of your prompt I went with 22: Dystopian AU, because who doesn't love a good dystopia. Except then I made it 'crack taken seriously'.

Even though he’d known it had been coming, Willie still felt a little shell-shocked. He knew he didn’t have much rights or even a say as an Omega, but he thought he’d proven to Caleb that he was worth keeping on. He’d seemed like such a nice guy when he took him in as a twelve year old orphan, an estranged brother of his dad’s. Willie always figured they were estranged because his grandparents had been hella homophobic, but now that he was older, maybe it was just because Caleb was kind of evil.

He certainly didn’t seem to have any qualms selling his nephew to Sunset Curve.

God, that sounded like something out of a bad fanfiction.

It wasn’t even that Caleb had sold him to Sunset Curve on purpose. Caleb had managed to snag Sunset Curve to play in between the regular show. Which was kind of Willie’s dream come true, since he’d been a massive fan since before the got famous. Ever since that time he’d snuck out at fifteen and found them playing in front of a club he’d been trying to sneak into.

So he hadn’t even thought about it when Caleb told him to make sure he looked presentable, like, of course he was going to. His favourite celebrities ever got a special table up front. And he hadn’t really noticed that the scent-blocking spray Caleb made him put on so he ‘wouldn’t be a distraction’ had been replaced with something else. And he didn’t think about how Caleb had let him go off his suppressants a week ago, saying something about how it was healthy to take a break every so often, and he’d get paid vacation time when he had his heat.

He just danced his heart out and tried not to laugh when Luke exclaimed, his mouth half full ‘this is a meatball sub, ohmygooood’ just as Willie was bringing out their new drinks. He shamelessly flirted a little with the entire band, but only like, as a joke. Sure they were kind of the same age but it wasn’t like Willie, an Omega waiter, had any shot with these rich and famous Alphas.

He hadn’t noticed that the table next to Sunset Curve had been watching him, too.

It wasn’t until after Sunset Curve’s show and Caleb’s ‘dessert’ were over that he noticed something was up. Because Caleb put his hand on the back of Willie’s neck and steered him right towards the reserved tables. For a hot second, Willie thought his uncle had remembered that he was a big fan of Sunset Curve, but then he was lead to the table next to them, and slowly it dawned on him.

Caleb wanted to sell him to the creepily smirking, oily-looking hedge fund manager at table two.

But before the deal could be finished, the drummer – Alex, his favourite – had leaned over and looked Caleb right in the eye and told him he’d pay ten thousand more.

Which was how he ended up on a tour bus, with a bag that Fuego had randomly shoved some of his belongings into at his feet. At least he’d been nice enough to include his skateboard.

Except unlike in the fanfictions, there was a lot of yelling going on.

“What the hell, dude?” Bobby had said almost as soon as the door closed. Reggie had guided Willie further to the back, awkward smiles and a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Willie looked out the window as the Club – his only home for the last six years – slowly disappeared from view.

Reggie had been nice, getting him a water, asking his name, asking his favourite pizza toppings, anything to distract from the shouting up front, the shaking of Willie’s hands, the tears he was trying very valiantly not to shed.

They were already nearing the city limits when Luke bit out: “Is Reggie not enough for you?”

At hearing his name, Reggie’s head jerked up, and he looked hurt. Which, what? Oh wait. Oh. Oh.

“Luke, shut up,” Bobby said, and Luke glared at him.

“What? Just because a cute Omega flirts with Alex once, all of a sudden he’s willing to-”

“No, shut up,” Bobby stressed. “Because that Omega hasn’t signed an NDA yet.”

All three of the Alphas stopped and turned to look at him, and Willie ducked his head. It wasn’t like he could do anything, anyway, now that Alex owned him. Like, signed the paperwork, got to decide if Willie gets to eat and sleep and get medical care, never mind if he was allowed to talk to anyone, owned him.

Still…

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said, because yeah, Reggie being an Omega when everyone thought Sunset Curve was an all-Alpha band was a pretty big secret. “Please, I’ll do anything. I can be a good roadie, or I can do your laundry, or whatever.” Don’t think about the stuff they want in fanfiction, don’t do it, even though he wasn’t going to lie, he’d thought about that from time to time, staring at the poster above his bed, because how could he not?

“I’m glad Alex helped Willie,” Reggie said firmly, which seemed to soften the postures of the other three band members. “Did you hear how creepy that other guy was being? Asking about his virginity and stuff? Besides, having some Omega arm candy might actually be helpful, you know?” He shot Willie a crooked grin, and Willie tried not to flush at the idea of hanging off Reggie’s arm on the red carpet. Like, even if he wasn’t an Alpha, he was still Reggie Peters, and Willie wouldn’t be faking any kind of swooning.

“He could be a good cover for Reggie’s heats,” Alex offered, nervously. “That way we don’t have to worry about any more rehab stories popping up.”

That had been last year, some gossip rag wondering why Reggie wasn’t out and about for a week off, when various members of Sunset Curve had been spotted in public. Though now that Willie thought about it, never all three of them at once. Which meant someone was probably always with Reggie, helping him… yeah, don’t think about that, or he’d go very, very flushed. Sunset Curve had played it off as food poisoning, and #poisonhotdogs had been a meme for a while, but that wouldn’t work every time.

“I can do that,” he eagerly agreed. He’d probably have to stay on suppressants then for his own heats, but if that meant he wasn’t going to be some creepy business dude’s live-in sex slave, he was all for it.

“You’re still signing an NDA,” Bobby muttered grumpily, flopping down in one of the chairs opposite of him and Reggie. “And doing laundry. Except Luke’s, I’m pretty sure that stuff is a biohazard.”

“Be nice,” Reggie warned. “Willie said he likes pineapple on pizza, so now you finally have someone who will go halfsies with you when we order pizza.”

Bobby blinked, and then shrugged. “Good enough for me,” he agreed. “Welcome aboard, Willie.”

“It’s still coming out of your money, not the band’s fund,” Luke grumbled at Alex, but he flopped down, basically on top of Bobby, so there was room for Alex to scoot in as well. Bobby just wrapped his arm around Luke’s waist, and oh, the whole ‘band as pack’ thing wasn’t something they played up for the press. They were actually like that. That was kind of nice, since so often it was just some marketing ploy.

The sight of three Alphas staring him down was kind of intimidating, though. Especially when one of them basically owned his very soul. Except Alex gave a self-conscious smile, just as cute and dorky as he was in the interviews Willie watched over and over, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe it would be better than a fanfiction.  

[iviarellereads]

Nona the Ninth, John 8:1(1)

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(No icon) In which we learn why the fandom keeps making reference to cows.

The ash sometimes makes them black out together.(2) He doesn't like losing control. He can't be coaxed to sleep unless she stands in the doorway to guard him. In the dream she doesn't fear sleep, but she doesn't know how to do it, she just collapses to sleep and then wake wherever he puts her.(3)

They make multiple trips down and back up the hill, on the side the waters aren't rising, to bring their things to a concrete building he found.

When they were settled he said: We got some attention up-front, ’cause people thought we were trying to get media jobs with some excellent deepfakes. They thought we were playing a game or giving people a puzzle, maybe doing some branding. Branding, then?(4) Talk about late-late-stage capitalism, right? How far can consumption as praxis go?(5) But I mean, fair enough. It didn’t look real.

As a result, very few people even took them seriously enough to come see them. Out of the few, only five could be convinced to come in and help with tests, on tape. After, two of them walked away, one said nothing, one said he'd call the cops, and only one accepts what he saw as truth.

He said, Then we took off. Thread after thread on message board after message board. People wanting proof. People asking what the fuck it meant. People talking about the LUCIFER telescope and saying we were aliens. People calling me the Antichrist, which was a trip. People writing up these long posts on how the trick was done, how I got the meat into the pie. Was I fake? Was I real? If I was real, what did it mean? Suddenly there were hundreds of people, all there at our front door. They came in caravans, they were sleeping in their cars or putting up tents. A hell of a lot of them had flown out internationally.

Some of those who showed up wanted to witness a miracle. They asked him for help, for faith healing. The odd thing is, he could do it.(6) He could do a whole lot, though not regrowing limbs.

But I spent hours and hours a day playing Jesus. That was nice, those were some of the nicest hours I got to spend.

Eventually, though, he had to start turning people away. M- brought in her nun friend, and John worried he'd get the Antichrist talk from her too, but she pointed him back at the Bible and said, Jesus not being able to say no was his whole problem. He never said no, he never asked anyone to pay, he got too much attention and brought the system down on everyone near him.

After that, John limited "Jesus stuff" to just one hour a day, but some of the damage was already done.

He added, We knew it was going to be a big problem. You’ve got this guy with an army of upward of forty walking corpses that he acquired legally but was meant to bury a while back, it’s time for some hard conversations. He’s curing cancer, that’s great, but he’s bookended by two zombies that they’ve dressed in outfits, that’s bad. You’ve got a wizard out in the wop-wops(7) who’s now got blanket bans from nearly every video upload site(8) and a whole bunch of people have entered the country because of his YouTube channel, the government isn’t all, Love that small-business entrepreneur spirit. The government says, This is a cult.

As the pilgrims and the tourists and the CIA started to close in, it's the nun who saved them. She applied to the Vatican, to petition for John's acts to be considered a miracle because he'd been baptised. He says he'd "only gone to Parachute(9) ’cause of the underage drinking" but the nun was a lifesaver. Then A- brought in his little brother, a hedge fund manager, who was useless but beloved by the group. John knew they were gathering their loved ones, feeling the final confrontation coming.

He said, At that point the government asked us to come in quietly, with our hands up.

His friends didn't want to go, but stopping the cops was all on John. The others weren't an army, not even P- with her sharpshooting. He had the corpses, and a lot of tissue samples, but nothing he could think to really do with them.

Eventually, P- betrayed the police, calling ahead to say the riot squad was on the way.(10) John knew he needed to wall the place off, so he made huge walls, three foot thick, of what the necromancers now call perpetual bone. The cops couldn't get through with any of their tools, and John caught that he hadn't put in air holes before anyone suffocated.

He fell quiet. After a while she prompted, You made it from your bodies? He said, Nah. I decided I didn’t want to touch any of the bodies, not only Titania and Ulysses. They’d all been through a lot. It was at this point that he had the grace to look embarrassed. He said, I’m not proud of this. But, well—like, we were on farmland. With farm animals. Big things with mass to spare. The field just over the road from us had over eighty head of cattle, field over that had a lot of sheep, and the bush was full of old bones. I had to—get creative. We had to lock C— in the kitchen when she found out so she could throw up in private for a while, and we wouldn’t let her look at it. Thankfully it was dark, so there wasn’t too much to look at.

You could even see it on satellite images on Google Earth, and he thought it was kind of pretty.

And then the government agreed to talk. The world took them seriously after the cow and sheep wall, though they also treated him like some kind of evil, or like he'd done some crime. Which he acknowledges he had in fact done, turning several hundred animals inside-out and not complying with the cops, but, he had extenuating circumstances.

He said, I didn’t care what they thought, I wanted the attention.(11) I wanted to break my NDAs. I wanted to let them know about the cryo plans and how we got shut down. I wanted to talk about you. About how we’d been going to save the world and then the cash dried up for no reason. And now we had a platform, so maybe the cash could come back, somehow. But we’d scared a lot of people. We also had more enemies than we’d ever had before. He said, I guess you could say … we had beef. When she did not laugh he said, “I can’t believe nobody’s ever going to laugh at my jokes again. I can’t believe it. It’s all gone, I’m the only one left.(12) It’s just me and you and no more jokes.” She said, “I still love you.” And he laughed and said, “That was a good one.” Then he wept again.

=====

(1) John 8:1 is "And Jesus went unto mount Olivet." Which doesn't say much itself, but its context is much greater: John 8:1 begins (or, well, continues, as it began in the previous chapter) the sequence with the infamous bit about "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." (John 8:7) Mount Olivet, or the Mount of Olives, is where the Pharisees try to catch Jesus out in his faith, they test him with the adulterous woman, and he says, alright, she's done wrong, but whomst among us has not? Feels fairly relevant, for a chapter in which John is tempted to become Jesus, and is tempted to unleash wrath on his enemies, but instead he shows his power defensively. Not quite as biblical as responding in verse and parable but y'know, considering I think the point was the letter translation, it's not bad! In A1Z26, we have THETOWERHA. I got nothin' clever this time for that, we'll have to see where else it goes. (2) Everything that happens to one, happens to the other, at the same time. Inextricably linked. So, if we think John's talking to who we think he's talking to (hint: not Harrow, but someone he's known for somewhat longer than ten thousand years) how does that line up with this sort of link? What sort of dream logic is that? (3) John once admitted to Harrow that Alecto was never quite a normal human being. Mercy wasn't even convinced she'd ever had a genetic code to speak of. She and August referred to her in veiled and not-so-veiled terms as a monster, barely human in behaviour or composure. Like she didn't understand how to be a person. (Also, this paragraph includes the line "baby-soft skin hammocks" which is given a whole new dimension when you remember that his sign of office is a crown of baby finger bones. I'm not inserting it into the summary just to say this in a separate footnote, though, so it goes here.) (4) Five years ago the whole internet revolved around establishing branding, now it's far less firm of a concept, as far as I can tell. (5) References to some deep lefty beliefs held by John. How many people outside the leftmost quarter of the political compass call anything "praxis"? It's a very specific word to choose here, to say a lot about John. And, there's nothing inherently good about being a leftist, politically speaking. People have done immense harm in the name of communism and socialism. And Muir can invoke all this with a single word. (6) The same healing we see necromancers doing with thalergy. (7) NZ slang for the back-of-beyond, the more rural than rural spots. (8) At best, what he's doing at this point can be termed defilement of a corpse by anyone who's not a true believer. It's not even an unfair interpretation of the truth.

(9) Parachute: A Christian music festival that ended in 2014. (10) This is really important: Americans, and perhaps the rest of the non-NZ world, probably think of like, the big famous Christian cult raids when they read this, but my many thanks to the writer of this post who outlines that there's actually a really important context of colonial forces raiding Maori faith healers in NZ which is entirely different. (11) Attention, social influence, an addictive sort of power in its own right. (Not all attention-seeking is toxic, but I feel it's fair to look at the man who made himself emperor and say yeah, he might be toxic. That is, in fact, one of his most compelling character traits.) (12) He's the only one left... but what about her? Which is it? Of course, it's both. If this is Alecto, then she's no longer with him either, not really. All his friends have left him in one way or another. By his hand or their own or someone else's. He locked Alecto up, whoever and whatever she is or was or will be, in the Locked Tomb that gives the series its name, the tomb around which the whole trilogy quartet revolves. So of course, there's no one left, it's just him... and her, at the end of all things, because of their connection, whatever it means that he keeps calling her Harrow in these dreams of Nona's that she can't remember.

[miniaturemoonheart]

For our Witchlings 💕

I for one do not like labels, to me a Witch is a Witch but there are several different types of Witches out there. And there are those who do like to put a specific kind of label to what they do.

It’s highly likely that your path will change several times as well. As did mine. There’s many directions and side roads I’ve taken until I finally found my OWN way. You most likely will find this to be the case with your own path.

Witchcraft is hard if you're starting out, especially if you're a closet witch. So here is a little guide for all the Witchlings out there. First, look at what kind of witch you want to be. There's a huge list out there and it's easy to get overwhelmed. But it's important to do your research to find the perfect kind of witchcraft for you. Then again, you can always have more than one form of craft. Here is a small list of the different types of witches.

Kitchen Witch- these witches take everyday tasks and make them spiritual. Taking a shower, cleaning the house, organizing everything, no matter what it is, it can be made sacred to these witches. Their name comes from brewing potions in the kitchen and incorporating magic into their food with the use of herbs and essential oils.

Hellenic Witch- a witch who worships Greek deities and follows some, if not all, Hellenic practices.

Roman Witch- similar to Hellenic, they worship Roman deities.

Norse Witch- follows Norse traditions and worships Norse deities.

Celtic Witch- follows Celtic traditions and worship Celtic deities.

Forest Witch- a practice biased on the forest and things found in it. They are often found living in or near forests and use things they find in that forest in their practice.

Water/Lake/Ocean Witch- similar to forest witch but for water or lakes. This is where you'll find sea/lake glass incorporated the most.

Weather Witch- focuses on the weather and weather patterns. They often worship deities who have abilities related to the weather and use materials that they can get from the weather in their practices.

Alexandrian Witch- Alex Sanders and his wife Maxine funded a movement in the 1960s biased on Gardnerian Wicca practices but that also incorporates elements of ceremonial magic and Qabalah. This came to be known as Alexandrian Wicca.

Augury Witch- similar to divination these witches look at omens and cosmic forces to guide someone on their spiritual quest.

Ceremonial Witch- as the name states it's a witch that holds ceremonies above all else. These witches mostly follow the oldest ceremonies.

Dianic Witch- this is a strictly female practice that worships the Roman Goddess Diana and is the ultimate form of feminism. Usually you can find these witches worshiping all three of Diana's aspects (the maiden, the crone, and the mother). This is biased off of the Dianic Wicca which came into being in the 1950's.

Druid- Many Druids meditation and ceremonies that mark important passages in nature engage in prayer, and worship nature. They follow a spiritual vision of life and don't follow any sacred texts.

Faery Witch- these witches are solitary and try to make contact with the fae and nature spirits.

Green Witch- another one that sounds exactly like it is. This witch works with Mother Earth and natural items. They mostly try to get closer to nature and it's energies through their practice.

Floral Witch- a type of Green Witch that uses mostly flowers and floral materials in their practices.

Herbal Witches- a type of Green Witch that uses mostly herbs and other types of plants in their practices.

Gardnerian Witch- a follower of Gardnerian Wicca stared by Gerald Gardner in the 1950's. These witches follow the strong beliefs of challenge religious and societal conventions, strong feelings for nature, and engage in colorful rituals. This kind of witchcraft needs an initiation from other members of Gardnerian Wicca and is not a solitary practice.

Hedge Witch- these witches are often powerful healers and midwives. They're symbolized by a bird (often a raven) and are very spiritual in Earth based practices. These witches are like shamans in the fact their connected to the spirit realm and messengers for the spirits and living alike.

Hereditary Witch- this is exactly what it sounds like. You become a hereditary witch if you're born into a family that practices witchcraft. However, witchcraft involves freedom of choice and you can choose to accept it or not.

Secular Witch- these witches don't believe in spirits or deities. They instead focus on the energies of nature. Usually these witches use stones, crystals, and herbs in their practices.

Shaman- these witches engage in shamanistic practices to reach altered states of conscientiousness. The point of this is to reach the spirit realm and communicate with good and evil spirits to channel their messages, performing divination, and healing.

Solitary Witch- this witch is exactly as the name suggests. They're completely solitary and legend has it they've practiced the craft over many lifetimes. When they hit puberty it is said their craft re-awakens and they are able to remember everything about their craft from their past lives.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#20yrsago SCO sends IBM 1,000,000 pieces of paper https://memex.craphound.com/2003/12/10/sco-sends-ibm-1000000-pieces-of-paper/

#20yrsago Urban farmers reclaim Detroit https://www.nytimes.com/2003/12/04/garden/in-the-capital-of-the-car-nature-stakes-a-claim.html

#15yrsago What the hell is a Credit Default Swap? https://web.archive.org/web/20090421013937/https://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio_episode.aspx?episode=365

#15yrsago EFF (cautiously) optimistic at record labels’ offering of a blanket license to universities https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2008/12/labels-open-collective-licensing-campus

#15yrsago Austin teacher threatens to sic cops on Linux group because “No software is free” https://web.archive.org/web/20081212115427/https://www.austinist.com/2008/12/10/aisd_teacher_throws_fit_over_studen.php

#10yrsago FreeBSD won’t use Intel & Via’s hardware random number generators, believes NSA has compromised them https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2013/12/we-cannot-trust-intel-and-vias-chip-based-crypto-freebsd-developers-say/

#10yrsago UK kids have the right to opt out of school fingerprinting (even if their parents are OK with it) https://informationrightsandwrongs.com/2013/12/07/the-kids-all-have-rights/

#10yrsago Canada’s spooks were NSA bagmen, established spy-posts in 20+ countries and “transnational targets” https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/snowden-document-shows-canada-set-up-spy-posts-for-nsa-1.2456886

#10yrsago Peak indifference to surveillance https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2013/dec/09/internet-surveillance-spying

#10yrsago Tech giants call for global surveillance law reform https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/12/eight-tech-giants-call-reform-surveillance-law

#10yrsago Cyanogenmod adds encrypted SMS from WhisperSystems https://web.archive.org/web/20131211063720/http://www.cyanogenmod.org/blog/whisperpush-secure-messaging-integration

#10yrsago Life from the near future of location surveillance https://www.aclu.org/issues/privacy-technology/location-tracking/meet-jack?redirect=meet-jack-or-what-government-could-do-all-location-data

#5yrsago Syndicated columnist censored for writing about the risks of hedge funds and billionaires buying papers https://www.texasobserver.org/the-jim-hightower-column-they-dont-want-you-to-read/

#5yrsago Rhode Island lawsuit argues that the Constitution guarantees a right to sufficient education to be an informed citizen https://theconversation.com/fight-for-federal-right-to-education-takes-a-new-turn-108322

#5yrsago Costa Rica abolished its army in 1949 and thereafter enjoyed the best per-capita GDP growth in the region https://www.ippapublicpolicy.org/file/paper/594eced12c818.pdf

[greenheartgirl]

Oh man, I have one of these to share too.

So I only worked for these people for one (1) day because I could see how bad it would be to stay. This was also a family that you've probably never heard of, but they were multi-billionaires that got that way from hedge fund management and had found their way into politics. The place was wild, even seeing how it worked for just a shift. I didn't meet any of the family. Just the people who worked for them, and that was trip enough on its own.

It was a multi-mansion estate. The parents and grandparents and kids all had their own mansions over this sprawling property, hundreds of acres of it. It was big enough and interspersed by enough woods and gardens that you couldn't see one place from another in most instances. All of it had to be meticulously cared for at all times, so the grounds staff was also huge. There was a lady who's sole job was to make fresh bouquets for the houses each day, despite the fact no one was there most of the year. Just in case they decided to show up suddenly. There were lots of people like that, taking care of empty mansions, buying and maintaining and throwing away things the owners would never see or care about, just in case.

There weren't much offered in the way of benefits. Basically just a meager health insurance policy (deductible so high it was nearly useless except in catastrophic situations.) No dental or vision included of course, because "The workers don't want that."

I was hired on to join the grounds team, and one of my questions during the interview was what happened in winter. You know, when the plants are all dormant so there's no gardening to do. I was assured that they don't lay off people in the winter - just find other projects for them to do. They haven't had to lay off people in years, it was stressed, so don't worry! When I asked around on my first day, everyone said they absolutely do get laid off in winter, often with no notice about exactly when it would happen.

The job itself was also a lie. I was hired on as a horticulturist and told I would be shadowing their other horticulturists for a bit to get a feel for the place, then be assigned an area with my own team to direct. What actually happened was they tossed me in their pool of general laborers and I spent 8 hours digging holes in the sun. When I asked when I would start doing the job they told me I would do, I was told "This is the job."

The people there were also weird, man. Like, the place had major stepford wives vibes. The employees seemed so beaten down from their jobs they barely talked to each other, or if they did talk, they just seemed to run through the same weird little circular nothing conversations. No mention of like... things they enjoyed or looked forward to. No talking about family or hobbies, or any of the usual stuff you would expect coworkers who have been together for years to talk about. Just spacy small talk. I heard people I was working near repeating conversations. It was bizarre.

And there was a super weird hierarchy going on between the workers. The break room had one table in it that could sit six people. There were at least 20 people in the grounds department alone. A spot at the table wasn't first come, first served. Only certain people were allowed to sit at it. Everyone else was just shit out of luck. From what I saw, the employees that weren't table-worthy were expected to eat outside in their work vehicles (think roofless golf carts), no matter the weather. There simply wasn't enough space inside for everyone at once. The only other places to sit inside were four or so straight-backed wooden chairs along a wall that seemed to be there more for decoration than anything else. There was one extremely downtrodden looking girl sitting in one of them, trying to balance her lunch in her lap, just barely out of range of the door when it would swing open. I was told if I had to sit somewhere for my break, I could sit in the chair next to her (the one directly behind the door, which had no clearance, so anytime it opened the door would slam into my knees.) Needless to say, I didn't take the chair. I walked the quarter mile out to the employee parking lot and ate lunch in my car.

All of this seemed to be some weird pecking order bullshit. There was no reason the staff all had to break at the same time. It was just a social pressure exerted by the senior staff, just "how things were done." Everyone had to break together, but only a privileged handful were allowed to do so in any kind of comfort.

The final red flag was something they "forgot" to mention to me during the interview. Which was the security team that would come in during the evenings, and the reason for the security team. Apparently sometimes "crazy people" (their words) would sneak onto the property to look for the family. This was only considered a problem at night when there weren't so many people around that someone would intercept them before they got close to the mansions. During the day, it was assumed the assorted workers around the property would somehow deal with this if it came up. Call the cops, and uh... just kinda keep working while someone potentially armed and/or mentally unwell runs around the property.

Typing this up, I realize I can't quite convey the creepy, uncomfortable impression the place made. It was beautiful property (the main reason I accepted the job) but the way the other employees acted and the casual disregard the senior staff had for them on the behalf of the owning family was... I can't describe it properly. The place seemed like it took something from the people there. No one seemed quite right, and I've worked in a lot of weird, semi-dehumanizing environments. This was by far the worst, even just seeing how it functioned for a short time. I'll never take another job working for the ultra-wealthy or those closely in their orbit again.

[duskrosecreatesstuff]

When inspiration hits ...

in the form of this image

and a somewhat unhinged conversation with @pedros-immaculate-vibes

you get something like this ...

(Yes, I will likely finish this, and yes, it will be smutty. Edited to properly link the beautiful piece by @daintysclaw that started this all.)

Halsin moved through the crowd with ease, using his size to his advantage, parting the clusters of masked party goers still lingering between the flowerbeds.  He moved with purpose, but not too quickly; he still took the time to return a nod here, a word there, cautious to stay blended in with the attendees of this masquerade party.  The last thing either of them needed was to draw attention; after all, they weren’t here as true guests, they were here as representatives of the local wildlife agency, ostensibly to ensure the event went smoothly, in reality to sneak a careful word here and there in the right ears, and ensure their funding for the next year.

How had she snuck through so quickly?  Her choice of a fox mask for this charity event seemed quite appropriate. His nostrils flared as he neared the entrance to the hedge maze, and caught her scent; her perfume mingled with the bouquet of the sparkling wine she had been sneaking the occasional glass of.  A perk of the evening, she had decided.  As the event had drawn on, he had noticed the sparkle of the wine touch her eyes, perhaps she had helped herself to one too many?  Or perhaps she simply had a devilish idea.

The latter, as it turned out.  She had noticed him standing off to one side, surveying the elite of the local councils and such from behind his bear mask.  He hadn’t missed her sidling up to him, her movements and the look on her face suited to her fox mask.  

“There you are.  I wanted to see if you might be up for a little fun.”

“Such as?” he murmured quietly, for her ears only.

“I thought you might like to try the hedge maze with me.” She tilted her head to look up at him, her smile and a raised eyebrow suggesting she had more on her mind than a gentle walk through the raised bushes.

“We’ve both been through there before.”

“Yes.  But-” she brought her lips close to his ear, as much to brush them against it, as to ensure her next words were for him alone. “-what if we made it a little game.  I’ll go in, you give me … hmm …  five minutes head start? And then you follow.  If you catch me before I get to the centre, you win.”

“And what would be my prize, little fox?”

She nipped gently at his ear, as she pressed her body in close to his. “I imagine my bear would love to devour his prey, wouldn’t he?” she whispered.

He gave a low moan, and grinned at her.  “Two.”

“Two?”

“You get two minutes.  Not five.  Now go.”

[ezequipmentrentalus]

Reasons to Think About Renting Equipment Right Away

The construction sector is still recovering gradually but steadily. Additionally, even though 59% of respondents said that purchasing is still the best financial option for construction owners, decision-makers are increasingly renting construction equipment and doing so much more than they did in the past. In general, rentals have increased significantly during the previous few years.

That pattern is still evident. What makes renting a car a more popular option? It's probably cash flow. Over the past ten years, we have learned that uncertainty is inevitable. Renting heavy machinery like auger rental near me helps to retain more cash on hand and acts as a hedge against economic instability because of its comparatively modest upfront costs.

When Deciding Whetherto Buy or Rent, Taking Into Account These Rental Advantages Could Have Significant Benefits: Enhanced Cash Flow Instead of committing funds with a significant upfront payment and financing fees, renting can recoup all costs using the money made by the current project. Additionally, there are no associated fees for warranties, insurance, storage, or transportation, and rental payments are immediately deductible, frees up even more money. Reduce the Danger to Your Business Renting does not require a long-term financial commitment. Upon completion of the project and payment, you return the equipment. This eliminates the chance that costly new equipment will sit around between jobs, lose value, and eventually become outdated. Additionally, renting increases uptime since if an auger rental machine breaks down while in use, replacements are usually available immediately.

More Adaptability A more extensive assortment of heavy equipment is kept in stock by most rental businesses than by any one construction company. Your ability to bid on projects that might otherwise be excluded due to equipment limits is increased. Knowing you'll have the necessary equipment if you get the project, you may bid with assurance. However, you won't be in danger if it goes to someone else. Access to Advanced Technological Equipment By renting, you may quickly add more effective and emissions-compliant machinery to your fleet and prevent equipment from becoming obsolete. Modern equipment can improve worker productivity and fuel efficiency, which raises per-hour profitability on the job site. It is also a potent bidding differentiator. Conclusion Renting allows you to save for the equipment without taking on debt or slowing down your cash flow. Auger rental near me can be a far more cost-effective choice for smaller businesses that might not need to use the same pieces of equipment regularly.

[starseedfxofficial]

Bitcoin Nears $108K: Hidden Signals Traders Must See The Secret Sauce Behind Bitcoin’s $108K Surge: What Traders Aren’t Seeing If Bitcoin’s latest moves were a blockbuster movie, we’d be at the edge of our seats. From teasing USD 108,000 to holding steady on its recent gains, Bitcoin is pulling some headline-worthy stunts—but as any savvy Forex trader knows, there’s always a plot twist lurking beneath the surface. And let’s not forget Ethereum. Trading above USD 4,000, it’s the wingman reminding us that there’s more to the story than BTC alone. If you’re skimming headlines, you might think these are just flashy numbers. But here’s the kicker: hidden market patterns and underground forces are at play, and they hold clues to your next big move. Let’s dive in. Fasten your seatbelt—no, not for a rollercoaster ride. For some exclusive insights you won’t find anywhere else. Why Bitcoin’s $108K Flirtation Matters—and What’s Next First, let’s set the stage. Bitcoin’s push toward $108K wasn’t random. Here’s where the magic happens: institutional buying pressure and shifting sentiment are playing a bigger role than ever. Remember, in Forex and crypto, crowd psychology can tip the scales faster than a trader closing a losing position. Let’s break down the signals you might’ve missed: - The FOMO Factor: Institutions see a price above $100K as psychological fuel. For retail traders, that’s like spotting a 70% discount tag—they can’t resist jumping in. - Supply Shock in Play: Bitcoin halving isn’t just some techy buzzword; it means fewer BTC entering the market. Basic economics, folks—limited supply + soaring demand = skyrocketing price potential. - Smart Money Patterns: Pay attention to the big players (or as we call them, ‘whales’). Whales were quietly stacking BTC throughout consolidation phases. By the time the masses noticed, the move was already underway. Pro Tip: Study whale movement using on-chain metrics. Tools like Glassnode or CryptoQuant can reveal hidden inflows and outflows—knowledge most traders overlook. Ethereum: Above $4,000 and Gaining Momentum While BTC grabs headlines, Ethereum has been running its own game north of USD 4,000—and smart traders are paying attention. Here’s why ETH isn’t just BTC’s sidekick: - The Network Effect: Ethereum’s utility underpins countless projects, from DeFi to NFTs. This isn’t speculation; it’s structural strength. - Institutional Confidence: Big players aren’t only banking on Bitcoin. Ethereum staking and smart contract dominance make it a long-term bet with teeth. - ETH 2.0 and Beyond: Upgrades like Ethereum 2.0 are creating lower gas fees and faster transactions. Translation: better fundamentals = higher confidence. Trading Insight: When Bitcoin surges, Ethereum often follows with stronger percentage gains—it’s the lagging opportunity you should always watch. The Hidden Signals Smart Traders Catch Let’s talk shop. The big moves don’t happen on news days; they’re forecasted by early signals most traders don’t see: - On-Chain Analysis: Before price booms, on-chain data reveals increased whale accumulation. - Funding Rates: Track perpetual swap funding rates. When they’re unusually low despite bullish moves, the market is primed for more upside. - The Sentiment Trap: When everyone’s euphoric (read: Twitter flooded with moon emojis), take profits. When fear is rampant, start positioning. Example: Remember Bitcoin’s 2021 surge? Funding rates spiked before the retracement. Advanced traders hedged and locked profits while the retail crowd bought tops. Game-Changing Strategies for Traders How can you turn today’s headlines into tomorrow’s wins? Here are four elite tactics: - Shadow the Whales: Use on-chain tools to track large BTC and ETH transactions. If whales are accumulating, position yourself before the next move. - Cross-Market Correlation: Watch how Bitcoin interacts with major Forex pairs (e.g., USD/JPY). A weakening dollar often fuels Bitcoin’s rise. - Trade the Retests: After Bitcoin breaches a major level like $108K, smart money waits for a retest of support before adding positions. - Focus on Liquidity Zones: Price often consolidates near liquidity-rich areas. Mark these levels on your charts to avoid chasing moves. What Most Traders Are Missing (And Why You’re Different) Here’s a contrarian take: chasing headlines is a losing game. By the time news hits your feed, smart traders have already acted. Instead, focus on leading indicators like on-chain metrics, sentiment analysis, and liquidity shifts. These tools give you an edge—helping you see where the market is headed before everyone else catches on. Quick Recap: - Bitcoin testing $108K signals growing institutional interest and supply pressures. - Ethereum above $4,000 is driven by network dominance and structural upgrades. - Hidden signals like on-chain data and funding rates are your crystal ball for predicting future moves. Next Steps: Build Your Edge - Stay updated on market moves with StarseedFX Forex News for exclusive insights and real-time updates. - Learn advanced strategies with free resources at StarseedFX Forex Courses. - Join our community for insider tips and live analysis at StarseedFX Community Membership. - Refine your strategies with our Free Trading Journal and Smart Trading Tool. Remember, the traders who succeed aren’t those chasing trends—they’re the ones predicting them. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated   Read the full article