#reducing feed expenses

[farmerstrend]

Do You Want to Cut Your Poultry Feed Cost? Here is A Comprehensive Guide

Discover how Kenyan poultry farmers can cut down on high poultry feed costs and boost productivity with homemade chicken feed solutions. Learn more in our detailed guide! Explore the struggles of Kenyan poultry farmers facing high feed costs and uncover practical, cost-effective strategies for making high-quality chicken feed at home. Read now! Learn how to overcome the high costs of chicken feed…

[transgendz]

My roommate and I are financially unstable while he does through a long, complicated diagnosis process that started as we stopped being homeless. I just got a job, and it's going to pay well and allow us to get caught up and stable, but I don't get my check for a week and a half. We have rent due on the 1st, our storage bill due at the end of the month, and we are out of food.

Dm me for proof or details

I will do art for anyone who gives, just message me @theartistrans I also take commissions there.

Dm me for zelle

$creepiecrippl

V

PP

$0/$900

[jamescarstairs]

new year same rant: i don't think i will ever be able to forgive my parents & the rest of my family for how they treated me when i was unemployed compared to how they now treat my brother

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT doing acts of service

Requested? Yes! 

Request: 'seventeen members and what they would for their partner who’s love language is acts of service :)'

A/N: there are so many different kinds of acts of service, but I picked the ones that really stuck out to me. 

Seungcheol - car maintenance and care

You haven’t had to fill up your gas tank in months, years even, because it never seems to come close to empty. You haven’t thought about needing an oil change or tire rotation because the little sticker in the corner of your windshield always looks new. You forget how a drive thru car wash works because your car is always sparkling. And if your check engine light ever does come on with an actual issue, best believe he’s swapping cars for the day to take care of it. Almost entirely motivated by you being safe, but the shiny car with a full tank of gas kind of makes him proud when he returns it to you.

Jeonghan - does the dishes 

You said a single time that dishes were your least favorite chore. You grumbled about it but had every intention of doing it as soon as you could work up the motivation. But he’s rolling his eyes lovingly, pushing you back towards your seat saying, “I’ll do it, but you’re so whiney.” Don’t let it fool you. He doesn’t mind it and even tells you to just leave it for him later. Might even scold you a little bit if you didn't leave them for him.

Joshua - always makes coffee

Absolutely does not matter how early he has to wake up or if it might make him late, but he’s starting the coffee pot. You said one time that you were running late and really needed coffee but didn’t have time to make any or stop somewhere. So every morning when you rush around the apartment to get ready for work, you find fresh coffee with an insulated cup next to the pot for you to fill and go. So small yet so nice at the same time. 

Jun - cooking dinner

You get a little stressed about dinner. After a long day, it’s so, so easy to come home and say “fuck it, I’m ordering something.” But you lament how expensive and unhealthy that habit is sometimes, so you occasionally come home and are surprised to see him there too, cooking dinner. Will not listen to a single second of nagging for him to rest because he really doesn’t mind if it reduces your stress and ensure you’re eating properly and actually wishes he could do it more often. 

Hoshi - packing your lunch 

Similar to Jun, but you often forget to pack lunch the night before and can’t do it in the morning when you’re running late. He sends you to get ready for bed and says he’ll be there in a few. The next morning, he reminds you to grab your lunch from the fridge on your way out. It’s not always this super cute, aesthetically pleasing box lunch, but it’s always nice that he thinks to do it at all.

Wonwoo - organizing your things

You have a pile of things that need to be put away and organized, be it books, or clothes, or groceries. He’ll take over without really being asked. Your bookshelf is neatly alphabetized. Your closet is organized by color or item type, whichever you prefer. Your groceries are put away to your preferences, whether it be by date of expiration or on low shelves to ensure you can reach it. Will not accept any thanks because he just likes doing it. 

Woozi - filling up your water bottle

At the first sight or sound of your water bottle draining, he’s holding out his hand expectantly. Does not matter if you tell him you can do it yourself because you’re wasting your breath. Very much an “I know, but let me do it.” And you do let him do it a majority of the time because it’s kind of sweet how quickly he responds. 

DK - shoulder rubs

This feeds a little bit of the physical touch love language too, but it is still most certainly an act of service. If he sees that you’ve had a hard day or your shoulders are tense, he’s pulling you in front of him or coming up behind your seat to rub out your shoulders. It makes you melt, not only because it feels good and relaxes you, but because it’s always ended with a little kiss and a “feel better?”  

Mingyu - takes care of your pet

Literally the first to volunteer to scoop the litter box, or walk the dog, or clean out the fish tank. Doesn’t matter what kind of pet you have, he wants to learn about it and help you care for it. This also extends to making time for vet appointments when you’re too busy to do it yourself. If you ever say anything about how he doesn’t need to do all that, he’ll cry out, “but that’s our child!!” Don’t deny him his time with his child. 

Minghao - opens things for you

Another one that does the whole “I know, but let me.” He barely watches you struggle to open something for a second before he’s holding out his hand or just straight up taking the item from you. Might even preemptively open things for you before he hands them to you. It’s a totally silent, easy way to show he cares so please let him keep doing it. 

Seungkwan - dries your hair for you

(I’ve definitely written about this before for him, so this was an obvious choice.) Knows you’re usually tired by the time you shower at night, so he’s making you sit down in the bathroom so he can meticulously dry your hair for you. He kind of likes how it puts you to sleep too because it means it was relaxing or soothing for you. Will never let you touch a hair dryer if he’s around. 

Vernon - untangles things for you

It starts with your headphones. You lament that the cords always get tangled and bent in your bag. He takes the headphones from you right then to untangle them. He even winds the cord neatly so it won’t happen when you put them back in your bag. This little habit extends to things like necklaces when they get knotted or tangled in one another. He doesn’t even let you ask about it - if he sees a tangled necklace on your vanity or counter that you left to deal with later out of frustration, he’ll just stop and do it right then. Another one that won’t accept any thanks because he doesn’t mind doing it. 

Chan - organizing your medicine

Doesn’t want you to forget it, no matter what you might take it for. Buys a little pill organizer and sits down once a week to fill it up for you. It’s such a little thing that sometimes you forget you never have to do it. It’s just magically always full at the beginning of the week. He usually knows when you’ve run out of a medication and need a refill before you because of this little habit, and might take initiative to get them for you when he can. 

[poeticsandaliens]

You think Peter Lukas hangs around Elias because his mere presence feeds the Lonely? That Peter knows he can never take Elias because he belongs so wholly to the Eye, but that immortality comes at the expense of any real bond, reducing everyone you've known and loved to a fragmented past, merely tools to be watched? To see and know everything and everyone but to never truly be known yourself must be the loneliest thing imaginable. A true smorgasbord.

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 1)

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 8k

Part 1 / ? (Ongoing Series) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50). This chapter includes smut with fingering and cum eating. Dominant Joel. Eventual Angst. Drinking Alcohol. Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. 

A/N: Please hang in there. This chapter has a lot of setup and is a bit of a slow burn. Its also my first fic and I am pouring my heart and soul into it.

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N

“Remember, if you need anything you can ask Joel. He knows his way around the house” your mother reminds you. 

“Thanks, I will be fine but I’ll keep that in mind.” You appease her but have no intention of bothering her neighbor.

“Love you, honey. Talk later!”

“Bye mom. Love you.” You end the call and slump back against the couch. This was going to be your home for the next few months. Your parents had gone south to avoid the brutal New England winter and had offered their summer vacation home in Kineo to you in the interim. No rent and plenty of free time to figure out what to do with your life next. All you had to do was pay the utilities and keep an eye on things.

The offer was genuine but also came from a place of concern. You had spent the last few years living a more-or-less nomadic life and poorly indulging your dreams of adventure. Your bachelors degree in Liberal Arts proving to be as useless as everyone told you it would be. It got you jobs easy enough but nothing that felt like a long term career. It all felt directionless but you also had been hell bent on proving everyone else wrong and keeping up the appearance that you were doing just fine. 

Your past relationships were nothing too exciting either. Months of casually dating someone and it not really going anywhere or random hookups that you regretted the next day. One or two guys you were getting serious with but ultimately scared you off when they started talking about a family in their big picture. You were starting to get cynical about any compatible prospects.

You are only 29 and wonder if a midlife crisis before your 30’s is normal. At least, that is what it felt like was happening. You had been treading water for too long and felt like you were too tired to keep swimming.

Your mother finally wore you down enough when your lease was up at your Boston apartment and you had no real obligations. You hated your current job, your roommates were little more than acquaintances and the busy city life scene was starting to lose its charm especially when it was astronomically expensive to live there. It was getting harder to say no so you agreed to her offer. 

You had to admit living in the country sounded like a nice change. You had a few months to figure stuff out and the thought of something new was exciting to you. Even if it meant continuing to endure the bitter winter, you had a chance to start fresh somewhere new. Something different. 

You didn’t grow up here and spent most of your life living in suburban homes with slightly warmer climates. Your parents had bought a small one bedroom vacation home in a sleepy New England town that they mostly only enjoyed in the prime summer months. The home sat mostly vacant otherwise. They would rent it out for weeks at a time but in the winter months no one from away wanted to go there. Too far from ski resorts and civilization to be of interest to a casual vacationer. It had a lake that drew much attention from outsiders only when it wasn’t frozen. The town was reduced to just the year-round locals in the coldest months.

Your new residence was outside the main populous of Kineo and nearby the lake. In fact, you could see the lake peeking through the thick pine trees out the front window if you looked hard enough. 

The closest and only neighbor in sight was the handyman your parents raved about across the street. He kept an eye on the place while they were away. You had never interacted with him on your occasional summer visits, but knew he had been kind to your folks and heard about him often enough. You occasionally saw him out in his yard from afar and he would give a lazy wave to your parents in passing. You never really got a good look at him up close but from what you could see he looked rugged and fit and always wore jeans and work boots. He had a modest waterfront cabin across the street and seemed to keep to himself.

You had arrived just a few days ago and already had a job lined up at the local coffee shop, Grind. You were getting your caffeine fix and saw a help wanted sign in their window and you had no trouble securing the job when you chatted with the owner. She hired you on the spot and seemed desperate but grateful that you actually had enthusiasm for coffee and knew your Americanos from your Lattes. Grind Coffee House was on the main drag along with some other quaint shops. It was charming enough and an easy 10 minute drive from your house. The pay was pitiful but would be enough to get by. Things seemed to be lining up perfectly.

You went to bed early that night and felt optimistic that this was going to be good for you. This was going to be the reset that you craved. A new adventure. It was like nothing you had experienced before and maybe that was exactly what you needed.

–

Shit. Your first day working at Grind and you can’t even get the car to start. 

It was freezing cold. The kind of cold that hurts when it touches your exposed skin. You turn the key in the ignition again and the engine makes a pathetic attempt to turn over. Nothing. Fuck. 

You turn the key again. Nothing. Fuck fuck fuck. You pull out your phone and realize you have no idea what to do other than call your new boss and make a horrible first impression. No, that wasn’t going to do. You look in the rearview mirror and see across the street that lights are on at your neighbors house, despite the early hour. As quickly as the thought crosses your mind you push it away. No. No way were you going to bother him at this hour. You hadn’t even officially met the guy yet.

You pull up Google on your phone and scan the first few results for “car won’t start” and narrow it down to engine troubles or dead battery. Either outcome is something you are not equipped to handle. 

A few moments pass and you reluctantly weigh the options. Would a garage even be open this early? How long would that take to get someone out there? You were wasting time and had to do something. You curse to yourself and go back inside the house.

You walk over to the fridge where a note is hanging front and center “Joel Miller” with a phone number neatly printed. Your mothers careful handwriting to contact the poor neighbor that she probably harasses all the time. You sigh and open your phone to dial the number.

It rings a few times, and then you hear a gravelly voice that catches you off guard. 

“Hello?” A deep and thick, unfamiliar accent answers. Not what you were expecting. 

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” a long pause and you stumble over your words. “I uh, I’m sorry to call you so early. I'm Rick and Linda’s daughter.” and mumble your name. Another pause. 

“Ah, right. Whatcha need, kid?” He asks with little expression in his tone. You can’t tell if he is annoyed or just sounded that way. 

“My car won’t start and I–” you pause, not too sure how to ask for help from a stranger. “I don’t know what to do...” Your voice trails off with uncertainty on how to ask for help or what you are even expecting. 

You hear a long exhale on the other end, like he is letting all the air out of his lungs while he is thinking on it. 

“Dead battery most likely… on a day like this. I’ll be right over.” He hangs up the phone before you can say another word and instead say thank you out loud to yourself and let your voice trail off. You instantly regret making the call.

You zip up your coat, pull your knit hat snug over your ears and head back outside when you see a black Ford pickup truck ease into your driveway. A tall man wearing a brown suede jacket approaches. The morning light is faint but you can make out that he is much older and has some silver streaking his hair and beard. He looks weathered and rugged but also has a warmness about him that is hard to reconcile with his rough exterior.     

“Joel Miller, I presume?” you nervously laugh and awkwardly introduce yourself for the second time. You attempt to be extra friendly and maybe penetrate his bristly wall. It seems to help when he notices you are a young woman and not some bratty teenager that your parents probably made you out to be. He takes a step forward and reaches a hand out towards you, nodding. He firmly shakes your hand and you are taken aback by how his grasp seems to engulf you.

“Pleasure to meet you, darling.” His voice is smooth and polite and has the tiniest hint of playfulness in his tone. You can’t place his accent, but you know it isn’t from around here and only someone from away would say ‘Darling’ so casually to a stranger. 

His dark brown eyes hold your gaze for a moment and he has the faintest smirk as he subtly scans your body. It sends goosebumps down your spine. You are grateful that you made an extra effort to look cute for your first day of work. You realize your hands are still embraced and nervously laugh as you pull away. He gets right down to business, but not before stealing another peek of your body when he thinks you aren’t looking.  

“Lets see what we got here.'' He climbs into the driver's seat and in no time confirms it's the battery when he hears your car's engine protest. He walks over to his tailgate and brings back some jumper cables. 

You stand there with your arms wrapped around your body trying to hold in as much warmth as possible. Your bare hands clenched in a fist and tucked in as far as they could in your jacket sleeve to shelter from the cold. Your teeth chattering as you try to stand out of the way but want to be nearby too. At least give the illusion you can be helpful if he needs something. You regret your first meeting being a clueless damsel in distress, but maybe he liked that sort of thing. His tune did seem to change once he saw you. 

Joel returns and leans over the edge of the seat leaving the door wide open, his large palm dragging up slowly from the floor to the steering column, searching for the hood release. His finger catches on the button and he pops the hood. It’s hard not to stare at him while he slides his expert hands with reckless abandon.

His eyes find yours and the corner of his mouth raises slightly. You question if you are mistaking his caught you watching me look for more than what it was. He seems to enjoy you watching him work. He steps away from the seat and pulls a pair of work gloves from his back pocket as he works to connect your car to his truck with the jumper cables. He starts his truck back up and approaches you. Your breath and his making little frozen clouds as you exhale. 

“You can sit in my truck if you want, it’s plenty warm in there.” He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “This will just be a minute.” You thank him and take him up on his offer and climb into his passenger seat. He has a classical rock station playing on the radio. A thermos sitting in the center console. You glance in the back seat and see some neatly organized tools and miscellaneous junk on the floor. It smells metallic and leathery. 

You outstretch your hands to the vents that are pouring warm air into the cabin and relish the heat.  

A few moments pass and you don’t see much of what’s going on with the hood of the truck blocking your view. You doom scroll on Instagram to keep yourself busy but your mind keeps thinking about Joel. You were in no way prepared for your neighbor to be so fucking handsome. It felt absurd to be so turned on by him.

He’s too old. You tell yourself. Don’t even think about it. 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the hood slams shut and Joel opens the driver's door. He reaches his arm out to grab his thermos while he climbs into the seat with a groan. The door shuts hard behind him and a blast of cold air invades your space briefly.  

“Damn cold one today” He says it with a huff as more of an observation than a complaint. He takes a sip of his coffee and looks over to you. You nod in agreement and find yourself caught up in what to say to him. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in his backseat. He rests his arm along the back of the seat and it is nearly touching your shoulder. The way his body takes up the space makes you feel small and helpless. Then, you remember you are small and helpless compared to him. He doesn’t feel threatening towards you but you certainly does give off the aura that he could be intense in the right circumstance. You find that undeniably attractive.

“Your folks called me last week. Told me you were gonna be staying here a while.” His eyes are back focused on you. “Meant to come over this weekend and introduce myself.” he seems a little nervous and takes another sip of his coffee. “Didn’t wanna bother you, though.” 

You feel a small smile start to grow on your face. The thought that he shared the same reservations brought comfort. Joel rests his thermos between his legs while still holding it with one hand. He looks like he is hesitating to say something but does it anyway. He looks over at you with tender eyes, 

“Didn’t expect.. You know...” He makes an unreadable expression as he is searching for the words and scans your body up and down. “Someone like you.” You were not entirely sure what he meant by that, but his smoldered stare on your body made you feel hot inside and your cheeks flush. He looked at you with intrigue and it made you feel good. It made you feel wanted. It had been too long since you felt that way.  

In fact, it has been too long since you had any sort of relationship. Even a casual lay.  

“You really saved my ass this morning. Thank you.” You pause and feel yourself giving a sultry gaze back at him. “I owe you one.” Joel makes a no big deal gesture with his hand and a cocky smile as he chews the inside of his cheek. In that brief moment you feel something between the two of you. The desire to flirt; tempt a man with at least 20 years on you. An unexpected but undeniable magnetic pull. A curiosity to learn what lies beneath. A forbidden fruit that is ripe and beckoning for you to take a bite. Something different. Something exciting. Something you know you should stifle before it even begins.  

His eyes reflect the same sentiment but also harbor concern and restraint. It’s a bad idea. The brief silence between you looms loudly. The elephant in the room. 

“Where ya’ off to so early anyways?” he asks, eager to change the subject. He takes another sip of his coffee while you reply.

“Oh, first day working at Grind. You know it?” Joel's demeanor changes in a subtle way that you may not have seen if you weren’t so focused on trying to read him.  

“Oh. Yeah..” he chides and looks down, pensive in thought as he brings his hand to the back of his neck and rakes it through his hair. “I know the place.” He glances back up and avoids eye contact. The bite in his voice does not go unnoticed, but you don’t pry. 

An uncomfortable subject; noted.   

“Better coffee than this I reckon” he says as he places his thermos back in the center console. He attempts to lighten the tone and then glances at his watch.

“I gotta get to work, sweetheart. Keep your car runnin’ for a bit and you should be all set. Probably get that battery replaced.” His tone is more serious now, more business-like. You realize you had been waiting in his truck longer than necessary. You really have to get to work anyways. 

You thank him again and return to your car. He waits for you to get in and raises his fingers off his steering wheel in a lazy wave to signal he was leaving. He backs out of your driveway and heads down the road towards town.

You take a deep breath and adjust the knobs in your car. Joel had put everything on high heat and full blast for you and your car was now unbearably toasty. You tune your radio and ease into the road and on your way to work. 

All the while your mind can’t stop thinking about your charming, handyman neighbor. 

So that's Joel Miller. You smile to yourself and faintly feel butterflies in your stomach. Anxious thoughts that excite and frighten you.  

–

It took Marlene all of five minutes to become your new work bestie. She was efficient and smart and knew her way around the place. She was the only one working when you arrived and despite the line of customers she was friendly and teased you for arriving late on your first day. 

Marlene had great rapport with everyone. It was apparent that the customers were all regulars and she wasted no time introducing you to them. She had a somewhat forward style but it was well received because she knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t waste time being flowery and over the top. It reminded you of the brashness of Boston.

After the morning rush things were relatively calm. You had time to chat and get to know her a little more while she was showing you the ropes. It wasn’t complicated and you were a quick study.

By mid afternoon it was time to close up shop. The hours were a perk. You were scheduled to work weekdays from open till close and would have to occasionally help out on Saturdays. Marlene worked the same shift and the weekends were mostly covered by high schoolers. 

It was just after 2 o’clock when the owner, Tess, stopped by. 

“How did it go?” she asks you both as she takes a seat and rests her bag on the counter. Marlene had no intention of telling her you were late and talked you up, pleased with your presence. Tess had a few other properties she owned so her time at the coffee shop was only as needed and Marlene you learnt was more or less the one who ran things day to day. 

You recap the day and thank her again for the job. You did genuinely enjoy the work. It was easy. Simple and straightforward. You got to know lots of town folk and everyone was curious and interested in meeting the new girl in town.

Tess seemed pleased enough and was quick to head out. She was friendly but brief and gave the impression she had other responsibilities that demanded her attention. She joins you behind the counter briefly and pours herself a black hot coffee in a to-go cup. Another perk of the job was indulging in all the free coffee. 

“Let me know if you guys need anything!” She says energetically as she collects her bag and heads out the door. She flips the sign to “closed” as she leaves. 

“Tess is cool. She doesn’t interfere too much and we only see her a few times a week, if that.” You nod to acknowledge Marlene. “Lets finish cleaning up and get out of here.”

It was nice leaving with the sun bright and warm. Winter meant shorter days, so getting out of work with a few hours of daylight felt luxurious. The bitter cold from the morning had made its departure. 

You had been so focused with work it wasn’t until you got back to your car that you allowed yourself to think about Joel again. You know you shouldn’t but can’t help feeling turned on at the thought of him. He was handsome in that brooding, mysterious way and he emanated competence. It was refreshing and welcomed. 

You decided to send him a text message. You had his number in your recent contacts after all and you were curious if he would play along. You were certain that there was something sparked between the two of you, but unsure if he would act on it. Unsure if there were too many obstacles between you.

You keep it simple and friendly.   

You: Thanks again for your help! 

Your car starts up with no issue and you head home. When you arrive you glance down to your phone to see a simple reply. 

Joel: Anytime

It was brief but you couldn’t help but read it with that low, southern drawl. His voice was so distinct. Polite but stern. You add him as a contact in your phone and wonder if he did the same. 

You take a shower, make some dinner and get comfortable in your bed. It’s early and you watch some TV when you hear your phone chime. You glance at your phone and see Joel Miller has you on his mind as he revives the conversation with you. 

Joel: So how did it go? 

You smile and recount this feeling like you were a teenager talking to your crush. You want to gush about your first day but you play it cool and brief. 

You: Went good, I think I’ll like it there

A few minutes pass. Against your better judgment you start to go into details but delete it before you hit send. You recalled his strange reaction earlier when you brought up Grind. This man has you second guessing yourself and you don’t want to blow it before it even begins. He replies instead before you elaborate.

Joel: Glad to hear. Thought you would. 

You: I’m exhausted though, getting to bed

You decide to be playful and see how he reacts. 

You: Goodnight, Mr. Miller.  

Joel: Just Joel. 

Joel: Goodnight darling

Darling. Even if it was just a typical Southern phrase it made you wild. It was uncommon to hear in the north and felt so endearing and warm. The knots in your stomach return as you struggle to fall asleep. Your mind is too excited to see where things go from here. You knew he was interested in you enough to keep talking. It would have been easy for him to end the conversation there and keep things formal and neighborly. 

Your mind wanders thinking about how truly handsome he is. How badly you want his manly, rough hands on your body. How his voice makes you melt. How his domineering  presence makes you tingle in your core. You feel yourself starting to get wet just at the thought of his body and what you wanted to do to it. What you wanted him to do to you. Sinful thoughts.

You slide your hand between your legs and feel yourself already wet and wanting. Your delicate fingers tease circles over your clit and it doesn’t take long before you get off. You feel ashamed to be lusting over an old man you barely know, but nevertheless wish it was Joel’s rough hands on you.   

You wonder if he is doing the same thing and sharing the same thoughts about you.

–

A few uneventful days go by and now it’s Friday. You haven’t seen much of Joel other than his truck occasionally driving off, but he had been stuck on your mind all week. Lonely nights accompanied by dirty thoughts of Joel that only fueled your yearning to get closer to him. Your inhibitions regarding age and disapproval of your parents were blinded by your building desire. It still weighed on you though. Your parents would be appalled and probably disown you if they knew. It would just be another tick on the disappointment list.   

Work is busy and the day flies by. Just a few hours to go. You are taking a break, sitting at one of the tables by the front window and snacking on a blueberry scone. You reason with yourself that tonight is as good as any to try to make something happen. 

You: You doing anything tonight?

An agonizing hour passes and no reply. Your message is on read. Marlene takes notice of your change in demeanor. When things finally slow down and its just the two of you waiting around to close up she presses you.

“So.. whats going on? You look distant.” 

“Just trying to… make friends here.” You pause. “A friend in particular.” Your voice trails off. Marlene catches on quick and she had suspected you were starting to fall for someone. 

“Anyone I know?” Marlene knows everyone. You don’t want her judgment on the matter so you keep it vague.

“My neighbor. He doesn’t seem the type to come to a place like this though.” Your phone chimes and you try to play down your excitement as you look down and see it’s from Joel. You can barely contain a smile. 

Joel: Just got done a job. No plans

Marlene searches your face and rolls her eyes.  

“Just go over then. Easy enough.” she was right. 

“Yeah, I think I will.” 

The rest of the shift goes by quickly and you are both out the door by 3 o’clock.

You sit in your car and decide to just call him already. You were craving to hear his voice again and you wanted to put him on the spot. He answers quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Joel. I still owe you, you know for helping me out earlier.” Joel sighs in defeat. 

“I see you aint lettin’ that go. What did ya have in mind?” 

“Can I come over tonight? I’ll bring over drinks.” Your offer was more forward than you intended, but you went with it.

“Yeah, ok. Sounds good.” He pauses and has a counter offer for you. “Come over for dinner first?” You melt at the thought and realize you haven’t responded and there is a silence while you are getting lost in your thoughts. “Grilling steaks. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You can feel your smile spilling into the phone. That sounds more than good. It sounds really fucking good.  

“Alright. Come over ‘round 7.” 

“Ok. See you tonight.” You end the call and take a deep breath. Your heart is beating out of your chest in excitement. 

–

Getting ready for the night you attempted a relaxed look. You wanted to look nice, but approachable. You had some worn jeans that tucked neatly into your Bean boots. A button down flannel that you left undone over an intentionally low cut, fitted shirt. It accented your chest just right. You wore your hair down and went light on the makeup. You threw on a light leather jacket and grabbed the six pack of beer as you head across the street. 

Joel opens the door and leans in the doorframe with a casual figure, taking you in while he bites his lip,

“Evening' sweetheart” He steps back and holds the door open for you and gestures to come in. He was definitely a gentleman. You normally are not a fan of the pet names, but he worked them into his vocabulary so smoothly it was welcomed. 

You step inside and turn around, holding up the six pack of beer.

“Sam Adams. That ok?” He shuts the door and nods in approval. “Figured I’d bring some Boston culture over.” You step further inside. His kitchen is just off the main entrance and has an island with some bar stools at it. You make your way over and take a seat and rest the case on the countertop. 

Your eyes scan the room. His kitchen is tidy, save the spot where he prepped the steaks. You see an empty whiskey glass. Evidence that he had at least one stiff drink before you came over. You panic a little and regret not doing the same.  

“That where you lived before this?” He interrupts your thought as he stands across you at the island. His crossed forearms holding him up as he leans towards you with intrigue. He is dressed plainly in a pair of worn jeans and a plain navy blue t-shirt that hugs his arms just right. His biceps bulge as he is leaning forward and your mind is now preoccupied with just how broad his shoulders are. You almost forgot he asked you a question.

“Yeah, for a few years anyways.” You briefly recount, distracted when Joel takes a beer bottle from the case and effortlessly pops the cap with his large, calloused hands. A satisfying hiss escapes the bottle followed by a clink as the cap falls to the countertop. He slides it over to you and repeats the motion again for himself.

“Oh, wow.” you say out loud, without realizing it. Joel has that cocky side smirk again, well aware of his impressive party trick. He holds the bottle up and towards you and you do the same, clanking bottle necks together and taking a sip. Your eyes are locked on each other for a moment; trying to read each other's intentions.  

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna put the steaks on.” he gestures his head to the back door that leads onto the deck. He grabs his suede jacket off the back of a chair and walks towards the back entrance. You trail behind and this was the first time you really noticed just how beautiful his home was. 

His open living room and kitchen had a vaulted ceiling with massive windows lining the whole back side of the cabin. It faced the lake and you could imagine how serene it would be to watch the sunrise. The cedar walls and flooring made it feel cozy and inviting. There was a large wood stove in the center of the living room and an open loft above the back of the living room. The deck seemed to wrap along a good part of the home. 

“Your home is beautiful.” It had looked so much more discrete from the road; tucked behind some pines and a long driveway. The backyard was a short distance to the lake and sloped slightly down to a dock. Joel probably had a boat parked there in the summer. The cabin was perched perfectly with a breathtaking view; isolated and private from the world.

“Thank you. I built it myself. Me and my brother Tommy.” 

“Thats… impressive.” 

“Eh, just comes with being a contractor. Made more sense to build my own place the way I wanted.” There it was again, that feeling in your core that excites you. Joel likes to be in control, and he has the skill set to back it up making it all the more alluring. 

Its a cool night, but not uncomfortably cold to be outside for a few minutes with a jacket. In fact, you are grateful to have the crisp air to help ground you and calm you down. It was embarrassing how easily Joel could work you up. You lean over the railing and gaze out over the lake while he tends to the grill for a moment and then joins you at the railing.

“I spent a few years there myself. Boston.” This was news to you, but you were still curious about his Southern accent. 

“And… before?” 

“Texas.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Most my life.” You smile and give a slight laugh. 

“Well, that certainly explains things. You don’t exactly sound like a New Englander” you tease him. Joel laughs and looks a little distant. Something you have come to realize about Joel is that he has a lot on his mind he doesn’t say out loud. His mysterious demeanor was something you found as attractive as it was frustrating. 

“You like it here so far?” He asks.

“I do. Its simple and peaceful. Life is easy here.” you realize while saying this out loud that you mean it. You really are enjoying your time in Kineo more than you ever had expected. “And… my neighbor isn’t so bad.” You tease. Joel rolls his eyes and returns to the grill, pulling the steaks off.

“Mine is a pain in the ass.” He jokes as he closes the grill. He wasn’t wrong. You were persistent if anything. 

–

Dinner is laid back and enjoyable. He has a small dining room table but you choose to sit next to each other at the island drinking your Sam Adams and enjoying your ribeye steaks. Joel cooked them to perfection. You stay seated long after you are done eating, getting carried away with conversation. Your bodies are facing each other and knees knocking into his as you get animated with your storytelling. 

Joel mostly listens while you ramble on. The more you drink the lower your inhibitions get. You are a lightweight to begin with and it doesn’t take much. You don’t even notice that he isn’t really listening to you anymore. His focus has left your well intended words and shifted to your body. He’s looking at your low-cut shirt teasing him. The way you brush your hair out of your face when you laugh. How your neck looks so inviting when you tilt your head back to take a sip of beer, You don’t register that he is eyeing you crudely like you are a piece of meat. That he is fighting every urge inside him to just lose himself with you. 

He inches his hand along the countertop closer to yours until he is grazing your wrist with a light touch and dragging his fingers back across yours. It sends a shiver through your body as you become aware how he is looking at you and how painfully reserved his touch is. It is polite but intrusive. He watches how it makes you feel. How you start to come undone. 

Your pent up feelings are starting to overwhelm you and you excuse yourself reluctantly. Your heart starts to race and you wonder if he can hear it beating. 

You get up and bring your plate over to the sink to wash it. It is a distraction more than anything while you gather yourself. Joel watches you from behind for a moment. You can feel his gaze burning into you and brace yourself against the counter. You like the way it feels. The way he makes you feel wanted. 

That loud silence returns. The air in the room feels heavy. He joins you at the sink and you can feel his heat envelop you as he approaches you from behind. His broad body boxes you in and makes you feel small and vulnerable. 

Joel takes his hands and dances his fingers down your arms lightly. His touch starts a fire inside you and you crave a heavier hold. You need him like you need air in your lungs. He presses a gentle kiss behind your ear and another one drags to your jawline and to the soft meat of your neck. His coarse beard scrapes against your skin and makes you shudder. You press your ass into him and feel him hard against your lower back. He responds by pressing into you firmly and brings his mouth to your ear. 

“You feel what you do to me, beautiful girl?” He asks with his low, gravely voice and presses another kiss into you. His heat is searing into you. 

He agonizingly slides his hands down to your hips and turns you to face him. He pushes your body gently against the countertop and moves one of his hands up to caress your face. He presses his hips into you and holds your chin gently between his thumb and finger. He stares down at you with a thirst in his eyes. He narrows his focus to try to get a reading on you. Your mouths are just inches apart. There is a hunger he is resisting but the wolf inside is slowly starting to win over reason. 

“I want this, Joel.” You stare up at him and make sure he can see the desire in your eyes and that you are serious. You want to remove any hesitations he has on your account. You try to rock your hips into him but he has you pinned. He can feel your needy attempt.  

“We shouldn’t…” Joel pleads, but his words are empty and not speaking the same language as his body. 

Your age, your parents, your unfamiliarity with one another all should be reason enough to quelch this flame, but it just makes you want it that much more. He has wanted you since he first laid eyes on you that morning he came to your rescue. He wants to be respectful but fails, instead teasing you with how much he wants you. The hesitance is an illusion that he has kept up until that moment. Your body is trapped against his and he is looking at you like you are prey in his clutches. You had suspected and even hoped that Joel was a dominant lover with how confident he carried himself.   

You seize the opportunity to show him just what he is doing to you. 

You push your tongue into him and taste him; sweet and malty. His warm and wet mouth is inviting and intense. All reluctancy fades away as he gives in to you and takes control with his tongue. You can feel his cock is hard and straining against his jeans as he rocks into you. Your arms hang around his neck and tangle into his hair as you grind against each other. The friction of both your bodies sending each other into a frenzy.

He drags his mouth away, biting at your lower lip as he moves along your jawline to the soft skin at your neck. You stretch your head back giving him full access to your bare neck as he nips at you hungrily. His scruffy beard rubs roughly against your supple skin and feels so good. One hand roams up your shirt while his mouth traces lower and lower down to your collarbone. He thumbs and circles over your nipple. He can feel it harden through your bra and engulfs your breast with his large hand. His touch is brazen but you welcome it. You can feel just how badly he wants to devour you and it makes you moan.   

He slides his expert hand from your breast and drags it down to your jeans. He unbuttons them hastily with force and works his hand slowly inside. Your underwear is already wet from your arousal. He pulls his mouth away from you and has a devilish grin as he grabs at your pussy and narrows his eyes on you.

“You’re so wet for me.” He says breathlessly with anticipation while he has you in his grasp. 

He slides his hand inside your waistband and teases your clit as his hand slides against you. You want to reply to him but your words are trapped beneath the moans caught in your throat. He brings a finger to your opening and slowly pushes the tip inside you. The pressure from his large, calloused fingers makes you buck into him. He rubs his thumb over your clit as he slowly teases your entrance with his finger. He takes it slow and when he thinks you are ready he slips another one inside.

You can feel your walls clench around his obscenely thick fingers and he pushes deeper. Twisting and playing at your entrance and thrusting in. Your hips writhe in his grasp. While one hand is busy with your cunt the other has an iron grip on the back of your neck. His mouth messily returns to the soft skin above your collarbone and into the crook of your neck. You are completely at his mercy and can’t imagine any other place you’d want to be. 

You are so tight but he stretches you open artfully. Moans escape your lips as you gasp when his fingers dip further into you, reaching that perfect part deep inside. 

“Come for me.” He pants into you with a snarl as you convulse on him.  

He doesn’t let up and fucks you relentlessly with his fingers until you are coming and moaning his name. Incoherent expletives escape you while you soak him.   

You ride the wave of pleasure for as long as you can. It has been too long since you had fucked around with someone. However, no one had ever so masterfully gotten you off with just their fingers. The way he handled your body and worshiped you with his mouth was intoxicating. 

As you come down from your high he slides his wet fingers from inside you and pulls his mouth away with a final ravenous kiss on your swollen lips. He places a kiss on top of your head and pulls you in close for an embrace. The hard protrusion against your body makes itself painfully known.   

Joel presses his forehead against yours as he works to unzip his jeans and free himself. His fingers are wet with your slick. He smirks at you as his hand glides over his swollen cock and rubs your wetness all over his length. His breathing shallows as he strokes himself with one hand and braces his body on the countertop with the other. His swollen head grazes your belly with each thrust into his fist. 

You watch him wantonly as he palms himself with more vigor. Joel’s cock is thick and intimidating, but you crave it in the worst way. It is by far the largest you have ever seen. It glistens in your slick and the precum that was beading at the head. A desire builds inside you and you yearn for more of Joel. Want him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt.  

“Let me, please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper. His hand slows and comes to a stop. He stretches out his arms to hold him up against the counter as he hovers above you and lets you take over. 

You reach out and grab on to him. You marvel at its size and how weighty it feels in your hands as you start to rub them up and down. His skin is hot and velvety smooth and pulled tightly. Your pace is much slower but more precise. You feel the veins bulge under your grasp as your fingers glide up and down his length.  

A moan hitches in his throat as you rub your thumb over his sensitive tip. You do it again and again. Teasing Joel Miller feels dangerous. You can feel how ragged he is and how close he is to coming. You want to make him come undone.  

“God, damn it.” Joel grunts under his breath. He peels back your hand and painfully pulls it off of him. His cock twitches at the loss of your touch. He stands up straight and towers over you as you shrink back.  

“Get on your knees.” He commands with his hand firmly on your wrist as he pulls your face closer to his. It sends a shiver through your body and you oblige. Any warmth in his eyes has been lost and he is staring at you; dark and menacing. He throws your wrist away and grips his hand along the side of your neck. His touch is rough and urgent. His fingers snake around to the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to him while you drop down. They twist into your hair and he has a hold on the back of your head. It doesn’t hurt, but his grasp is firm and might if you tried to fight it.  

He takes his cock back in his grasp with his other hand and pumps it. His movements are jerky and his breathing is labored. You can tell he is so close. He roughly pulls your head back by your hair to look up at him.

“You gonna’ finish what you started?” he asks with darkened eyes. “Then open up.” He commands you through clenched teeth. 

You respond with an uncontainable smirk. You part your mouth slowly and let your tongue hang out, never taking your eyes off his. You sit back onto your knees so that you are slightly under him and wait patiently. He widens his stance. His hand slides to the top of your head and tangles in your hair. You can feel him slowly starting to lose control and come undone before you while he strokes himself. You brace yourself, hooking your fingers into the back of his thighs and clawing at his jeans. You can smell his sex and feel his heat but he holds you just out of reach and makes you wait while your thirst grows. 

Finally he taps the head of his weighty cock against your tongue and you lick at his slit, sending him over the edge. He groans as his thick spend coats your tongue and drips messily onto your chin. You close your mouth around him as he begins to stall out and swallow, pulling the final drops of cum from him while you choke his cock with your mouth. 

“Good girl.” He rasps at you. “So fucking good.” His grip on you loosens and he tenderly drags his hand along your jawline. You relax your mouth and let him slide himself out. He groans when your tongue licks the underside of him as he pulls out. 

He thumbs over some of his mess that falls out of your mouth and curls his thumb over your bottom lip. You lick him clean and he moves to hold your face in his hands while you look up at him.

“My good girl.” His words shoot straight to your core and make you weak. He brushes your hair behind your ear and helps you up. He places another kiss on your head and wraps his arms around you. His hot and heavy body feels so good against yours. You tilt your head up and press your mouth into him one more time.

“Are we even now?” you joke. Joel smiles. Everything about him feels warmer. He peels himself away from you and steps back, leaning against the island. You adjust your clothes and zip yourself back up while he does the same.

“Actually… think I might owe you now.” Joel says with a playful tone. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and shakes his head at you like he can’t believe his predicament. You like the idea of Joel owing you. 

–

You don’t spend the night. He offers to walk you home but you opt to go alone. It felt good to get some fresh air, to clear your head and recap the night. You also wanted to leave him wanting more.

You weren’t sure what would come from this situation with Joel, but you knew you barely scratched the surface with him. He was rough around the edges but you liked that about him. You liked that a lot. 

(Continue to Part 2!)

A/N: More to come! Undecided how many chapters but I have quite a bit mapped out. Please be kind. This is my first fic and it is nerve wrecking to post! If you loved it, PLEASE let me know. I'd love to know your thoughts so far! What did you like? What do you want more of? How much angst can your heart take? I aim to test it in future chapters. Comments/Reblogs are appreciated so much. Thank you all

Also special thanks to @magpiepills for the lovely cover photo (and her mood board inspirations she helped with along the way!) and to both her and @legendary-pink-dot for reading my first draft and giving their feedback AND courage to post this.

If you wish to know when I post the next chapter, please follow @ArcaneFoxFics and turn on notifications!

Love to my friends who give me the courage and support to do all the things @magpiepillsjunior @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @for-a-longlongtime

[anarchywoofwoof]

‘this is going to get worse before it gets better’: panama canal pileup due to drought reaches 154 vessels

the panama canal, a key route for global trade, is facing a crisis. 154 ships are waiting, with an average wait time of 21 days. drought has reduced the water level in the main reservoir to critically low levels, which has resulted in the canal's locks struggling to function.

40% of all u.s. container traffic travels through the panama canal every year. the current situation is a direct result of climate change and overuse of natural resources.

climate change: weather patterns have shifted, and the area is receiving much less rain than it used to. the lake that feeds the canal is refilling at a much slower rate.

overuse: development around the area has increased reliance on groundwater and freshwater sources. shipping traffic has surged, flushing more water down the canal.

each ship requires about 200 million liters to pass through, amounting to 2.8 billion liters per day at just 14 trips.

at peak season, that's 10 billion liters per day, all of it fresh water flushed into the ocean. gone. wasted. unusable.

the low water level creates two main issues: availability and pressure. emergency water conservation measures are in place, restricting the biggest boats movements and slowing down the entire process.

this ultimately leads to inflation. shit is about to become even MORE expensive.

this isn't just a problem for some boats or the shipping business. it's a reminder of how our actions and the changing climate are impacting the world in real and tangible ways. the panama canal is a microcosm of a global issue.

we have failed to recognize the interconnectedness of our world and we are paying the price. it will not improve under capitalism.

[genericpuff]

completely off topic but regarding something that i saw pop up in my FB feed and i need to rant about

please do not fall for this shit

nintendo is NOT anti-AI.

it's really easy for them to say they're not going to use generative AI to create their games, because this statement has nothing to do with the very real issues with AI art such as the blatant theft of artists' work, environmental impact, replacement of humans in the industry, and just flat out unethical shit that AI has been designed around

it has EVERYTHING to do with their intellectual property rights, which Nintendo is NOTORIOUS for protecting with an iron fist even at their own expense. and i'm not talking the usual sensible argument shit like "ofc Nintendo wants to protect their IP's, they're a business!" i'm talking about the fact that this is the same company that just recently did a major takedown of the vast majority of Nintendo-licensed games on Vimm's Lair which aren't even being sold legitimately anywhere anymore-

i have so many fucking bones to pick with the flaccid bootlicking anti-piracy arguments out there but basically it comes down to this:

Nintendo is not a small indie company. They are literally one of the biggest, richest, most powerful gaming companies on the planet, rivalling Disney in just how many major franchises they own and profit off of. Many of their games are cultural classics, not just through the sentimentality and nostalgia of our childhoods, but also for all the innovations they made through games like Super Mario Bros, Super Mario 64, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and many others that we, within the world of gaming, owe a lot to and should be able to access and play. It's not a matter of "wanting these games for free", it's a matter of wanting to be able to access these games, period, and Nintendo is deadset on making it as difficult as possible, even when it doesn't necessarily profit from them (need I remind you that many of the games that were taken down from Vimm's Lair are NOT available through their shitty, poorly-ported emulation subscription service - plus that subscription service can be altered and/or removed at any time, regardless of what you paid for, just like the Wii Virtual Console was, meaning you do not own any of the games you're paying to play on there.)

This isn't about being "cheap" or "not wanting to pay for games". This is about media preservation and the virtue of actually owning the things we pay for. If these games were resold at official outlets for reduced prices or made more accessible through e-shops that don't close down in between console generations or drip feed the odd legacy title every few months or release crappy ports on their outdated af tech for only a few months at a time for three times the price of their original value, people would gladly pay. It's the fact that people are having to put up with all of the hoops that Nintendo has put in place to prevent them from even handing them money to play their favorite titles that even drives them to piracy to begin with, and Nintendo will gladly shut those sites down to protect their IP even when it's an IP they're no longer profiting from and aren't making active efforts to sell.

Like, I would gladly hand over a reasonable amount of money (i.e. not the cost of a brand new triple A title in 2024 which is like $80-$100 here in Canada) for Diddy Kong Racing on the Switch, but ofc it's not on the fucking online play store and even if it was, I'd have to deal with paying an overpriced subscription fee for a port of the game that would undoubtedly run WORSE than it does on my PC, and that subscription service can be taken down at any time. But Nintendo wants me to not pirate the game that's not available on their shitty subscription service because... just don't do it, pretty please??

Nintendo is not anti-AI. They would gladly use AI in place of manual labor to scour the internet and dish out DMCA's to every emulation site, archived ROM hub, fan game, and artist alley creator if they could... oh wait, they already are.

Do not fall for the virtues of anti-AI when it comes to companies like Nintendo. They are not anti-AI. They're anti-ownership. They're anti-preservation.

[summitprinter]

Pokimane's Cookie Addiction

Famous streamer Imane Anys, better known as “Pokimane,” had received backlash for the announcement of her newly created snack company, Myna. Critics claimed that her snacks were too expensive for their price and weren’t as healthy as advertised. So, to combat the controversy and advertise the brand, Ms. Anys came up with a brilliant strategy: Go on a Myna sponsored cookie diet for the year. As she announced her plan to her thousands of followers, many were either confused, intrigued, or just didn’t care. None of that feedback mattered to Ms. Anys, who was more bent on proving her snack project to be a success rather than a failure. Ms. Anys should be careful however; the line between ambition and hubris is razor thin…

Much time has passed since Ms. Anys had made her decision to eat only Myna branded products and it seems it has not gone well. Turns out that the cookies she has been gorging on for a year are surprisingly addictive. Less shocking is that eating nothing but high calorie, protein filled chocolate cookies tends to have adverse effects on the body. Yes, gone is Ms. Anys’ thin waist and tight figure, now only cellulite and stretch marks can be seen.

Too wide to go through any doorway and with no hope of ever losing the weight, Ms. Anys must now rely on hired help in order to function. It seems however that her maids haven’t been doing such a good job of taking care of Ms. Anys as they have instead found much more enjoyment from feeding and teasing Ms. Anys, who due to her size, can do nothing but accept her fate as a pile of lard to be played with. Of course since Ms. Anys’ inability to earn any income from both her streaming and snack career, her maids have done the honor of making her a fetish cam model star in order to cover their paycheck.

Under the name “Piggymane,” Ms. Anys has made quite the splash in the BBW cam girl scene, with thousands of viewers tuning in to gawk, laugh, and jack off at the once pretty streamer, now nothing more but a fat disgusting blob. With a portion of each donation going towards Ms. Anys’ increasing waistline, her career shows no sign of stopping soon. Ms. Anys of course isn’t pleased about any of this, but she’s far too fat now to stop it now.

As tears roll down her bloated checks, she wonders what could have been. Her daydreams of fantasy are smashed when the sound of a donation fills the room and a large tube is shoved into her mouth; Feeding time. She begins to cry harder as gallons of liquid lard flow through the thick tube into her tired mouth; each drop only causing her to grow larger. This was her life now. Nothing but forced eating and sexual deviancy. Reduced to a filth covered pig…

Alts: Clean

Clean and Crying

Sweaty

Sweaty and Crying

Slobby

Slobby and Crying

Slobby and Farting

Slobby, Crying, and Farting

[zooophagous]

It was colder here than it ever was in Germany. At least as it ever was in the time Strauss had lived there, and he had a very, very lengthy memory. He had a very short memory when it came to modern amenities such as automobiles and their climate control systems, but nonetheless he was already very impatient with the few cold minutes it took for the heat to permeate the van and make it tolerable to be outside.

He huffed in his seat with his hands stuffed into his armpits, as if that would help- his own body nigh incapable of generating its own heat anymore. But reflexes do not die even when their host does. He swore that as he huffed, he saw his breath linger in the air as steam, as if the bitter chill of the air around him was even colder than the chill of the dead.

“Van Helsing. How many stops are on our list?”

“Just four. Those were the four people on the registry that haven’t checked in with their parole officers in a while. With any luck one of them is Sylvain’s blood bag.” Artemis mumbled in reply as she fought her seat belt with cold hands.

“And after that, we find a feed for me?”

“We’ll try to. Auntie is busy negotiating with a few clinics, but I can’t promise you anything Strauss. Blood is an expensive supply to get ahold of. I’m sorry.”

“Save your apologies. I only hope my mood remains agreeable until a solution is found.” He stared out the window with a sullen expression. His stomach was empty. Had been too, now, for some nights.

“Maybe if we find Sylvain’s blood bag we can convince them to donate to the cause as a token of appreciation for being freed from her.” Artemis rolled her eyes and set the van in motion slowly down the icy street in its back alley hiding place. “Not like they’d be a stranger to the notion.”

“Assuming we are correct and this mystery party even exists.” Strauss replied flatly. “I miss my mice. They were much more substantial than the ones in the safe house.”

“What mice? Strauss, have you been eating wild mice?”

“I am very curious what you think my alternative is. I am hungry, Van Helsing. Very, very hungry. If I did not sup on the mice I may be tempted to sup on you.”

Artemis sighed and rested her head on the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“That is really what you want to hear when your life is already crashing down around your ears, isn’t it? That your mate also wishes to maul you like a wild animal. No. My problems are my own. I did not need to further burden you by adding another to your pile.”

“Is it supposed to make me feel better to have my loved ones eating vermin?”

“Better the vermin than nothing at all. Better the vermin than you.”

Artemis paused and put the van back in park. “Is it?”

“Is what?”

“Is eating vermin better than eating from me? I mean, it’s hardly the first time I’ve bled for you.” She began to roll up her sleeve.

“You know very well that offering me your vein is a foolish, dangerous act.”

“Just because we don’t have sterile supplies doesn’t mean you have to latch directly on either. Just make a little cut and collect it in a cup or…”

“So now I am reduced to slicing you up, as if that is not harm?”

“It’s more harmful to me to see any more of my loved ones suffering.” She snapped. “I can’t fix auntie’s burnt leg. I can’t un-lose Troy. I can’t bring Gregor White back from the dead. But one thing I know I can do, Strauss. I can handle a damn vampire.”

She looked down at her arm with a silent, resolute resolve. “Just… a small cut right there by that big vein in the wrist. I can cover it with a bandage and a long sleeve. Auntie doesn’t have to know.”

Strauss looked wearily at her and down at her exposed hand and wrist. “Do not tempt me. Please. I am in no shape to resist.”

Even as he protested, he took her hand in his, eyeing the pale blue vein in her wrist with intensity. He rotated her hand in his till it faced upward in a supplicating gesture. With his free hand, he took the claw of his pointer finger and traced the line of her veins. Artemis braced herself and looked away. Gently, with all the care of a surgeon, Strauss drew his claw and gradually increased pressure until the sharp appendage split the skin.

Artemis let out a soft grunt of discomfort, but soon steadied herself by focusing on deep, metered breathing. The cut had been made, that was the hard part. Strauss pushed hard against her skin with his thumbs, bidding a bead of dark blood to rise to the surface and begin to run down her arm and into her palm, where it began to pool.

He took her hand to his lips and raked his cold tongue across it. It made her stomach twitch. She tried very hard not to gag. It was hardly the most intimate place that tongue had been. But this was different. Somehow more wrong, even if born out of necessity.

Strauss was shaking slightly as he took his feed. Mainly under the herculean effort not to use his teeth on her. He wanted to. Desperately. One had to focus though, on needs, and as in the past, focus on never taking more than those needs required. He had never demanded much from her, in feeds past. He would demand even less from her now.

He licked her hand clean, and then up her wrist to the point of entry, pressing his lips to it in a greedy kiss that sucked a few more precious drops from her. He paused to lick his lips, then stopped, stock still, staring at the wound he’d created.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to flip out and eat me.” Artemis chided sarcastically.

“Van Helsing. When you chased me, before, that time I had escaped into the wild and ran amok- how was it again that you came to find me?”

“It was Troy’s idea, actually. He knew you had a very particular safe food and that you’d be looking for it. Why?”

Strauss sat up in his seat and rolled his head back to stare at the van’s ceiling. He draped his claw over his face in exasperation. “God dammit. Van Helsing. I have been so incredibly stupid.”

“Can you be more specific?” She asked, shoving a napkin from the glove box against her cut to staunch the flow.

“Troy is a vegan. Troy does not cook. There are very few vegan restaurants in this city. If Troy lives, one of those restaurants has seen him.”

“Wait- you think he’s in town?”

“Why not? He has made it no secret that he harbors no love for the lycan lifestyle. I have no reason to believe he has changed his mind now. I remember he enjoys that curry from the Nepalese restaurant. It is nearby. We should try there first, yes?”

“Well, shit.” Artemis mumbled, apparently impressed. “You sound more sure about this than I do about any of our other leads. It’s not a bad place to look. Let’s go.”

“Yes. If this works he will no doubt be quite impressed. I got him back with his own trick.” Strauss sounded almost excited, the fresh feed had invigorated him. “I cannot wait to rub his nose in it.”

“Here’s hoping you get to.” The van was off once again, heading a different direction.

[draciformes]

It's so frustrating how there is so much *stuff* (clothing, electronics, furniture, food, etc) in the world and so much of that *stuff* eventually just gets thrown away and if you put effort into buying things used to try and reduce the unsustainable about of STUFF it's often just more expensive than buying it brand new and feeding into the material death march we have collectively built and something like 75 percent of donated STUFF still gets thrown away ANYWAY due to the sheer uncontrollable VOLUME OF STUFF but God forbid they let you take! any of that stuff that they were going to! Throw away! Anyway! and urhrjr sdhwhnmwh swpwpqjkadf!!!! SNQMWLWwN WNJ DNFBBdRFS

[queercontrarian]

Ascension - A Beron Origin Story

@sjmvillainweek Prompt: Origin Story

In the middle of the First War with Hybern and Spring, Beron finally gets what he always wanted.

Read this story on AO3

The air was sweltering outside, only some flimsy spells keeping the inside of the tents cool and dry. In all his years, Beron had rarely known such weather within the borders of the Autumn Court. Now, with Summer encroaching on their territory and Spring breaking into their lands, the magic was out of balance and the weather followed. It was chaos. It was hell.

Athos had hoped that the fighting on the continent would distract Aldwig and his rabid hellish brood enough from the war they had started with their neighbors for Autumn to recover but Beron knew better. The High Lord of Spring would rather give up his colonies on the Continent and all his connections in the Human War than risk losing so close to home, especially to their perceived lesser neighbor, Autumn.

The attack on their borders and the southern provinces had been swift and brutal. Albéa, the once proud city which housed in equal parts Spring, Summer and Autumn fae reduced to nothing but bloody rubble and bones, many of the smaller villages along the way destroyed or abandoned, their inhabitants fleeing into the old woods.

It was from those very woods now that Beron had been launching his attacks, forced to watch as Spring and Summer made breach after breach deeper into his Court. Despite his General’s protests Athos had tried to meet the enemy in the field again and again, and each time Autumn’s army had suffered immense losses. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers thrown directly into the Beast’s maw with nothing to show for it but fewer mouths to feed. There was nothing to be done. Autumn’s forces were weakened by years of cuts to fund his father’s feasts and his brother’s expensive taste, the weapons lacking quality and the soldiers lacking training, ressources and grit. He could only hope that his wife’s campaign for support from the Day Court would be successful. To go begging at another High Lord’s court for help would have shamed him to the point of self-immolation only a few years ago, but the desperation of war had burned any such qualms out of him by this point. What mattered now was the survival of their people.

Of course his brother couldn’t know about the moves Beron had been making behind his back. Athos was already paranoid and irritable on a good day with the fire of the Phoenix running through his veins, seeing enemies in every corner, intrigues and plots to steal the throne from under him in every sideways glance, yet his brother was too apathetic and cowardly to act on what he thought he saw in any way other than to yell at Beron to somehow fix it. Beron did not have time to ”fix it” for his fool of a brother, and there was barely anything to distract the male with anymore either, especially since the camp had run out of the good wine and even the whores had abandoned the tents, instead fleeing north to hide in the shadow of the mountains along with a large part of the population.

Athos never should have been High Lord. He was a weak male, weaker even than their father, who had gone through all the effort of dethroning his own brother to be High Lord only to never do anything with the power at his disposal but throw lavish parties and spend every last coin in the Court’s treasury on food, alcohol, pretty trinkets and prettier females. Beron had shed no tears when the High Lord had been ambushed and killed near the Spring border by the younger prince and his savage war band. He’d been angry at the disrespect his family had suffered, his father’s cut-off head sent back to the Forest House in a box, his mangled body fed to Steffan’s beasts. He’d been worried for his family’s safety, devastated by what he knew war would mean for his Court, already worn out by their High Lord’s selfish whims. But he had not grieved. He’d only gone through the motions, smeared ash on his brow, taken off the jewelry, donned the black robes, spoken the prayers, and then returned to the battlefield, carrying in his heart only the burning rage he felt over the mantle of High Lord passing to Athos instead of him. Athos, who did not have any of the qualities a High Lord of Autumn should have, no claim but the blood running through his veins. Who worked only a fraction as hard as Beron did, who used his fire for parlor tricks, to amuse his tasteless companions, his circle of sycophantic noblemen who hadn’t held a sword since their hundredth birthday. Beron did not understand why, but he had no time to question it, and no one to complain to. War had come to their Court, and the Mother had chosen his brother to lead instead of him.

Twice the magic had spurned him, but not this time. He had not even bothered washing his brother’s blood off of his hands before going to see his nephew, only stopping by the tent Eris was staying in on the other side of the encampment, near the other officers. Beron did not think they would protect him if Nicholas chose to come for him, and he needed to be prepared. His nephew had fewer supporters than Beron did but was better liked than Eris, and he would not suffer any competition, even if there were no Heirs left but his younger cousins. Beron hadn’t been there when his brother had received the blessing, but it was custom for the High Lord to isolate himself immediately after the mantle passed. It was a sign of respect, both to the Goddess and to those who had come before them. To reflect. To pray. Nicholas had decided not to follow that tradition. He’d called Beron to his tent right away, to chastise him.

His nephew had been young, barely seventy, yet he’d spoken with the entitlement and false wisdom of a male ten times his age, about duty, about sacrifice and consequences. What did he know of those things? He was a child compared to Beron, even compared to half the males in this camp. He’d only lead Autumn into certain doom. He’d proven it at his first opportunity, blaming Beron for his father’s death like Athos wasn't grown, Beron’s senior by more than a century. He was a High Lord, he should have been able to hold his own without Beron having his back for five cauldron damned seconds, especially if he insisted on putting Eris and his soldiers near the front of the battle. Beron had only been distracted for a few seconds but it had been enough for some Spring Court mutt to taste royal Autumn blood. He’d killed it, of course, but not before the beast had shredded his brother’s breastplate into pieces and ripped out his throat. Even if he’d wanted to help him, there would have been nothing he could have done for Athos. He was gone before the beast hit the ground and the High Lord’s power with him.

Beron wiped his bloody dagger on one of the heavy drapes hanging by the plane of the tent. A waste, just like the rest of the finery his brother had insisted on bringing along instead of sending it into the mountains with their mother and their wives. Useless, the lot of them, but he’d set it right. He’d been preparing for this moment for years. He knew better than anyone how this Court functioned, what Autumn needed, how it fought and lived and died.

And yet the power had avoided him a second time, choosing Nicholas instead. Fortunately his nephew had never been a very quick study. It took time to get used to the powers the Mother granted them, time Beron had not given the boy. In the end, he’d looked so surprised despite everything, despite the accusations and the threats, the demands he’d made so bravely mere moments before. Kneel before your High Lord. Foolish boy. Foolish, foolish boy, so arrogant, so smug, so utterly unprepared. Beron sneered.

“Father?”

Beron turned to the opening of the tent, finding Eris standing in the fading light of the day. The sun set his hair aflame, a golden glow framing his silhouette. The markers of an Heir. A glint in the shadows broke the moment, light reflecting off the blade as Eris quickly sheathed his dagger, taking in the scene before him: Nicholas’s body on the carpet, his throat slit from one ear to the other, the blood soaking into the ground by Beron’s feet. Eris wasn’t stupid. He knew instantly what his father had done. He dropped to his knees without hesitation, his head bowed.

“Long live the High Lord, chosen by the Cauldron, blessed by the Mother,” Eris recited the ancient words, the confirmation each High Lord of this Court had received from his priestesses and subjects since Autumn was created.

For the first time, Beron allowed the power to run freely through his veins. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Nothing came close, not using his natural-born powers nor his first victory on the battlefield. He’d never felt so connected to the land, feeling every tree, every river, every stone, the wind rustling the leaves over their heads, even the clouds high above. He felt the soldiers around them, their heartbeats, their breath, their blood rushing through their veins. He felt Eris, his eldest son, his Heir, closer than anyone else.

Eris had finally finished his prayer, still kneeling on the carpet, his cousin’s blood soaking into his pants. He hadn’t looked up yet, his deep red hair falling into his eyes. He was still so young. Barely older than his mother when they had been wed, Beron reminded himself.

He let the power sink back into his skin, into his blood, where it kept flowing, singing, burning in the most delightful way. He took two steps to cross the space between himself and Eris and reached out his hand, lifting his son’s chin up so he’d face him. Eris’s eyes were wide but there were no tears for his cousin to be found, no grief. If he was even surprised or shocked, he hid it well. When Beron let go, his fingers left bloody prints on his face, and he fought the instinct to wipe them away.

“Stand up,” he said instead, his voice low but clear. He took a step back as Eris slowly rose to his feet again.

“You are the Heir of the Autumn Court now,” Beron continued, watching cautiously as Eris once again took in the scene inside the tent, the blood, the gold, the glow of power that connected them both now and forever. “You will be High Lord after me, and High Lords don’t kneel.”

[ranticore]

very interested in siren's selkies. what purpose were they made for that the phocids couldn't fulfill?

so every subsequent generation of "aquatics" (alpha beta etc basically all the types that didn't go on to become harpies) was designed to be a testbed for different adaptions. in order - diet, aquatic locomotion, reproduction, and psychological. when ishmael provided diet data, it meant that the beta phocids could have an improvement on that, and when the beta phocids provided aquatic locomotion data, it meant that the selkies could have an improvement on that as well as the perfected dietary adaptions and so on

but aquatic locomotion was best in phocids. their bodies were very suited to pelagic life and they were fantastic swimmers. but the trade-off of this was obligate quadrupedalism - they couldn't walk on land and use their hands at the same time. so for the selkies the engineers scaled back the aquatic adaptions and made them just 'okay' at swimming so that they could be bipedal. it means they don't have the best locomotion but they do have the most efficient all around locomotion. they're all terrain vehicles lol. they also ended up with smaller body sizes and fur instead of thick blubber because the engineers - again thinking about a future worker population - figured that it would be less costly to feed & maintain a smaller population with fur to keep them warm if they were on short rations.

(length cut)

so those were the improvements on the phocid design, but selkies were a testbed for reproduction strategies. in particular, they are marsupial (and their successors, the zetas, are marsupial as well) with the capacity for four embryos at once in various developmental stages. the rationale was that it would be easy to check the neonate's health and cross-adopt between the parents if you could kinda just... reach into the pouch and grab it, instead of having to wait several months just to produce one energetically (and monetarily) costly offspring that might not be healthy or might not have the right traits or whatever. it reduced the potential toll of pregnancy on the body as well and you don't want a sick population requiring expensive medicine and prenatal checkups and so on.

basically the ability to produce an optimal design for a modified human - one that would be well-suited to their environment and might lead a strong and healthy life - was always balanced against the cost of maintaining that life. medicine and food are expensive. building new infrastructure to handle quadrupeds is expensive. the genetic engineers were not without empathy and they would often dream, fervently, of another life where they had unlimited budget and no obligations to balance some hypothetical client's chequebook. it's like that one diagram - you can have good, cheap, or fast, but never all three at once.

[mswyrr]

"In this moment, we have two months before the ship sinks lower and rather than wallowing in fear or operating from fear, I believe it is a time to get grounded, recalibrate for our coming reality, and to start planning. We have enough concepts of their plans to know that it’s probably a good time to draw closer to our communities in our geographic regions. If you don’t have one, it’s time to see how to become a part of one. It’s time to start moving away from social media because if even a fraction of what has been promised comes to fruition, a lot of us online will need to reduce our visibility.

As of right now, I am not planning to stop what I am doing but for my safety, I will be moving more of my work to Patreon and shifting how I post on these platforms. Given that I have been written about in publications and written for publications, I can’t exactly distance myself away from my work. But if you are a civilian, so to speak, it might be a great time to scrub your profiles and go low.

Start thinking about how you might live if money gets tight, reducing expenses, saving if possible. These aren’t bad ideas.

Ultimately though, don’t stop living. Instead, embrace life; embrace your people. In the days since the election, I have gathered with friends to break bread, had numerous long phone calls, and even Zoomed with my sisterhood of Black women. All of which calmed me down and got me back to reality. In this moment, I am okay, I don’t know what’s ahead but if I spend all this moment worrying about what might happen, I am not being present and, frankly, I am missing out on living. If the worst comes to fruition, I suspect I would regret spending our last days of relative peace worrying incessantly, when none of those worries can do anything.

Personally, I think self-care at this moment is reducing your time online. Fear is big business. The number of writers and creators I follow who are feeding us a steady diet of Big Fear has grown and the line between information and preparation and straight-up fear mongering has become extremely thin. Yes, there are historical markers that provide clues as to how this might all go down and being aware of them is useful but consuming them to the point where we are unable to function and plan is not helpful."

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[5.26]

―pairing :Seonghwa x fem!Reader ―genre : smut ―word count : 1.212 ― content warnings : vampire Seonghwa, master kink estabilished relationship, fingering, Seonghwa feeds from reader, medieval settings, fantasy au, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all)

Sometimes, you wondered what your friends would think about you. After all, you left your house, your hometown, your job, anything and everything that had ever been yours in order to move into a vampire’s luxurious mansion.

You met Seonghwa two years ago thanks to a mutual friend - Wooyoung, who worked at the hospital. Chemistry immediately clicked between you two, and three dates later, you were a panting and squirming mess under a sweaty Seonghwa, whimpering in bliss as he came inside you, hovering above you as you were sprawled on his expensive linen blankets. You knew he was a vampire - Wooyoung being the good friend he was had told you immediately, but you still decided to play dumb, even if you had to wait for a whole month for Seonghwa to confront you about the strange pain you felt in your neck, somewhere between all those hickeys he left. That day, Seonghwa regretfully admitted he had been feeding from you, in the same sentence where he also told you he was developing serious and deep feelings for you; you admitted you knew that already, and Seonghwa shyly invited you to move in with him.

That night had been a rollercoaster of emotions, but of course, you said yes.

Delicate, pale long fingers firmly wrapped themselves around your neck, the slight pressure making you snap your eyes open.

«Forgive me, angel.» Seonghwa’s velvet tone intruded your thoughts, his white shirt half-unbuttoned showing a glimpse of his pale and toned chest while he was comfortably sitting between your parted thighs, one hand around your throat and the other rubbing your clit with slow and teasing feather touches. «Did I allow you to get distracted?»

«N-no.» you answered back immediately, feeling light-headed by the sudden intrusion of his middle finger effortlessly sliding inside you.

«No?» Seonghwa raised his eyebrow at you, halting his movements and slightly tightening the hold around your neck with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

«No, Master.» you breathed, Seonghwa’s smug smirk and his crimson red eyes only providing to add fuel to the flame of your arousal. The grip around your throat loosened as Seonghwa’s index finger joined the other digit and you jolted, suffocating a whimper as Seonghwa effortlessly and intentionally brushed the magic spot inside you as he was scissoring his fingers.

«Always so good for me, angel.» Seonghwa’s approving hums caressed your bare skin as the vampire traced open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your hipbones, without stopping the movements of his fingers for a second. You could feel Seonghwa’s fangs occasionally scratching your skin, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you pictured the new red lines joining the fading ones that Seonghwa loved to draw on your body. Seonghwa’s thumb started rubbing your clit with abstract circular motions and you quickly covered your mouth, trying to suppress the loud moan escaping your lips due to the intense feeling.

«You’d better keep those beautiful hands of yours by your sides,» Seonghwa’s raspy voice warned you, «Unless, you want to be punished.» his thumb pressed harshly against your clit and you whined, quickly shaking your head as your hands returned on their previous ministrations of tightly gripping the soft blankets. You licked your lips, shutting your eyes close with a sigh.

Seonghwa’s punishments were rough; he was never physically too rough during sex, but he would simply draw you closer to your orgasm and then stop. Once, twice, he could go on all night if he was in the mood, until you were reduced to a panting, crying and whimpering mess, begging him to let you come.

However, Seonghwa’s behaviour on your daily life was the polar opposite of how he behaved during sex. The cold, dominant and ruthless Seonghwa was nowhere to be seen and instead, you would find yourself in the tight and secure hold of the sweetest and caring boyfriend you have ever had. Needless to say, you loved all of this.

Seonghwa’s fingers never stopped as his mouth kept leaving wet kisses all over your waist, teasingly kissing you above your clit just to move on your inner thigh, enjoying your dejected moans and whimpering begs. The more you squirmed, the more Seonghwa’s thirst increased, and eventually granted your wish, the tip of his tongue replacing his thumb’s movement. You realized that at this point, you were mumbling incoherent phrases due to the feeling of Seonghwa’s tongue and fingers working magic on you and leading you closer to your orgasm each passing second you felt kitten lips alternating to his flat tongue moving teasingly against your wetness, slowing down anytime your moans increased.

«Master,» you breathed, in the weak attempt not to come on the spot as his tongue added itself to his fingers moving inside you, «please.» you honestly didn’t know either why you were pleading him. You wanted to come? You needed more? You wanted him to bite you? Anything and everything of the options above would have been fine with you, since you only needed him to do more. Whatever he choose to do would have been fine; you just needed more of Seonghwa, if that even made any sense.

Seonghwa scoffed, detaching his tongue from your wetness and briefly meeting your gaze, crimson eyes blown with lust and lips wet and glistening with your arousal. He raised an eyebrow at you, as his lips kissed your inner thigh once again, grazing the soft skin with his fangs.

«Yes,» you breathed, «Please, please, ple-» your sentence was interrupted by the loud and sinful moan escaping your lips as soon as you felt Seonghwa’s fangs piercing your skin. You had to admit the sting was annoying at first, but the feeling of euphoria that immediately subdued as soon as you felt Seonghwa’s started sucking on your blood with his tongue and lips moving against your skin, was something incomparable and irreplaceable. Seonghwa’s fingers brushed more insistently the sweet spot inside you and the mixture of everything plus your boyfriend’s moans of approval as he fed from you triggered your orgasm, and you came around his fingers with the hint of a jolt, grateful that Seonghwa was keeping your thigh in place with his other hand.

As you relaxed while coming back from your high, you delicately and affectionately brushed Seonghwa’s hair with your fingers, feeling him licking your small wound clean. He looked back at you once again, his eyes still a deep crimson and blood faintly smeared around his lips – mixing with the remaining of your wetness, and you tapped your lips with a smile, which Seonghwa immediately returned, leaning down to capture your lips in a lingering kiss where you could taste yourself along with your own blood.

Seonghwa smirked against your lips, one arm next to your head to balance himself and the other caressing your waist as he pressed his body flush against yours so that you could feel his neglected hardness.

«Ready for the real fun, angel?» Seonghwa breathed against your neck, licking a long, wet stripe from your collarbone to your jaw.

«Yes, Master.» you mumbled back, your hands flying on the belt of his black jeans.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[robertreich]

The Biggest Economic Lies We’re Told

In America, it’s expensive just to be alive.

And with inflation being driven by price gouging corporations, it’s only getting more expensive for regular Americans who don’t have any more money to spend.

Just look at how Big Oil is raking it in while you pay through the nose at the pump.

That’s on top of the average price of a new non-luxury car — which is now over $44,000. Even accounting for inflation, this is way higher than the average cost when I bought my first car — it’s probably in a museum by now.

Even worse, the median price for a house is now over $440,000. Compare that to 1972, when it was under $200,000.

Work a full-time minimum wage job? You won’t be able to afford rent on a one-bedroom apartment just about anywhere in the U.S.

And when you get back after a long day of work, you’ll likely be met with bills up the wazoo for doctor visits, student loans, and utilities.

So what’s left of a paycheck after basic living expenses? Not much.

You can only reduce spending on food, housing, and other basic necessities so much. Want to try covering the rest of your monthly costs with a credit card? Well now that’s more expensive too, with the Fed continuing to hike interest rates.

All of this comes back to how we measure a successful economy.

What good are more jobs if those jobs barely pay enough to live on?

Over one-third of full time jobs don’t pay enough to cover a basic family budget.

And what good are lots of jobs if they cause so much stress and take up so much time that our lives are miserable?

And don’t tell me a good economy is measured by a roaring stock market if the richest 10 percent of Americans own more than 80 percent of it.

And what good is a large Gross Domestic Product if more and more of the total economy is going to the richest one-tenth of one percent?  

What good is economic growth if the way we grow depends on fossil fuels that cause a climate crisis?

These standard measures – jobs, the stock market, the GDP – don’t show how our economy is really doing, who is doing well, or the quality of our lives.

People who sit at their kitchen tables at night wondering how they’re going to pay the bills don’t say to themselves

“Well, at least corporate profits are at record levels.”

In fact, corporations have record profits and CEOs are paid so much because they’re squeezing more output from workers but paying lower wages. Over the past 40 years, productivity has grown 3.5x as fast as hourly pay.

At the same time, corporations are driving up the costs of everyday items people need.

Because corporations are monopolizing their markets, they don’t have to worry about competitors. A few giant corporations can easily coordinate price hikes and enjoy bigger profits.

Just four firms control 85% of all beef, 66% of all pork, and 54% of all poultry production.

Firms like Tyson have seen their profit margins skyrocket as they jack up prices higher than their costs — forcing consumers who are already stretched thin to pay even more.

It’s not just meat. Weak antitrust enforcement has allowed companies to become powerful enough to raise their prices across the entire food industry.

It’s the same story with household goods. Giant companies like Procter & Gamble blame their price hikes on increased costs – but their profit margins have soared to 25%. Hello? They care more about their bottom line than your bottom, that’s for sure.

Meanwhile, parents – and even grandparents like me – are STILL struggling to feed their babies because of a national formula shortage. Why? Largely because the three companies who control the entire formula industry would rather pump money into stock buybacks than quality control at their factories.

Traditionally, our economy’s health is measured by the unemployment rate. Job growth. The stock market. Overall economic growth. But these don’t reflect the everyday, “kitchen table economics” that affect our lives the most.

These measures don’t show the real economy.

Instead of looking just at the number of jobs, we need to look at the income earned from those jobs. And not the average income.

People at the top always bring up the average.

If Jeff Bezos walked into a bar with 140 other people, the average wealth of each person would be over a billion dollars.

No, look at the median income – half above, half below.

And make sure it accounts for inflation – real purchasing power.

Over the last few decades, the real median income has barely budged. This isn’t economic success.

It's economic failure, with a capital F.

And instead of looking at the stock market or the GDP we need to look at who owns what – where the wealth really is.

Over the last forty years, wealth has concentrated more and more at the very top. Look at this;

This is a problem, folks. Because with wealth comes political power.

Forget trickle-down economics. It’s trickle on.

And instead of looking just at economic growth, we also need to look at what that growth is costing us – subtract the costs of the climate crisis, the costs of bad health, the costs of no paid leave, and all the stresses on our lives that economic growth is demanding.

We need to look at the quality of our lives – all our lives. How many of us are adequately housed and clothed and fed. How many of our kids are getting a good education. How many of us live in safety – or in fear.

You want to measure economic success? Go to the kitchen tables of America.