#low skilled workers

[performing-personhood]

[awkward-teabag]

Can't even mention that a store near me is clearly using abusing the TFW program because they refuse to pay little more than minimum wage in a high cost of living area (also you won't get benefits and you'll only be part-time) because the fascists and right-wingers will jump in to say it's about immigration and white replacement.

No, it's because rich white people want to hoard even more money and found an intentional loophole to both make more money (via paying employees less) and also have more power over employees, employees who may or may not know Canadian employment laws (or safety laws) and even if they do, don't have the ability or support to try to hold the company accountable.

You can absolutely criticize the federal government for keeping the loophole open but it predates Trudeau by decades and it was Harper who both expanded the program and added a way for companies to fast-track TFWs. It was also under Harper that companies started firing Canadians (or not hiring them) and then requesting permission to mass-hire TFWs instead.

But the way the right wing talks, you would think Trudeau started this whole thing and the poor multi-million and multi-billion dollar companies are being taken advantage of. Also that housing prices, lack of new developments, and zoning issues started with Trudeau and are the fault of mass-immigration he has a boner for instead of being an issue for decades and experts warning this would happen if governments didn't act ASAP.

Instead the neolibs and cons kept cutting back and kicking that can down the road, a can that started being kicked by Mulroney and the Conservative Party.

[rubberbandballqueen]

hmm i have like, 500-600 taiwan dollars leftover in a tin from the last time i visited relatives... i wonder what would happen if i just handed it to my little cousins like. "yep. here is gift. have fun."

[karizipan]

supposed orv movie talks going on...

[girlwarlock]

feeling a lil hopeless re art being used w/o permission for ai training sets

one of the things that kind of makes me despair a bit [and i have to consciously push that feeling down] with regard to people scraping vast swaths of media to train machine learning algorithms to make digital art or to imitate voices or churn out trash-tier derivative fiction or whatever is like...

how do you stop it? strengthening IP law is the kneejerk response but any kind of ''IP owners can dictate what kind of transformative works can be based on their IP'' regulations will immediately be used by eg disney to banhammer fanart they don't like, and would be too expensive for the majority of individual artists to engage with if they wanted to use it.

you can try to exert pressure on consumer preference but a lot of the pressure driving development of ai art [and the theft of artists' works to fuel it] comes from businesses that don't want to pay already-underpaid artists in order to get their cover art or ad images or whatever--what the average person online wants matters less than what publishers and ad agencies and whatever want.

a universal basic income would allow artists to be creative full time even when large customers refuse to use them, but that would make rich people's money slightly sad, so it's forbidden under capitalism.

i just- what do you do?

[awkward-teabag]

And the GDP is doing great! Just ignore all the people being fired and who are unemployed. The GDP says the economy is doing fine so everything must be fine and everyone is happy.

Sure everything is twice as expensive as 3 years ago but at least we also didn't beat covid

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[dragonomatopoeia]

i feel like i'm losing my mind why has the AI debate pivoted away from material/labor concerns back to debates about Real vs Fake Art. cannot express just how little i care about relitigating Art and high art and low art and skilled vs unskilled art. what i care about is the treatment and compensation of workers, the power corporations are exerting over intellectual property and creators, the continued extraction of resources, and the omnipresent glut of spam and disinformation with few or no regulations/resources that filter out the SEO AI generated nonsense

[anime-academia]

Happy Worker's Day y'all

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #26

July 5-12 2024

The IRS announced it had managed to collect $1 billion in back taxes from high-wealth tax cheats. The program focused on persons with more than $1 million in yearly income who owned more than $250,000 in unpaid taxes. Thanks to money in Biden's 2022 Inflation Reduction Act the IRS is able to undertake more enforcement against rich tax cheats after years of Republicans cutting the agency's budget, which they hope to do again if they win power again.

The Biden administration announced a $244 million dollar investment in the federal government’s registered apprenticeship program. This marks the largest investment in the program's history with grants going out to 52 programs in 32 states. The President is focused on getting well paying blue collar opportunities to people and more people are taking part in the apprenticeship program than ever before. Republican pledge to cut it, even as employers struggle to find qualified workers.

The Department of Transportation announced the largest single project in the department's history, $11 billion dollars in grants for the The Hudson River Tunnel. Part of the $66 billion the Biden Administration has invested in our rail system the tunnel, the most complex Infrastructure project in the nation would link New York and New Jersey by rail under the Hudson. Once finished it's believed it'll impact 20% of the American economy by improving and speeding connection throughout the Northeast.

The Department of Energy announced $1.7 billion to save auto worker's jobs and convert factories to electronic vehicles. The Biden administration will used the money to save or reopen factories in Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Maryland, and Virginia and retool them to make electric cars. The project will save 15,000 skilled union worker jobs, and created 2,900 new high-quality jobs.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development reached a settlement with The Appraisal Foundation over racial discrimination. TAF is the organization responsible for setting standards and qualifications for real estate appraisers. The Bureau of Labor Statistics last year found that TAF was 94.7% White and 0.6% Black, making it the least racially diverse of the 800 occupations surveyed. Black and Latino home owners are far more likely to have their houses under valued than whites. Under the settlement with HUD TAF will have to take serious steps to increase diversity and remove structural barriers to diversity.

The Department of Justice disrupted an effort by the Russian government to influence public opinion through AI bots. The DoJ shut down nearly 1,000 twitter accounts that were linked to a Russian Bot farm. The bots used AI technology to not only generate tweets but also AI image faces for profile pictures. The effort seemed focused on boosting support for Russia's war against Ukraine and spread negative stories/impressions about Ukraine.

The Department of Transportation announces $1.5 billion to help local authorities buy made in America buses. 80% of the funding will go toward zero or low-emission technology, a part of the President's goal of reaching zero emissions by 2050. This is part of the $5 billion the DOT has spent over the last 3 years replacing aging buses with new cleaner technology.

President Biden with Canadian Prime Minster Justin Trudeau and Finnish President Alexander Stubb signed a new agreement on the arctic. The new trilateral agreement between the 3 NATO partners, known as the ICE Pact, will boost production of ice breaking ships, the 3 plan to build as many as 90 between them in the coming years. The alliance hopes to be a counter weight to China's current dominance in the ice breaker market and help western allies respond to Russia's aggressive push into the arctic waters.

The Department of Transportation announced $1.1 billion for greater rail safety. The program seeks to, where ever possible, eliminate rail crossings, thus removing the dangers and inconvenience to communities divided by rail lines. It will also help update and improve safety measures at rail crossings.

The Department of the Interior announced $120 million to help tribal communities prepare for climate disasters. This funding is part of half a billion dollars the Biden administration has spent to help tribes build climate resilience, which itself is part of a $50 billion dollar effort to build climate resilience across the nation. This funding will help support drought measures, wildland fire mitigation, community-driven relocation, managed retreat, protect-in-place efforts, and ocean and coastal management.

The USDA announced $100 million in additional funds to help feed low income kids over the summer. Known as "SUN Bucks" or "Summer EBT" the new Biden program grants the families of kids who qualify for free meals at school $120 dollars pre-child for groceries. This comes on top of the traditional SUN Meals program which offers school meals to qualifying children over the summer, as well as the new under President Biden SUN Meals To-Go program which is now offering delivery of meals to low-income children in rural areas. This grant is meant to help local governments build up the Infrastructure to support and distribute SUN Bucks. If fully implemented SUN Bucks could help 30 million kids, but many Republican governors have refused the funding.

USAID announced its giving $100 million to the UN World Food Program to deliver urgently needed food assistance in Gaza. This will bring the total humanitarian aid given by the US to the Palestinian people since the war started in October 2023 to $774 million, the single largest donor nation. President Biden at his press conference last night said that Israel and Hamas have agreed in principle to a ceasefire deal that will end the war and release the hostages. US negotiators are working to close the final gaps between the two sides and end the war.

The Senate confirmed Nancy Maldonado to serve as a Judge on the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals. Judge Maldonado is the 202nd federal Judge appointed by President Biden to be confirmed. She will the first Latino judge to ever serve on the 7th Circuit which covers Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin.

Bonus: At the NATO summit in Washington DC President Biden joined 32 allies in the Ukraine compact. Allies from Japan to Iceland confirmed their support for Ukraine and deepening their commitments to building Ukraine's forces and keeping a free and Democratic Ukraine in the face of Russian aggression. World leaders such as British Prime Minster Keir Starmer, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, French President Emmanuel Macron, and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, praised President Biden's experience and leadership during the NATO summit

[dksfml]

Love 119 [Part One]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part two] [part three]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: workplace tension, constant bickering, fluff (trust me) word count: 2.7k summary: jungwon and you made it a habit to constantly be at each other's throats, especially in the emergency room. while he barked orders, you fired back just as fiercely. but once the doors closed, the tension shifted into a warm intimacy that only you two knew. author's note: self-indulgent fic because i've seen no one writing this trope

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip behind the skyline when the call came in—an emergency at a construction site on the outskirts of the city.

Jungwon barely had time to glance at his watch before he was in motion, his team falling in line behind him as the sirens wailed and the ambulance tore through the city streets.

Arriving at the site, chaos greeted them. Workers were clustered around a man lying motionless on the ground, his hard hat cracked and discarded nearby, dust and debris littering the air. Jungwon’s jaw tightened, taking in the scene in a flash. This wasn’t good.

“Let’s move,” he barked, his tone sharp but calm, his team already spreading out as they grabbed the necessary equipment from the ambulance.

He strode forward with an authoritative air, his well-built frame and broad shoulders drawing more than a few eyes from the construction workers, some of whom were openly staring at him, their faces filled with a mix of concern and awe.

“Step back, please,” Jungwon said firmly but politely, the workers quickly making way as he knelt down beside the injured man.

His dark hair, just a bit tousled from the rush, caught the light, and the sharp angles of his jawline seemed even more pronounced against the backdrop of the gritty site. His team watched him with admiration; Jungwon always exuded this calm, confident charm that somehow made even the most panicked scenes feel manageable.

Jungwon quickly assessed the man’s condition. The patient was unconscious, his breathing shallow. One of his teammates handed over the stethoscope, and Jungwon listened intently to the faint sounds of the man’s breathing. His brow furrowed.

“Possible head trauma. We’ve got low oxygen saturation,” he muttered under his breath, signaling for the oxygen mask as his hands moved swiftly yet delicately over the man’s body, checking for fractures and injuries.

His every move was precise, commanding attention—not just because of his skill but the way he carried himself. Even in the face of an emergency, he looked collected, like he was born to handle the pressure.

"Jungwon," his teammate called from the side, holding the patient's chart. "No significant external bleeding. We’ve got a weak pulse though, around 130, BP's borderline. We need to get him out of here fast."

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed as he nodded, quickly making a decision. “Let’s secure his airway first and immobilize his spine. We can’t risk any movement.” He made the call as he smoothly slid the oxygen mask onto the patient’s face, adjusting it with a gentleness that contrasted the urgency of the situation. His fingers brushed over the man’s wrist, checking his pulse again. A slight frown creased his forehead.

With practiced ease, his team set up a backboard to stabilize the patient, while Jungwon prepared to radio the hospital. His deep voice echoed through the dust-laden air, crisp and calm. “We’re looking at a possible internal bleed or brain injury—trauma to the head, decreased GCS. Get Y/N on standby. She’ll want to know.”

He tapped his earpiece, dialing straight into the hospital, his tone switching effortlessly into that of a strict professional.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice filled with authority as he spoke into the receiver, “we’ve got a situation here. Male, late twenties, unconscious after a fall from height—GCS is 4. We’ve administered oxygen and immobilized his spine, but he’s unresponsive. Internal injuries are likely.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, before your voice came through, crisp and all business. “Vitals?”

Jungwon rattled off the numbers, his tone growing sharper as he outlined the gravity of the situation. “BP’s dropping fast, pulse is weak, pupils uneven—one’s blown. It’s not looking good.”

“Get him here as fast as you can,” you replied, your voice steady. “We’ll be ready when you arrive. I need him in trauma two for imaging, and you better give me a detailed report when you get here.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes subtly, though no one else could hear his exasperation. “Of course, Doctor. Just make sure the room’s prepped.” His sarcasm was impossible to miss, but before you could retort, he was already motioning for his team to get the stretcher ready.

“Let’s get moving,” he said, standing up in one fluid motion, his wide shoulders casting a shadow over the patient as he signaled for the transfer. His team lifted the man onto the gurney, Jungwon guiding them every step of the way. Despite the intensity of the moment, there was something about the way he commanded the situation—his deep voice, his piercing gaze, the way he moved like a force of nature—that made even a frantic scene seem a little calmer.

Jungwon was the kind of guy people listened to, the kind of guy people looked up to. Even with the weight of the situation hanging over him, he held his head high, taking charge like it was second nature. His team moved quickly, securing the patient in the ambulance as Jungwon gave one last glance to the scene before climbing in.

“Let’s go,” he said firmly, and with the wail of sirens, they sped off toward the hospital.

Jungwon stormed through the emergency room doors with a sense of purpose, his jaw clenched as he guided the gurney toward the trauma bay. “28-year-old male, head trauma, GCS of 4, possible internal bleeding. Move it!” His voice boomed with authority, eyes scanning the room as the ER team sprang into action.

The chaos of the emergency room was nothing new, but today it seemed more charged than usual. The tension was thick as the nurses hurried to get the trauma room prepped, doctors barking orders as they readied themselves. And at the center of it all was you—focused, sharp-eyed, already gloved up and waiting.

The moment Jungwon and his team wheeled the patient in, your eyes met his, a silent exchange of understanding mixed with the tension that always crackled between them in moments like this. Not that anyone would’ve noticed—your constant bickering was practically a feature of every shift.

You stepped forward, your voice cutting through the noise of the room. “Trauma two is open. Let’s get him in fast!”

The team followed your lead, transferring the patient from the gurney to the hospital bed with swift efficiency. Jungwon stayed close, hands still gripping the rails of the stretcher as if he was unwilling to relinquish control.

“You took too long with the vitals report,” you said, throwing him a sharp glance. “We could’ve been in there five minutes ago.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed. “We did take the vitals. Maybe if you paid attention, you’d know that.”

“Excuse me?” you shot back, your gaze never leaving the patient as you worked to stabilize him. “I don’t need a paramedic trying to tell me how to do my job. We had a plan, and your delay didn’t help.”

Jungwon glared, his voice low and clipped. “Maybe if your plan didn’t waste time on unnecessary scans, we wouldn’t have needed a second round of intubation last time.”

Your hands froze for a split second before you caught yourself. You threw him a withering look. “This again? You think you can waltz in here and play doctor, Jungwon?”

“I’m not playing doctor. I’m trying to make sure you don’t screw it up.” His tone was biting, but professional, and the tension in the room rose instantly.

One of the nurses stepped back, shaking her head. “Here they go again.”

You didn’t back down, leaning closer as you adjusted the IV line. “How about you leave the doctoring to me, and I’ll leave the paramedic work to you? We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Jungwon took a breath, his expression unreadable for a moment, his frustration barely contained. “Fine. Just don’t mess it up.”

“Same to you,” you retorted, not missing a beat.

Before Jungwon could respond, one of the nurses interrupted. “Dr. Y/N, patient’s BP is dropping.”

Instantly, you refocused, the banter dropped as quickly as it had escalated. “Let’s get the trauma panel done. We need to stabilize him before moving for imaging. Prep the fluids.”

Jungwon watched you work, his arms still crossed, but he didn’t say another word. Despite the constant arguing, there was no denying that you are incredible at your job. Even in the most high-pressure situations, you were in complete control.

You worked together in tense silence, the only sounds in the room now the soft beeps of the monitors and the quiet shuffling of the medical team around them. Jungwon’s team lingered just outside, waiting for their next call, though they couldn’t help but glance back inside the room occasionally, accustomed to the combative exchanges between Jungwon and you.

As the patient’s vitals finally stabilized, you took a step back, letting out a quiet breath. “We’re clear to take him to imaging now. Good work, everyone,” you called to the team, your voice steady once more.

Jungwon uncrossed his arms, walking past you toward the door. “You’re welcome,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You narrowed your eyes at his back but said nothing. You didn’t need to. Your argument had run its course for now.

Thirty minutes later, with the patient stable and prepped for surgery, you stepped out of the trauma room, pulling off your gloves. Jungwon was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, that same tight-lipped look on his face.

“Everything go okay, or did I miss something else?” he asked, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

You glared at him. “Yeah, we managed just fine without your commentary, thanks.”

“Good,” Jungwon muttered, pushing himself off the wall and adjusting his jacket. “Maybe next time you won’t waste so much time arguing.”

“Maybe next time you’ll do your job and get out of my way,” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You love being in control, don’t you?” Jungwon’s eyes glinted, his voice dropping low as he stepped closer. “Can’t handle someone else calling the shots, huh?”

You crossed your arms, your gaze unyielding. “I don’t need to handle anything, least of all you.”

“Trust me, I’m not asking for much,” he replied with a smirk, his voice oozing with challenge.

You scoffed, brushing past him. “Try asking for less.”

Jungwon shook his head with an exasperated sigh as he watched you walk away, but his lips twitched ever so slightly. The others on their teams didn’t even blink. This was just how the both of you were. They were used to it by now—the biting remarks, the challenges, the constant back-and-forth. Every time Jungwon’s ambulance showed up, it was only a matter of time before you and him were at each other’s throats again.

Hours later, the hospital had quieted down. The rush of the afternoon was over, and most of the staff had gone home. You and Jungwon had managed to avoid each other for the rest of your shifts, though your earlier argument still hung in the air like static.

You finally peeled off your gloves after your last appointment and scrubbed your hands clean, your mind replaying the events of the day. You were tired, drained even, but there was something about that last spat with Jungwon that wouldn’t stop gnawing at you. Maybe it was the way he always had a smug retort ready or how he never backed down from your challenges.

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. “Annoying paramedic,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing your coat and heading out of the ER.

Your apartment wasn’t far from the hospital, a quiet space tucked away from the noise of the city. By the time you have arrived, your exhaustion had fully settled in, your body craving rest.

You pushed open the door and was greeted by the sound of faint rustling from the kitchen.

“Rough day?” a familiar voice asked, soft and warm.

You smiled, the tension from earlier melting away. There, standing in the kitchen in the same paramedic uniform that had driven you crazy just hours ago, was Jungwon. His hair was a little disheveled now, his expression soft and boyish, the strict leader of the paramedic team completely gone.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, walking over to him, your eyes catching on his broad shoulders, still defined under the crisp lines of his uniform. Jungwon turned around, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat when you see his easy smile, so different from the sharp tone he used at work.

Without another word, Jungwon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The scent of antiseptic still clung to his uniform, mixed with the faintest hint of his cologne. You closed your eyes and let yourself melt against him, the weight of the day slipping away. You buried your face into his shoulder, feeling the strong muscles beneath the fabric, and sighed softly.

“You’re lucky I put up with you,” he teased, reaching for your hand and pulling your close. “Even after you yelled at me for no reason.”

“I didn’t yell for no reason,” you protested, but your voice had lost all its sharpness, softened by the warmth of being home. You leaned against his chest, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, maybe I did. But only because you deserved it.”

Jungwon chuckled, his arms wrapping around you more tightly. “Sure, I deserved it. You really hate me that much, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no heat behind it as you melted into his embrace. “The worst,” you muttered, though your fingers played with the collar of his uniform.

Jungwon smirked, resting his chin on top of your head. “Good thing we’ve got the whole night to make up for it, then.”

“You’re still in your uniform,” you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. But inside, your mind was in chaos. His broad shoulders. The way he held you. The authority he exuded at work seemed to linger here, too, but only just enough to make your heart race.

Jungwon chuckled, his hand moving up to cup the back of your head. “I thought you liked me in uniform.”

You groaned, your cheeks flushing. “Stop it. I’m tired.”

“Liar,” he teased, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His own softened as he took in your face, the familiar tenderness filling his gaze. “You love it.”

And he wasn’t wrong. As strict and commanding as you could be at work, here with him, you couldn’t help but feel weak in his arms. You were whipped for him in every sense of the word, even if you would never admit it out loud.

Jungwon kissed the top of your head, his earlier bravado fading into a gentle affection. “Come on. Let’s get you out of these scrubs and cuddle.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that only he ever got to hear. “You’re the one who’s going to change first. That uniform’s distracting.”

“I knew it,” he grinned, but without missing a beat, he started peeling off his jacket, revealing the tight black undershirt beneath that highlighted his lean muscles. You had to look away before you lost yourself completely.

As you settled onto the couch, your limbs tangled together in the quiet of their apartment, the world outside felt a million miles away. In here, there were no patients to save, no colleagues to impress, no reputations to uphold. It was just the both of you.

Jungwon nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his earlier strictness replaced by a cuteness that only you got to see. “You’re such a pain at work, you know that?”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re not so easy yourself.”

And just like that, the bickering, the tension, all of it faded away. Because here, in your shared apartment, away from the chaos of the ER and the expectations of their coworkers, you were just you and Jungwon—no titles, no arguments. Just two people who loved each other, even if you never let anyone else know.

[part two] [part three]

[thenewdemocratus]

The Democratic Strategist: Robert Creamer: How to Fight Economic Inequality

Source:The New Democrat  Perhaps someone should explain to me how someone with a good education, who works hard and is very productive and makes a lot of money for the work they do and what they produce, how that is unfair for that person to be as financially successful as they are compared with someone who doesn’t have much of an education and perhaps didn’t finish high school, who struggles…

[eldritch-bf]

Macha’s chapter is literally just: are you scared of people copying your keys without your knowledge? like when you get work done to your car and leave the keys with the staff? no? would you like to be?

[roses-r-rosie3]

Buttons

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Semi public sex, blindfolding, handjob, spit as lube,

Requested by anon:

detective reader with jason todd? the readers really good at investigating and have a lot of important intel on a crime boss that jason is also targeting, when the detective is alone in the office jason is waiting there in the dark ready to get some info, but the reader is very reluctant to give sensitive information to a vigilante. so jason fucks it out of the reader over his desk? until the reader is begging and babbling out information so easily also i'd say this is their first time meeting ok thanks have a good day/night

A/n: This was the fic I was talking about when I posted this 😭

Quote: “You know… I was just going to force you to give me the information, but it looks like you want me to fuck it out of you”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were one of the best detectives in Gotham. ‘Why?’ You may ask, well it was because your skills at investigating. As a kid you always loved watching shows like scooby doo. You would constantly try to guess who was behind the mask (you were right most of the time). So it didn’t surprise your parents/friends when you got a job at the gcpd.

When you joined the gcpd, you were one of the youngest rookies at the time, so whenever you would try to input some of your ideas, your superiors would immediately shut you down. It wasn’t until you broke a career-defining case that you earned everyone’s respect, even Bruce himself was impressed. Because of that, you eventually became Gotham’s best and youngest detectives that there was.

So when news broke that there was a new crime boss in town, you were first on the case. However, Jason was also interested in this new Crime Boss, and he didn’t really feel like investigating, so he decided why not just try to get Information from you. Of course, Jason could’ve just asked someone like Tim but everyone else was too busy with their own problems that they didn’t have time for the Crime Boss.

Jason obviously knew about you, youngest detective in Gotham blah blah blah… but the problem was, the two of you have never formally met before. But who knows maybe Jason would get lucky and you would just hand over the information, even though Jason knew the chances were very low (but hey a boy could only hope).

You were in your office, staying overtime to investigate. It was currently 4am and your body was basically running on coffee. You were super invested in this case and nothing was going to stop you. However, you eventually decided to give yourself a little break to use the restroom and get some more coffee.

You said your ‘hi’s to your co-workers before walking back to your office. When got to the door you waved to everyone before walking in and closing the door behind you. After you placed your beverage down on your desk sensed someone behind you. You immediately pulled out your gun from your belt and pointed it at the figure.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” You asked.

“Damn, not bad detective” the figure chuckled.

“Answer me goddamn it who are you” you growled.

The figure walked forward, closer to the light in the office. The figure was revealed to be red hood. You knew who red hood was, I mean how couldn’t you know who he was! He was a famous vigilante and he made your job a lot harder than it already was.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, with your gun still pointing at him.

“I’m here because of the new gang leader in town” Jason answered.

“He’s a crime boss” you replied snarlingly.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I meant” Jason rolled his eyes.

“What about him?” You said.

“I need you to give me some information about him” Jason replied.

“I can’t tell you that, it’s classified information” you said, gripping your gun tighter.

“That’s what I thought you would say, but I’m afraid I’m that I’m not taking no as an answer” Jason said as he walked closer to you.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer! I’ll shoot!” You said.

Jason let out a chuckle before quickly knocking the gun out of your hand. Jason started to slowly walk towards you, until you felt yourself bump into your desk behind you.

“What’s your answer now detective?” Jason said as he towered over you.

“No” you said, standing your ground.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” Jason sighed before he put his hands around your throat as he choked you lightly.

You tried not to make any noise, but a moan slipped out of your mouth as his grip tightened a little. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a bulge started to form in your pants too. Eventually you got so hard to the point where Jason could feel your cock rubbing against his.

“Oh, you pervert” Jason smirked behind his mask.

“You know… I was just going to force you to give me the information, but it looks like you want me to fuck it out of you” Jason whispered against your ears as he slowly started to rub your crotch.

“N-no it’s not like that, you’re not getting the information” you tried to say as he started rubbing your crotch at an even faster rate.

“Are you sure about that detective?” Jason chuckled as unzipped your fly and slipped his hands into your boxers.

You moaned loudly as Jason rubbed your tip, spreading your precum. You whined, bucking up into his hand. Your eyes hung low, squeezing shut as he brushed over your tip.

“It seems to me like you’re enjoying this quite a bit” Jason said as continued teasing you.

All of a sudden, Jason started stroking you fast and tight around your sensitive dick. You whimpered as he stroked your cock faster and faster. Just when you were about to cum, Jason swiftly pulled his hand away. But before you could even complain, Jason quickly took the tie around you neck and wrapped it around your eyes.

“Can’t have you seeing my face now can I?” Jason smirked under his mask.

Jason took of his mask and tossed it to the side before sloppily making out with you. You were completely under his control at this point, I mean you were completely blinded what else could you do (and it felt good too).

Before you were being bent over with your ass facing Jason’s direction. You shivered as you felt Jason pull down your trousers and boxers. Jason spit on his fingers and slowly inserted his fingers into your hole, smirking at your reactions.

You huffed, your fingers clawing the table and a tight sound escaping him as Jason pressed his slick fingers into your hole. When Jason felt like you were loose enough he pulled his fingers out and slowly started to pull out his cock.

You were now impatiently waiting as Jason took his sweet time. When you finally heard Jason pull his cock out, he started teasing your hole with his tip. You gasped as you felt his tip teasing your hole.

“Last chance to tell me the information before I destroy your hole detective” Jason said.

“I-I’m not telling you s-shit” you said, still trying your best to stand your ground.

“You brought this on yourself” Jason sighed as he pushed himself all the way inside of you.

Jason slowly started to roll his hips, hearing as you whimpered. He started pulled out slowly, but suddenly he harshly slammed back into you, causing you to let out a loud moan. Jason gripped onto your hips tightly, undeniably leaving bruises as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

Pleasure took over your mind as you were being ruthlessly fucked by Jason on your desk. You were trying hard not to moan too loud because your co-workers were right outside the door, and god forbid if one of them came inside your room. Jason however, did not like the fact you were trying to silence yourself, so he started thrusting faster and deeper, hitting your prostate.

While Jason was pounding you, he hit a particular spot that made you let out a loud moan. He smiled to himself before pulling out and then ramming down on the same spot repeatedly. You were a mess at this point, you were begging for him to fuck you harder as sweat coated your body. And before you knew it, you were mindlessly muttering out the information.

“W-warehouse… Ah! At- p-please~ M-Miller Harbor…” you mumbled.

Jason chuckled to himself. You, a detective with a phenomenal reputation, falling apart and becoming a whiny mess just because of Jason. You could feel ever pulsing vein on Jason’s cock as he fucked you.

You see, before this whole fiasco happened, Jason was doing some research on you. He found out all sorts of things about you, one of them being that you were in the running to be the next captain. So while he was thrusting into you, he thought why not taunt you with this information.

“Do you really think they’ll make you captain after this? Gotham’s best detective giving out information, just because he’s being fucked like a slut” Jason smirked against your neck.

You were as dicked down as one could be, the tie around your eyes was soaked in your tears, flushed cheeks, shaky legs, bruised hips, and covered in your own sweat. But you still managed to cling on to a bit of information, which was pretty impressive.

Jason could tell you were close, but he could also tell you still had pieces of information that he wanted. So he gripped onto your cock so that you couldn’t cum, and pounded faster. He pulled your hair so that your head was up against his shoulder.

“I know you’re close, so why don’t you just tell me a bit more information and I’ll let you cum detective” Jason whispered as licked up and down your neck.

You tried, you really tried to hold on, but the combination of Jason’s thrusts, and his mouth licking and biting at your neck and earlobe made you break.

“His first name is G-Gra-AH-nt, his last name is Mikhail, he came from R-russia and moved over to Gotham for weapon.. ngh… trading a drug deals j-just please let me cum!” You blurted.

“Good job, you earned it detective” Jason smirked as he started jerking you off at the same rate as his thrusts.

Before you knew it, you let out a loud whimper as you spilled your load all over Jason’s hands and your desk. Your brain was complete mush as Jason chased his release.

“S-so tight around my cock” Jason groaned.

Jason pulled your head towards his and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss as his one of his hands gripped tightly around your hips. He thrusted deeply into you, one last time before releasing his load into your wrecked hole.

Jason waited a moment to collect himself before pulling out. He chuckled as he watched his cum trickle out of your hole. He looked at his hands that was covered with your seed and tasted it.

“Damn, you got a pretty good load” Jason teased before cleaning both of you up.

After you were both cleaned up, Jason quickly left, leaving you there with the aftermath. You were too tired (your legs were too sore) to drive home at this point, so you decided to sleep in your office for the day.

When you woke up, let’s just say you were met with one of the worst days of your life. First, you had a really bad limp that would probably last weeks. Second, it turns out Jason took all that information and ended up putting the guy in Arkham Asylum. And third, he was getting all the praise for “solving the case all on his own”.

You were beyond angry. You had to get your payback somehow.

[6ronze]

TATTOOIST?

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ — l&ds character : sylus format : short scenarios/HC warnings : nsfw. mdni. clothed fingering. orgasm denial. some inaccurate terms probably. fem!reader. reader already has some other tattoos on her. long story short : tattooist!sylus thoughts notes : sylus is a normal man here so no wanderers, no Onychinus, only Linkon City

tattooist!sylus that would start picking up doing tattoos because of a friend that was short on workers. He never had any interest in the art but became good at it anyway due to his undeniably stable and skilled hands. tattooist!sylus who would come in early to set up the place to his liking—all the equipment, the furniture, he would readjust it all until the friend who recruited him would wonder who really owned the place.

tattooist!sylus that would wouldn’t bother greeting the customers, merely paying them an acknowledging look before asking what type of tattoo they wanted on them. If it was an intricate design, he wouldn’t shy away from being their artist since he trusted himself more enough for the task.

tattooist!sylus that would lead you in to a room with a portable bed shifted to a chair after seeing the design you wanted on your lower back. All the while you sat on it facing the backrest, lifting your shirt up above your stomach. As you shifted on the seat comfortably, tattooist!sylus was getting ready the needles and tattoo gun, putting on his gloves and subtly stealing glances your laid up body, appreciating the curve of your ass that was enough to steal his attention for longer than intended.

tattooist!sylus that sits on a separate stool facing your back, prepping your skin before starting to draw on your delicate skin. Usually with his stable hand, he didn’t need more than a hand and the other to wipe the excess ink—but this time, he decided to put his free hand to use.

tattooist!sylus that would place his left hand on your hip while the other continued to draw on your skin, the texture of the black latex glove on your skin making you shift your head slightly. You could feel it, his fingers running over your stomach and his thumb gently pressing your back. His hold on your hip along with the subtle stinging pain of the needle puncturing your skin rapidly made you confused on which sensation to focus on, making you confused if the subtle rub your thighs were because of the friction of grinding against the bed, or if it was because of his hand that kept moving from your hips, to your thighs, then ultimately to the curve of your back.

tattooist!sylus that would start small talk between the process of tattooing you, only knowing how to start it by teasing the other tattoos he sees on your body. tattooist!sylus that would subtly flirt with you, not hiding how he wants to get in your panties by briefly hooking his gloved finger over the waistband on your pants, his crimson eyes gleaming at the sight of your panties.

tattooist!sylus that would ask if you liked the pain, or the numbness. He didn’t mention the specifics, didn’t mention what caused pain, only if you liked pain.

tattooist!sylus that would wrap your freshly made tattoo on your lower back and utter a praise in a low voice, his hands moving to hold each side of your hips, calling you a good girl for taking all that pain without as much as a whine—though he had to mention he didn’t miss the way your back arched when his needled pierced certain areas of your skin.

tattooist!sylus that would lean in close to you, asking why you haven’t any effort to move and get off the bed even when he was done with you. He would dismiss your reasoning to blame him for trapping you. tattooist!sylus that would start kissing up your spine, his tongue poking out to taste your skin along your other tattoos scattered on your back until he reached your lifted shirt, his hands moving to take off the gloves and start slithering them around your body, his fingers skimming over your stomach until they reached your tits, cupping them in his big hands to fondle and tease you about them.

tattooist!sylus that would make you press up against the backrest of the bed further until you had your ass spread and on display for him, your pants running lower due to your parted legs. tattooist!sylus that shift closer to you, hands now sliding downwards to cup your the flesh of your ass, whispering to you about how soft you felt in his hand, and cruelly chuckling underneath his breath when he saw how much it affected you.

“Don’t tell me that was all it took to get you riled up, pretty girl?” would be what he would say when he noticed how your thighs twitched in response to his touches. He’d lean in by your ear to tell you all about how you felt in his hand as he moved it lower until he cupped your cunt, his middle finger sliding over your folds to rub your slit, and find your clit too. If he did, he’d keep his crimson eyes fixated on you the entire time, his bigger frame looming from behind you, making you hyper-aware of his presence that was both intimidating and intoxicating.

“Let’s see what kind of noise you make when I..” he would trail off by your earlobe before pressing his finger up your clothed cunt, loving how the fabric stopped him from truly penetrating you but lenient enough to give you a taste of it. He revelled in the sight of your parted lips that quickly closed after exhaling that sexy moan between your breaths.

tattooist!sylus that would keep teasing your damp pussy until your fluids made his fingers wet, refusing to give you permission to move from your position despite your complaints about your numbing legs. He would just dismiss it in a laugh, praising you in satisfaction and wanting to keep on making a mess out of you with his fingers to make your legs weaker—since it gave you the side effects that made you feel like he was fucking you even if he wasn’t.

tattooist!sylus that would never let you cum even when your sobbing and clawing onto the bed, mumbling out whatever excuse that came at the top of your now mushed mind. Other customers could walk in on them, a colleague of his would catch them—all of those excuses fell to deaf ears. To him and his hardened cock, the only thing that had his care and attention at the moment was you—and your fluttering heat that couldn’t stop clenching around the tips of his fingers, begging, pleading him to pull your pants down and penetrate you properly. But he won’t do it—you haven’t earned it yet.

[nvuy]

hey gorjous im just curious will you ever write for aventurine?by the way loveeee your works

rose-tinted glasses & the scent of you — aventurine

summary. you’re offered a chance to win close to a million credits. only issue is, you suck at poker. luckily, some blond man with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen comes to your aid.

notes. who is aventurine and no i will never write for him. it is 3:30am and i am now going to sleep goodnight!!!!

warnings. the dude your playing poker with is an asshole and says some strange things, i guess a bit of power imbalance, gn reader but referred to as ‘beautiful’ or ‘gorgeous,’ light cussing, i don’t know how to play poker and i fight the gods trying to write aventurine.

“So… tell me… what made you think you could win?” 

The older man stares you down with those awful brown eyes. They flicker even darker than black itself in the low lights of the VIP room he’s dragged you into. 

You glance up from your deck of cards. Your fingers are trembling. You swallow and tell the man, “I never even agreed to play this game with you.” 

The man leans back in his chair. He merely rolls his eyes. The woman over his shoulder—and she’s a gorgeous woman. She looks much too young for him—giggles at his antics. She looks more like a prize than anything. 

Your eyes snap to the man’s again. “And I don’t want to be your arm candy.” 

“Oh, but that’s what you were made for.” The man yawns as if he could be doing anything else with his time. And he could have; he was rich. Filthy rich. He paid for women, cars, and every high end restaurant in this district that was under his name one way or another. All his. He could have been off on his yacht somewhere in the ocean for all you cared, sipping a nice martini. 

But, no. 

He’s here. And he wants you. 

Some lowly office worker. You knew the gut feeling when you stepped into this casino, and you had ignored it. Now, you were kicking yourself repeatedly for it.

“Play.”

You almost consider throwing your cards down onto the table and storming out, but the room is closed off by two big burly men standing on either side of it.

And if you give up, he wins.

But he’s already winning, anyway. 

“Play the game,” he repeats, this time firmer. 

“I’m folding,” you said with just as much vitriol. You drop your cards onto the green velvet and swallow your pride. 

The man hums with triumph, drops his deck—of course, a royal flush glimmers back at you on his pristine customised playing cards—and collects the chips in the middle of the table. 

“That’s another round for me,” the man whispers across the table. “Another drink?” 

You shake your head. The thought of him making you down even more liquor with him made you feel sick. “Can I leave?” 

“‘Leave?’ It’s only round four.” The dealer takes the cards silently. Another woman. Her name badge reads ‘Jewel,’ though you’re sure that’s not her real name. “You said it was best of five.” 

You look down at your hands.

They’re still trembling. 

“This isn’t fair.” You try not to tear up, but your voice shakes, and it’s difficult to mask. Your hands continue to quake and your legs can’t remain still. You were sure he could feel the floor vibrating with how you bounced in your seat. “I can’t even play with these cards–” 

“I hope you’re not suggesting I’m taking advantage of you, beautiful.” 

Your face screws up at that. 

He’s not cheating. How can he possibly cheat? You had elected the dealer yourself, per his request, and had been watching him like a hawk for the better half of an hour. 

Your hands were awful every time. Not even a simple pair. Just random useless low valued cards thrown together, while the man opposite you seemed to have an endless amount of tricks up his sleeve. 

Poker was luck based. Mostly. There was skill and strategy, but it was like detective work. You’re no professional, but the dealer has no idea what they draw for each player, and the chances of you being drawn a horrible hand twice in a row now was creeping up on you.

It’s all guesswork and mind games. Being a sleaze is this dude’s lifestyle. You work in an office answering phone calls all day.

You glance at the dealer again. She’s still shuffling the cards by hand, and she’s not looking at them either. There’s no possible way she could know what she is handing out. 

You sigh shakily. “No.” 

The man leans back in his chair. 

Then, he glances up when the door opens behind you. The woman over his arm gets up and leaves. 

At first you presume the man has called in another woman by the way his eyes light up.

His grin is wicked. “Mister Aventurine, you son of a bitch.”

He gestures to you and says, “you’re in luck. Maybe this’ll be your turn around. You’re going to need it.” The man leans back in his chair, suddenly smug.

You feel a hand brush along the back of your shoulder.

There’s a strong scent of clove oil and chestnut as the newcomer, Mister Aventurine, glides past your chair and over to the man’s shoulder. 

You notice flicks of water on his coat.

“Evening, Keres.” His voice is just as smooth. “It’s raining hard out there.” 

“Is it? I ain’t been out since this mornin’.”

When you take a proper look at him, he’s wearing clothing more expensive than all of your bills combined. That was real fur around his collar; you could tell from the organic coarseness of it, and the way the pattern was inconsistent and natural. The watch around his wrist was most definitely real gold with an emerald green face. 

And hair is perfect, laid down flat, but with pieces fluffed out intentionally. Everything is done with purpose. He carries an air of confidence to him, and it only falters for a moment when he adjusts the black gloves on his hands. 

He’s wearing rose-coloured glasses.

“Harassing the locals again?” Mister Aventurine asks playfully. 

He’s talking about you.

You bristle in your seat.

“Hardly.” The man, whom you now know as Keres, leans over the table with an arm on the velvet. “This one’s gotten a little too excited at the prize money.” 

“And how much is that?” Mister Aventurine finishes fixing his gloves before he stands up straight. 

“A good seven-hundred and fifty thousand. Enough to pay the bills for the year and get yourself something nice, right sweetheart?” He raises a silver credit card he pulls from his pocket and waves it side to side. “All right here on this shiny, pretty card.”

You feel like a fish staring down a hook with worm bait stuck to the end.

He’s speaking to you again, but the question  remains unanswered. Keres raises an eyebrow—and you would have considered him handsome if didn’t make you feel nauseous every time he spoke to you—and waits.

You say nothing. 

Mister Aventurine is looking at you now.

You feel as though you’re being hypnotised. Though the colour of his eyes are left muffled by the rosy tint he wears over them, they’re so bright. There’s two colours you can barely decipher: some sort of light green and a deep purple.

And they’re beautiful. 

“I take it you’re winning?” 

Keres picks up his deck of cards for the dealer as she lays them out on the table.

You swallow as she deals out your hand next. You don’t even want to flip the cards. You already know it’s over.

By some miracle, you have to win this round.

Keres had gone easy on you the first round, calling your bluff and being wrong, since you told him you weren’t sure how to play, and he felt only the slightest bit bad he roped you into the game in the first place.

Now, he didn’t care. 

“‘Course I’m winnin’.” 

Your teeth grit behind your lips.

Dickhead.

You swallow and peek at your cards. 

Huh. They’re actually not so bad this time around. Your hands had been awful for the last hour. 

Mister Aventurine is still looking at you.

You try not to return his gaze. You keep your eyes glued to the table. 

Mister Aventurine hums curiously.

You can still smell his perfume, and the delicious bottom note of vanilla musk, even as he stands on the other side of the playing table. If you weren’t in the position you were in, you would have asked him what he was wearing. 

He clears his throat. 

You glance up at him.

Then, he nods subtly at you, seemingly pleased. “Great hand, Keres, don’t you think?” 

“The secret to winning is to remain humble, Mister Aventurine,” Keres reminds him. 

You almost scoff. 

Mister Aventurine’s lips tick up into a grin. “Is that so?” 

Then, he tilts his head slightly towards you. It’s not enough to look awkward or out of place, but it’s just enough for you to notice the very small, and nervous tick of one of his gloved fingers by his sides. 

He’s still staring at you. 

And there, slightly warped from his curved lenses, is a rosy and mirrored reflection of the man’s cards. 

For a moment, you look away, glancing at the security guards situated behind you standing in front of the door. Though you still could never make a run for it because both of them were triple your size, one of them was tapping away on his phone, and the other was leaning against the wall and staring off into space. 

You turn back around. 

Mister Aventurine merely raises a brow. 

Keres notices that. “Taking an interest in my opponent, Aventurine?”

Aventurine does not move to address the man, too afraid he won’t garner the correct angle on his glasses again, but his eyes do flit in his direction. “Maybe.”

“Don’t use that charm just yet, sir. I’ve got a game to win.” 

“Of course.” It’s a mere send off of his tone, as if he’s just carelessly thrown the words in to keep the man satisfied. 

He’s doing this on purpose. 

You glance down at your cards again. 

Keres’ hand is good. It’s not amazing, but it’s good. It’s almost an even match, though the game is tilted slightly in his favour. 

But, he doesn’t know your cards. 

Neither does Aventurine. You think. Unless those freaky eyes grant him a sixth sense, and he can see through the card backs like an x-ray. That wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. 

You exhale as steadily as you can, trying to slow your racing heart. 

Then, you whisper, “if this is the final round, I’m going all in.” 

Aventurine’s face does not shift. His lenses flicker in the lights, and for a moment you panic, convinced that the reflection is lost.

It returns a moment later. 

Keres grins. “As you wish.” He slides all of his own chips into the centre of the table. 

ೃ༄

You’ve confused Keres, that’s for sure. The round has been lasting a lot longer than he liked, and as he grew more and more impatient, he grew sloppier. 

You’re not any good at this game. You’re not a genius strategist, that was for sure, but judging by the slight flinch in Aventurine’s face when Keres slammed his hands on the table, you could tell he was being run around the very table he sat at. 

He’d first accused you of cheating halfway through the round, so much so that the security guards were ordered to pat you down for extra cards, and the dealer was escorted out of the room. 

Then, Aventurine had rested a gloved hand to the man’s shoulder and reminded him, “calmness is the cradle of power, my friend.” 

That barely calmed him down, but it was enough to seat the man again. 

Now, Aventurine was not showing you his hand anymore, but you didn’t need it. 

“I’m raising,” Keres whispers. 

Aventurine’s eyes narrow suspiciously at his deck. 

You swallow. 

“Then I’m calling your bluff,” you mumble. You won’t fold. Not here. Not when you know you’ve won. 

Your heart is racing.

There’s a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you may have overstepped. You may have grown too big in your own head. 

Aventurine is staring at you, completely expressionless. He’s casually leaning against the back of Keres’ chair. 

Come on. Come on, come on–

You grip your cards for dear life.  

Keres drops his cards. “Fuck you.” 

You sigh in relief and drop your own cards.

You bury your face in your hands and lean against the table on your elbows. You could cry. Oh, you could get on the floor and weep to the Aeons. You could give Aventurine a giant kiss on the lips. 

Oh, thank the Aeons for blond men. 

You didn’t have to worry about waking up in this man’s bed tomorrow morning. 

Keres gets up, and as he does, Aventurine adjusts his posture and clears his throat. He says nothing when Keres passes him. 

There’s a nasty whisper of a, “some lucky charm you are,” before the credit card is thrown into his chest. 

Keres hits you in the shoulder on his way out. The security guards allow him through first before they both file out. They close the door to the VIP room behind them. 

You contemplate leaving as well. You just desperately want to go home. It’s getting late, you think. You had caught a glance of Aventurine’s watch before, and the large hand was ticking towards nine o’clock. 

“Congratulations.” It’s warm. It’s genuine. When you turn, Aventurine is holding out the credit card in front of him. “Don’t forget the ‘shiny, pretty card.’” 

Your chest warms, and you feel this is the first time you’ve smiled properly in a long time. 

You move closer to the man. “You…” You hesitate before the credit card, but Aventurine makes no move to pocket it for himself and leave. “I- I don’t know how I can thank you enough for this.” 

You take the card and stare at it for a moment. 

Then, you place it safely in your coat pocket. 

Aventurine tilts his head, confusion scrawled onto his face as saunters past you easily to hold open the door for you. “Thank me for what?”

As he waits, he pulls off those rosy glasses and folds them neatly. He holds onto them.

Oh. 

His eyes are beautiful. A light blue ring surrounds his slightly slitted pupils. A gorgeous rich royal purple wraps at the edges of his iris, bordered by a thick black ring. 

You stop for a moment before you step towards the door, looking equally as confused. “The reflection? With your glasses?” 

Aventurine looks down at the said pair in his hands. He then smiles, but it seems more to be polite and to entertain you. “Sure.” He shuts the door behind you when he follows you out. 

You knit your brows together. 

Then, it wasn’t intentional.

Or, he’s just really good at playing dumb.

You can’t exactly tell.

His grin spells mischief, however. “Would you like a drink?” 

Your eyes flit towards the bar. It’s always fully stocked, and the bartenders are always lovely, but the idea of liquor in your already churning stomach makes you feel sick. “Oh, no. But thank you. I’m probably just going to go home.” 

“Of course. It’s late.” Aventurine glances down at his watch. “I’d be more than happy to walk you to your car, if you’d like.” 

You blink at him, only slightly dazed. 

You felt as if you had just swallowed three shots of straight vodka. 

Your legs feel unsteady for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ll teeter and fall flat on your face. You can smell his perfume again. It’s stronger now since he’s standing so close to you.

It’s almost humiliating how easily he sends blood rushing up your neck. 

“I don’t- uh… I don’t have a car,” you murmur. 

Aventurine blinks and takes out his phone. “Then I’ll call you a cab.” 

“Thanks.” You clear your throat when his lips stretch into a smile again. Embarrassingly, you add, “you smell so nice.” 

He laughs then, and you like the sound. He narrows his eyes playfully. “Thank you.” 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, blondie then offers you his arm. You could’ve melted on the spot into a puddle of goo all over the plush red carpets of the casino. 

The sound of slot machines, loud chattering, and drinks clacking together in toasts, drowns out the sound of your stuttered breathing and the roar of blood in your ears. 

Aventurine greets one of the staff members on his way out. His arm linked with yours is gentle, more of a persistent comforting anchor than a leash to drag you around in.

He smells really, really nice. 

Your face grows hot.

This is so bad. 

It’s raining outside. The entrance to the casino is large enough to provide enough relief to city goers seeking shelter from the rain. The press of the heating from inside dissipate as soon as you step through the doors.

It’s freezing. The wind whips and sounds as though one thousand ghosts float through the air, lost to time. 

You’re relieved the exterior roof keeps you mostly dry. 

You shiver. 

“They’ll be a cab for you in five minutes,” Aventurine says softly. He lets go of your arm. You ignore the disappointment you feel in your chest. 

“Thanks.” You cross your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the cold as best you could. “You don’t have to wait out here with me.” 

Aventurine looks at you strangely. “Well, it’s not like I’m doing much else.” He gives you a once over before you hear his clothes shifting. 

This is so awkward. 

You feel the foreign tickle of expensive and real fur on your neck. 

You glance at him suspiciously before your shoulders are swamped in his jacket. It’s warm, warmer than anything you’ve ever worn from the velvety insides and his own body heat, and heavy with luxury. 

Your heart stops when Aventurine hums, pleased. 

Your hands shoot to the white fur on the collar to shuck it off and hand it back to him. “I’m fine, really–” 

“Oh, please.” He waves you off gently. “You’re clearly freezing.” 

“I’m really okay–” 

“And would you look at that.” Aventurine straightens up and pushes his rosy glasses back onto his nose bridge. “Your cab’s early.” 

You shrug off his jacket, careful with the expensive material. “Thank you so much, but–” He pushes it back onto your shoulders, following you to the car door. “Mister Aventurine–” 

“I insist.” He opens the door for you. “You’ll freeze.” 

You can’t imagine him standing around in a suit vest and a shirt is warm, either.

You say nothing about it. You practically fall into the back of the cab, shocked. 

“Take it home.” 

“‘Take it–‘” You shake your head. You feel like you’re dreaming. “I can’t take this home. This thing is worth more than the money I just won.” 

But it’s warm, and it’s weighted in the most comforting way.

It calms your nerves. 

“It’s nothing fancy. It was only around one-hundred thousand credits.”  

“Are you serious–” 

“Take it.” And he is serious. You can see your reflection in his glasses. “Please.“ 

His eyes are really, really beautiful. 

You find yourself lost in them for a moment. 

His back is slightly soaked from the rain. He barely notices it. His hand rests on your knee when you swing your feet into the cab. 

You nod once, more to reassure yourself than anything. “Okay.” You look up at him. “Thank you so much.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He offers you a gentle wave before he shuts the door and the car drives off. 

He is cold. Frightfully so as you watch him shiver through the rear view mirror before he steps back into the casino. 

As the cab moves, you relay your address to the driver and sit back in the seat. You feel like you can finally breathe, but when you do breathe, you only smell chestnut and vanilla, and it blurs and muddies your senses nicely. 

You bury your icy fingers into the pockets of Aventurine’s coat, sinking into the neckline until the fur tickles your ears. 

Your fingers come into contact with something smooth and cool, like glass.

You fish it out. 

It’s a small perfume bottle. You pull the clear lid off of the tip of it and curiously smell the top. It smells exactly like him, the same perfume that’s drowned you for the last hour.

You don’t think you can get enough of it. 

You feel only slightly guilty for digging around in this man’s pockets—and, unsurprisingly, you don’t find a wallet—before you fish out a pair of fancy looking golden dice with light green dots on the faces. 

The dice, the perfume, and a small card. Not the credit card you won. That one is tucked away safely in your bag. 

It’s a business card. His business card. His name, what you recognise as the IPC’s logo, and his phone number are written in gold lettering on the laminated white card. 

You hum curiously.

Then, you fish out your phone and slowly type his number onto the screen. 

You: thank u 4 winning 2night for me. & the coat. the coat is nice. x

Sent 9:56pm

Aventurine: You found my gifts! :0 Did you like them?

You: maybe. i did like ur vest btw.

Aventurine: You can have it next time ;)

You find yourself smiling. Your fingers tremble with excitement over the keyboard on your screen.

You: i’ll give u a kiss 4 it :*

Aventurine: Done, deal. Pleasure doing business with you, gorgeous.

You have a feeling your wardrobe will be full of his clothes in the not so distant future.