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omgrachwrites · 4 years ago

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Domestic Bliss - Remus Lupin

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Request: ‘I saw the requests are still open so I think I'll give it a try hehe~ I have been having on my mind Remus and reader getting married right after Hogwarts and Remus trying the reader's cooking (maybe not using magic) for the first time and gets super emotional. (in a good way) Super mega floof if it is possible ❤ Absolutely love your drawing btw, have a wonderful day❤’ @krismeunicornbaobei

Warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff!

Words: 1260

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, @krismeunicornbaobei, I hope this is okay! Hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

Married life was amazingly blissful for you; it was like a never-ending dream that you never wanted to wake up from. You’d never been big on marriage while you were growing up – until you met him – so all of your friends and family were rather surprised when you had announced your engagement to Remus. You had married Remus about a year ago, pretty much straight after you had left Hogwarts. You knew it was young to get married but you supposed when you met your soulmate, you just knew. It was very clear that Remus Lupin was your soulmate; you felt it in your heart.

Unfortunately, Remus was a morning person, he always had been, even in school and it was the polar opposite of you. Almost every morning, at an ungodly hour, Remus kissed your forehead before going out for his morning run. Every morning he chuckles with a deep rich sound as you groaned and rolled over and fell back asleep. When you finally got up, Remus always had breakfast made and he was grinning at you from over the newspaper, and you ambled over to the gorgeous man to pull him in for a deep kiss.

Today was a remarkably cold day – but your husband had still gone out for his morning and afternoon runs – and you wanted to do something different, Remus was usually the one who cooked but you wanted to give it a go. It was difficult and you couldn’t help but think that you were making a mistake. Remus came through the back door and wrapped his arms around you from behind, burying his cold nose in your neck.

The sudden cold made you jump and squeal, “Merlin!”

Remus huffed out a deep laugh against your neck as he pressed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, “no, it’s just me, my darling,” he teased and you heard the grin in his voice.

You rolled your eyes with a giggle as you turned to face him, placing your hands on his chest. He looked gorgeous, his hazel eyes were bright as he grinned at you and cupped your jaw gently, his cheeks and his nose were red. His curling brown hair was damp where the snow had melted in it. You smiled as you stood up on your tiptoes to pull him into a deep kiss.

He pressed his forehead against yours and he noticed the contraption behind you on the counter, he pulled away from you slightly as he raised an eyebrow, “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You sighed, biting your lip, “I was trying to make your favourite beef stew for tonight, muggles use this thing,” you gestured to the pot behind you, “a slow cooker.”

Remus nodded as he smiled, “yeah, I know what a slow cooker is, my question is this. How come you’re using a slow cooker and not magic? Magic would be so much easier for your first time cooking,” he asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and he kissed your cheek.

You sighed as you looked away from him, feeling pretty silly now as you focused on the snow that was slowly drifting past the kitchen window, “I wanted it to be a little bit special because we’ve been pretty busy lately.”

Remus pulled you into his arms as he buried his nose into your neck and your fingers wound themselves through his thick hair, “oh, my Y/N, that is just the sweetest thing,” he pulled back to grin at you and he pressed a kiss to your nose, chuckling when you scrunched up your nose in response, “I love you so much, let’s just have a relaxing day then, that’s the beauty of using a slow cooker, you don’t have to keep tending to it.”

You laughed as you lightly trailed a nail against one of the scars on Remus’ cheek, making him shiver, “I love you too but this afternoon can’t be too relaxing because I still have to make chocolate brownies for dessert.”

Remus blushed as his handsome face lit up, “you don’t have to do all of that,” he mumbled and you smiled, he was so adorable when he was flustered.

You pressed a kiss against his pink chapped lips, “I want to, Remus,” you whispered against his lips, “let me run you a bath, you must be freezing.”

“Only if you get in with me,” he smiled cheekily as he kissed to the top of your hand and let you lead him into the bathroom.

After a leisurely bath, filled with millions of bubbles and scented bath salts, Remus tended to the fire in the living room until it was crackling merrily. You rested your head in Remus’ lap as he read a book, stroking through your hair as he read a couple of passages out to you, leaning down to kiss you every so often. Sunday’s were made for moments like this, you loved him so much. You were very thankful to McGonagall for pairing you two together for a project in Transfiguration.

When it was time for you to make the chocolate chip brownies, Remus hand insisted on ‘helping’ you. Soon enough, you regretted letting him help because you realised his idea of helping was by eating half of the chocolate chips and stealing giggled filled kisses from you as he wrapped his arms around you.

Later on that evening Remus helped you set the table and he poured out some Butterbeer for the two of you. You were nervous about what the food would be like, it smelled delicious but you just hoped that it would taste the same. As you placed the food on the table, Remus took your hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist, his eyes shined with love as he smiled at you.

“All of this looks amazing, Y/N.”

You smiled as you sat opposite him, taking his hand from across the table, “let’s just hope it tastes amazing,” you smiled tightly, feeling nervous.

As Remus put the first bite of stew into his mouth, you heard him groan and when you glanced up at him you noticed him closing his eyes as he nodded his head, “Merlin, that is so good,” he opened his eyes and grinned at you, “I literally want to eat this every day.”

You laughed as you took a spoonful of the food and even you had to admit that it tasted pretty good, the garlic and chilli flakes dancing across your tongue, “I’m glad you like it,” you glanced back over at him again and blushed when he gave you a lopsided grin.

“I can’t believe that you would do this all for me,” he smiled, making you giggle, it was just food, “this is just the best thing, I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Remus,” you smiled.

Both you and Remus cleared the dishes in record time and he put them by the sink as he took you by the waist, “I’ll clean the dishes later, you cooked so I’ll clean,” he smiled, pressing a kiss against your lips.

To eat dessert, you and Remus curled up on the couch, with a glass of red wine. Remus’ moans were almost pornographic as he scoffed down a couple of brownies.

“Damn, Y/N, if we weren’t married, I’d ask you to marry me from the way these brownies taste.”

You laughed as you kissed his cheek and wiped a smudge of chocolate from the corner of his lips.

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

@krismeunicornbaobei @smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black

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theramblingscriblerian · 4 years ago

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Noodles on 51st And 3rd

The noodles at the corner of 51st and 3rd were the best in the Lower City, even if they were frozen and off of a truck. Hell, that was WHY they were the best. Go to the larger eateries in the district, and you find the crap homemade stuff, where half the protein is probably made up of bugs and general filth. The little kiosk where I was busy slurping down a bowl full, though… THAT was good. And safe.

And it gave me a good view of the square.

Even at 2am and change, the square was alive with people, bathed in the ever present neon glow from a hundred signs, and the shifting shadows generated by no less than five mega-screens that were hawking everything from shaving cream to women ready to turn your night into a decadent dream of sheer pleasure. All of it also held the unspoken promise of emptying your credcard. I snorted to myself as I swallowed the last of the noodles; this joint was pricey enough. The last thing I needed was a synthetic whore and a shave that smelled like cat piss.

The steady undercurrent of a thousand human voices thrummed at my ears, punctuated with traffic, both ground and sky-based. The city never slept, never paused. Only the crowds changed. Gone were the daytime suits and drones, talking into their pads as they negotiated everything from multi-million dollar deals to home deliveries of groceries. Now the streets belonged to an entirely different subset of the business world, the seedier subset, the subset that kept the city running while at the same time infusing it with a thousand different cancers.

Even the sky changed. During the day you had the sun, of course, struggling to break free of the smog layer that seemed to perpetually hang just above the tops of the highest mega-scrapers. At night, though, it was as if the world were finally letting go of a long held breath. Clouds formed among the higher buildings and would, for an hour or two, let loose the weeping rains that scrubbed both sky and street of the accumulated filth. It wasn’t raining now, but the streets were still slick with precipitation and oil, and the gutters were still clogged with miniature jams of garbage and things less savory.

I tipped back my head and drained the bowl of the last of the juices, chopsticks held between two fingers as I did so. Letting out a long sigh, I dropped both on to the counter and took out a cig from my coat’s inner pocket. It was bent, had been partially smoked already, and tasted wonderful when combined with the aftertaste of the noodles. I looked up and from under the rim of my hat at the elderly man behind the counter, and tilted my head up at him. He just looked back at me and snorted.

“That gǒu shǐ will kill you, Man,” he wheezed at me with a dry smirk.

“Your noodles will kill me first,” I countered gruffly, voice hoarse. “Synthetic crap grown in a vat…”

Chuckling, he magically produced an old lighter and held it to my cig. “You go to Kwon’sfor the real thing,” he quipped. “But my synthetic gǒu shǐ must be better than the gǒu shǐ he uses.”

I barked a short laugh; he was probably close to the truth. But then, hell, everything in this world was set to kill a man. Food, pollution, other men…. I took a long deep drag, reducing the length of the cig by another quarter, and let the smoke escape through my nostrils, into the still damp-smelling air. This thing was probably my healthiest habit.

A sudden, discordant noise caught my attention, a rising in a group of voices, their tones turning angry, loud, contentious. The old man nodded to me knowingly, and I turned my head just enough to peer back towards the other side of the square. Five men were pushing their way through the crowds, going against the grain, heading into a small theater that had stood in the spot for a century at least. No movies had played there for at least 25 years, but I knew that games aplenty were its hallmark. I didn’t care about that, particularly. It was the gamemaster that would be there tonight that I was interested in. And those were his goons.

Slowly I stood, adjusting my my hat, drawing my coat around myself, and turned to go.

“Hey!” the old man snapped, a crooked and boney finger tapping on the plastic counter. “You pay first.”

I stopped and looked back, cig still clenched in my teeth. One hand went to my left side, under the coat, checking the pistol that was securely strapped there. “Put it on my tab,” I remarked absently.

“Your tab is no good if you dead,” he muttered back.

“Ye of little faith,” I retorted, turned, and promptly walked into someone’s outstretched hand as it landed on my chest, fingers splayed. I stopped on the spot and looked down with widening eyes.

“That shouldn’t be a surprise,” the woman with midnight hair drawled. Her eyes never left mine as she used her free hand to throw a couple of silver coins on the old man’s counter. One of them bounced into my abandoned bowl. He looked down to them, frowning, then let his eyes widen in surprise, finally grinning a gap-toothed smile as he cackled, sweeping them up greedily.

Slowly she let her hand fall from my chest, but I didn’t move. I was still too surprised to see her. Here. Now. Standing there like she had always belonged at my side. Well, hoolies. Once upon a time, she had. Her mouth twisted into a sardonic grin, black lipstick and dark eyes both sparkling under the red neon lights. “What’s the matter, noodles strangling you?” Her refined British accent still made me feel a warmth deep in my heart. “Maybe they will be your death after all.”

“No, not them,” I responded in my hoarse voice, head tilting up enough so that the rough scar along my throat became visible, sliding up from beneath my shirt collar. “But you sure as hell tried.”

Her grin turned into a full blown smile. “Now, darling, you know that was just a bit of foreplay. I wanted to make things look good. Had to fool the mark and his boys. It’s how the game is played.”

“You cut my goddamned throat,” I murmured. Despite myself, my hand reached out and cupped her cheek.

“And I knew,” she responded slowly, eyes closing for a moment, “that your nanites would seal it up in less than a minute, helpful little blighters that they are. Although,” she added, almost wonderingly, eyes opening again, her own hand reaching up, a single finger tracing that scar, “I didn’t think they would leave a mark.”

A snort was my initial response, and then I added, “You left the mark. More than one. And most of them can’t be seen.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve missed me?” she asked softly.

I stared down at her for a moment, then tilted her head up. My lips came within a whisper’s breadth of her own. “Want to go play?” I asked quietly, nodding towards the old theater.

Her grin, at the same time feral and eager like a child being offered a piece of candy, was answer enough.

“Hey!” the old man suddenly shouted. He looked up from one of the coins that he was still admiring, clasped in his grimy fingers. “Stop flirting! Get to work so you can pay your tab!”

I looked back down to her, then began to laugh. A real laugh. The first I had had in a long while. Throwing an arm around her shoulder, I drew my gun with the other. She had already produced her own heavy-barreled pistol and held it at the ready.

“Yeah,” I said, puffing out more smoke, starting off with her across the street. “Let’s get the game a-foot.”

Abruptly her delicate fingers snatched the cig from my mouth and tossed it into the scummy waters of the gutter, where it briefly hissed and was lost amongst the rest of the trash. “That gǒu shǐ will kill you,” she remarked.

Behind me, all I heard was the old man cackling.

#vignette creativewriting cybernoir

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saxxxology · 5 years ago

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What Goes Bump in the Night - 6

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, Victorian social dynamics, allusions to non-consent and dubious consent, dominance/submission, slow burn with eventual smut, suspense/horror/gore themes.

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY OTHER SITES.

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You don’t know how long it takes you to wake. When you do, the storm is still raging on, but you’re back in bed, lying on top of the covers. Sam’s sitting on the edge, his jaw set. When he sees you moving, he glances down at you.

“Welcome back.” His voice is tight. He’s upset. “You’ve been out for a few hours, I was able to put you on the couch while I finished working.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I know I broke the rules.”

Sam stands up, looking down at you. “You might be sorry, but you know what happens now, Omega.” He goes to the top drawer of the dresser and pulls out a long leather strap, which he folds in two.

A belt.

Your stomach rolls with fear, and you cower back against the headboard. “No,” you whimper, “no, please, don’t…”

“You broke the most important rule I set for you,” Sam says firmly, slowly approaching the bed, “you could have waited at the top of the stairs and called for me, or simply stayed here and waited for me to come back. But you went into the basement, where I’ve told you time and time again, never to go for your own safety. You need to know that you can’t break the rules, Omega, and this time you won’t be getting pleasure from it.”

He lunges. You scream, kicking out as he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you back until you’re bent over the edge of the bed. You don’t submit to it; if it was Sam’s bare hand you’d be getting, you would take the pain, but a leather strap can draw blood if used hard enough.

You struggle against his grip and manage to roll over, fighting him with every ounce of your strength. “I swear I won’t do it again!” you sob, “please, don’t, Sam, please!” Sam grunts as you wiggle free and duck under his arm, making for the door, His hand catches your hair, twisting in the thick locks, and you go limp, falling to the floor with a loud squeal of pain.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” you whimper, digging your fingers into the legs of his slacks, “please, I’ll do anything, you can—you can take me, if you want, you can use me, Alpha—!”

Sam grimaces as you look up at him, face stained with tears. Your eyes are wide, cheeks flushed, lips quivering. The man in him knows he should punish you for your wrongdoing, wants to see your ass red and bruised from his lashing, but his Alpha is telling him to comfort you, that he’s doing wrong. All you’ve done is look for him in a time of desperation.

“God damn it.” He gives in to instinct, throwing the leather strap down to the floor before he collapses onto his knees. You fall into his arms, sobbing wildly, and he hugs you tight, feeling your body shake violently against his chest. “Shhh,” he whispers, “it’s all right, Omega, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You clutch his shirt, burying your face in his chest as he lifts you up, sitting on the bed and gently rocking you back and forth. “I won’t do it ag-again,” you sob, tearfully looking up at him. “I p-promise, I won’t go down there again.”

“Good.” Sam brushes your hair from your face and watches you take a shaky gulp of air. “But you know that if you do that again, I will have to punish you.”

You nod. “I won’t. I won’t break any more rules, Alpha, I swear.”

Sam cups your jaw. “What do you swear on?”

He watches as you let out another short sob before speaking again. “My maidenhead,” you answer. “I swear on my maidenhead that I won’t disobey again.”

Sam nods, acknowledging your apology and vow. He says and does nothing, only holds you until you’ve stopped crying.

***

You wake tucked underneath Sam’s arm, as usual. It’s normal at this point to wake up cuddled together, and he shifts when you stretch, grunting in his sleep as he rolls onto his back, remaining fast asleep. Quietly, so as not to wake him, you slip out of bed and quietly pour a cup of tea that’s gone cold since it was made. You haven’t slept very well, and you quickly give up on the thought of trying for a little more.

It’s stopped raining, and the sun peeks through the clouds, shining down in soft yellow rays. The sight pulls your thoughts from the events of the night before, of Sam holding a thick leather strap, or the flayed open thing on the table in the basement. You shudder at the memory of Sam pulling the gore-encrusted organ from inside the chest of the beast and retreat to the bathroom to splash water on your face. Your eyes are still puffy and red from your mindless crying the night before.

Sam’s sitting up, stretching his powerful arms over his head when you come out. His eyes flicker to your face, and he sighs at the dark circles under your eyes. It’s pointless to ask if you’ve slept well, so he settles for a stiff “g’morning” before getting out of bed and walking past you to the bathroom.

Breakfast passes silently. Dean’s nowhere to be found, so you and Sam make do with cooking bacon, sausages, and eggs for yourselves. After eating, you pop the question that’s been on your mind all night and all morning.

“What was that thing you were…?” you motion with your finger, lost for a descriptor.

Sam catches your meaning and swallows a mouthful of coffee. “It was a hominid species native to parts of Africa. They’re called Anthropophagi, one of our acquaintances in Massachusetts just killed a pack of almost thirty. One specimen was fairly preserved, so she was sent to us.”

You swallow thickly. “Are there… are there other things out there?”

Sam nods shortly. “Vampires… werewolves, some things you’ve probably never heard of. If there’s a legend about it, it exists, or existed at one point in time. I didn’t want you to find out about what I really do because I didn’t want you knowing what’s out there.”

“Well…” you look down at your plate, “I know now… so what happens?”

Sam exhales, standing up and sweeping the empty dish from in front of you. “You learn. We have books that you can read, but you don’t go in the basement.” He says the last bit with a smile, as if he knows that you’ve learned your lesson without needing a punishment. “Understand?”

You bob your head slowly up and down. “Yes.”

Sam smiles down at you. “Good girl.”

***

A month after you discover the Winchester family secret, John returns from Boston. It’s been a rough time, and he’s not pleased to find out that you’re still unclaimed. Sam bears the brunt of his father’s anger, and you stay out of his way until he’s rested and in a better mood.

To celebrate the successful completion of the near extinction of vampires in almost all of Massachusetts, the Winchesters throw a dinner party. Every hunter within a three-hundred-mile radius (only about ten in all) is invited, and the morning of the dinner, Sam goes into town with firm instructions for you to bathe, wash your hair, and set your hair in braids to dry. When he returns, you’re sitting on the bed, filing your nails. He’s carrying a large white dress bag and doesn’t try to hide the smile on his face. It’s strange seeing him this happy.

“What is that?” You watch him hand the bag up on the door of the closet.

“Come here.” Sam beckons you over and makes you stand in front of him. “Cover your eyes.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Why?”

“Just do it,” he says. He waits for you to have your palms over your eyes before stepping away. You hear the hiss of the heavy zipper, and then the rustle of fabric. Sam places his hands on your shoulders, turning you slightly, and you grin behind your hands. “Open.”

You lower your fingers and instantly cover your mouth. The most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen in your life is laid out on the bed. The white skirt is puffy with chiffon and satin. The neckline falls low over the shoulder, and the short sleeves are puffy and trimmed with gold lace.

“Oh, Sam…” you run your fingers over the lace and delicate embroidery. “It’s so beautiful… where did you find this?”

“I had it made.” Sam smiles and runs a palm over the fabric. “It’s one of a kind, just for you.”

You sniff. “I thought I’d be wearing my usual dress for dinner.”

“That?” Sam casts an eye at the simple frock draped over the back of a chair. “No. You’ve been good, and tonight is one of few nights I might get to show you off for my colleagues. Not very many of them get to see a beautiful woman as often as I do.”

You turn to look up at him. He’s never called you beautiful before; Sam’s terms of endearment normally range on the more sexually vulgar side. “Beautiful?”

Sam nods. “Since you’ve been putting on weight,” he squeezes your sides and wiggles his fingers, “you have become quite the figure, ‘mega.”

***

That night, you and Sam finish setting the dining table and hurry upstairs to dress. You help him with his bow tie (something you’ve become used to) and straighten his jacket. In turn, he helps you into the brand new dress, tying the thick ribbon in back until the corset is cinched neatly around your waist while you fix your hair in the mirror.

“Well,” he says, once you’ve done a full spin for him to survey the look, “you look like a million dollars.”

Your cheeks burn. “It’s just the dress.”

Sam chuckles and holds out his hand. “Come on. I can hear everyone downstairs.”

He leads you down the steps, and the moment you’re visible, every head turns. Dean and John are mingling with the guests, and you see John raise an eyebrow as Sam loops an arm around your waist, a silent display of his ownership. Many of the men are Beta, but you catch the scents of a few Alphas, one of whom stands in the back, beady eyes fixed on you over a chalice of wine.

“Gentlemen,” Sam begins, “may I introduce my Omega, Y/N.”

You offer a practiced curtsy, keeping your eyes averted from theirs, and then Sam leads the way into the dining room, you by his side. You take your normal places at the table while the others situate themselves in the first available place. The men tell stories of the monsters they’ve hunted, ranging from a pack of vampires that a hunter named Gordon tracked across seven states, to a family of Djinn that had been working in the ghettos of Philadelphia several months earlier.

The conversation turns to you soon after.

“So,” a man named Gabriel begins, “when did you acquire an Omega, Sam? We all thought you were abstinent for life.”

Sam chuckles and wipes the corner of his mouth. “Crowley’s place. He was auctioning off almost twenty girls, she was up for cheap.”

“How much did you pay for her?”

Sam answers shortly. He hates discussing his finances. “One-fifty.”

Several hunters whistle and exchange glances. Gabriel leans forward, swirling wine in his glass. “She worth it?”

Sam clears his throat, not looking at you. “We, um…”

“Oh, come on!” Gabriel pounds a fist on the table as the other men chortle with laughter. “How on earth can you not have claimed her yet?”

Sam makes a deliberate effort to change the subject. When he mentions the Anthropophagi, several men inhale with surprise, instantly captured by the gravity of the new topic.

“I thought they were native to Africa,” another hunter, Castiel, says, “how did they end up in America?”

Sam shakes his head. “Long story. Had to do with one of ours in New Jerusalem back in March. He wouldn’t give us the full story, but I suspect his father had something to do with it.”

You clear your throat softly as the men begin a conversation about how the monsters could have migrated to America. The presence of so many men is overwhelming, and you know that Sam won’t be upset if you need to take a break.

“Sam?” You whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “can I go upstairs for a few minutes? Please?”

He hears the slight desperation in your voice and nods his consent. You politely excuse yourself to no one in particular and leave the room, lifting the skirt of your dress so that you don’t trip on the stairs. Back in the bedroom, you sit down on the edge of the bed and heave a deep sigh, rubbing your eyes with the backs of your hands to try and push back the tears that threatened to appear.

After several minutes of silence, the door creaks open, and you raise your head.

The man who’s entered is tall, close to Sam’s size, with sandy blonde hair and dark eyes that glitter maliciously. It’s Nick, the same Alpha who’s been watching you all evening, and you feel your chest tighten as fear shoots through you.

“What are you doing in here?” you ask, trying to sound braver than you feel, “Sam won’t be happy that you—”

“He’s busy.” He smirks wickedly. “Thought I’d let myself have a taste of the goods… almost in heat, I can smell it.”

You stiffen as he steps closer. “Please don't touch me, Sam’s going to be upset.”

“Sam doesn’t give a damn who does what with you, apparently.” Nick glances at your neck. “An Omega’s no good without an Alpha making use of her. And if Sam’s not marked you yet, he’s leaving you open for anyone to take. There’s four other Alphas downstairs who’re thinkin’ the exact same as me, except I actually act on my intentions.”

You pull away, trying to scramble back across the bed, but Nick’s bigger and faster. He grabs you, pulling you back until your hips are on the edge of the bed. You cry out, and he reaches up to press a hand over your mouth.

“Shut up,” he snarls, “this is what you’re made for.”

He pushes the skirts of your dress up and shoves a hand between your legs. You try and close them, but only succeed in squeezing his hips with your knees as you try to fight him off. Your instinct to escape unharmed takes over, and you bite down on his palm, tasting his blood on your hand. He yells, pulling his hand away.

The sharp smack of Nick’s other palm across your cheek sends you reeling to the side, and he takes advantage of your shock to grab a fistful of your hair and drag you down to the floor, one hand wrapped around your throat to cut off your airway. He yanks the skirts of your dress up, working your thighs apart with his knees, and you reach up, trying to scratch at his face as you choke and gasp for air.

“Gonna do what Sam doesn’t have the balls to do,” Nick growls, “show him how a real Alpha’s supposed to treat his bitch.”

You twist your body hard enough to make a seam on the corset split, and the moment Nick’s fingers slip from your throat, you let out the loudest, most bloodcurdling scream you can make in an effort to let Sam, or anyone else who might be within earshot, know that you’re in trouble.

“I told you to shut up!” Nick strikes you again on the same cheek, and your head smacks against the carpet with the force of it. He rips your bloomers down the middle and tugs his belt open, reaching down to free his cock. He leans over you, a tight smirk on his face as you struggle against the arm he braces across your shoulders.

The door crashes open with a loud BANG! Sam races in, his cheeks red, eyes burning with fury. Nick jerks in surprise, and whatever excuse he’s got catches in his throat.

“Get off of her!” Sam grabs him by the collar and drags him off of you, slamming him up against the wall before landing a solid punch across the side of his face. Nick tries to get a kick in, but Sam’s too fast. He delivers another solid slam of his fist against the other Alpha’s temple and shoves him out into the hallway. You hear the fight progress, slowly moving down the hall until there’s a loud yell, a grunt from Sam, and the sound of something heavy falling down the stairs.

Moments later, Sam returns, his chest heaving. His jacket is rumpled, and one sleeve is torn from the shoulder. He’s got a bloody lip, but he pays it no heed as he lifts you off the floor and sets you on the bed.

“Oh, God,” he clutches you to his chest, and you can feel his hands shaking as he gently cups your face. You dissolve into tears, unable to find the strength to make a sound as Sam examines the reddened mark on your cheek. He stares down into your face as your eyes go wide.

“C’can’t breathe,” you stammer, “Sam, I can’t—”

“I know.” Sam reaches around and undoes the bow on your dress, quickly pulling the ribbons free. He lifts you up to drag the bodice down and over your hips. He leaves the dress in a pile on the floor, leaving you half-naked on the bed. You feel cold, and it’s hard to breathe.

“Shh,” he soothes you, gripping your hands and bringing your fingers to his lips. “You’re in shock, you need to stay warm.” He pulls the comforter up and tucks it around your shoulders, waiting for you to stop shaking enough to step back.

“Wait here,” he murmurs, “if you need me, call for me and I’ll be right here.”

“Where are you g-going?” You pull the thick covers around to hide your bare torso.

Sam heaves a sigh and rolls his shoulders back. “Nick’s dead. We need to dispose of the body.”

***

It takes Sam nearly two hours to come back. When he does, you’re still sitting in the same place, eyes fixed on the floor where you’d been pinned down. He snaps his fingers, effectively pulling you from your trance, but his words and gestures are soft.

“What did you do?” you ask, your voice scratchy.

Sam shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about that. Everyone’s gone, save my brother and father.” He gently cups your head, tilting your neck back so he can examine your neck. “Some light bruising… does your throat hurt?”

You nod. “Only when I swallow.”

Sam’s jaw clenches, but his touch remains soft. “The bruises should heal in a couple of days. I’ll make some honey and chamomile tea for your throat.” He turns your face towards the light and grimaces at the bruise on your cheek. “Christ…”

“It’s not that bad,” you lie.

“Y/N, he was a large man, he could have easily killed you,” Sam says firmly. “I’ll bring you some ice for this as well… do you think you can handle a bath?” When you nod, he retreats to the bathroom. You hear the squeak of the taps and water gushing into the tub, and then Sam’s coming back and helping you into the bathroom. You’re slightly unsteady on your legs, and he helps you finish undressing (he murmurs something about burning your bloomers) before lowering you into the warm water.

“I’ll be back with your things,” he whispers, and then he’s gone, leaving the bathroom door open. You focus on the sound of the water pouring out of the faucet and into the steadily filling basin, trying to make yourself weightless as the tub fills enough to allow you to float.

Sam returns after several minutes. You hear the soft click of the door closing and sit up, heart thundering in your chest. He steps into the bathroom, rolling up his sleeves as he pulls up a stool to sit beside the tub. Wordlessly, he reaches for the bar of soap and lathers his hands, gently rubbing the suds over your back and shoulders. You spend the better part of an hour bathing, and it’s only when your fingers turn pruny that he helps you stand and dries you off.

He carries you back to the bed, tucking you in and stripping down to his linen underpants before climbing in beside you. He offers you a bag of ice, which you hold to your cheek with a wince as he lifts a cup of tea to your lips, making you drink the hot liquid until half of it’s gone. The honey soothes your throat, and the sweet chamomile gives you something to focus on rather than the pain of the ice against your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers,“I should have kept an eye out, or kept you close.”

You close your eyes, wishing you could just give in to the exhaustion and melt into the warm heat of his body. “It’s not your fault… but why did you kill him?”

Sam grits his teeth. “I saw him on top of you, about to… about to take you, and I just lost control. I just remember dragging him off of you and the next thing I knew he was lying at the bottom of the stairs.” He sighs heavily. “I never wished anything like that to happen to you, I swear it. I’ve seen what that can do to a woman.”

You tip your head back on his shoulder and let him squeeze your hand. “I’ll heal.”

“I know you will, but…” he darts his tongue over his lower lip. “You are going into heat. I estimate only a few days before…”

You shiver. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam nods and rests his chin on the top of your head. “Would you like me to get your nightdress? You’re shivering.”

You let him stand, fetching your gown from the closet. He helps you dress and slides underneath the covers, turning you onto your side so he can lie protectively behind you. His bare chest presses against your back, expanding as he pulls in a heavy breath. As if to anchor yourself to him, you reach for his hand, winding your fingers through his. He squeezes your palm and presses his nose against the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, ‘mega,” he murmurs, “I’m going to keep you safe.”

#what goes bump in the night #alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #a/b/o dynamics #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert

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independentartistbuzz · 5 years ago

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Indie 5-0: 5 Q’s with Amelia’s Dream

Amelia’s Dream is the folk-rock duo from NYC who amidst the Coronavirus pandemic felt moved to create a song and video dedicated to thanking the healthcare workers and first responders of their city. Read on to find out more about their musical journey as well as watch the video below!

What is the inspiration behind your latest single, and did you draw the piece from a personal place?

The inspiration behind the song “Hero” is very personal. I grew up in NYC, the epicenter of COVID-19 - 3 million people came from Europe to the doors of NY and NJ with the virus, and no one told us it was happening. As a result, we were infected at such an alarming rate, more than anywhere else in the United States.

The hospitals looked like a war zone - so much so they put medical tents in Central Park. It’s the story of all of our lives in this moment of the pandemic.

This video is a documentary. It’s not an imagined visual. The visuals are real first responders in the video, many of whom we know personally. In some small way, we wanted to say, ‘Thank you for stepping up & trying to save hundreds of thousands of lives’.

The year 2020 will go down in history as the year of the pandemic that killed over 100,000 people, and that number only takes into account the fatalities here in the United States, not those that have occurred around the world. This scary “curve” of a mountain we all had to climb and hope curved down we all are still in the process of trying to survive since there is no vaccine yet. I pray this is a once in a lifetime moment.

Since we don’t have a superman or a Marvel Comics hero from another planet to save us, who among us mortal humans has a “hero” inside that perhaps can save us? Is there a 2020 version Of Martin Luther King? Of Gandhi? That’s where the inspiration for the lyric, “Whose gonna put on the red cape and blue tights tonight?” came from.

When creating new songs, how long does it take to accomplish from start to finish?

I consider myself a channel. It’s a very organic experience. Sometimes the whole song rushes in in moments - often without permission nor at a convenient location for it to rush in. One time, standing in line at Whole Foods an entire song rushed in while waiting on line to pay at the register and I yelled to the clouds through the glass “Could you wait till I get home?!’

“Hero” was a very similar experience. I was looking out the window in deep thought upstate in the Catskills, thinking about the world and this moment and how the leadership is so upside down and divided with no motivation to inspire or give hope to the citizens it serves and how we really need a hero right now. I am a mega Marvel Comics fan. I am usually at the theatre the first week when they come out. There was a Spiderman remake with animation that was trying to get out the message “Anyone can be a hero” and in this film, they did not just have one Spiderman - other kids could be Spidermen/women. That’s a similar message to what I feel right now with the Amelia’s Dream song “Hero.” We aren’t going to get Superman or Wonder Woman from Marvel Comics to save us in 2020, but we do have an opportunity to have the heroes inside each one of us help save us all. We can save each other, and we can be each others heroes.

I wrote the first draft of “Hero” in 10 minutes . Most of my song melody and music is a very fast process start to finish. I have written thousands of songs, not because I intend to, but because I am a channel for whatever you believe is out there in some type of energy field that sends me music melodies and lyrics. Harold and I usually choose our top 10 - 20 favorites to record - he produces it and after that we pick what we release. The delay is only due to economics because we both have day jobs, so we do this when we are on vacation or have a break.

At what age did you realize that music is a career you wanted to pursue; what was your ‘ah-ha’ moment?

I always loved music. Whatever background you are from, whatever drama you have going on, I believe music heals on a cellular level. As a child from an explosive background, music was an expression for me - it helped ground me. I don’t think I really ever “pursued” it officially until I was much older.

I was very scared to perform live most of my life. I still have issues singing live, but I now do it in spite of my issues. My real ‘ah-ha’ moment was in 1993 when I took a communications course called Lifespring that helped me understand to trust my voice, and believe that it’s a gift meant to be shared with others. It also helped me realize I don’t have to understand what it is in order to share it.

I’ve learned that it’s best for everyone if I try to stop sabotaging sharing the gift with others because, based on feedback, apparently my songs lift people up. I have had people cry and tell me some of my songs were like 10 years of therapy for them, so I continue to write and share when I have the time and resources to do so.

Who are your musical inspirations; what artists inspired you to start your career and find your musical passion?

I have a wide variety of inspirations. Cher and Streisand were the biggest influences, for better or for worse. I am also a major fan of Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks, The Who, Pink Floyd, Billy Joel, Heart, Tracy Chapman, and Don Henley and the Eagles.

What other treats do you have in store for us this year? Can we expect more songs, an album, videos or more shows?

We are in the process of finishing up a new record. You can see the live version of “Everybody’s Got Something” on our website, ameliasdream.com. We have a lot of stuff we are prepping to release. We, like everyone else, got very delayed due to the pandemic, but I am sure there will be a show when venues start to open up again. We can’t wait to share our new music - it’s the best stuff we have written so far. In the meantime, stay safe and healthy.

Watch “Heroes” below:

youtube

Connect with Amelia’s Dream:

https://www.ameliasdream.com/

https://www.instagram.com/ameliasdreamofficial/

https://www.facebook.com/AmeliasDream/

https://twitter.com/ameliasdream

#indie 5-0 #amelias dream #indie musicians #original music #coronavirus #covidー19 #healthcare heroes #first responders

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theuniversitychallengereview · 5 years ago

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UC 49.28-32, QF Mega-Blog

What better thing to do, when forced to stay at home during the outbreak of a global virus that threatens not only millions of peoples lives but the very fabric of society as we know it, than catch up on watching and writing about the quiz show whose previous four episodes you had missed for various reasons, all of which seem frivolous following the outbreak of a global virus that threatens not only millions of peoples lives but the very fabric of society as we know it. Also, I kept seeing that Twitter meme about Shakespeare having written King Lear during the plague quarantine and fancied getting involved.

Its also the only sport of any kind that can be found on TV for love nor money (apart from the Turkish Superlig, which for some reason thinks itself immune). Maybe the Premier League should try out pre-recording like the Challenge, for precisely this kind of situation. Just get Salah, De Bruyne and all the boys together for a few kick-abouts, film a few goals and slide tackles and all that, and keep the footage for a rainy day. Or send a camera round Serena Williams’ gaff, log a couple of serves and forehands, cut it together - BOOM, there’s your Wimbledon final if Greta decides tennis is too carbon-heavy.

All I’m saying is, you’ve never seen University Challenge postponed due to a global virus that threatens not only millions of peoples lives but the very fabric of society as we know it (although, as I write this I’m realising that the recordings of next years show will probably be delayed. Shit)

Episode 28 - Courtauld vs Imperial

Whenever I’ve not written one of these for a while it takes me a while to figure out what the heck it is I’m doing. Like, what do I usually write about? How have I managed to put out 118 of these? Do you reckon Shakespeare felt the same way when he was between plays - would he sit down with his quill and parchment and wonder aloud, ‘What the fuck is an iambic pentameter and how do I find one?’ (If I 1: knew the answer to that question; and 2: could be bothered, then I would have written that question in iambic pentameter, but you should know by now you’re dealing with one lazy blogger).

Anyway, Imperial had blazed aside all before them in the opening two rounds, thanks in no small part to the efforts of mercurial star Brandon, whose laconic style has drawn unfair criticism as arrogance. Thats how it always goes with the social media juries though - if a contestant displays any level of confidence above the bare minimum then they’re too big for their boots. But then if they grin and seem really happy when they get an answer that’ll probably annoy some people too. Almost as if they can’t win and there’s no point playing this game to appease the kind of people who get annoyed at kids on quiz shows.

The Courtauld side fall into the grinning category. They all four of them seem genuinely delighted to be on the show, and even more delighted that they managed to win two matches and make it to the quarter finals - their second round defeat of Glasgow a particularly impressive performance.

Glasgow were a good side, but Imperial are a different gravy, and Courtauld, after a neg on the opening question, seem like rabbits in the headlights (when they should have been at home, the whole country’s on lockdown, dammit Peter!) as Brandon sycthes down question after question, fearful to fall further below zero in case they can’t make it back up again.

For a while it looked as though that might end up being the case, as Imperial pranced into a hundred point lead within six questions, but Haigh finally stopped the rot, and Courtauld would add some respectability over the rest of the episode. In truth, it was clear from that point onwards that the race had been run, and Brandon seemed to relax from thereon out, and his teammates picked up the slack, though that seems like doing them a disservice, as they all seem very accomplished in their own right.

Final Score: Courtauld 75 - 240 Imperial

Episode 29 - Trinity, Cam vs Corpus Christi, Cam

Right, on to the next, and for Ep 29 we had our first Cam-Cam slugfest of the series. There had already been plenty of Ox-Cam derbies of course, you can’t move for them half the time, but no inter-collegiate battles thus far. Whoever won would become the first side to reach the semi-finals, with Trinity having beaten Manchester and Corpus Wolfson in their respective opening quarter final clashes.

Stewart, who doesn’t look like he would be out of place in the Byzantine Empire, gets Corpus off the mark with ‘Byzantine’ (I have basically no idea what this comparison would actually mean, or if it is in fact a sick burn, but I feel like he has an old-timey medieval look about him and felt like this should not go unaddressed. Like, he wouldn’t look strange wearing a tunic, would he?).

Russell and Wang increased the lead before Hughes got Trinity into the game with what looked like a semi-guess on a maths-y starter. Paxman, who clearly enjoys toying with the Corpus captain, then gets Wang for the second match in a row with a double serving of Boomer sarcasm. When Wang rather dejectedly says, ‘Its not Isaac Asimov, is it? No’, the quizmaster further interrogates him as to whether he was giving a question or an answer, much in the way an irritating geography teacher would parrot ‘Of course you can go to the toilet, the question is whether or not you may’. He’s right though, and Corpus gobble up two more bonuses on sci-fi writers.

Another starter went to Stewart, and a first for Gunasekera. Corpus were starting to look comfortable, but a brief flurry from Trinity around the music round looks like it might bring them into contention. But that’s all it was, the briefest of flurries, like that random day in April or October where someone says ‘is it snowing?, and you all look out of the window, but before you can actually work out if it really was snowing or if it was some sort of white rain, its stopped.

Corpus stretch their legs now, and find themselves beyond two hundred points before Trinity turn themselves back on, which they eventually do, building up to a not-disgraceful 80 before the gong.

Final Score: Trinity 80 - 245 Corpus

Episode 30 - Manchester vs Wolfson, Ox

Because I do this on Tumblr, one of the most annoying things about doing this (and I know its dumb), and something that I think might subconsciously play into me not doing these more regularly, is that when I try and add the pictures of the teams to the post it quite often takes ages and sometimes causes the page to freeze so that I can’t save/post it. This problem is exacerbated when there are multiple episodes to get through, which makes it one of those snowballing problems that only gets worse the longer you leave it - like when you put off repying to an email until it becomes almost a monolithic entitiy in your mind.

It only takes a few minutes to fix this - you copy and paste the text and then add the images in a different window (though there is another annoying thing where the hashtags don’t save anyway, so you have to retype the hashtags - and for some reason I always add loads of hashtags, including #JeremyPaxman - which also feels like it takes an epoch) - but its one of those few minute periods that feel like fifteen minutes. So basically, what I’m saying is that I can’t be assed adding the pictures to the post at this point. I might add them later, but for now you’re just getting words, so, so many rambling words.

Manchester are back in the last eight for the first time in donkeys, but they stand on the precipice following a trouncing by Trinity in their QF-opener (I’ve already mentioned this in the last review, which normally wouldn’t matter, but since its directly above this one then it might seem a bit repetitive, but I don’t know if I can rely on your having remembered). Wolfson were likewise (likewise were? Are both okay) baeten by Corpus Christi (which is also referenced above, sorry) so this one was an ELIMINATOR!

Neither side seemed to realise this from the off though (I say though too much don’t I? If I had more time I’d probably edit a few down. But I’m doing a 5-episode mega-post so I don’t, though. Shit. Actually, that one was on purpose winky face) and sort of stumble through the first few questions with some atrocious work on the bonuses.

Green thought he’d pulled a great answer out of the bag to kick start the match, but Fanny Burney Fanny Burnett is not, and Paxo decries the crowd for being amused at how close Green had come (they having let out a collective ‘oooh’, much in the same way their footballing equivalent may have done at a smashed crossbar).

Even Jones, so electric in her previous appearances, was a bit slow off the mark tonight. On one occasion she even overruled her teammates conferred and agreed upon answer at the last moment, giving her own guess which they had dismissed, but fortunately for her they had both been wrong, so she did not look a fool.

Manchester were ahead, but couldn’t get far ahead. Wolfson were within touching distance, but couldn’t touch. Not until the very end that is. Caple took the final starter to draw them level and the gong sounded before th first bonus could be asked. DEADLOCK.

A #DEADLOCKELIMINATOR no less.

Paxman explains that a Neg on this question would hand victory to the other team without them lifting a buzzer-finger. He starts reading, no one buzzes. He continues to read. Everyone continues to not buzz. He carries on r- BUZZ.

Manchester Rogers. Three words left on Paxo’s lips. He better be right. Kaiser Wilhelm. He isn’t. Otto Von Bismarck. An easy mistake to make, says Paxo.

I reckon Wolfson would have picked up the drop anyway, but you can’t be sure.

My fellow UC blog, jacksonlinewritings, says that its the first time a neg has lost a tiebreak since 2002/03.

Final Score: Manchester 125 - 130 Wolfson.

Episode 31 - Durham vs Imperial.

I don’t know if this is the first time I’ve written about the same team twice in one post before, but it may well be. Either way, you can (and probably already have) read everything I had to say about Imperial Brandon, my favourite contestant this series, further up this very page, so I don’t need to reiterate.

Durham’s Tams beats him to what I thought was a relatively easy starter on the Magna Carta (just spent a few minutes trying to come up with another word to rhyme with carta, thought it would be easy, but it was a bit harda). He gets the next one though (though) and his Captain Rich the third to give them the lead. Their opponents proved a tougher nut to crack than Courtauld though (though, and I’m not doing this on purpose. I’m just not removing them when I probably should be. They’re all coming up naturally. This is just how much I apparently use the word. If there are any others then please let me know) and cling on whenever Brandon threatens to zoom away.

Please forgive me for going on about Brandon, by the way. He’s just (I think ‘just’ is probably one, and probably ‘probably’ too) so captivating to watch. There were several times in this episode when I stopped watching the whole screen during a starter and focussed on him, expecting him to buzz in, which he duly did. Especially on the starters which are that bit more important, when Durham were (I need to do something about my tenses too, they’re all over the shop) threatening to make a comeback, you could feel certain that he was going to get it.

When the game has been won, he relaxes, so his personal scores haven’t been as high as those of others in past series, but he hasn’t needed to get more than he has done, so why would he bother? I expect if a team were to push Imperial close over a whole match then he’d easily post double figures.

Imperial join Corpus Christi in the semis. Durham live to fight another day.

Final Score: Durham 115 - 185 Imperial

Episode 32 - Jesus, Ox vs Courtauld

Phew! I’ve never written four in a night before. That was quite something. Wait, whats that, I have another one to go? Okay, lets do this - an advance warning, this one will probably (probably! Why do I feel the need to never be absolute about anything. I know for certain that this will be very short, so why must I try and placate some imaginary reader who might scold me for its being so?) be very short.

So, another ELIMINATOR. Courtauld were my favourite team of the series, but I harboured little hope for them, after such a crushing defeat by Imperial last time out, and Jesus were quick to crush what little I had left. Lucy Clarke, who absolutely relishes a buzz on the opening starter of a match, came in with an early buzz, as is her wont, and fortunately for the Oxonians she was right this time. She got the next one too, and Jesus were 45 up.

Three in a row for Courtauld captain Prance, who looks shocked every time he gets a starter correct, despite the fact that when he got the third of this hat-trick, he had quite clearly proved to himself that he knows how to answer starter questions by the fact that (the fact that Ducks, Newburyport) he had got the previous two. They were ahead now. Dare I dream?

No, I daren’t. Jesus quickly stole it back, and did not let it go. Courtauld stayed fairly close, but could never again broach the gap, struggling on the bonus questions whenever they got in. Perhaps on another night they might have stood a better chance (with a bonus set on collage art, which Paxman reckoned they would have knocked out of the park, going to Jesus), but tonight (its not tonight at all is it, not for me and not for you) was not their night.

And breathe...

Final Score: Jesus, Ox 135 - 90 Courtauld

If you’ve stuck with me through all of this, I’m frankly amazed. Thank you, and if you need something to do during self-isolation, there are like 6 whole series of the Challenge on YouTube. I haven’t reviewed them all, but thats probably for the best though.

#university challenge #bbc2 #manchester #jesus #oxford #wolfson #cambridge #corpus christi #durham #imperial #london #trinity #Courtauld #Jeremy Paxman

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workersolidarity · 5 years ago

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[Today's Worker's Unity March: Burning of an effigy of Cop as a Pig in uniform and another police uniform in front of the statue of Andrew Jackson in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana 9/27/19 7pm.]

Tonight I marched for Socialism.

I marched for various Socialist and Social causes more generally including Worker's Rights, police and prison abolition, LGBTQ causes and more. The march was organized by a coalition of groups including the New Orleans Worker's Group, the New Orleans People's Assembly, New Orleans Hospitality Workers, and other local, regional and national groups fighting for Immigrant Rights, disolution of our borders, and the various struggles our Immigrant Community is faced with daily among other things. The march was also dedicated to all the incredibly talented Street Musicians in our beautiful city. Our amazing musicians who represent the purist expression of New Orleans culture. This is a culture so rich and unique that it draws in millions of people and millions in tax revenue to our city every year. Even though these musicians are an integral part of the exotic experience of New Orleans culture, they are still being driven out by the gentrification of our city. The rich Bourgeois scum moving into our city suck up the profits WE earn, then turn around and avoid paying THEIR SHARE in taxes, and then profoundly drive up our rents. To top it off, these Bourgeois scumbags have a habit of calling the fucking pigs on these incredibly talented and hard working musicians (conveniently only the Black ones) who've been in the city long before themselves, and will surely be here long after they're gone. Our March was also in Solidarity with our wonderful New Orleans Hospitality Workers! Women and men who cater seemingly endlessly to the Bourgeoisie and their freeloading grown children day in and day out. Hospitality workers display unparalleled patience in dealing with these rich, drunk assholes, and they do it daily for disgustingly low wages, no health insurance or any other benefits, unreliable hours, and Bosses free to fire workers on a whim. These supercilious fucks treat our hospitality workers like human trash. Our Comrades toil away in horrible conditions, living with constant job insecurity. They invest their blood, sweat and tears into the restaurants, stores and hotels in which they work. Many put up with intolerable practices like illegal wage theft, pervasive sexism, sexual harassment and even sexual assaults that go unreported for fear of losing their jobs. Yet, despite working extra hours without overtime pay (a common practice in the city) and other indecencies, these workers at the end of the day can no longer afford to live in their own city. How fucked up is that?

Tonight we also Marched for and stand in Solidarity with our Comrades in the LGBTQ Community, Comrades who suffer these indecencies often to extremes our straight, cis-gendered Comrades would NEVER tolerate. We love you all. Your battle is our battle. Your blood spilled is our blood spilled. Your struggle is our struggle, and we'll gladly stand by your side, and die by your side fighting the injustices you suffer. Our hearts are with you Comrades. ♥️

Of course we also Marched in Solidarity with our incredibly resilient but ever struggling Black Community. I stand in awe of our Black community that rebuilt after Katrina despite the Local and State Government's sickening efforts to permanently prevent black communities from rebuilding; using the immense power of the State to exclude Black Communities, often using zoning regulations designed to be nearly impossible to comply with in order to exclude Black and Brown people from the years long rebuilding effort. These efforts coincided with the firing of all public school teachers in Orleans Parish, a majority of whom were Black and Unionized. They then proceeded to Privatize the entire public school system in Orleans Parish, leading it to become the first school district in the United States to completely privatize the public school system and turning public education in New Orleans into a grand Neoliberal experiment with Black and Brown children playing the part of lab rat. The effect this all had on teacher's wages has been astounding. Some teachers are now making less than $10.00 an hour to educate the majority black students. Most of the public school teachers who were fired after Hurricane Katrina never got their jobs back, leading to thousands of Black educators forced to choose between early retirement, unemployment, or moving out of the city entirely. The city's newly empowered Charter Schools recruited (mostly white) recent college graduates, many of them without ANY teaching experience at all! Just hundreds of deeply inexperienced, completely unqualified, non-unionized "educators" paid starvation wages.

And then of course there is our Immigrant Community. These Comrades give so much back to the rest of us, words could never do them justice. Our Immigrant Communities that do so much to enrich our culture and add so much to our city that we could never repay them for it in a thousand years. And yet, Louisiana is on the frontline of the race to incarcerate, profit off and deport them back to violence filled, corrupt countries with few, if any, opportunities. Despite the fact that their work, their farms, and even their tax dollars form the backbone of American society, this is how to Bourgeoisie choose to thank their hard work. US Imperialism, regional domination big oil and big ag industries and other forms of profiteering has so decimated the countries from which many immigrants seek to escape, that it has become nearly impossible, and downright dangerous to raise a family in countries like Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatamala. The US empire has spent centuries controlling these country's governments for the benefit of the US Bourgeoisie in the name of Capital. Throughout our shared history, the US has been busily overturning those governments we've deemed unsatisfactory to the needs of our mega-corporations, with our CIA sponsoring Right-Wing Military Dictatorships, Fascist Regime's, and death squads. And yet we have the audacity to act surprised when these families seek to escape these auxiliaries for corporate control we call "Independent" governments? They deserve our welcome, our hospitality, and our love. They are our brothers and sisters. They are our working class Comrades.

Maybe one of the most important issues on which to take a stand is that of the history and struggle of indiginous peoples in the Americas. Tonight we proudly march in Solidarity with our indigenous Communities. Indiginous people have endured genocidal slaughter, torture, starvation, and some of the most horrid political, cultural, and educational oppression imaginable. Over the course of centuries of being dominated by the colonization and Imperialism of European Capitalist States, it's unquestionable that the indiginous community lived through the kind of systematic slaughter that only a handful of cultures worldwide have ever experienced. We are not unaware of who's land it is on which we protest tonight. The struggle for indiginous rights, indiginous emancipation, and the continued suffering of indiginous peoples at the hands of their colonizers is a crime of unimaginable proportion that weighs heavily on our minds tonight. Your struggle will no longer be ignored as long as we have air in our lungs to make ourselves heard! We will never forget your struggle. And when the Revolution we seek comes and we can stand together on the piles of Bourgeoisie bones, begins the moment when all the oppressed people of this nation can finally begin the healing process that is so desperately needed. This will be the very moment we begin to dismantle the farce that is the republic of the United States of America. We will dismantle this empire of the rich and our very first governing action will be to return the land stolen so long ago by the Imperial European colonizers to the Indiginous people's it was stolen from. The oppressed will become the oppressor and never again will we allow the interests of a few to dominate the workers of the world again.

That is the future we march for today.

All of these different groups, with different histories, suffering from different forms of the same Capitalist oppression, are all united on this night as ONE Working Class. We are the Proletariat! We clean your toilets, cut your grass, grow your food, make your dinner, take out your trash, fix your cars, play the music you listen to; we are your designated driver, your waitress, your bar tender, your street cleaners; we fix your roofs, educate your children, check you out at the store, deliver your Amazon purchases. WE ARE THE WORKING CLASS AND WE OUTNUMBER THE RULING CLASS 10'000 TO 1. WHEN WE STAND TOGETHER IN SOLIDARITY WITH ALL OUR COMRADES, WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE. WE MUST REJECT THE IDENTITIES GIVEN TO US BY RULING CLASS AND THE BOSSES. WE MUST FIGHT BACK AGAINST ALL FORMS OF OPPRESSION, INCLUDING RACISM, SEXISM, GENDER BIAS, XENOPHOBIA, TRANSPHOBIA AND ALL THE TOOLS THE CAPITALISTS USE TO KEEP US DIVIDED SO WE CAN NEVER BECOME A THREAT TO THEIR PROFITS. WE MUST ORGANIZE, MARCH, DEMONSTRATE, PROTEST, USE CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE AND ANYTHING ELSE WE CAN THINK OF TO BREAK THE GRIP OF THE CAPITALISTS AND THEIR STATE APPARATUS. WE MUST SMASH THIS STATE APPARATUS THEY'VE BUILT SOLELY FOR THE PURPOSE OF VIOLENTLY ENFORCING OUR CLASS POSITIONS!!!

The time has come for workers to claim the mantle of those Revolutionaries who came before us, and to destroy the Capitalist system and the ruling class once and for all.

Viva La Revolucion!

Viva La Liberte!

Viva La egalite!

Viva La Socialisme!

Viva La Communiste!

Da zdravstvuyet bol'sheviki!

Solidarity to all my Comrades!

Tonight we march!

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sophisticatedloserchick · 6 years ago

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Fanfic - One Night; Two Interesting Men - 1/1

Summary: In the course of one night Iris gets to know the two new men in her life; billionaire Barry Allen and Green Arrow.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4011

A/N: A sequel to my Barry!GreenArrow fic “Kissing Green Arrow Under the Mistletoe”

The first thing Iris noticed about Starling City after she moved is that it rained a lot.

For the past week she'd live here Iris woke up to the sound of rain pelting against the glass of her window. This city seemed to constantly be under the cover of dark grey rain clouds, a stark contrast to Central City where the sun always shined. It gave Starling City the appearance of coldness that would get under your skin.

Not for the first time Iris wondered if she made the wrong choice moving here. When the opportunity to be Starling City's correspondent for Picture News Iris took it to the surprise of everyone. Her friends thought she was crazy. Her dad worried that she was going through some sort of a crisis. Iris didn't know what The Flash thought nor did she care to find out.

Maybe some would say she moved to Starling City for a man, two men if Iris was being honest, but that wasn't the full story. Iris moved here because she felt this is where she could make a difference. To be the type of journalist that brought down those in power who preyed on the weak. She didn't think she could achieve any of that in Central City which is why she left.

But she wouldn't deny there was a pull of getting to see billionaire playboy Barry Allen or the masked vigilante Green Arrow again.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iris sipped at her coffee while going over the papers she had spread out over the table. She'd been tracking a new drug that had hit the streets in the last month. A strong opiate highly addictive that had devastating consequences. No one knew the source of the drugs making it harder to stop the constant flow of it into the city

Lost in her own thoughts Iris didn't hear knocking at her office door.

“Miss West?” Her assistant kept calling out. “Miss West do you have a moment?”

Iris blinked back into reality and turned to see her assistant standing in the doorway holding a crystal glass vase that held a large bouquet of red roses. Iris already knew which one of her admirers had sent them to her.

“These came for you,” Her assistant said while struggling to carry the heavy bouquet over to the desk.

Iris reached over to pluck the card out from the roses to read the note.

'Dinner tonight? - B.A.'

“Wow you got Barry Allen asking you out on a date,” Iris's assistant gushed. “You're so lucky.”

Iris rolled her eyes even though deep down she felt charmed by the gesture. Not everyday you got flowers from a man who's yearly earnings was more than most countries. But Iris needed more than flowers to be convinced to go to dinner with man regardless of the money he had, or how cute he was.

“What are you going to say?” The assistant asked eagerly.

“Nothing,” Iris put the card back in the bouquet.

“Nothing??” Her assistant looked at Iris like she was crazy, “You have to tell him something.”

Iris walked back over to her work without a second glance at her flowers, “If a man wants to ask me out to dinner he should do it face to face.”

“Um well about that...”

Iris glanced over at her assistant only to have her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the familiar tall figure standing in the doorway.

“Guess you don't like flowers too much,” Barry smirked at her.

“I like them just fine,” Iris squared her shoulders off. “Just not when a man uses them as an excuse not to put in an effort.”

Barry laughed under his breath as he walked further into her office. Her assistant scurried away leaving them alone. The two of them eyed each other both speculative and appreciative.

A month had passed since they had last seen each other at the gala. He still looked handsome even without a tux because he looked just as good in a well tailored suit. His auburn hair in that intentional mussed up way. And something about his green eyes kept drawing her in.

“Working hard?” Barry gestured towards all the papers spread out across her desk.

“Its what a good reporter does,” Iris replied simply. Her brows furrowed together as Barry stared at her paperwork longer then she expected. The movement of his eyes gave the impression that he was carefully scanning every word.

“What about you?” Iris asked trying to get his attention again. “Spend a productive day on your yacht?”

“Not quite,” Barry briefly glanced up at her. “Morning at the golf course then in the afternoon a boring meetings at my company.”

“I guess most meetings at billion dollar companies would be boring,” Iris said sarcastically.

Barry finally looked up from her papers with a smile on his lips that made her heart beat faster.

“You know if you're going to scold me it be better if you did it over dinner,” Barry gave her a knowing look.

“You still want to go out for dinner?” Iris folded her arms over her chest. “Won't that interrupt your 'busy' schedule?”

“Well I did buy the flowers and all,” Barry gave her a boyish grin that she had no doubt he knew was irresistible. “Be a shame for them to go to waste.”

Which is how against her better judgement Iris agreed to go on a date with Barry Allen.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Barry hadn't been this on edge for a long time.

Which said a lot because Barry on a regular day dealt with corrupt politicians, drug kingpins, and ancient ninja clans. For years he had survived on a island that every day challenged his survival. Going out on a date with a beautiful and intelligent woman should be easy. Yet here he was sweating bullets in his suit, fidgeting nervously with a napkin at the table, all the while trying (but failing) to subtly glance at the restaurant entrance to see if Iris arrived.

None of this was doing his suave and cool playboy image any favors. Barry had worked hard to convince the people of Star City that he was a shallow and self-indulgent playboy they all expected him to be. Its what made his nightly activities as Green Arrow possible.

The fact that going on a date with Iris West put a chink in that facade should be a concern for him. He should listen to Diggle's warnings about the dangers of getting involved with a woman whose job was to seek out and expose the truth behind lies. Barry couldn't deny that Diggle had a good point that Iris West was dangerous.

But one look into Iris's dark brown eyes and Barry didn't think any man alive could resist her.

His head jerked when he caught the faint sound of her voice. His keen senses proving useful even in the setting of the restaurant.

He spotted the maitre'd helping her out of her coat. She picked a simple strapless navy blue dress that exposed the smooth brown skin of her shoulders. The soft silk fabric hugged her curves perfectly making his heart pound faster in his chest.

Oh yeah he was in big trouble.

“Sorry I'm late,” Iris said giving him that mega-watt smile of hers.

Barry remained silent and composed while the maitre'd helped her into her chair. Most would take that as him being unaffected but truly he was doing everything possible to hold it together. One look at her and Barry could feel his tenuous grip on his control slip. She looked like something out of a dream. Her full lips painted a light pink. Her long dark waves of hair piled up in a bun that showed the the heart shaped curves of her face.

“So,” Iris gave him a perplexed look since he hadn't spoken yet. “I would say I'm impressed you got the best table in the most expensive restaurant in town but you are Barry Allen after all.”

“The benefits of owning the place,” Barry said with what he hoped was a confident smirk.

Iris rolled her eyes but a smile still tugged at her lips.

The rest of the evening went fairly smoothly. Iris was quickly becoming his favorite person to talk to. She had knowledge on a wide range of topics from the latest blockbuster movie to the recent politics at Star City hall. She spoke concisely but thoughtfully with a sharp sense of humor that had Barry laughing more than once. He did his best to keep up with her not wanting her to think he was a dumb playboy who didn't know anything beyond his golf game or which model was on the cover of Sports Illustrated this month. He loved making her laugh too. Her eyes crinkled and she laughed with her entire body.

Before Barry knew it the maitre'd was bringing them coffee and that night's dessert. He became momentarily mesmerized as Iris hummed in pleasure while eating chocolate mousse. His mind drifted to more forbidden thoughts of how he would be the one to get her to moan in pleasure.

He debated if it be too forward to ask her over to his place. So far he'd been lucky that no criminal activity required him to suit up as Green Arrow. He might not get another opportunity and if the way Iris kept casually touching his arm and her eyes drifting to his lips he had a feeling she felt just as attracted to him as he was to her.

Before he could find a way to go about it Iris's phone dinged.

“Sorry,” Iris shot him an apologetic look as she fished her phone out of her purse. “I leave it on for works reasons.”

Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked at her phone screen. Barry noted her entire body went rigid. He could tell her mind was running through a million thoughts but none of them involved him or their date.

“I'm sorry,” Iris forced a smile as she looked back up at him. “I have to cut the night short.”

“Is everything okay?” Barry asked as she hastily got up from her chair.

“Yes of course it is,” She reassured him. “The work of a reporter never ends.”

Barry stood up and followed her to the entrance of the restaurant. He helped her into her coat letting his hands linger on her shoulders and arms. Iris turned back to look at him with eyes soft with guilt and he knew she felt bad for leaving.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Iris gave a shy smile. “I hope we can do it again.”

“I'd love that,” Barry said sincerely. “We can have dinner on my private yacht if you want.”

“You're something else Barry Allen,” Iris laughing. “I have a feeling dating you will be very interesting.”

Barry hoped he didn't let it show on his face how ecstatic he was that Iris thought of them as 'dating'.

He watched her leave with restaurant with a big smile on his face and a warmth spreading in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time being with someone made him this happy.

But even in this moment Barry's instincts kicked into gear. Iris's reaction to that text troubled him. His night as Barry Allen might have ended but Green Arrow's was just beginning.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iris wondered why dangerous drug dealers couldn't meet up in more respectable places. A coffee shop or some brightly lit street where people felt safe enough to walk their dogs. No they always had to meet up in abandoned warehouses in shipyards after midnight.

Not to mention it was a particular cold night. A harsh wind came off the ocean cutting through her. She could tell from the heavy clouds that it would rain again soon. Luckily Iris had changed into a pair of jeans and sweatshirt that she kept stashed in her car because as a journalist you never knew when a change of clothes would come in handy.

Iris stood outside watching the top drug dealers of the city walk into the building. All she needed was to get pictures of them all meeting here. From there she would investigate how they kept funneling drugs into the city. But the distance and the fog in the air made it difficult for her to do it from her position. Which left her no choice but to get in closer.

Taking in a deep breath Iris made her way across the ship yard to the warehouse. She had spotted one armed guard at the front so she circled around to the back. Luckily the door had only a basic lock that Iris could easily pick open. After quietly prying open the metal door Iris slipped inside.

With her back against the wall she slowly made her way through the darkness. Distantly she could hear the sound of men talking. Following the sound Iris could see them gathered around a table. Iris noticed the guns on the table, along with a black duffel bag no doubt filled with money.

Carefully Iris took out her phone and started to take pictures. Her eyes tracking each person waiting until the right moment to get the shot. Her heart pounding from both fear and adrenaline. Normally Iris never took risks like this but maybe something about being in Star City made him a bit more reckless.

Completely focused on taking pictures Iris didn't notice the tall dark figure coming up from behind her. Iris let out a sound of surprise that was quickly smothered by a leather clad hand covering her mouth. His other hand grabbed her right arm and pulled her back further into the shadows.

“Don't move,” a gruff but familiar voice said in her ear.

Despite the shadows covering them both Iris could tell it was the Green Arrow. She'd probably should be more panicked that she was at the mercy at the city's most notorious vigilante but him saving her a month ago at the Allen Christmas gala had her trusting him. Besides not many would complain their body being pressed up against a handsome masked avenger.

Seconds letter it became clear why he pulled her away. A very large, heavily armed guard walked right by where Iris originally stood. If it hadn't been for the Green Arrow she would of been caught.

The Green Arrow's grip on her loosened enough for her to turn around. Iris could barley make out his face with the mask covering the top half but she could see the lips that had kissed her under the mistletoe.

Green Arrow inclined his head signaling her to follow him. Quickly the two made their way to a door that led up to a dimly lit stairwell. This is probably when Iris's self preservation instincts should of kicked in. Her dad would have a fit if he ever found out she followed a strange leather wearing man with a habit of shooting people with arrows to a more secluded place. But Iris had always a living in the moment kind of girl.

After a silent climb up the flights of stairs they went through another door to the roof of the building. Iris felt a relief at the cold wind against her face. A quick scan of the roof Iris spotted two guards knocked out, bound and gagged at the far corner no doubt the work of Green Arrow.

“You're taking a lot of risks,” Green Arrow finally spoke up.

Iris squared her shoulders off as she turned to look at him. From her dad to The Flash she had men telling her all her life what not to do. She might find Green Arrow attractive but she wasn't about to let him try to do the same.

“It was worth the risk,” Iris argued back. “The men down there are destroying lives for profit and someone needs to do something.”

“That someone had to be you?” Green Arrow crossed his arms over his chest.

“No one else came here tonight,” Iris countered. “The cops are in over their heads. The mayor's office is corrupt. Star City doesn't have have a hero like Flash or Supergirl to defend them. All this city has is me and you.”

Green Arrow took a moment to process what she said before he spoke again in a less put on gruff voice.

“You don't think I'm a superhero?”

Iris had to try hard not to laugh at how put out he sounded.

“I think of you as more a vigilante. Because no offense,” Iris gestured to his black and dark green leather costume complete with mask and hood. “You don't come across as a family friendly superhero.”

Iris couldn't be completely certain because of how dark it was but she swore she saw him pouting.

“What do you plan to do with those pictures?” Arrow finally asked.

“Publish them,” Iris said. “Let the whole city know who has been destroying their neighborhood by pushing their drugs.”

“That will do nothing,” Green Arrow replied simply.

“What would you have me do?” Iris narrowed her eyes. “Turn them over to the police?”

“No that would put a target on your back,” Green Arrow said in a voice Iris thought she could hear concern in. “The police force has its fair share of corrupt cops that work as informants for the drug cartels.”

Green Arrow now walked towards her but Iris held her ground. She kept flashing back to the night of the gala when he'd kissed her under the mistletoe. The soft feel of his lips contrasting with the hard edge of his appearance. Iris felt that flutter of anticipation once again the closer he got to her.

“Keep the pictures to yourself for now,” Green Arrow spoke lowly despite them only being inches apart. “Help me figure out who the informants are in the police then we'll go after the cartels and their leaders.”

“You want my help?” Iris asked taken a back.

In vain she tried to look up into his eyes but the hood and mask obscured his face. She should of felt scared this tall imposing figure towering over but something in Iris compelled her to trust him.

“I need your help,” Green Arrow finally answered.

Iris couldn't explain what came over her. It was as if a temporary madness washed over her. Or maybe deep down she wanted confirmation that she'd feel the same rush of electricity as she did when they kissed under the mistletoe months ago. After all she was a reporter who investigated till she got the answer she wanted.

Both her hands went to his shoulders as she went on her toes to reach him. The Green Arrow had a startled look on his face (that Iris took great pride in cracking his usual stoic demeanor) that quickly turned to understanding when Iris pressed her lips against his.

Her arms curled themselves more securely around his neck as the kiss deepened. His own arms wrapped around her waist holding her close and keeping her in place. Iris felt as though she was flouting as he lifted her several inches off the ground.

His lips moved against her perfectly. He seemed to know exactly how to kiss with the right amount of coaxing and demand. His teeth biting hard on her lower lips only for his tongue to swipe over the mark he left behind. Every cell in Iris's body felt electrified. Her sensations heightened by being pressed into his body.

When they finally pulled apart Iris felt dizzy and her skin felt hot to the touch. Despite them being in a less than romantic setting on the roof of a warehouse with unconscious guards several feet away and a meeting of drug lords taking place inside but if Green Arrow wanted to take things further she'd let him.

“I need to go,” Green Arrow said in a voice thick with want. Iris could feel his eyes staring at her lips.

“Right now?” Iris asked hopefully.

For a second the Green Arrow seemed to angle his head down as if to kiss her again but suddenly he let her go.

Iris could feel the heaviness of the cold night more acutely without him being close to her.

“Leave out the same back door you came in,” Green Arrow instructed. “I'll make sure no one follows you,”

“What about the information I need,” Iris pressed having no intention of him thinking that the kiss would make her forget their deal.

“I'll make sure you get it,” He said in return.

Iris could tell by the finality in his voice that nothing else would be discussed or done tonight. Which made her feel a little disappointed and a little regretful she kissed him in the first place.

Without a word Iris turned and left out the door they came through. Not once looking back to see if he made good on his promise to keep watch but she felt his eyes on her all the same.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iris got back to her apartment as the sky had began to turn pale grey. A light rain had started to fall leaving Iris damp and cold and very grateful to be back home. Iris shrugged off her jacket and walked over to collapse on the couch. Her body felt like dead weight but her mind kept running with thoughts over what happened.

Last night had been both long and exhilarating. Her date with Barry Allen went far better then she expected. She was now not only attracted to him but enjoyed talking with him in an open and real way. Iris hadn't dated seriously for years but she could see herself being with him despite his reputation as a billionaire playboy.

Then there was Green Arrow. A man that Iris really should avoid being alone with. As much as she respected what he did for the city she wasn't about to put on her rose colored glasses and believe he could do no wrong. But at the same time she wanted to help him with his mission to save Star City.

One night, two very interesting men that Iris didn't know how to feel about.

Iris reached over to check her phone a little surprised to see a text message from Barry.

Barry: I know this might seem forward but can I take you for breakfast?

Iris smiled as she read the text and without thinking about the time instantly called him.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” Barry answered when he picked up the call.

“What do you mean? You texted me remember,” Iris scoffed.

“I didn't think you get back to me at 5 in the morning,” Barry replied is amusement.

Iris cringed and silently cursed hoping he didn't think she was a complete freak.

“Sorry I don't keep regular people hours,” Iris rushed to explain.

“Its fine, neither do I. Its not uncommon for me to be up all night and getting no sleep.”

“From all your partying with super models and celebrities right?” Iris teased.

“Yeah,” Barry laughed with an edge Iris couldn't decipher. “Something like that.”

The two of them made plans to meet up at diner down town in an hour. Iris pushed herself off the couch to make her way to take a shower. She probably shouldn't of agreed to meet up with him but she felt compelled to see him again.

She had a feeling that Barry Allen would be no different from the Green Arrow as a man she had her misgivings about but couldn't stay away from.

#westallen #westallen!au #sophisticatedloserchickwrites #fanfic

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megamillionsclub · 2 years ago

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How many tickets sold last time ?

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CHECK FOR MORE ARTICLES

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onenettvchannel · 3 years ago

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DEVELOPING STORY: Mega Millions reached a jackpot of U$D1.02B, even the Filipinos or foreigners can play along

ATLANTA, GA -- Popular multi-state American lottery Mega Millions in Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America is offering a huge jackpot prize of U$D1.02 billion (which is equivalent to PHP56.7B) in its upcoming lotto draw later this weekend on Saturday morning in Manila (Friday night EST in the U.S.).

There will be no winner to hit the jackpot but, only 6 of the American states have won the secondary prize worth U$D1 million (PHP55.6M) in California, Florida, Illinois, New Jersey, New York & Ohio (which includes both the regular in Match 5 and Megaplier instead).

The odds of the said jackpot are 1 in 302.5 million. You are more likely to be killed by a shark, taking home an Olympic Zamboangueñang Gold Medal like Hidilyn Diaz or even a bit worse, you will end up a fatigue-related car crash and strike it rich!

Adrian Cooremans, spokesman of TheLotter who was exclusively reported of DZKB-TV 9's CNN Philippines, the Filipino and foreign bettors can now play legally worldwide -- even if you're not an American citizen for now: "There's no limit to how high the current jackpot can grow, but on the other hand, it could be won in this week's draw. And who knows, the winner could be someone from the Philippines!". Tourists can buy lottery tickets at a local kiosk in the United States and then claim their prizes should they win either a solo bettor or more, if later split the jackpot.

This is the 3rd time in history before and during the Coronavirus Disease-19 (CoViD-19) Pandemic worldwide, after a bettor from South Carolina in late-October 2018 and last year in Michigan in late-January 2021 wins both similar jackpot prizes with a different billionaire amounts.

It was temporarily dubbed as 'Mega Billions' where the next drawing is set for Friday night (July 29th, 2022) at 11pm EST / 10pm CST (Saturday - July 30th, 2022 at 11am in Manila) on your locally syndicated American TV stations nationwide. You can also watch on demand anytime at the Mega Millions' YouTube channel.

Mega Millions is played in 45 American states as well as Washington, D.C., and the U.S. Virgin Islands. It can be also played worldwide at TheLotter website. Lotto drawings held every Tuesday and Friday nights (in Eastern local time) as of this writing.

May the best billionaire win! Good luck!

FILE PHOTO COURTESY: WSB-TV 2's ABC: Atlanta BACKGROUND PROVIDED BY: Tegna

SOURCE: *https://www.cnnphilippines.com/lifestyle/2022/7/25/filipino-bettors-get-a-chance-to-win-790M-jackpot-in-mega-millions-the-lotter.html [Referenced News Article from CNN Philippines] *https://youtu.be/xn0concEYH4 *https://www.megamillions.com/News/2022/Tonight%E2%80%99s-Mega-Millions%C2%AE-Jackpot-Upped-to-$830-Mil.aspx [Referenced News Release #1 from Mega Millions' news blog] *https://www.megamillions.com/News/2022/One-Billion-Dollars-for-Mega-Millions%C2%AE!.aspx [Referenced News Release #2 from Mega Millions' news blog] *https://www.megamillions.com/News/2018/Record-Mega-Millions-Jackpot-Won-in-South-Carolina.aspx [Referenced News Release #3 from Mega Millions' news blog] and *https://www.megamillions.com/News/2021/Historic-Mega-Millions-Jackpot-Won-in-Michigan!.aspx [Referenced News Release #4f from Mega Millions' news blog]

-- OneNETnews Team

#international news #atlanta #Georgia #lottery #mega millions #billionaire #money #filipino #TheLotter #1 billion #tickets #OneNETnews

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journalworldwide · 3 years ago

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Here is the Cutoff Time for Purchasing Mega Millions Tickets for Tonight's $810 Million Prize!

Here is the Cutoff Time for Purchasing Mega Millions Tickets for Tonight’s $810 Million Prize!

Are you ready for the $810 million Mega Millions jackpot that will be drawn tonight? There is still time to buy tickets. Tickets for tonight’s Mega Millions drawing, which will take place at 11 p.m., can be bought until 10:45 p.m. Mega Millions’ most recent drawing was on Friday, July 22. The winning numbers were 14, 40, 60, 64, and 66. The Mega Ball was 16, and the Megaplier was 3. The last Mega…

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elizabethcariasa · 3 years ago

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Massachusetts trio charged in $21 million state lottery, tax evasion scheme

Tonight's Powerball drawing is $304 million. If your numbers don't come up, or even if they do, you can check out Mega Millions' drawing on Friday, Aug. 27, for a jackpot that by then will be more than the current $288 million.

Of course, when you win that much money, you're going to pay a substantial chunk of it to the U.S. Treasury and, depending on where you live, your state tax collector.

That's why it's not surprising that some folks look for any way to avoid the tax bite on their gambling winnings.

It's also no secret that law enforcement agencies keep a close eye on lotteries, for tax evasion and other reasons.

Such scrutiny paid off this week when three Massachusetts were indicted on federal tax evasion and money laundering charges in connection with millions of lottery winnings that weren't theirs.

Lottery and tax cheating charges: Ali Jaafar and his sons Yousef and Mohamed each are charged with one count of conspiracy to defraud the Internal Revenue Service, one count of conspiracy to commit money laundering, and multiple counts of filing false tax returns.

The U.S. Attorney's Office in Massachusetts announced on Tuesday, Aug. 24, that the trio used a "ten-percenting" scheme in which they allegedly purchased, in cash, thousands of winning Massachusetts Lottery tickets at a discount of between 10-and-20 percent of each ticket’s value from the real ticket buyers.

That allowed the individuals who bought the winning tickets to avoid reporting the winnings on their tax returns.

The Jaafars then allegedly presented the winning tickets to the Massachusetts Lottery Commission as their own and collected the full value of the jackpots. Federal officials also allege that the Jaafars reported the ticket winnings as their own on their income tax returns. To avoid the tax bill that the winnings created, the men allegedly offset the claimed winnings with purported gambling losses.

Mass. Lottery's massive interest: Federal court documents allege that the Bay State trio cashed more than 13,000 lottery tickets and claimed more than $20,989,284 in Massachusetts lottery winnings between 2011 and 2019.

Based upon their submitted lottery claims, investigators say that 62-year-old family patriarch Ali Jaafar was the top individual lottery ticket casher in Massachusetts in 2019. His older son, 30-year-old Mohamed Jaafar, was the third highest individual ticket casher, and Yousef Jaafar, 28, was the fourth highest individual ticket casher.

In addition to the federal law enforcement, which included members of the U.S. Department of Justice and the IRS' Criminal Investigations division, officials with the Massachusetts State Lottery Commission were part of the years-long investigation.

State lottery rules require a winner to swear under the penalties of perjury that they are collecting the money only for themselves, not for someone else. Lottery officials then check to see if the person claiming the prize has outstanding child support payments or other fees and fines due the state.

"This type of activity has a lot of negative ramifications on multiple fronts, and we take that responsibility seriously," Michael R. Sweeney, executive director of the lottery, told The Boston Globe. "It has our absolute attention. It goes to the integrity of the Lottery."

Sweeney also told the newspaper that "too many" people still are participating in the scam, and that " the public should be expecting more news very shortly."

No luck keeping winnings secret: The tax angle in the Massachusetts' criminal investigation is just one reason some lottery winners want to keep their identities secret.

Other winners, especially of huge jackpots, also want to avoid the hangers-on that invariably appear as soon as the photos with the oversized checks are published. Friends, neighbors, and even heretofore unknown relatives suddenly try to ingratiate themselves into the new multimillionaires' lives.

This unsolicited entourage appears in most states because public records laws require lottery winners to be identified. The key rationale, as noted by the Massachusetts Lotter official, is that the disclosure will, among other things, guarantee the integrity and transparency of the lottery process.

A handful of states, however, allow their lottery winners some privacy. Winners in 11 states can remain anonymous when a winning ticket was purchased within their borders. The states are Arizona, Delaware, Georgia, Kansas, Maryland, New Jersey, North Dakota, Ohio, South Carolina, Virginia, and Texas.

Wherever you happen to live when your numbers come up, there are some moves you need to make to deal with the tax, other financial, and privacy, or lack thereof, aspects of being a million-dollar lottery winner. Check out my post 6 tax & financial tips for the next lottery millionaire for details.

Yes, being rich does have its own set of problems. But at least you have plenty of money to help you deal with them!

You also might find these items of interest:

Tax scores upset win, this time in horse race, not Congress

State lotteries' appeal increases during COVID-19 lockdowns

Reporting all your income, including gambling winnings, on Form 1040 Schedule 1