#we're on the profit side of things

[moiraimyths]

Before we call anon rude because let’s see it from their perspective, imagine getting an entire feast to eat. That can be pretty hard to start with so much that’s going on, but if they start with one thing they know they’ll like (aka one character they like) that can be the start for them leaping to other characters to finish the story and the bigger story. I struggle the same way to start book series if I don’t have at least one character that drives me to read it, it’s all about what can be the hook to push them through. Sounds like the anon is neurodivergent (just a guess) so they might genuinely not see it as rude and see it as a solution to even play the game to start with.

Btw absolutely adore the game, the complex and rich characters making them all so unique is amazing. The art is so pleasing to the eyes I love it!! I’m waiting for it all to get out at once so I don’t get too impatient. Shae however interests me the most, which routes will have the most lore for them? Will there be routes that give more lore in general based on decisions you make or do they all share the same amount? (I mean general lore not just Shae lore)

Apologies; we are not trying to accuse any asker of being rude! We are simply explaining our perspective as the developers / are trying to broadly encourage folks to dip their toes into other areas of the story outside of the main route(s) they're interested in, especially considering some routes will be made available sooner than others, and these other routes will likely contain additional scenes/lore of everyone's fave(s) regardless! We want to give each main cast member an equal amount of love (and lore) regardless of their overall popularity, so our goal is not to tut-tut anyone for having strong preferences for one character over the others, but rather to explain that you may be surprised by how much *more* you learn about your preferred characters in the other routes. That's all!

For Shae... Well, they were a foot soldier for one of the worst periods of the War. Lore wise, any other story that touches on the War will likely have content relevant to them and their experiences. ^^

[moe-broey]

Random small talk event at the yard sard set-up, very nice lady, but ESP when asking "Oh are you still in school? ☺️" I literally never know how to say "Oh I graduated a long time ago. Yeah. I mostly do art now" and she says "Oh to sell?" and so far I'm having a reasonable and effective small talk conversation, when I hit that pitfall and lock up and I worry I'm becoming unfriendly bc I locked up. Because I REALLY don't know how to say, "Nah, I kind of do fuck all. I'm 25 and I do fuck all. For nothing." Like I can see the conversation tree in real time and I know that's the worst dialogue option. And there are no other dialogue options there's just Press B to get the fuck outta there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[nyhne]

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[robertreich]

I’d like to believe that this worsening catastrophe we're all witnessing and dealing with has a silver lining. For one thing, it could help us appreciate what our government is for. And why we need a competent and effective civil service rather than Trump lackeys and sycophants. It will also push every American to choose sides, between a government that protects us from real dangers or a police state, between American democracy or Trump fascism. Some have already been forced to choose — managing partners at law firms, a few university presidents, some top editors, federal judges, and many government employees. But as the axe of Trump fascism comes down harder on America, the rest of us will have to choose. We will demand a democracy that works for the people. As we become unprotected from corporate malfeasance, climate change, fraud, ill-health, horrific accidents, and toxic chemicals — all so that big corporations and their top executives and major shareholders can make even bigger profits — more of us will take a stand. As the nation becomes a police state with an internal army and a gulag of prison camps, more of us will speak out. It will be a national reckoning. It may be our last best hope.

[pandemic-info]

"Any chance we're wrong about Covid?"

It's a valid question many people earnestly think about — even the very cautious.

'it becomes important to ask: "what does the data actually say?"'

Quoting a few good answers from a thread:

"Covid left me disabled in 2020. I know with 100% certainty that I am not wrong about Covid. I live with the proof every minute of every day for the rest of my life."

"The insurance companies and government statisticians care, or rather they have taken an objective interest." > https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/LNU01074597 > https://insurancenewsnet.com/innarticle/insurance-industry-coalition-forms-non-profit-to-study-excess-mortality

"There are parallels between how governments are responding to COVID-19 and how they responded to tobacco back in the day. “it would be a mistake to assume governments would automatically protect people from a public health threat in the face of more immediate economic considerations…there would be resistance to change that might be costly until evidence to justify it was overwhelming.”" > https://johnsnowproject.org/insights/merchants-of-doubt/

"I suspect most of us entertain this thought from time to time, especially when it’s this absurdly difficult and lonely to maintain a Covid Conscious lifestyle. But it’s important to remember that history is littered with people making terrible choices en masse: with handling past pandemics, the holocaust, slavery, witch burnings, etc. Hell pretty much everyone used to smoke and putting lead in everything was A-ok. Just because a lot of people believe something doesn’t mean they’re right. So it becomes important to ask what does the data actually say? The research and the statistical data on this subject paint an ugly but fairly quantifiable picture by which we can gauge our understanding of the situation and our choices in response to it. Read the science. Look at the data on things like Long Covid. There are also many of us who have already had our health absolutely ravaged by this virus or lost loved ones to it etc., and everyone in that position has first hand evidence for how dangerous this virus is. It’s tremendously difficult to swim against the current like we are and self-doubt is natural in those conditions, but that’s when seeking out factual information on the subject is the best course of action."

"But what it all comes back to for me is - say we're wrong, and covid is a big nothingburger and lockdowns are the root of all evil. Ok, well, what I'm doing is acting on the best information available to me at this time to protect my family. I can't regret that. I will always be able to look my kids in the eye and say "I did my best with what I had."" ... So if we're wrong - well, we wore masks, changed our social habits, reduced our consumerism and our contribution to the destruction of our planet, and reduced how often we got sick. None of those things are bad. If they're wrong, they and their kids are screwed. I'd rather err on the side of caution.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Welcome to my Tuesday morning PSA about plastics!

So--I was walking along the Bolstadt beach approach sidewalk here in Long Beach, WA yesterday afternoon, and I started seeing these little orange pellets on the ground that looked a little bit like salmon roe (but probably weren't). So I picked one up, and it was most definitely rubber. I went around picking up every one I could find, and while I didn't keep exact count I probably amassed 50-60 of them. I took this picture before depositing them in the nearest trash can.

These are airsoft gun pellets, and you can buy them in big jars containing thousands of them. That means that someone who decided that the beach was a great place to shoot their airsoft guns could easily litter the place with countless little bits of plastic rubber in less than an hour. We already have a huge problem here with people leaving trash, including tiny bits of plastic, all over the beach (you should see the gigantic mess after 4th of July fireworks when thousands of people come in from out of town, blow things up, and then leave again without picking up after themselves.)

But these airsoft pellets have a particularly nasty side effect. You know how my first thought was "wow, those look kind of like salmon roe?" Well, we have a number of opportunistic omnivore birds like crows, ravens, and several species of gull that commonly scavenge on the beach, especially along the approaches because people often feed them there. If I can catch the resemblance of an orange airsoft pellet to a fish egg, then chances are there are wildlife that will assume they're edible.

Since birds don't chew their food, they probably won't notice that the taste or texture is wrong--it'll just go down the hatch. And since they can't digest the pellets, there's a good chance they might just build up in the bird's digestive system, especially if the bird eats a large number of them--say, fifty or sixty of them dropped on the ground along the same fifty foot stretch of sidewalk. The bird might die of starvation if there's not enough capacity for food in their stomach--or they might just die painfully of an impacted gut, and no way to get help for it. If the pellets end up washed into the ocean, you get the same issue with fish and other marine wildlife eating them, and then of course the pellets eventually breaking up into microplastic particles.

You can get biodegradable airsoft pellets; they appear to mainly be gray or white in color rather than bright screaming orange and green. But "biodegradable" doesn't mean "instantly dissolves the next time it rains." An Amazon listing for Aim Green biodegradable airsoft pellets advertise them as "Our biodegradable BBs are engineered to degrade only with long-term exposure to water and sun and will degrade 180 days after being used." That's half a year for them to be eaten by wildlife.

I don't know, y'all. That handful of carelessly dropped rubber pellets just encapsulates how much people don't factor in the rest of nature when making decisions, even on something that is purely for entertainment like an airsoft gun. We could have had a lot of the same technological advances we have today, but with much less environmental impact, if we had considered the long-term effects on both other people and other living beings, as well as our habitats. We could have found ways from the beginning to make these things in ways that benefited us but also mitigated any harm as much as possible. Instead we're now having to reverse-engineer things we've been using for decades, and sometimes--like the "biodegradable" airsoft pellets--they still have a significant negative impact.

But--at least there are people trying to do things better, thinking ahead instead of just on immediate profit. We're stuck in a heck of a mess here, figuratively and literally, and changing an entire system can't be done in a day. Maybe we can at least keep pushing for a cultural shift that emphasizes planning far into the future--if not the often-cited "seven generations ahead", then at least throughout the potential lifespan of a given product.

[frivolousimagination]

ego stroke | henry loomis

summary: a very brief talk with Henry about science being for everyone

word count: ~1k

warnings: spoilers for Rebirth

notes: guys this is so… nothing 😭 but I’m going insane for him and have several ideas, this is just kinda bland sorry

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Science is for all of us, not just for some of us.

It wasn't even meant for your ears, nor was it a message you needed to hear. But it struck you.

The accuracy and heart that he had said it with. It came out so easily, telling you it was a message that he truly believed in.

Henry Loomis has a true passion for his work, and you undoubtedly knew this from the very first second you'd met. But it seemed it was becoming increasingly rare to hear someone share the opinion that education, that knowledge, that science belongs to everyone.

It gave you reason to view him in a whole new light, beyond the shared moments of shock and awe upon truly experiencing dinosaurs as they are now.

Being here, on lle Saint-Hubert, was complete insanity. It felt surreal. The creatures you'd already seen, the plant life you had already brushed past. None of it felt real. You never imagined living in a time where you could see these things in their full glory, something beyond a fossilized memory. Henry was the only other one on the team to truly understand this. Even as some of these creatures were determined to turn you into your next meal, you couldn't help but admire and adore them.

"What you said back there was perfect." You glanced at Henry, trying to spark a conversation.

The two of you were walking side by side, weaving through the tall plants as you made your way to the next dinosaur. You wanted nothing more than to set up a tent and stay studying just this area, before eventually moving camp to study another. Every inch of this island had your attention. Henry's too. But he switched focus.

"What'd you mean?" He glanced at you briefly.

"To Zora," you clarify. "Y'know, science belongs to everyone. She needed that, I think."

Henry smiled slightly. You'd practically confirmed that you agreed giving Krebs the samples would be a mistake. And of course you would, Henry should've called that from a mile away. You were a scientist, and you had heart. He'd known that from the beginning. He admired you for it immediately. It was the exact reason for the relationship built between the two of you over the last few months.

You had come together for several consults in the past, giving Henry the chance to see how knowledgeable you were in your specified field of paleobotany, and you to see him with paleontology. It was always nice to meet someone with an equal passion, and with knowledge that could build off of and connect so smoothly with his own. He considered himself lucky that you had eventually agreed to come along on the trip. Sure, there were likely several plants on the island that could give a person a deadly rash just from glancing at it. But, selfishly, it gave him an excuse to talk with you again, and an opportunity to get closer.

"Oh, well,” Henry felt an awkwardness coming over him. He hadn't given a second thought to what he said to Zora, but it was something you had made some sort of mental note of. A part of him felt proud of that. "It's just the truth, isn't it? What we're doing here is life changing for so many people."

"Of course it is." You smile, eyes still following him. He was too humble for his own good. “I mean, my head is just nonstop spinning with ideas of all the good an island like this could supply. The medicinal properties of all these plants, the healthcare advancements we could make beyond just cardiology. Krebs, or ParkerGenix…” you let out a small, ironic laugh. Your eyes scan, making sure Krebs wasn't close enough to hear the next part. "They haven't said a thing about sharing any of the information we learn from this. Damn shame that healing millions of people is just a side effect to their company making a profit."

He looked at you again, mirroring your smile and slowing in his steps. There was caution in your voice, but a true excitement about the possibilities too. Henry felt that to his core.

There was an internal struggle about just being on this island, and for the reasoning that he was. ParkerGenix was doing a good thing, but Henry was relieved to know you saw right through it too. It meant he had at least one person on this mission that he could truly trust, and he was thrilled that it was you.

“Do you think she’ll change her mind? About the samples?” Henry was curious, did you think Zora had it in her too?

“After that inspirational talk you had with her?” You tease and bump his arm with your elbow. “Who wouldn’t?”

He laughed again, shaking his head adjusting his backpack straps. “One minute you’re saying my speech was perfect, the next it’s used against me?”

“I don’t quite remember calling it perfect…” you squint and purse your lips, playing more into the game.

His smile widened and he turned to you again. “Oh, you absolutely did call it perfect. Don’t chicken out of it now.”

“Maybe so,” you put your hands up in defense. “But it was well said, and the compliment did get me your attention.”

His heartbeat seemed to quicken for just a split second and his smile never faltered. It was always this that got him. A small moment, a subtle comment. It had worked on him. When you called his talk ‘perfect’ you definitely stroked his ego, but because you meant it. And he knew that you believed in that.

“So it was all a ploy?” He jokes with you finally. Might as well pass the time and jump on the opportunity.

“I’m always looking for ways to get your attention, Loomis.” This was less of a joke, but delivered with the same carefree wit.

He gave a final smile before looking ahead towards the group again, hands gently moving aside the various plants out of his path. The subtle back and forth felt good. He had missed this, or at least craved more.

“Well, you’ve got it. What’ll you do with it now?” He grinned at you, glancing over his shoulder as he continued the path.

please send requests 🙏

check out my other henry fic

[shownohajimarida]

In the Beginning...

In the beginning, God made phantoms and thieves.

If you're reading this in English, there's a 90% chance you first learned the word Kaitou from Kaito himself—and only slowly come to realize just how many corners of Japanese pop-culture it's really bled into, from Tezuka to Tuxedo Mask to Princess Peach. There's thieves, there's thieves with style, and then there's phantom thieves. A law unto themselves in their own worlds and ours, a breed of gentlemen who can magically stay gentlemen while doing the most ungentlemanly things known to society.

You'd need a book—probably a whole shelf—to properly explore all the ancestors of this proud archetype, never mind all the twists and turns it's taken in modern times. But we're a bunch of poors in money and time, so let's settle for just one tonight.

Fun fact, there's a doctor in Japan who runs a full-time clinic, lectures for one of the top med schools, and still finds room to blog about his fifty-odd niche interests. With him lighting the way, we tracked down this: the oldest book Japan's National Library has ever picked the word Kaitou out of.

Not a gentleman sort of book, you'd assume—and be absolutely right. Dated 1908 (just a little after Leblanc's Lupin, just a little before his first Japanese translation), Eishirō Suzuki's Strange Worlds is a loud, proud freakshow, trotting out ghost story after tall tale after Believe-It-Or-Not article about some wackos in America marrying in a lion cage. Our story of interest comes about halfway in: six pages and change, unmistakably headed 怪盗.

What lies within? A tragically forgotten ancestor to this great and greatly profitable archetype? Or a dead-end that happens to share the name and damn little else? Or, despite all odds, a combination of both?

Why don't you see for yourself?

Pull up a seat, grab a drink, and enjoy our exhaustive translation of history's first...

Phantom Thief

In the days of Jōkyō,¹ near Shitaya's Ikenohata-town, a pawn-shop called Yamaguchi Place² stood rich beyond imagining. Its master, with eleven vaults to his name, was a long and proud worshiper at the Benzaiten³ shrine on Shinobazu Pond. Now, it happened that this man heard the Shogun’s offices had recently surveyed the pond for land-filling, and grew troubled.

One evening, having closed early and settling the day's accounts, the boy tending the shop heard a tap at the front door, and opened to look. Lo and behold—there was a magnificent palanquin, inlaid four-square with silver, bound on every side by tens of fine, sentinel-eyed Samurai. Shocked, the boy ran to his master telling all. The master, no less shocked, came out with warm greetings, asking the company into his home.

Then from the palanquin emerged a most exquisite woman, so noble and divine of bearing that she might have been taken for a celestial maiden, with face sweeter than any peach or plum, and dress of the richest twill brocade. With hardly a sound this beauty sat, drew open her vermilion lips, and bade all listen—

“To begin, my being is not of flesh, but an envoy of Her Lady Benzaiten, in whom thou hast believed all thy life. The Shogun's men mean to bury Shinobazu Pond, and Her Ladyship suffers no small distress hearing this, for Her own power may well draw sanctuary from any ladle's-worth of water, but Her kith and kin—some hundreds upon thousands of scales—must wilt and suffer without mires to call home. “Deep ran Benzaiten's pity, and with it a divine will to bring salvation of some, of any kind. Mercifully, thy garden declares a most generous pond, and in behalf of those kith and kin I call upon thee to guarantee it as their new sanctum. If thy faith in Benzaiten be strong and true, take not these words in vain. Know only that Her Ladyship wills a night of storm and squall, fast approaching, to lay Her kin. Come that day, thou shouldst make fast the doors of thy home, withdraw to thine own room, and put no eye at door-slit, nor foot outside to enquire. Heed this, and Benzaiten will grow thy riches ten-fold in reward. Such is my message, in sum.”

Hearing this, the man grew ecstatic—rapturous, even. He spared nothing treating his guest, servants and all, to the very end of their departure.

In less than a fortnight came a dawn with greying skies, and by afternoon rain was falling, the wind slowly rising. On this day the man chose to fast, thinking it the day Benzaiten would descend, and so admonished his family and cohorts, warning them to keep the doors firmly shut and let no-one out after dark.

As the night crept toward second-watch,⁴ the wind grew wilder and wilder, until all the trees and bamboo in the garden could be heard thrashing, and all the water in the pond roiling. Now every breath was held, every head bowed, every heart thundering, thinking it time for She to come. Gradually the rain stopped and the wind ebbed, and the master, unable to wait for dawn, immediately threw open the door, eyes cast on the garden and its pond. There, he saw fish darting—more than the prior day—and thought, Benzaiten, your fellows are sown. Then, thinking of the promised reward, he rushed to check his stores. But as he swept up and down the row of vaults behind his shop, what did he find? Every lock undone, and every door open! Now uneasy, he entered, and found nothing left! Not the pawn-goods, nor the furniture, nor the thousand-ryō boxes. Floor to ceiling, everything was nigh-bare. He stood alone, dumbfounded and gaping.

Now, it happened that a shrine sat in the mountains on Kōshū-Kaidō Road, and before this shrine came men in packs, reeking of banditry, laying down their fresh and ill-gotten gains, eager for a proper portioning.

Onto this the shrine opened its doors, and who should be shocked to see the bandits' chief! No older than twenty-eight years she stood, with beauty to shame the sky and stars. A beauty that laughed aloud and said—

“My, what lovely work, boys!”

It was this very enchantress who had gulled the shop-master by claiming to be a goddess's envoy—and then, catching the slightest storm, sent all these men to his shop in dead of night. Some had hitched ropes to trees and bamboo all around his garden, and whipped them to bluff the sounds of a roaring wind, while others had beaten at the pond to affect waves. Under such clamor they had cunningly hidden any sounds of vault doors opening, of wares being moved.

A most unusual—most phantasmic—thief, no?

—Eishirō Suzuki, Strange Worlds: Tall Tales and Oddities (1908).

¹ Approx. 1684–1688 CE. ² No relation to Kappei. That we know of. ³ Wealth goddess strongly associated with rivers and lakes. One of Japan's Seven Lucky Gods. ⁴ Approx. 9—11pm. Adapted from Old China's gēng-diǎn system, each "watch" marking one-fifth of the time between sunset and dawn.

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris spend the night hanging out on his roof after your first day of making sales together.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

dividers by @/kimjiho1

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

The sun sank slowly below the skyline, and the evening turned to nightfall as you and Chris finished up your last deal of the day. You'd been showing him all the stops, introducing him to your customers, and teaching him the way you did everything.

He got into your passenger seat and sighed as his head fell against the headrest, really wishing he had a joint right about now. "Damn, ma. I can't believe how much money we made today," Chris mumbled, slouching down into his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he'd made for the day.

"I know, and we're only a third of the way through the product," you smiled back, doing the math in your head about the potential profit. "I could never work a 9 to 5," Chris sighed, sifting through the $100 bills. "Can't believe I just made in a day what it would take some sucker to make in two weeks at some office job."

You fastened your seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, admiring Chris, who brought his fingers to his lips and slowly licked them as he separated the crisp hundreds. "What are you thinking about, ma? My tongue or my fingers?" Chris flirted, catching you staring out of the corner of his eye and giving you a seductive smirk as he ran his tongue along the pads of his fingers again, flitting through his money.

You squeezed your thighs together as you bit down on your lip. For a moment, you were thinking about both at the same time. You hated the effect he had on you, the way he knew how to get inside your head, intrude on your thoughts, and invade your sexual fantasies. "You're fucking gross, Chris," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to hide how turned on you were.

He responded with a chuckle, knowing that he was getting to you even if you wanted to deny it. "So, am I dropping you off at your girlfriend's house?" You asked, reminding him that he had one. "Nah, can you drop me off at my place? I'm staying home tonight," Chris requested. "I can do that. Just tell me where to go," you replied, your eyes darting around between the road in front of you, your side mirrors, and your rearview.

"So, have you told Daisy yet?" You asked, your gaze flickering over at Chris, who was shaking his head. "I'll tell her, ma, when I'm ready," Chris grumbled. He knew you were right. He knew he had some things to work out, like telling his girlfriend the real way he made his money or dealing with the fact that he was finding himself sexually attracted to his new business partner. He stole another glance at you from your passenger seat as the fantasy he'd had the night before flashed through his mind, praying you wouldn't notice the tent forming in his jeans.

When you pulled into Chris' driveway, he thanked you again for the ride. "I can't believe I've been sober for eight hours," Chris mentioned, bouncing his leg as you parked. "No wonder you've been so uptight today," you teased him. "Maybe you should come smoke with me since you're always uptight," Chris smirked, nudging you in the arm with his elbow, but his offer was genuine.

You gave him an annoyed look, but you couldn't hold back the smile that spread across your lips. "I don't smoke weed, Chris. I haven't since I was a teenager," you replied, fidgeting with the material of your black steering wheel cover. "Why not?" Chris wondered, surprised by your admission. "I like being clear-headed. I don't like feeling out of control," you shrugged.

"We're on a floating rock in space, ma. The idea that you have control over anything is an illusion," Chris laughed, reaching for his door handle. "C'mon. Come inside. Do you drink? I've got a beer with your name on it if you wanna hang out with me for a little."

You were quiet for a second. It wasn't often that people invited you to hang out or just do something fun with them, and for a moment, you thought maybe you could use it. "I could stay for one beer," you responded hesitantly, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. "That's what I'm talking about, ma. Let your hair down once in a while," Chris replied, beaming with a smile.

You trailed behind him, staring down at your shoes as you followed the pattern of the stepping stones that led to his front door. "Oh, shit. I forgot my house key at Daisy's place," he sighed, running his finger through his hair. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Do you need me to take you to Daisy's place after all?" You huffed, slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nah, it wouldn't do any good anyways. She's at work. Plus, this won't take long," Chris said, pulling a pin out of his pocket and fiddling with the lock. You nervously looked around, worried someone was going to see him picking his lock and call the cops or something, but in a matter of seconds, you heard a click, and you watched as he turned the knob. His door creaked open, and he glanced back at you with a mischevious smile.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "What can I say, ma? I'm good with my hands. Gotta show you my skillset somehow," Chris playfully winked at you. You scoffed, biting back a smile. A part of you liked the way he couldn't keep himself from making sexual innuendos and flirting with you.

"If you need me to pick a lock on a deal, though, you're splitting the money 50/50 with me," Chris told you, stepping into his living room. "What kind of shady shit do you think I'm up to, Chris? I'm just selling coke. Not robbing people," you joked, following him in. "You never know," Chris peeked back at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

"This is it," he announced, raising his arms to present his place to you. It was a dimly-lit, relatively small place, but it had a safe, cozy vibe to it. "I like it," you told him, your eyes scanning them room. You noticed his sprouting marijuana plants in the corner sitting beneath his grow lights and an old shelf beside it that was littered with comic books and novels you'd never heard of.

His house faintly smelled of weed and sandalwood, like how Chris always smelled, and you found the familiar scent comforting as it wafted through the air. He directed you over towards his couch and motioned for you to sit. You sat down, awkwardly perching at the edge of the couch cushion.

"C'mon, ma. You can relax. Kick your feet up," he told you, heading over towards his fridge to give you that beer he promised you. You exhaled and slowly leaned back into his sofa that was much softer than you imagined it would be. Chris twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it to you. The red and white label that read Stella Artois stared back at you, and you hesitantly reached out and took it.

Chris plopped down on the couch beside you, and you watched as he sprinkled a bit of ground weed into his rolling paper. You peered down at his rings and his fingers at the way they skillfully handled the joint, tucking the paper in and folding it in on itself.

His gaze flickered up at you as his tongue darted out, and he licked a long, slow stripe across the edge of the joint. His lips curled into a suggestive smile as he noticed you watching him, but you acted unamused, pulling your eyes away from his. You held the bottle up to your lips, taking a small, refreshing sip, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you relaxed further into the comfy couch.

You peered down the hall to an open door at the end. The room was dark, but you imagined it was probably Chris' bedroom. You found yourself wondering what it looked like, how comfortable his bed was, and how hard it would be for you to keep your hands off of him if you ever found yourself alone with him in there.

"You coming?" Chris asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and standing to his feet as soon as you'd gotten comfortable. "Coming where?" You wondered, giving him a perplexed look. "To the roof. The view's great up there," Chris responded, making his way towards the back door.

You hesitantly followed him back out into the cool air of the backyard where he had a ladder propped up against the side of his house. "C'mon, ma. I'll hold your beer. You start climbing the ladder," Chris told you, extending his arm to take your bottle from you. "Yep. Just smoking and drinking on a roof. What could possibly go wrong?" You muttered under your breath as you wrapped your fingers around the cold, metal rungs.

"Don't worry, ma. I'll be right behind you, so if you fall, I'll catch you," Chris' breath tickled your neck as he pressed his warm body into yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. It was the closest you'd ever been to him. You were just glad you were faced away from him, so he couldn't see the unmistakable look of desire written in your expression as heat radiated off his skin.

You cleared your throat and regained your composure. "Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?" You snarked at him, peering over your shoulder in an attempt to take control of the situation again. Chris chuckled, but he didn't answer you, leaving it up for interpretation. You started to hesitantly climb the ladder, and Chris followed closely behind, keeping his promise to not let you fall as he held your beer in one hand and the unlit joint between his lips.

The two of you made it to the roof, and Chris handed you your beer once the two of you got settled. The star-filled sky hung overhead as you looked out at the horizon. You saw the tops of the other houses, the city lights scattered across the skyline, and the waves crashing on the beach shore off in the far distance. You brought your bottle of Stella Artois up to your lips and took another sip as you took in the view. There was something about this perspective that made your problems feel smaller and less pressing.

"Pretty cool, isn't it, ma?" Chris asked beside you as you heard the flick of his lighter sound as he held the flame up to the end of his joint. You quietly nodded, surprised by how much you could see from Chris' roof. "So, ma. What do you say we get to know each other better and play your favorite game, twenty questions?" Chris smiled over at you with the lit joint pinched between his two fingers.

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't have an excuse this time. There was no work to be done, and there was nowhere to go to avoid his questioning, so you took a deep breath and another swig of your drink. "Okay, fine. Hit me," you finally replied after a moment of hesitancy.

"Where do you go to clear your mind?" Chris wondered, his gaze locked on you. "The beach. I like the waves. The sounds of the seagulls. Feeling the sand between my toes. It's peaceful," you shrugged. Even though the question wasn't a very personal one, you felt vulnerable answering.

"What about you, Chris?" You wondered aloud. "You're looking at it," Chris said with his joint tucked between his lips. He didn't need to explain anything further. You could tell why this was the place he went to sort out his thoughts.

"Alright. What kind of music do you listen to?" You blurted out, not sure of what to ask him next. "Anything, really. But I prefer indie over everything else," he told you. "Okay, play me your favorite song," you told him, gesturing towards his phone he had sitting beside him. He picked it up, staring back at you as he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he responded, scrolling through the saved albums on his phone until he came across AM by Arctic Monkeys. No. 1 Party Anthem started playing through the speaker of his phone, and you nodded in approval as the melody filled the space between you.

"If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would you choose?" Chris asked, turning off his phone screen and letting the song play softly in the background of your conversation. You thought about it for a moment. "See, I wanna say Pablo Escobar or something, but I think I'd want to have dinner with one of those druglords who flew under the radar so well that we don't even know their names," you replied. "Damn, ma. That's a good answer," Chris mumbled with the joint hanging from his lips.

He glanced up at you as if silently reminding you it was your turn to ask a question. "What did you think of me when you first met me?" You wondered aloud. You gave him a look like he should be careful about how answered this question. He cracked a smile, remembering the first time you'd approached him and threatened him for selling his weed on your block and trying to steal your customers. "I thought you were tough. Not the kind of woman you want to mess with. I also thought you were super hot," Chris admitted. You blushed, hoping Chris couldn't tell in the glow of the moon.

"What's one thing you don't leave the house without?" Chris asked you, pulling a long drag from his joint. "My keys," you sharply responded, subtly teasing him for having to break into his own place earlier. He let out a laugh. "And my gun," you told him. You sipped on your bubbly drink, noting that the song had changed.

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High started to play as you glanced back over at the blue-eyed man beside you. "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?" You asked, peeling the label off your beer bottle. "Nothing," Chris smirked over at you. "Nothing?" You reiterated, furrowing your brow. "Nothing," he repeated. "You're a little cocky, aren't you?" You shot back. "I prefer confident," Chris chuckled before he pulled from the joint again.

"What do you think the most important quality in a friend or partner is?" Chris asked after a few seconds of silence. "Honesty and loyalty," you said without hesitation, and Chris nodded in agreement. "You?" You asked. "Probably just someone who isn't going to bail when things get hard," Chris sincerely responded.

"What's your biggest fear?" You asked him, the questions getting deeper and deeper. "Losing the people I love," he answered, staring down at the build-up of ash on the cherry before flicking it off. "How about you, ma?" He returned the question. "Trusting the wrong person and getting hurt," you responded almost immediately. "I get that," Chris answered, his gaze still fixed on you.

"What's your guilty pleasure?" Chris asked you, his luscious lips curling into a smile as he awaited your response. "Probably those dumb reality shows," you admitted, your cheeks growing warm. "Really? Never took you for a girl who likes trash TV," Chris teasingly nudged your arm. "Daisy loves that shit, too."

"What's one of your guilty pleasures?" You asked Chris. He bit down on his lip as he looked you up and down. He knew what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be crossing the line of just playful flirting and venturing into uncharted territory, so he came up with something on the spot.

"Watching the trash TV with her. I'm always making fun of her for watching The Bacholorette and shit like that, but then I find myself watching it with her and getting all invested," Chris confessed.

"I totally get it. Like, I started watching it as a joke at first, and then you get to know the people. Then you start wanting them to end up together," you said, glancing up at him, and his eyes met yours. The song changed again, and you listened as the lyrics came through:

🎶 If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours. 🎶

The two of you stared at each other in a comfortable silence for a moment, Chris taking a puff of his weed as you took a swig of beer. "So, what does Daisy think you're out doing all day when you're working?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. "As far as she knows, I work in sales, which isn't totally a lie. She just doesn't know about the drugs," Chris shrugged. "Yeah, she doesn't know about the most important detail," you scoffed, tapping on the glass of your bottle.

"Why are you always judging me for that, ma? I've got my reasons. Why are you so pressed about it?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. "I had an ex who kept things from me, like how much money he owed certain people. He put me in a lot of dangerous situations. Don't want to watch you do the same shit to Daisy," you murmured, letting Chris in more than you had up until this point. "I didn't know, ma," Chris said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder and relaxing his jaw. "You know, I'd never intentionally hurt her. Or you."

"It doesn't matter, Chris. You can be the most well-intentioned person in the world and still hurt the people around you," you responded. He was quiet for a few minutes, mulling over what you said.

"Your ex? Alex?" Chris wondered, blowing out a cloud of smoke against the night sky as he recalled Joe using that name earlier. "Yeah. My dumb fuck ex. He got himself killed because he owed the wrong people money," you said in a dry tone. "Holy shit. Ma, I'm so sorry," Chris whispered. "Don't be. He deserved it," you muttered under your breath.

"Hey, I have a question. Why do you always call me ma?" You chimed in. "It's just a sign of respect. That's all," he shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. It's fine. I don't care what you call me. You gotta stop looking at me like that, though. Looking like you're gonna kiss me or some shit," you accused him, following his gaze that danced between your eyes and your lips as you took another drink of your beer. The song changed again.

🎶 How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. 🎶

"I'm not looking at you any type of way! Maybe you're projecting because you wanna kiss me," he shot back. The sexual tension between the two of you was thick, and for a moment, you each thought about it. The temptation was there, and it was strong. You wanted to pull him as close as you could, passionately press your lips against his, and tangle your fingers in his soft, brown hair, but you didn't want to ruin your business relationship with him.

Chris thought the same, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, but he didn't want to screw up what he had with Daisy, and he didn't want to give you the wrong impression. He diverted his eyes, glancing down at his joint that had burned down to the roach, and he put it out. "Get enough of the view, ma? I'm getting kind of tired," Chris chimed in as you admired his profile in the moonlight.

For a moment, you forgot he was talking about the scape of the city from the roof. "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. I should probably go," you said, fiddling with the empty bottle in your hand. "You can stay the night if you need to," Chris motioned towards the alcoholic beverage you'd finished off, but he knew he was playing with fire the moment the words left his mouth, inviting you to stay the night.

🎶 Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay. 🎶

The two of you exchanged a look like you both knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Even with you both sleeping in separate rooms, you each knew deep down that a closed door wouldn't be enough to deter you two from the temptation. "It's cool, Chris. It was just one beer. I'll just grab a glass of water, sit on your couch for twenty minutes, and I'll be fine to drive," you told him. Chris picked up his phone and paused the song. "I got you, ma. I'll help you down."

You felt elated once you were finally sitting back down on Chris' couch, sobering up. You weren't sure if it was a buzz from the alcohol, an adrenaline rush from being on the roof, or just the way you were starting to feel around Chris.

Chris gave you some crackers to help "absorb the alcohol," because he had "heard somewhere that it does," and even though you'd only had one beer, it was sweet that he cared enough. You also both just knew that you had to sober up, because staying the night wasn't an option unless you were both prepared to give into the force that was pulling the two of you together and end up doing something that could hurt Daisy or hurt your business relationship.

So you were munching away on Ritz crackers on Chris' couch after your single beer, and once you felt like the effects of the alcohol had worn off, you made a comment about how late it was getting and about how you should probably get going.

You left, following the same stepping stones you'd used when you walked up. When you approached your car, you reached into your empty pocket for your keys just to remember you'd left them on Chris' coffee table. "Shit," you whispered, realizing you were going to have to do a walk of shame back up to his front door after giving him shit for forgetting his keys earlier.

Chris had already started to get ready for bed, shedding his layers and slipping into a pair of flannel pajama pants when a soft knock sounded at his front door. He peeked through the peephole to make sure it was you, his heart racing and secretly wondering if you'd come back to kiss him or confess your feelings for him, his mind swirling with half a dozen possibilities.

He turned the doorknob, and when you saw him, your eyes were immediately drawn to the fact that he was shirtless. "Uh, sorry. I forgot my keys," you told him, unable to conceal your smile at the irony of the situation. "Oh, you mean, the keys you don't go anywhere without?" Chris asked, leaning against the door frame and indulging in the fact that you were doing nothing to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

"Yeah. Those ones," you smirked, biting down on your lip. "I'll go get 'em, ma," Chris chuckled at you as he turned to retrieve your keys. You found yourself holding your breath as your gaze danced over the definition of his back muscles in the soft lighting of his living room.

He handed them to you, and as you took them from him, his hand brushed against yours. You both exchanged a look that was heavy with the words unspoken between you, but you also both silently agreed it was for the best. "Okay, goodnight," you said, unconsciously batting your eyelashes at him. "Goodnight," Chris smirked, eyeing you up and down as you turned to walk away before closing his door again.

As soon as you made it to your car, you reflected on the way you acted and how stupid you must have sounded, silently kicking yourself. You didn't harp on it for long, though. Your embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the intoxication and bliss you felt from being around such an attractive man who was beginning to make you smile more than he made you roll your eyes.

click to read chapter 6 ✨️

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[s6daz]

First of all ,I love your sevika writings ❤️So Idk if you have anything you won't write .

Could you maybe write councler reader x councler sevika where they kinda get into a fight and agree to discuss the topic in private and one thing leads to another .

Thank you

♰ sevika x f!reader ִ ݁ ˖ ◜

cw: reader n sevika are councilors, reader is bit of a brat, enemies to lovers(?, stolen kiss

note: tysm i'm really happy to know that some people like my writing, i didn't want to make this too long so maybe i'll make a second part and please ignore that i don't remember the living councilors.

status: fixed

the piltover council was in full session but instead of advancing agreements and ideas, the room was being a total disaster of a verbal battle. tensions were always present when piltover and zaun clashed, but this time it seemed that the confrontation was really getting serious.

sitting on the other side of the table, sevika the councilor representing zaun, leaned forward with a relaxed but defiant posture. her mechanical arm rested on the beautiful marble surface while her eyes focused on you, with that mocking spark that irritated you so much.

"the pollution, the diseases, the hunger in zaun is all thanks to you all" sevika said with her voice full of contempt. "but of course, from up here everything is so bright, so clean... that it's so easy to ignore the mess they leave in their wake"

you took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure before your cables went out because her words stuck like knives into your skin and you knew perfectly well that you couldn't stay silent.

"if zaun is in that situation it is not because of piltover" you responded with your words full of authority. "instead of blaming us for everything, why don't you look inside and ask yourself what are you doing wrong to make them this way?"

murmurs quickly spread through the room. some of the councilors exchanged nervous glances, while others were interested to see how far this dispute would go. sevika for her part, let out a low laugh full of sarcasm and leaned even further forward, her presence dominating the room.

"what are we doing wrong? you really are so disconnected from reality, councler?" sevika dropped her metal arm with a thud on the table that caused some of the counselors to panic. "you all have us in misery, you all rob us, you all exploit us, you all see us as little more than rats... but of course from your comfortable seat, it's easy to teach us a lesson, right?"

"enough already!" interrupted one of the counselors, an older man with a stern expression. "this council is not a place for personal attacks. we came here to find solutions civilly, not to turn this into a fight"

"we're not fighting" you replied although your tone betrayed your words "i'm simply pointing out that we can't continue to take care of zaun affairs when they themselves do nothing to improve"

"carrying our responsibilities?" sevika let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "please piltover has been squeezing us dry"

another of the counselors tried to intervene, her voice slightly shaking. "maybe both parties should calm down and focus on the facts, this conversation is getting us nowhere"

but neither you nor sevika seemed to want to listen, the tension in the atmosphere was heavy and every word they said seemed to fan the flame.

"zaun complains about being oppressed but every time we offer them agreements all they do is reject them" you said, ignoring the councilor words, crossing your arms. "maybe if they started to stop seeing us as their enemies we could advance"

"agreements?" sevika raised an eyebrow, mocking. "are you referring to those deals that tie us hand and foot, that leave us with the minimum while you all take all the profits? don't make me laugh"

"please stop it!" exclaimed a firm voiced counselor. "this is ridiculous. if you want to continue with this nonsense, do it outside of here. this council will not be the scene of your personal rivalries"

the silence fell like a heavy blanket, you felt all eyes on you but even so you continued to hold your gaze with sevika no matter what the others thought, you would not let yourself be twisted by sevika barely perceptible mocking smile that seemed to challenge you.

"fine" you said in a firm voice as you stood up from your seat. "if sevika has anything else to tell me, we'll discuss it in private"

without waiting for any response from her or the others present, you headed to the door. your heart was beating rapidly but you forced yourself to maintain a confident posture as you walked back down the council room and you knew perfectly well that sevika was following you: you could feel her dominant and heavy presence.

you arrived at a hallway away from the place where the light was dim and the atmosphere was peacefully silent. you turned sharply to face her, frowning as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"well, here we are" you said, your voice full of irritation. "what do you want, sevika? where are you going with all this?"

sevika stopped, her powerless figure just a few steps away from you. her mechanical arm creaked slightly when her moved it and her lopsided smile was still present, as if her enjoyed getting you out of your temper.

"me? i'm not the one with a problem here" she replied in that deep voice that managed to get on your nerves. "you're the one who seems obsessed with me"

"i'm not obsessed with you" you quickly defended yourself, your tone coming out sharper than you intended.

"of course not" sevika said sarcastically, taking a step towards you. "then why do you have the need to jump on the defensive whenever i'm around?"

"because i can't stand your arrogance" you said taking a step forward too, you wouldn't be intimidated. "you always come here with your accusations but you never offer solutions. all you know is to accuse and point the finger"

"and what do you offer?" sevika stared at you "an empty speech about progress? rules that only put us in a more complicated situation? you have no idea what it's like to live in zaun"

"you have no idea what i've done to get here!" you exclaimed, your voice shaking with frustration. "you don't know me, sevika. you have no right to judge me"

"and you have no right to talk about zaun as if you understood what we are experiencing" sevika replied, her tone rising in intensity.

the discussion continued to escalate with the words clashing like sharp swords, but after a while of arguing, sevika patience seemed to break and at that moment the spark of tension that the two of you had created exploded.

before you could react, sevika took a quick step towards you, grabbed you by the arms and pushed you against the wall. her lips collided with yours with a force that left you breathless, it was a kiss full of rage and contained passion.

at first you tried to resist and your hands pushed against her chest, but sevika strength held you back and the intensity of the moment began to leave you immobile. slowly, you began to give in, albeit clumsily, letting the tension between the two of you transform into something completely different.

when she finally pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. sevika gaze was intense on you and you couldn't help but notice that behind that bad mood there was something else, even so you couldn't help but feel confused and perhaps a little angry.

"what the hell was that?" you managed to say in a voice barely above a whisper.

sevika smiled, as if all that arrogance you hated came back to her. "let's say it's my way of shutting you up" her said before turning around and leaving the place, leaving you with your heart pounding and a mix of emotions that you didn't know how to handle.

you stayed in the hallway with your back still against the wall, trying to regain your composure, your thoughts were racing a mile an hour but you knew one thing well: after this nothing would be the same between you and sevika, even if you didn't accept it.

[bellaxgiornata]

All That I Can Give 1:| Changing Professions

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.1k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; ex-prostitute!Reader (Reader has a slight backstory), mentions of physical/sexual abuse, canon typical violence, smut, angst, hurt/comfort

summary: With Lyla moving over to produce films at Redwoody for the Sons, Nero finds himself in need of someone to run the front of Diosa and to help with the administrative aspect. When a few of the girls recommend you–a blunt, vulgar street girl from Stockton trapped working for a heartless pimp by the name of Hades–Nero can't resist hiring you without consulting Jax first. Though Hades isn't willing to let his Persephone–the prized thoroughbred of his whores–just slip through his grasp. But after Jax meets you, not only is he determined to keep you safe, he’s hell-bent on giving you everything you've never had before.

a/n: I couldn't resist writing this fic, the first handful of chapters are already outlined. I personally loved the chemistry he had with Winsome in S7, so she became my inspiration for this Reader. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @kmc1989

With an elbow propped up against the bar inside Diosa Norte, Jax raised the cold beer to his lips before taking a deep pull from it as he listened to Nero. For the past fifteen minutes, he’d been running over this previous month's profit margins and the projected income for the coming month, but truthfully Jax was only half-listening to the numbers Nero was rattling off at this point after he'd heard the Sons’ share of the profit. Because how the hell did Nero expect him to just sit here and focus on a goddamn thing with all the girls walking around eyeing him while they cleaned Diosa and prepared to open for the evening? 

Jax sat relaxed at the bar, his legs casually stretched out in front of himself and crossed at the ankles, his eyes darting from the papers Nero was running a finger over to a woman who was bent in half wiping down a table across the main room. He could see straight down the front of her shirt as she cleaned and it was taking all of his willpower to keep switching his attention back to Nero. But as a blonde strode past him and sent a suggestive wink in his direction, Jax found his eyes following her across the foyer next, a lazy grin spreading over his lips as his attention lingered on her ass in those tight jeans. Head tilting to the side, he admired the view with a quiet, appreciative hum.

“Suppose you're not that invested in the business side of things today,” Nero commented, lowering the papers in his hands to the bar counter. 

Jax’s gaze shifted back over to Nero, his lazy grin growing a bit wider at having been caught staring at the girls instead of focusing on business. He shrugged a shoulder in response before gesturing his beer bottle around the room. 

“C'mon man, we're surrounded by pretty women,” he pointed out. “You think I can focus that closely on math right now?”

Nero shook his head at Jax, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his lack of genuine irritation. “Shoulda figured as much, ese,” he replied. “Next time I won’t schedule our business meetings to coincide with a full house so you don’t get distracted from what’s actually important.”

A low chuckle rumbled out of Jax, his grin still plastered across his lips. “Maybe you should, old man,” he teased back. “Should know by now how easily distracted I am by a pretty face.” His gaze swept around the room again, the corner of his lips still curled upwards. “Especially when there are so many of them.”

Nero gathered up the papers on the bar, stacking them together as Jax’s gaze continued to wander around the room as he watched the women cleaning and running back and forth with laundry from the bedrooms in the back. Beside him, the faint smile gradually fell from Nero’s mouth, his lips thinning out into a straight line as he gathered up the paperwork. As a brief quiet settled between the pair of men, the growing silence and the contemplative look on Nero’s face eventually caught Jax’s attention.

“Something else we need to discuss this afternoon?” Jax questioned, drawing the beer up to his lips again. “You look tense.”

Nero let out a deep sigh, his hands taking far too much care to straighten the stack of papers that held his focus. “Well, there was one other thing I needed to discuss with you today,” he admitted, sounding reluctant. “Kinda time sensitive with Lyla switching over to produce at Redwoody, too. We both know she can’t keep helping me out ‘round here, so I need someone to replace her. Someone that can handle the administrative side but also run the front of house when we're open. Someone we can trust to keep quiet about what's goin' on here, which means I can't exactly just…put up a help wanted sign in the window.”

Sensing the serious switch in topic, Jax straightened up in his chair and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the bar counter as his brows knitted faintly together. He jutted his chin at Nero, his grin no longer present. “What’d you need to discuss then? Hiring a girl to replace her?”

One of Nero’s hands ran across his mouth in hesitation, his focus still on the papers in his hand. Jax instantly caught the way he was stalling, his eyes narrowing marginally in the continued silence. Teeth beginning to gnaw at his bottom lip, Jax had a gut feeling that Nero was holding something back from him. There was something he wasn’t saying.

“Already found a girl, actually,” Nero began slowly, his attention finally shifting from the papers in his hand back to Jax. “She…was sort of brought to my attention by some of the other girls working here when I said I was lookin’ for someone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jax asked, still cautiously eyeing Nero. “Brought to your attention by the other girls why? Cause she’s got experience running something like this?”

“No, that’s not why, ese. Let’s just say she’s from a difficult situation, alright?” Nero explained carefully to Jax. “This girl…she needed a safer environment. But she might also need a little…extra protection in return. You feel me?”

Jax’s head tilted a little to the side, one of his blonde brows raising up onto his forehead. “No, not exactly,” he answered. “Sounds more like you’re bringing in someone who’s gonna cause trouble for me and my guys. Extra work which requires time I don’t have. That what you’re getting at?”

Nero’s head shifted back and forth as he made a face, clearly trying to downplay the situation. Jax only straightened up further in his chair as he felt his irritation beginning to grow. He had enough to deal with as the Sons president right now while trying to get these new business ventures set up. He didn’t need extra work being thrown his way–another goddamn task to delegate or another problem to solve. 

“Eh, I mean, maybe a little bit more work,” Nero admitted carefully. “Just at first.”

Jax’s face fell, a scowl spreading across his features. “Spit it out, Nero,” he snapped. “Who the hell do you wanna hire and why the hell is she gonna be a pain in my fucking ass?”

Nero raised both of his hands in a placating gesture at the obvious edge in Jax’s tone before he shifted in his chair further towards him. The severe expression didn’t disappear from Jax’s face as he waited impatiently for Nero to continue, his mouth set in a hard line and his shoulders squared and tensed.

“She’s a working girl from the streets,” Nero told him. “From what the girls here were telling me, she’s been trapped in a situation with this piece of shit pimp out in Stockton for years. Years, Jax,” He shot Jax a pointed look before he continued. “She’s wanted outta that life but she never had the chance and he’s never let her leave–”

“What the hell do you mean she hasn’t been able to get out?” he asked, cutting him off as he leaned closer to Nero along the bar, his brows drawing together in confusion. “You mean to tell me there's some scumbag pimp out in Stockton that wouldn’t let this girl leave? Kept forcing her to work for him?”

Nero nodded firmly at the question, the look on his face grim. “Yeah, ese,” he replied. “That’s exactly what I mean. Calls her his prized thoroughbred according to a few of the girls here that know her. She’s wanted outta that life for years but never had an opportunity. Never had some place to go.”

Jax’s hand gripped the neck of the beer bottle tight in his fist, his eyes dropping to the dark glass. What disgusting motherfucker forced a woman to keep selling her body against her will? For years? That thought alone had him wanting to get on his bike and go find this prick just to crush the dipshit’s skull in himself with his bare hands.

“The fuck is his name?” The question came out of Jax like a snarl, his eyes still fixed on the beer in his hand. He wished it was the guy’s neck he was squeezing instead of the glass bottle. “The piece of shit forcing a woman to keep selling herself against her will. The fuck is his name?”

“I’ve heard of him before, he’s been in the game for a bit,” Nero told him, cautiously eyeing the anger on Jax’s face. “Goes by Hades on the street. Thinks it makes him seem terrifying and untouchable.” Nero paused to roll his eyes at the notion before he continued. “He’s a jackass, though. Treats his girls like shit. Doesn’t protect them from clients, beats them himself if they piss him off, takes most of their money and leaves them with scraps. I mean, this poor chica has been living on the streets for awhile now, Jax.” 

There was a desperation to his tone and an almost pleading look on his face as he spoke, one that Jax had never seen on Nero before. Clearly he’d been affected by this girl’s story, whatever it was. And if Jax was honest, he was already starting to feel affected by it himself considering the rage currently twisting itself around his insides.

“And I know we’re supposed to discuss business decisions and make them together as partners, but what was I supposed to do, Jax?” Nero asked him desperately. “Just turn my back on helping this girl get away from this shithead? Leave her on the streets to endure this piece of shit's abuse?” 

Shaking his head at the question, Jax’s gaze returned to nearly burning a hole in the beer bottle clutched within his death grip. “No,” his dark voice replied. “You shouldn’t.”

Nero shifted in his chair beside Jax again, still a bit tense. “Good, because I hired her already,” he confessed. “Lyla was out picking her up from Stockton now. They should be back soon.”

A frustrated sigh passed between Jax’s lips as everything Nero said began to gradually settle in his mind. Nero had already hired whoever this girl was from off the streets and she was on her way to Diosa now. He’d have to circle back as to why she might require more work from the Sons, but if she was capable, then maybe he could toss a few prospects at whatever the underlying issue was just to keep Diosa running smoothly and Nero off his ass.

“She trustworthy? Can she handle running things then?” Jax asked after a moment, looking back over at Nero beside him. Jax could still feel the burn of anger in his chest at this girl’s situation, a muscle jumping in his cheek with how hard he was still clenching his jaw, but he tried to brush that away for the moment. “The math and shit that Lyla did? Pouring drinks? Charming the clients or whatever?”

Nero nodded at the questions, the papers in front of him entirely forgotten on the bar now. “Yeah, she’s a smart girl,” he told him. “Met her yesterday myself with Lyla. Bit rough around the edges, but I’m sure she can watch the language for a few hours while she’s working.” Nero chuckled, clearly recalling his encounter with you. “She can be a little, uh…crass and vulgar.” 

That piqued Jax’s curiosity. Rough around the edges? Needed to watch her language? Who the hell was this girl Nero was bringing in from the streets?

“How rough around the edges are we talkin’ here?” he asked curiously. “She even gonna fit in at Diosa with all the other girls?” Jax gestured a hand at all the women still wandering around tidying up the building for the evening.

An amused grin pulled at Nero’s lips in response to his question, something almost mischievous twinkling in the man’s eye. “She may be somewhat of a feral stray, but I think she can learn to adjust to life indoors, if y’know what I mean.”

“You're describing the new girl as a feral stray?” Jax clarified, a skeptical look on his face. “You're hearing yourself, right? You want some feral stray running the front of this place? Greeting all the rich pricks looking for expensive, pretty pussy?”

Nero shrugged lightly, the amused grin still spread across his lips. “Trust me, she'll work out just fine. But what d'ya expect, man? She's a hooker from the streets of Stockton. And I mean from the streets. She was living on them. Of course she’s gonna be a little rough around the edges, ese. But she’s good, and that ain't the sorta thing she's gonna be doing here anyway–sleeping with clients.” Nero’s grin faded, a stern look of warning replacing it as he held Jax’s gaze while pointing a firm finger at his chest. “So you and your guys better not get any ideas about this one. She's strictly “off the menu” here. Alright? She doesn’t wanna do that anymore.”

“Don't think that's gonna be an issue from the way you're talking about her, Nero,” Jax told him with a shake of his head, his anger briefly forgotten at Nero’s absurd assumption that he would try to sleep with you. “A feral, stray, homeless ex-hooker with a mouth on her? Doesn't exactly scream sexy to me. Maybe Tig, but that's probably it, man. Don’t think you really gotta worry about us.”

A laugh fell out of Nero as the grin returned to his face, the amused noise once more piquing Jax’s curiosity. What the hell was so funny about that? It was as if Nero didn't believe that he wasn’t interested in you, but Jax damn well knew no girl off the street was going to make him care how “off the menu” she was. He had standards.

“Yeah, alright, Jax,” Nero replied with a light chuckle. “Just remember you said that in a minute.”

Outside of Diosa’s main room, Jax could hear the sound of car doors closing in the parking lot. Judging by Nero’s comment and the look still on his face, he guessed that was Lyla showing up with this mysterious, tragic stray of his. Admittedly, the more he learned about her, the more he was finding himself curious–but he wasn't about to confess that to Nero. Or the fact that he was wondering what exactly was about to step past those doors in a moment with the way the older man's eyes were glued to his face as if he was waiting specifically for Jax’s reaction.

Though Jax didn't have to wonder long before he heard Lyla's voice coming from just outside the large, black doors. 

“–settled for a night before he was going to show you what you’d be doing–”

Seconds later, the black door swung open to reveal Lyla's familiar figure as she continued speaking to whoever was behind her. Jax didn’t catch the rest of what she’d been saying, though; he’d only just managed to nod a greeting at Lyla before you stepped inside the building. In that moment, time itself felt as if it had stopped moving as Jax's eyes instantly locked onto you.

You were not the girl he expected to see after Nero’s description.

Jax had expected someone rundown and dirty, someone who looked hard and worn from living a rough life on the streets. Maybe some girl who was missing a few front teeth and half her hair tangled or torn out. He expected someone that he’d brush off without a second glance. What he hadn’t expected was the stunning woman who’d appeared in the lobby. 

You looked nothing like a homeless ex-hooker from the streets of Stockton. You looked much more like something that had walked straight out of his goddamn dreams, better than any of the women he’d ever seen hanging around the clubhouse or Diosa or even any of the other charters’ clubhouses. You were…something different entirely. Everything else in the room had completely faded to the background as his eyes ran over you and your body in those revealing clothes.

You looked like a goddamn angel that made a man want to do all sorts of sinning.

But then Jax’s eyes noticed the injuries marring your body and his expression hardened, his fist curling tight in his lap. There was blood dried around your lip, which looked split and a bit swollen–as if you'd been hit in the face recently. The timid, nervous way in which you'd glanced at Nero and sent him a hesitant smile before uncomfortably ducking your head, as if you didn't want the damage to your face to be noticed, seemed out of character from the rough around the edges woman Nero had just been describing. But that wasn't all Jax had caught when he looked at you, and apparently Nero had seen it, too.

“What happened to your arm, chica?” Nero called out, concerned.

“Hades.”

Your response had been simple and quiet, but so full of anger and malice that it made Jax’s skin crawl. The tone of your voice only added to how badly he wanted to kill the son of a bitch that had clearly bitten your arm like that. Like a fucking wild animal tearing into you. The mark looked fresh and irritated–and disturbingly deep for teeth marks. There was a sick feeling roiling inside of Jax’s gut telling him there were probably more marks like that hidden beneath your clothing. The thought caused his lip to curl back in a silent, disgusted snarl. 

“I didn't have anything with me when I picked her up,” Lyla told Nero apologetically before she shot you a quick sympathetic glance. “I was going to bring her to the room she's staying in here and get her cleaned and settled for the night.”

“Yeah,” Nero agreed, nodding back at Lyla. “Yeah, take her back and let her get comfortable.” His attention shifted to you next, his tone softening noticeably. “I'll check in with you later, chica. Don't worry about a thing tonight, alright? You just relax and get settled into your room.”

Jax watched as you nodded, a tight smile briefly passing over your face before it vanished. Something unexpectedly twisted in his chest at the sight before you were following Lyla across the foyer and down the hallway that led to the various rooms in Diosa that were used for entertaining clients. His eyes lingered on you until you were out of sight, his teeth grinding together in rage at the marks on your body–the clear abuse you’d recently endured.

“That would be the new girl,” Nero said quietly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen when you’d disappeared down the hall. He gave Jax your real name before he continued. “That shithead pimp of hers called her Persephone, though. You know why?”

Jax’s fist clenched tighter in his lap when he heard the name. He vaguely recalled the Greek myth from back when he’d been in high school, well before he’d dropped out and joined the Sons. “Cause Hades trapped her in hell, right?”

Nero nodded solemnly, his lips set in a straight line. “Guessing this Hades asshole thought it was smart,” he replied grimly. “His prized whore kept trapped in the hell of his making.”

“Take it he ain’t gonna be too thrilled she left?” Jax questioned between gritted teeth, his gaze finally leaving the hallway and shifting back to Nero at the bar beside him. “That where the extra work from the Sons factors in here? Protection?”

Nero nodded again in response. “Yeah, that’s exactly it,” he answered. “This guy, Hades, he ain’t just gonna let her walk away, y’know? If he finds out she’s staying at Diosa, he’s gonna come with some of his guys and cause problems. She was his favorite girl. Told me herself he ain’t just gonna let her walk away easy.”

Jax’s hand released his death grip on the beer bottle, running his fingers over his lips as he let that sink in, the roughness of his beard scratching at the pads of his fingers. Disgust and fury grew within him at those words–“his favorite girl.” You were some sick bastard’s favorite girl to whore out for profit and abuse to his own liking. Jax felt like fucking vomiting at the idea of how you’d been treated, the way you’d been viewed. Sure, Nero and the Sons made money off of the girls at Diosa, but it wasn’t the same thing. The girls here kept most of their earnings, they were treated with respect, and they were kept safe. And there was absolutely no fucking way Nero or him would ever force one of the girls to stay here if they wanted to leave. What you’d endured–how you’d been treated–was repulsive. 

“What kinda trouble are we talkin’ about?” Jax asked Nero, his jaw set firm.

Nero expelled a rough sigh, his eyes darting towards the hall you’d disappeared down before he focused back on Jax. “She said he’d cut her tongue out if she ever left him,” he answered slowly. “Told her he'd make her a useless whore if she ever tried to run on him. So I’m guessing…something of the violent nature, ese.”

Unbridled rage ignited like a wildfire within Jax’s chest at those words. What disgusting monster would mark a beautiful thing like you in a cruel way like that? Who would hurt you just for wanting your goddamn freedom? 

“She’s got no place to go, so I told her she could stay at Diosa for now until she can afford a place of her own,” Nero continued. “Thing is, once we close, she's gonna be here all by herself at night. I know we got decent security, but I was hoping maybe you could have some prospects watch the place on and off at night. Take turns or some shit. Just for a couple of weeks until we know this jackass isn't coming for her.”

Jax nodded silently at the suggestion, still processing the whole situation. It would add more to the Sons’ plate for a couple of weeks, but he already knew in his gut that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he'd found out something had happened to you that he could've easily prevented.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he murmured, eyes focusing on the hallway again.

Nero silently observed Jax for a minute, taking in the way he was staring down the hall like he was expecting to catch a glimpse of you again. The ghost of a smile flickered over Nero’s face when Jax glanced back over at him.

“What?” Jax asked, brows furrowing faintly together. “The hell you lookin’ at me like that for?”

Nero shook his head, that hint of a smile still present. “Nothing, ese,” he answered. “But since she’ll be helping with the business side of things and you might have to work with her a bit, maybe you can meet her in a couple of days. Once she’s had a chance to get situated here and settled in. Might be good for her to meet the man in charge of keeping the girls safe, too. That good with you?”

Jax’s eyes dropped back down to his bottle of beer on the bar counter, a handful of thoughts racing through his mind as his index finger traced the line of the label. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s good with me. Got some club business I should head out and deal with anyway.”  

“Alright,” Nero agreed, rising up from his chair at the bar. “Then I’ll introduce you to our new girl in a couple of days.”

Jax rose up from his chair as well, bringing his beer up to his lips and downing the rest of it. As he set the empty bottle back down, he focused on Nero one last time.

“I'll figure something out with the prospects later,” Jax informed him. "Have them keep an eye on the place starting tonight. She'll be safe here, man. You can promise her that.”

“I'll pass along the message,” Nero replied. “I'm sure she'll appreciate it.”

Jax gave the man a single nod before he turned, making his way towards the exit of Diosa. But as he pushed one of the large black doors open, the afternoon sunlight pouring inside of the foyer, Jax hesitated in the doorway. Glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes once more lingered on the hallway you’d disappeared down as the image of your face and that split lip flashed through his mind again. 

What the hell was your story, and why the fuck did he suddenly want to hear it?

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Christmas Shift | Bucky 🎄

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Prompt : We're doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event. 

Part 1 : Holly Jolly Charade

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It’s two days before Christmas, and you decided to go back home.

Your hand moved slowly to close the apartment door. It felt like you were forgetting something. Last year, he would always double-check the door before locking it.

This Christmas could be the last one, you thought, sighing.

You were headed to your parent's home for Christmas this time—mainly because your annoying aunt Teresa wouldn’t be there. On the ride, it was usually just you and Bucky, who started as a fake couple but ended up in a real marriage.

But it seemed like the honeymoon phase was over. You and Bucky had just had a big argument, which led him to stay at a hotel for a few days. That’s why you were here alone.

Your mom, Robin, greeted you with a hug. “Did the company lock you up?” she asked with a smile. “I’m glad you’re here before the storm.” She helped you take off your coat. “Bucky’s already here.”

You widened your eyes in surprise. He’s here?

“He’s got a much more relaxed schedule than you,” she added casually.

After Bucky resigned from the company, he invested in drone cameras and outdoor equipment. Since his hobby was photography, it seemed like the perfect fit. He made a good decision and gained a lot of profit. His work was successful, but his schedule was much more laid-back than yours.

As you walked into the living room, you saw Bucky talking to your dad and your cousins. He noticed you and made his way over to you, offering a side hug.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d rather be here than with my dad, who’s with his third wife, and my mom, who’s with her new boyfriend,” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead.

You and Bucky were in the room, sitting on opposite sides of the bed. The distance between you both felt greater than it ever had before. The usual closeness you shared during Christmas wasn’t there. Both of you acted like everything was fine, but your parents noticed.

Robin, sensing the tension, quietly led you to the master bedroom. “What’s going on? It feels like there’s a wall between you two.”

You sighed, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “It’s…,” you hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “We…” You usually had the confidence to speak up at the company, but talking about your relationship with Bucky made your stomach knot.

On the other side of the house, your father was talking to Bucky in the living room. “Did you make a mistake with my daughter?”

Bucky looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Son, I’ve been married for 35 years. I would know. So, you did something,” your father said firmly, though not unkindly.

Bucky sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “She wants a baby. I’m not ready.”

Your father’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

Bucky’s voice softened, and his eyes looked distant. “Because I’m afraid. I don’t think I’ll be a good father. Look at my parents. You saw them at the wedding.”

Your father nodded, understanding the depth of his concerns. “Well… it’s complicated. But you’re you, not your father.” He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder. “You're a good man for acknowledging your doubts. It's not a shame, son. Everyone feels nervous about being a parent.”

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Robin sat across from you, her hand resting gently on yours. “Listen, I know things aren’t easy right now, but you and Bucky can make it. There will be challenges ahead, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. You’ve built something real together, and that counts for a lot.”

You looked at her, searching for the reassurance you needed. Robin gave you a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve both come this far. You’ll find a way through this too. Just remember, love isn’t perfect—it’s about sticking together, even when it’s hard.”

Later that evening, you finally found the courage to talk to Bucky. He was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. You walked up to him, and without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I’m ready,” Bucky whispered into your hair, his voice low but steady. “I’m in it. If you’re in it.”

You held him tighter, your heart feeling lighter. “We’re doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event.” You chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Yeah, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And the next Christmas, both of you came home—this time, with a beautiful, giggling baby girl in your arms. Bucky and you became the best parents this baby girl ever had.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@mostlymarvelgirl

@scott-loki-barnes

@kjah97

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

[outlanderskin]

S says anything to anyone in order to personally profit. He kept you in check with innuendoes of your SC fantasy when it was clear from the beginning that there was never anything between them. CT have been together from the beginning of OL (no she and S didn't sleep together in the first 2 months or anytime after she moved to Glasgow in September). CT's relationship grew organically, dated, got engaged, married and had a child together. S hired Raya women including a paid escort to prove he's macho and looking ridiculous.

She's been living her life with family and friends attending high end event while he's been shilling his booze with a dubious business partner. Yeah, they couldn't be more different but to you she's the problem who infringes on his right to tell the word about his fake wife and unlimited boos.

Usually, there comes a time when the worst of the madness subsides and disappears even when no recognition of shipper deceit is forthcoming as in the case of many who quietly left. Not in the case of the ones still left. Not sure if I should feel sorry or scared that there are women like you walking among us.

This is a fun type of Ask to answer, so let's take it one step at a time so we don't miss any details.

"S says anything to anyone in order to personally profit. He kept you in check with innuendoes of your SC fantasy when it was clear from the beginning that there was never anything between them."

You're talking about the wrong side of the fandom. Sam's sales strategies are not aimed at shippers. Your statements make me think that you've been living under a rock for the past ten years.

CT have been together from the beginning of OL (no she and S didn't sleep together in the first 2 months or anytime after she moved to Glasgow in September)"

Don't you think it's weird to do mental calculations about someone else's sex life?

CT's relationship grew organically, dated, got engaged, married and had a child together.

Organically? If you think anything in that whole story is organic, then I feel sorry for the kind of loving relationship you must have in your life.

Another thing: every time you use the acronym CT I automatically think of computerized tomography, so please come up with another acronym for your ship.

"S hired Raya women including a paid escort to prove he's macho and looking ridiculous."

I think deep down you know that this whole circus is made exactly to be consumed by people like you who care and believe in everything. You can't deny that it worked, you just proved that you cared, in other words, you took the bait.

Well, I hope this side of Cait's life inspires you and you decide to live a normal life with family and friends, going to cool places and getting out of the basement where you live. I also think you could follow Sam's example and look for a job. The fact that you criticize him for working hard makes me think that you are the kind of person we call "allergic to work" here.

What you wrote here is very confusing. Are you okay?... And about "unlimited boos" Well, I think you wrote to the wrong blog.

Honestly, you should look for a better automatic translator. If you want some advice, I think the best thing would be an English course. And if English is your language, please go back to school urgently.

I'm sorry to inform you, but we're not going anywhere. We're here and we'll stay here. You shouldn't feel sorry or afraid of our presence in this fandom. In fact, you should feel blessed to know that there are still intelligent, resilient, and humorous people in this fandom. It's a big contrast to the side you live on.

BTW, it's because of asks like yours that we came to the following conclusion:

[americancitizen2025]

"

Since Trump’s presidency, Don Jr. and Eric have been involved in major cryptocurrency projects,

Trump family STOLE from a children's CANCER charity.

read here

particularly in Dubai and the Middle East. These ventures are not just side hustles; they are multi-million-dollar deals, setting the stage for new financial pipelines that directly benefit the Trump family.

Ahead of Donald Trump’s recent visit to Saudi Arabia, Don Jr. and Eric were already there, locking in agreements for new Trump-branded hotels, golf courses, and resorts across the region. This is not speculation; it’s documented fact. They are using the Trump name and connections to secure massive developments in countries that are simultaneously engaging with Trump on diplomatic terms.

Let’s be clear—before Trump took office, Don Jr. and Eric had never been involved in these types of business ventures. Their meteoric rise in the cryptocurrency market and Middle East real estate sector only began once their father assumed the presidency. Now, they’re moving ahead of him, making deals before Trump even sets foot in these countries.

Don’t forget Following Trump’s time in office, Jared Kushner secured a $2 billion investment from the Saudi sovereign wealth fund, run by Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. This is the same crown prince that Trump saluted at the royal court—breaking presidential protocol—and praised for his “strong leadership.” And the timing of that $2 billion? Right after Trump leaves office.

While the Trump family is busy cashing in, Trump is openly doing favors for Saudi Arabia. From lifting sanctions on Syria to making public displays of loyalty, it’s the kind of quid pro quo that screams corruption. Deals are made, money is exchanged, and Trump’s policies shift accordingly.SubscribeShare

Trump and his family accuse Hunter Biden of profiting from political connections, yet the Trumps themselves are cashing in on every possible opportunity. This isn’t just an accusation—it’s an observation.

While Hunter Biden’s business deals were dragged through congressional hearings and media spectacles, Trump’s family doesn’t even bother to hide their money grabs. It’s as if they know they’re untouchable within their own echo chamber.

I testified in Congress that Hunter Biden was a victim of political manipulation and Russian disinformation. I was there. I saw the lies spun out of whole cloth to tarnish his name. And yet, here we are watching the Trump family do far worse—brazenly and without consequence.

This blatant hypocrisy should offend anyone who claims to care about corruption and cronyism. If you’re genuinely upset about a politician’s family profiting off connections, then be consistent. Condemn Hunter Biden if you must—but spare a thought for Don Jr., Eric, and Donald himself, whose profiteering is right out in the open.

Trump himself has a long history of exploiting political power for personal gain. Whether it’s negotiating real estate deals while in office or leveraging his political brand post-presidency, the strategy is simple: demonize the other side while doing the exact same thing, but louder and with more bravado.

The Trumps accuse Hunter of being shameless. But when you look at what they are doing—raking in cash through business ventures, foreign deals, and media influence—it becomes clear that the entire campaign against Hunter was never about ethics. It was about projection.

We are watching this hypocrisy unfold in real-time. Trump and his family are turning American politics into their personal ATM, exploiting political power for financial gain. They are selling America’s foreign policy to the highest bidder, and they’re not even hiding it anymore.

The only way we can stop this is if we unite and stand together. That’s why I’m calling upon each and every one of you to bring three or four people who want to hear the truth. Re-stack, share this letter far and wide.

ShareSubscribe

If you’re not already a subscriber, join the movement. If you can become a paid subscriber. Contribute to Venmo @lev-parnas. " See your hypocrisy MAGA? YOU need to be screaming about this

All the while daddy is golfing 25% of the time (about $10 million a month) and getting payoffs with dark money ($Trump and his newest coin) from dictators that support terrorism like Qatar. https://www.pennlive.com/news/2025/03/donald-trumps-new-golf-tab-for-taxpayers-hits-incredible-milestone.html

Meanwhile DOGE is causing security breaches

https://www.reuters.com/technology/cybersecurity/whistleblower-org-says-doge-may-have-caused-significant-cyber-breach-us-labor-2025-04-15/

[unsolicited-opinions]

I used to run a doctor's office. If your doctor's office hasn't explained this to you, let me do it for them.

You probably don't know how much time your doctor and their staff spend fighting with insurance companies for routine, ordinary things. The stories you see online might leave you thinking that these fights are, if not rare, maybe occasional. A sometimes sort of challenge.

Nope.

It's every day. It's all day. Your doctor's office has employees who fight with insurance companies as a full time job.

This isn't an accident or a side effect of other market forces at work - this is the deliberate, calculated plan the insurance companies have chosen to implement. They know very well it is hurting patients and providers, and they're okay with that because their priority is to maximize ROI for investors and other stakeholders. They're in the business of business, and they don't give a single fuck about human beings or health care.

They've lowered reimbursements in primary care so effectively that primary care has only survived in many parts of the US by becoming a loss leader for larger health systems. You know how the local retail store gets you in the building by selling something at slightly below cost because they know you're likely to buy more once you're inside? It's like that, a loss leader.

The health system where you get your primary care often loses money when you see your PCP, but since your PCP refers you to speciality care inside their own organization, the system makes up the money when your doctor sends you to see their own systems' surgeons, endocrinologists, dermatologists, etc.

Smaller primary care practices literally can't survive. That's why there are almost no independent family doctors any longer. That's why it is so hard to see the same provider with consistency, someone with whom you can develop trust over time, who knows you and knows your challenges. United Healthcare and it's private healthcare insurance competitors have nearly finished killing off that kind of primary care.

Larger primary care practices (30-40 providers) might still be able to make ends meet independently through economies of scale and/or what they earn by doing their own lab/testing/imaging services in-house, but that won't work much longer if current trends continue. We're headed in the direction of just a handful of vertically integrated businesses running healthcare, and they are in the business of business, not health care.

The insurance companies deliberately create administrative barriers which make it expensive for your doctor's office to advocate for you because it moves administrative costs away from the insurance company and onto your doctor's office. This results in fewer paid claims when your doctor's office can't afford to hire another full time position whose only job is to argue with insurance companies and jump through their deliberately obstructive hoops. They want your PCP to be struggling to stay open. They want your PCP unable to afford the cost of overcoming the administrative burdens they have deliberately created for the purpose of denying you the health care your doctor thinks you need.

There are other words for this, but the most appropriate one is "evil."

I don't want to glorify murder or lionize Luigi Mangione, but Brian Thompson was a ghoul, his senior team are ghouls, and the for-profit health insurance industry is a disaster for Americans, even those Americans who don't yet see the problem affecting themselves. They will.

We need universal, single-payer health coverage, just like every other wealthy nation.

We're not going to get it any time soon, and things are about to get worse for healthcare in the US.

Set aside the damage RFK Jr is likely to do to an already patchwork public health system by attacking regulations and spreading misinformation. Let's look at other ways Trump and the GOP plan to worsen health care.

1. They're going to go after Medicare and Medicaid benefits. They'll seek to lower them and raise the bar which must be cleared to receive them.

2. They're going to seek to raise the age for social security benefits (above 70!), and reduce benefits paid, so the most financially vulnerable seniors will have greater out-of-pocket costs. Those seniors are going to struggle harder with out-of-pocket costs.

3. They're going to attempt to cripple the Affordable Care Act (AKA 'Obamacare'), despite the fact that the ACA has been a HUGE money maker for the private insurance companies.

4. This administration will be run by hyper capitalist billionaires. It will seek to deregulate wherever possible and promote supply-side economics (tax breaks for the rich and large corporations) at every opportunity. United Healthcare and its competitors, which already weild an obscene, horrific amount of control over US Healthcare, are about to get substantially more power.

It's bad, folks. It's a very bad time to be sick and it's going to get worse.

Alan Grayson was right in 2009. The Republican health care plan has been and remains:

* Don't get sick

* If you do get sick, die quickly.

[animatronicappreciation]

hi! i was talking about build a bear to a friend and just remembered they used to have animatronics (? if they count as those?) at the entrance (this article has an image: https://clarksvillenow.com/local/build-a-bear-workshop-comes-to-clarksville/ but you can just look up ‘build a bear entrance’ and find some, they simply move their arms a bit from what i remember)

i haven’t really seen any close up pictures or anyone documenting where they are now if they got rid of them all so i thought i’d ask around :o

Ok so funnily enough, I (Mod Possum) WORK at a Build-A-Bear Workshop, so this is right up my alley, lol!!

So, what anon is talking about is our little bear buddy (his name is Bearnard, not to be confused with another mascot of ours by the name of Bearemy) that sits in front of some of our store windows! Our store still has one, and he's still functional!

Here's a couple of pictures from outside of our store! Our store hasn't changed much since it opened, so we've still got what's called the "Heritage Store" look! Heritage Stores are the ones that look like we did back when we opened in '97-- a color scheme of primary colors, prominent theming to make you feel like you're really building a teddy bear (bear bins that look like spools of thread, stickers on bins that make it look like stitching, gears on the wall, et cetera), and so forth. It's a very cozy atmosphere compared to what many Build-A-Bears look like now.

This ^^^ is what our Discovery Stores look like. Not nearly as whimsical or fun as our Heritage Stores, right? It just feels cold and sterile in comparison, but that's just my opinion, haha!

Maxine Clark is the founder of BABW, and was the CEO for many years. However, she stepped down as CEO in 2013, and that was when the company's vision for our stores began to change. Sharon Price John took over as CEO, and her way of doing things was a lot more business-driven rather than fun-driven, at least in my personal opinion.

June 4th of 2015, only two years into Sharon Price John's tenure, was the first announcement of the Discovery Store that I could find online. There wasn't much to be said about it in the article I read since that wasn't the basis for the article, but it said that the first Discovery Store would be opening in Utah later that year.

Maxine Clark's way of operating her business was a lot more whimsical than Price John's, but it didn't really amount to a profitable business, focused more on bringing an experience to the world than being a true business. When Price John took over, the company became infinitely more corporate than it was under Clark's reign.

Over time, more and more of our stores have been converted to Discovery Stores, and although we're more profitable than we once were, I can't help but wonder at what expense. My opinon's not important to the topic at hand, I know, lol, but what that means is that the friendly little Bearnard animatronics have been disappearing one by one, since they don't reuse them for the Discovery Stores.

As to where they've all gone... I truly have no idea. I would assume it's a "destroy this prop as it will not be used again" situation. I've gotten some items from a former Heritage Store turned Discovery that they held onto for a while before our DM told the store to "get rid of them" (iirc he told the managers of that store that he didn't really care where they went as long as they were gone), so it's not out of the realm of possibility that some may have survived, but due to how unwieldy it would be to transport these figures, I also wouldn't be surprised if it was just easier to trash them.

The figures have VERY limited movement. With ours, he just tilts his head from side to side on repeat, all day, every day. Some stores, like pictured below, had two figures rather than our store's single figure, so I don't know what movement, if any, the bear in the tutu (presumably Bearnice, another of our characters, lol) has. I would guess that she also tilted her head back and forth, but I can't say for sure, since it's not clear in the photo and it's been quite a while since I have seen a store with two of the figures.

It's a shame that these figures are going the way of the dodo. They may be incredibly simplistic figures, but I do enjoy how whimsical they are!

If anyone has any more information about our little storefront friends, I would LOVE to hear it! I'll try and consult with my other employee friends (shoutout to the BAB subreddit for connecting us!) and see what they have to say. I'll report back if they have anything interesting to say!

-Mod Possum