#Weekly Funding Report

[entrackrme]

Indian Startup Funding and Acquisitions News [02 – 07 Sep]

During the week, 26 Indian startups raised around $421.29 million in funding. These deals count 4 growth-stage deals and 16 early-stage deals while 6 startups kept their transaction details undisclosed. Highlights:- 🚀26 startups 💰$420 Mn+ total funding 🌱22 early stage deals 🧑‍💻 5 key hirings 🤝 2 M&A 🚶2 layoffs (70 employees)

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - March 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles! This month’s doodles, like every third month, will be free to the public, so take a look!

1. Zoo 'overjoyed' as lion cubs increase pride to 10

“The litter of rare northern African lions was the second batch to be born recently at Whipsnade Zoo in Bedfordshire, after three arrived in November. […] "The youngsters will grow up side-by-side with their half-siblings, and I'm sure they'll love having an abundance of playmates."”

2. Ohio Appeals Court Rules Trans Care Is Healthcare, Strikes Down Ban For Trans Youth

“The ruling rested on two key findings: first, that gender-affirming care constitutes legitimate medical treatment, and second, that parents have the constitutional right to make healthcare decisions for their children.”

3. Oystercatcher Recovery Campaign Offers a Rare Success Story about Shorebird Conservation

“Fifteen years of coordinated conservation efforts have produced a significant recovery in the U.S. population of the American oystercatcher[….] Schulte predicted that the protection efforts will survive [federal funding cuts] because of the large number of non-federal partners involved.”

4. Fish-tracking robot aims to make fishing more sustainable in developing nations

“A solar-powered, transparent [robot] that can roam the waters autonomously for five days at a stretch, counting fish [… can help fishers] avoid the overfishing [… and] mean less fuel consumed by boats searching for schools of fish, and less degradation of nets due to trawling where there are no fish.”

5. Zoologist Rediscovers Grasshopper Species Believed Extinct

“[… T]he Appalachian grasshopper […] camouflages with its surroundings—perhaps part of the reason people haven’t seen it [since 1946]. [… A zoologist] had seen some reports on iNaturalist that he thought could have been the species[, …] and after surveying several locations, he found a female.”

6. Scaling agroforestry can support fisheries, local food production and cultural practices

“The research found that combining native forest protection (100,000 acres) with transitioning suitable fallow agricultural land to agroforestry (400,000 acres) could [reduce] erosion and boosting nearshore food production by almost 100,000 meals per year[….]”

7. A cell pulls off one of the 'Holy Grails' of biotechnology

“[… A] single-celled alga with a nucleus [… can conduct] a chemical conversion reaction that helps create some of the essential building blocks of life. […] One day, Capone says the nitroplast could be introduced to crops to allow them to convert their own nitrogen without relying on external fertilizer.”

8. FERC: Solar + wind set for a strong 3-year run despite Trump’s sabotage

“Solar accounted for 68.2% of all new generating capacity placed into service in January – more than double the solar capacity added a year earlier (1,176 MW). […] Around 30% of US solar capacity is in small-scale (e.g., rooftop) systems that are not reflected in FERC’s data.”

9. As ghost junk haunts the sea, ‘mermaids’ are fighting back

“Just two days after completing the training, Diana Garcia, one of the Sirenas, helped remove nearly 900 kilograms (2,000 pounds) of [abandoned] ghost gear and debris in the waters near her community[….]”

10. A Nest-Protecting Program Pays Off for Alabama’s Snowy Plovers

“Over the past two breeding seasons, 18 Snowy Plover chicks fledged—a major turnaround after five years of almost no chick survival. [… The team made] a concerted effort to educate the public about the need to give the birds space[, … and] people have not directly caused plover losses in Alabama recently[….]”

March 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[kiwriteswords]

begs nicely for bombshell reader

In the Margin

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Bombshell!Female Reader||Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: canon-typical themes, flirting, fluff, finance talk, banter, Hotch is a softie for Penelope.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner’s weekly budget meetings with you, the sharp-tongued BAU financial analyst, become an unexpected mix of humor, wit, and simmering tension as professional boundaries blur. Between team antics, Penelope’s creative expenses, and your playful challenges, Hotch finds himself navigating far more than just numbers.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t sure if he hated the newly implemented weekly budget meetings because they disrupted his already packed schedule or because of you, the BAU’s Operations Department Budget Analyst.

No--that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that he hated you. It was that he hated how much he didn’t hate you. You were sharp-tongued, confident, and armed with a wit so quick it could cut him to ribbons before he even knew he was bleeding. It didn’t help that you looked like you belonged on a movie set rather than in a conference room dissecting every penny spent by his team.

He adjusted his tie as he entered the room. You were already seated at the head of the table, a tablet in front of you and a pen in hand, tapping it rhythmically against the desk as you scanned a detailed report. He knew that was meant for him. It was always meant for him.

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner,” you greeted without looking up. “Let’s talk about how your team managed to burn through three months of budget in--oh, a month and a half.” Your eyes finally met his, and the smile you gave him could only be described as predatory.

“Good morning, Miss. Y/L/N.” He placed his briefcase on the table and sat across from you. “I see we’re getting right into it today.”

“Well, Aaron”—and wasn’t that a bold move? Using his first name like that—“I’d love to make small talk, but someone”—you leaned forward conspiratorially, voice dropping as if this was the world’s biggest secret—“decided we needed to order customized iPad cases last month. For everyone. Including” You looked back down to the itemized invoice,"‘Penelope Garcia’s-second-backup-iPad.’”

Hotch rubbed a hand over his face. “That would be Garcia,” he said dryly.

You laughed, and the sound was like a reward he didn’t know he was aiming for. “Oh, Aaron. It’s always Penelope, isn’t it?”

The meetings became a staple of his week, though not by choice. What had started as a quarterly formality became a monthly necessity when you joined the department and discovered Penelope’s propensity for colorful, extravagant expenditures. But the kicker came two months ago, when Penelope had gone rogue with the budget to fund her “absolutely vital” initiative to replace paper case files with digital ones—complete with the max amount of storage, of course. You’d retaliated by instituting weekly budget reviews.

“She knows,” Hotch told Penelope one afternoon in her lair. “She knows it was you.”

Penelope gasped dramatically. “How does she know? Wait—does she have surveillance on me? Did she bug my office? Tell. Me. She didn’t bug my office.”

“She didn’t bug your office, Garcia,” Hotch said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She knows because you send her invoices.”

Penelope frowned. “But those were justified expenses!”

“She’s not convinced.” Hotch sighed. “Neither is the finance department.”

“Well, maybe if she’d loosen up a bit—”

“She’s very loose, Garcia,” Hotch muttered before realizing how that sounded. Penelope’s grin was instant, and Hotch scowled. “Don’t.”

“I’m just saying,” she teased, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss. Y/N Y/L/N. Maybe you like these meetings more than you’re letting on.”

He left her office before she could get another word in.

The meetings evolved into more than budget disputes. You had a way of challenging Hotch that nobody else did. You questioned his decisions—not about cases, but about expenses. You turned a dry meeting into something that felt like a battle of wits, and despite himself, Hotch found he didn’t mind the sparring.

“So, tell me,” you said during one particularly contentious meeting, “why does Penelope need a beanbag chair? Let me guess—‘it fosters creative thinking.’”

Hotch cleared his throat; his years of being quick on his feet as a lawyer somehow always did him good when it came to defending Penelope’s spending. “She has unique requirements for her workspace.”

“Unique, huh?” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs, and Hotch caught himself looking before he forced his gaze back up. “And the collection of...neon gel pens? Also, a unique requirement?”

“She…has a system.”

You laughed again, and Hotch felt the corners of his mouth twitch. He’d smiled more in these meetings than in most social situations, not that he’d admit it.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you said casually, pointing your pen at him, and Hotch stiffened. You were already standing, gathering your papers. “Meeting adjourned. See you next week, Aaron.”

It wasn’t until two months into weekly meetings that things finally shifted.

You caught him in the break room late one evening, well after everyone else had gone home. “Aaron,” you greeted, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Did you know your coffee expenses are also over budget?”

Hotch turned, mug in hand. “Should I expect an itemized report on my caffeine consumption?”

You smirked. “Already on your desk.”

The air between you crackled, and for the first time, Hotch saw something beyond the wit and the barbs. He set his mug down and stepped closer, his voice low. “You enjoy giving me a hard time.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “And you enjoy taking it.”

“Do I?” he challenged.

“Don’t you?” you shot back, and the look in your eyes was enough to make him question every professional boundary he’d ever adhered to.

He took another step closer, close enough that he could see the faint trace of amusement in your expression. “This feels like it’s about more than the budget.”

“It definitely is,” you said, your voice softer now. “Maybe I think you could use a little…loosening up.”

Hotch let himself smile just a little. “And you think you’re the person to help me with that?”

You grinned, pushing off the counter and brushing past him, close enough that he caught the faintest hint of your perfume. “I know I am.”

The budget meetings continued, but now, the tension between you and Hotch wasn’t just professional. It simmered, unspoken but palpable, until it was only a matter of time before one of you crossed the line.

And Hotch couldn’t wait to see who would make the first move.

Hotch had a long day ahead of him. Between case briefs, team check-ins, and the weekly budget meeting you’d so gleefully instituted, he felt like the universe was conspiring against him. It didn’t help that Penelope Garcia had texted him earlier with an ominous, “Sir! Big news! You’ll thank me later.”

When he stepped into the bullpen, the team was gathered around Penelope, who stood in the center like a magician about to unveil her latest trick.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, waving her hands dramatically, “I give you the latest and greatest tech upgrade to grace the halls of the BAU!”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose as the team collectively oohed and aahed over the sleek new monitors now adorning every desk.

“Garcia,” he said, his tone low and measured, “please tell me this was approved through the appropriate channels.”

Penelope turned to him with a smile so wide it could only mean trouble. “Of course it was, sir!” Then, after a beat, she added, “I mean, I may have pulled a few strings. But can you really put a price on efficiency and team morale?”

Rossi, seated casually nearby, chimed in. “I’ll admit, it’s a nice touch. Maybe next month, you can swing for some leather chairs in the conference room. The kind that recline.”

Hotch shot him a withering look. “Don’t encourage her.”

Penelope pouted. “Come on, Hotch! You know these upgrades are totally needed. Plus, they match my aesthetic.” She gestured to her own office.

He sighed. “You know who’s going to have to explain this, don’t you?”

Her grin didn’t waver. “That’s why you’re the boss.”

Later, Hotch found himself standing outside your office, mentally preparing for the inevitable. When he knocked, you barely looked up from your screen. “Ah, Aaron,” you said, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “What brings you to my humble lair? Let me guess—Penelope strikes again?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You heard?”

“I always hear.” You gestured to the chair across from your desk. “Sit, and tell me why I shouldn’t slash your team's budget to nothing.”

Hotch sat, rubbing his temples. “She upgraded the monitors.”

Your laughter filled the room, light and musical. “Monitors? Really? Did she bedazzle them too?”

“She might have,” he muttered. “Look, I know it’s excessive, but the team…they rely on her. She keeps things running smoothly.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Running smoothly or running through money?”

Hotch gave you a flat look, which only made you grin wider.

“Alright, Aaron,” you said, leaning forward. “Here’s the deal. We can refinance a few line items. Maybe cut back on travel expenses for conferences nobody attends. But I need you to do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” he asked warily.

You tapped your pen against your desk, pretending to consider. “How about you keep coming to these meetings on time? And,” you added with a smirk, “try not to look so grumpy when you do.”

Hotch’s lips twitched, threatening a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The next meeting was no less contentious, but there was a new edge to the banter.

“You really went to bat for Penelope this week,” you said, flipping through your notes. “Is she holding something over you? A dark secret, perhaps? Did she catch you sneaking an extra slice of cake at Rossi’s last party?”

Hotch gave you a pointed look. “She’s an integral part of the team.”

“And I’m sure the sparkly monitor really enhances her skillset,” you quipped. “What’s next? A gold-plated stapler?”

“Don’t give her ideas.”

You laughed, and he found himself staring at the way your eyes lit up when you did. It was distracting. You were distracting.

“So,” you continued, turning serious, “how do you propose we make this work? I’ve crunched the numbers, and unless you want to start holding bake sales, something’s gotta give.”

Hotch straightened in his chair. “Rossi suggested cutting back on the print subscriptions.”

“Oh, no,” you said, feigning horror. “What will he do without his monthly shipment of Fine Living Magazine?”

Hotch sighed. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But only because you make it so easy.”

As the weeks went on, the tension between you and Hotch became undeniable. The banter turned sharper, the lingering glances longer, the air in those meetings thicker with something unspoken.

It all came to a head late one evening, long after everyone else had gone home. Hotch was leaving his office when he saw your light still on. Against his better judgment, he knocked and stepped inside.

“Still working?” he asked.

You glanced up, surprised. “Someone’s gotta keep the lights on.”

He closed the door behind him. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Is that an offer to help?” you asked, leaning back in your chair. “Because I could use a second set of eyes on these reports.”

Hotch stepped closer, the tension crackling between you like static electricity. "You’re good at what you do. The team is lucky to have you.”

For once, your usual smirk faltered. “Thanks, Aaron.”

The silence stretched, heavy with possibility. Then you smiled again, playful and challenging. “Careful, Hotchner. If you keep talking like that, I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He let out a rare laugh, low and genuine. “Maybe I do.”

Your eyes widened slightly before you recovered, your grin turning sly. “Well, that’s a start.”

The next budget meeting arrived with its usual dose of tension—and not just the financial kind. Hotch entered the conference room early, a strategic move to reclaim some semblance of control. You were already there, of course, seated at the head of the table, the tablet glowing in front of you.

“Early today,” you said, glancing at your watch with mock surprise. “Did someone finally read my strongly worded emails about punctuality?”

"I'm always on time, and I always read your emails,” he replied dryly, taking his usual seat across from you.

“Sure you do,” you said, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “That’s why you never respond.”

“I’m busy running a team of federal agents.”

“And yet somehow Penelope has time to order monogrammed pen holders.”

Hotch sighed, his hand already moving to rub at the bridge of his nose. “You’re never going to let that one go, are you?”

“Not a chance, Aaron.”

The meeting was halfway through when Penelope barged in, her presence as colorful as ever.

“Sir!” she chirped, holding a bright pink folder that screamed unnecessary expense. “Quick update—I managed to upgrade the entire team’s software licenses. State of the art, cutting-edge, only the best for my BAU fam.”

Hotch stared at her, his mouth a thin line. “Garcia, we discussed this.”

“I know!” she said, beaming. “That’s why I made sure to get a bulk discount. I saved us 12%.”

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip to stifle a laugh. “Twelve percent? Wow, Aaron, she’s practically a financial wizard.”

Hotch glared at you. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m just saying,” you continued, “with savings like that, we’ll be out of the red in no time. What’s next, Penelope? A popcorn machine for movie nights in the bullpen?”

“Oh my God,” Penelope gasped, her eyes lighting up. “That’s genius. The camaraderie…I—”

“No,” Hotch said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Penelope pouted, but she left without further incident. As soon as the door closed, you turned to Hotch, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“She’s incredible,” you said, shaking your head. “Completely unhinged--but incredible.”

“She’s a lot of things,” Hotch muttered. “Mostly expensive.”

“And you,” you added, grinning, “are such a softie for her.”

Hotch scoffed, leaning back in his chair, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed him. “Softie? I’m her supervisor, not her enabler.”

You laughed, a low, melodic sound that Hotch had come to recognize as the precursor to trouble. “Please. You bend over backward for her, and we both know it.”

“She’s part of my team,” he replied evenly. “It’s my job to advocate for them.”

“Advocating for a new monitor system with glitter decals?” you teased, leaning forward slightly, your grin widening. “Aaron, that’s not advocacy—that’s indulgence. She's like your team's equivalent to 'happy wife, happy life.'"

Hotch crossed his arms, his stoicism cracking just enough to let his dry humor slip through. “I’d call it picking my battles.”

“Oh, really?” you shot back. “And what battle are you avoiding by letting Penelope order custom beanbag chairs?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but you caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Do you know what happens if I say no to her?”

“I can only imagine,” you said, leaning your chin on your hand. “Please, enlighten me.”

“She gets creative,” Hotch said gravely. “Very creative. The last time I vetoed one of her purchases, she launched a campaign with color-coded charts and heartfelt video testimonials from the team about how much they needed a slushie machine in the bullpen.”

Your laughter filled the room again, and Hotch let the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. “A slushie machine? You’ve got to give her credit—that’s bold....and random.”

“She called it a ‘hydration initiative,’” he deadpanned.

You leaned back, shaking your head in disbelief. “You are such a softie.”

“I’m pragmatic,” he corrected, his tone firm but not unkind. “It’s easier to approve the monitors than to explain to Strauss why there’s a PowerPoint presentation titled ‘Ice-Cold Justice.’”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter, and Hotch found himself momentarily distracted by the way your eyes sparkled with amusement. It wasn’t often he let himself relax enough to notice those things, but with you, it was becoming harder to keep the line between professional and personal intact.

“And yet,” you finally said, regaining your composure, “you’re here, pleading her case to me instead of just putting your foot down.”

“She has her merits,” he admitted, his voice softening just enough to remind you why people followed him so loyally. “The work she does is critical. Even when it’s…excessive.”

“See? Softie,” you said triumphantly, pointing your pen at him. “You can’t fool me, Hotchner. You’re all gruff on the outside, but deep down, you’re just one big teddy bear.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the rest of the Bureau would describe me,” he replied dryly.

“Well,” you said, leaning forward with a sly smile, “the rest of the Bureau doesn’t get to see you begging for beanbags.”

He gave you a long, measured look, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. “I don’t beg.”

“No?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “What would you call this, then?”

“I’d call it negotiation,” he replied, his voice low but steady. “And if you’re not careful, I might actually win.”

Your grin widened. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Hotch allowed himself a small smirk, the kind that was so rare it felt like a reward in itself. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Oh, Aaron,” you said, leaning back in your chair, your tone playful and just a little daring. “I live to tempt you.”

For a brief moment, the tension crackled, sharper than the wit you both wielded like weapons. Then you straightened, tapping your pen against the table as if to signal the end of the moment.

“Alright, Mr. Softie,” you said lightly, “I’ll see what I can do about those monitors. But don’t think this means you’re getting that cappuccino machine Rossi asked for.”

Hotch stood, smoothing his tie as if to regain his composure. “One victory at a time.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, your voice laced with amusement. “Don’t forget to tell Penelope her beanbags are still on the chopping block.”

He paused at the door, glancing back at you with a look that was almost fond. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

By the time Hotch left the meeting, he felt thoroughly defeated. You had grilled him on every expenditure, from coffee pods to the mysterious disappearance of two office chairs. You’d teased him mercilessly, of course, but you’d also offered solutions, which only made you more infuriatingly attractive.

Later that afternoon, Rossi cornered him in his office.

“Aaron,” Rossi began, settling into the chair across from his desk. “I have a proposition.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” Rossi said smoothly. “I’ve been re-thinking about how to improve morale around here. You know what we need? A cappuccino machine. The kind they have in those fancy Italian cafes.”

Hotch blinked. “A cappuccino machine. We talked about this. We have coffee in the break room.”

Rossi looked hurt by Hotch's definition of coffee. “That isn’t coffee. This is an investment in productivity. Caffeine keeps the team sharp.”

“You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

Hotch exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You do realize I have to explain this to Y/L/N?”

Rossi grinned. “You’re good with words. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

That evening, Hotch found himself in your office again, this time with what he knew was a losing argument.

“A cappuccino machine?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Is that really where we’re at again?”

“Rossi insists it’s for team morale.”

You laughed, leaning forward on your desk. “Aaron, if I approve this, what’s next? A hot tub in the break room? A second private jet for local cases?”

He gave you a long-suffering look. “I wouldn’t put it past Rossi to suggest either of those.”

Your laughter bubbled out again, and a small smile that tugged at Hotch’s lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.

“You mean brilliant,” you corrected, your tone playful. “Come on, admit it—you love these little matches.”

Hotch hesitated, just long enough for the moment to stretch between you. “I do.”

Your smirk softened into something more genuine. “Well, don’t get too comfortable, Hotchner. You might actually win one of these someday.”

“And if I do?”

Your grin turned sly again. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The tension between you and Hotch simmered like an unsaid promise, lingering in the spaces between your words and the way your eyes lingered just a beat too long. It wasn’t until another late night when the office was quiet and the shadows stretched long, that Hotch found himself once again at your door.

“You know,” you said as he stepped inside, “if you keep showing up here after hours, people are going to start talking.”

“Let them,” he said, surprising himself with the bluntness of his response.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “That sounded suspiciously like flirting.”

“Did it?”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “It did. And for the record, Aaron, I don’t mind.”

For once, Aaron Hotchner didn’t have a retort. Instead, he let the silence speak, the weight of it filled with possibilities he hadn’t dared entertain before.

And when you smiled at him again, he thought that maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something worth breaking the rules for.

Hotch stood frozen in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, your words echoing in his mind. “For the record, Aaron, I don’t mind.”

He cleared his throat, stepping fully into your office and closing the door behind him. It wasn’t often that Aaron Hotchner found himself at a loss for words, but there was something about you—your sharp tongue, your disarming wit, the way you looked at him like you knew exactly what you were doing—that threw him off balance.

You leaned back in your chair, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “What brings you here this time? More cappuccino machine negotiations? Or did Rossi decide the bullpen needs a wine fridge?”

“Neither,” he said, his voice steady but quieter than usual. “I wanted to talk.”

“Oh, talk,” you said, your lips curving into a playful smile. “That sounds serious.”

“It is,” he admitted, surprising himself again with his own candor.

You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “Alright, Aaron. You’ve got my attention. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he wasn’t sure how far he was willing to let this go. The boundary between professional and personal was already blurred; one more step and it might vanish entirely. And yet, as you sat there watching him with that sly, confident smile, he found he didn’t care as much as he should have.

“You,” he said finally, the single word weighted with more meaning than he intended.

Your smile faltered for just a second, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Then it was back, brighter and sharper than ever. “Well, that’s unexpected. Flattered, of course, but unexpected.”

He allowed himself a small smile, stepping closer to your desk. “I doubt anything surprises you.”

“Not often,” you admitted, leaning forward slightly. “But I’ll admit, I didn’t peg you as the type to make the first move.”

“Who says this is a move?”

You laughed, the sound warm and low. “Oh, Aaron. If this isn’t a move, then I’m very curious to see what one looks like.”

He didn’t answer right away, letting the silence hang between you like a challenge. Finally, he leaned forward, placing his hands on your desk, and met your gaze head-on.

“What if I am making a move?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with something that made your breath catch.

For the first time since he’d met you, you seemed genuinely caught off guard. Your confident smirk wavered, replaced by a flicker of something more tentative. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it struck him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Well,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter than before. “In that case, I’d say it’s about time.”

His heart thudded once, hard and unexpected, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. Forgot who he was. All he could think about was how close you were, how easy it would be to reach across the desk and close the distance.

But then you leaned back, your smile returning with a hint of mischief. “Of course, if this isn’t a move, I’d hate to embarrass myself.”

“Consider yourself safe,” he said, straightening but not stepping back. “For now.”

Your laughter filled the room again, light and teasing. “Careful, Aaron. I’m thinking you actually enjoy these little games.”

“I do,” he said, surprising himself once more with his honesty.

You tilted your head, studying him with a newfound intensity. “Well, in that case, I’ll make sure to keep things interesting.”

As he left your office that night, the air between you charged with unspoken tension, Aaron Hotchner realized something he hadn’t allowed himself to consider before: he wasn’t just drawn to you because of your sharp wit or your undeniable charm. He was drawn to you because you made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Alive.

The roundtable room was unusually quiet when Hotch gathered the team for an impromptu meeting. That should have been his first clue. They were always at their most dangerous when they were waiting for the hammer to drop.

“All right,” he began, standing at the head of the conference table. “We need to talk about the budget.”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, a smirk already forming. “This is about the cappuccino machine, isn’t it?”

“It’s not about the cappuccino machine,” Hotch said firmly. “Though that’s still off the table.”

“Good thing I didn’t submit the requisition for the margarita blender,” Morgan muttered, earning a stifled laugh from JJ.

Hotch gave him a pointed look before continuing. “We’ve been asked to cut back on end-of-year expenses. That means scaling back on travel accommodations for the next few cases.”

“Scaling back how?” Prentiss asked, her tone cautious.

“Fewer hotels,” Hotch said. “We’ll have to bunk up where possible.”

There was a collective groan around the table.

“Bunk up?” Garcia appeared in the doorway, her dramatic gasp signaling she’d overheard. “Do you mean to tell me we, the esteemed agents of the BAU, are being reduced to sharing rooms? What is this, a slumber party?”

“Garcia, you rarely travel with us. Would it kill you to share a room with JJ or Emily for a few nights, if and when you do?” Hotch asked, his tone dry.

“It’s not about me, sir,” Garcia replied, clutching her chest like he’d wounded her. “It’s about the principle. We’re public servants, heroes even. Heroes deserve better than twin beds and bad room service.”

“Twin beds?” Reid asked, looking genuinely horrified.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Come on, Hotch. We all know you’ve got an in with Y/N in finance. Can’t she pull some strings before Garcia does?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “Y/N is doing her job, just like the rest of us.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it now?” Rossi said with a grin, earning a ripple of laughter from the team.

“Funny,” Hotch deadpanned. “But unless any of you have a better solution, this is how it’s going to be.”

“Sure, sure,” Morgan said, his grin widening. “But if anyone could sweet-talk Y/N, it’s you, Hotch. You’ve got that whole brooding, stoic charm thing going for you. She loves that.”

“I’m not sweet-talking anyone,” Hotch said, his tone clipped.

“Really?” Prentiss chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “Because rumor has it you’ve been spending a lot of time in her office lately.”

“That’s called managing the budget,” Hotch replied evenly, though his ears felt uncomfortably warm. “The budget we keep going over. Which is what I’m trying to do right now.”

“Right,” JJ said, her voice full of mock seriousness. “Managing the budget.”

The laughter around the table grew louder, and even Garcia joined in with an exaggerated wink.

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This conversation is over.”

“But the bunking isn’t,” Rossi said, still grinning. “Good to know.”

Later, Hotch sat across from you, his tie slightly loosened after the long day. The hum of your sarcasm was already in the air, a comfort he’d never admit aloud.

“Back so soon?” you asked, glancing up from your tablet. “What’s the crisis this time? Let me guess—the team didn’t take kindly to the budgeting suggestion?”

“They had…questions,” Hotch replied, his tone dry. “And commentary.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, smirking as you leaned back in your chair. “Let me guess: Rossi wants to requisition a wine fridge instead of a cappuccino machine? Garcia--who if I remember correctly doesn’t even travel with the team--staged a protest? Or did Morgan suggest you charm me into pulling some strings?”

Hotch blinked, caught momentarily off guard. “Actually, yes. That’s almost word for word what he said.”

You laughed, the sound warm and far too satisfying. “I knew it. The whole team thinks I’m your budgetary fairy godmother, don’t they?”

“They’re not subtle about it,” he admitted, leaning forward slightly. “And if I’m honest, they’re starting to have…suspicions.”

Your eyebrows lifted, your smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “Oh, suspicions, huh? About what exactly?”

“That I might have an ‘in’ with you,” he said, his tone measured but carrying a hint of something wry. “And that I use it to get my way.”

You tilted your head, resting your chin on your hand. “Well, you do have an in with me, Aaron.”

“I do?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Mm-hmm,” you said, your grin widening. “You come in here all brooding and stoic, with that deep voice and those puppy-dog eyes, and I’m supposed to say no to you? Please.”

He let out a rare chuckle, low and brief. “So you’re saying you find me…persuasive?”

“I’m saying I find you irritating,” you replied, though the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed you. “But occasionally charming.”

“Occasionally?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said, though your smile hadn’t wavered. “Now, what exactly are you hoping I’ll do?”

Hotch straightened, slipping back into his professional demeanor. “The travel budget is tight. We need to cut back on some of the accommodations for the next few cases. If there’s any room to reallocate funds or find efficiencies, I’d like your input.”

You studied him for a moment, your pen tapping against the desk. “You know,” you said finally, “you could’ve just sent an email. But you didn’t, which means you wanted to have this conversation in person.”

“Maybe I thought it would be more effective,” he said, his voice steady.

“And maybe,” you said, leaning forward with a sly smile, “you just like spending time with me.”

Hotch’s gaze held yours, the tension between you thick enough to cut. “Maybe the team isn’t wrong to have their suspicions.”

That caught you off guard, and for the briefest moment, your confident grin faltered. Then you recovered, your smile turning soft around the edges. “Well, if you’re going to keep coming to me, Aaron, I guess I’ll have to live up to their expectations.”

“So you’ll help?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

You rolled your eyes, though your grin didn’t fade. “Of course, I’ll help. But only because I’d hate for Garcia to have to share a room on the rare chance she joined you on a trip. Can you imagine the drama?”

Hotch stood, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you said, your tone playful. “I might make you owe me one.”

He paused at the door, glancing back at you. “I think I already do.”

Your laughter followed him out, and Hotch didn’t mind giving up a little control.

The next few weeks blurred into a whirlwind of cases, budget meetings, and what Hotch could only describe as a game of mutual teasing with you that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to win. The team’s jabs about his “in” with you only got more relentless, but the truth was, they weren’t wrong. He found himself seeking out your company more often than he’d care to admit, and not just because of budgetary crises.

One evening, well after most of the team had gone home, Hotch walked into your office to find you perched on the edge of your desk, heels kicked off, and a pen tucked behind your ear as you typed furiously on your tablet.

“You work too much,” he said by way of greeting, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You glanced up, smirking. “Says the man who just came from his own office. What brings you here, Aaron? More budget drama? Or are you just here for the company?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Would it be so bad if it were both?”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, but the smile that followed was slow and dangerous. “Well, well. Are you finally admitting that you like me?”

He hesitated for half a second before replying, his voice low but steady. “I think you already know I do.”

That made you pause. Your usual sharp wit seemed momentarily replaced by something softer, something vulnerable, before you quickly masked it with your trademark confidence. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flirt before, Hotchner. You’re better at it than I expected.”

“I don’t flirt,” he said, stepping closer. “At least, not intentionally.”

“Oh,” you said, your voice dropping slightly. “So this is just you being your naturally charming self?”

“Something like that,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk.

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your tablet aside. “You know, if you keep talking like that, I might start to think you’re actually serious.”

“What if I am?” he asked, taking another step closer.

Your grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “Aaron…”

He stopped just in front of you, close enough that he could see the faintest flush on your cheeks. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said quietly. “But I don’t regret it.”

You tilted your head, studying him as if trying to determine whether he was being sincere. Then, slowly, your lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile that he hadn’t seen before. “Well, that’s good,” you said, your voice lighter now. “Because I’d hate to think I’ve been wasting my time trying to get under your skin.”

“You’ve been very effective,” he admitted, his voice laced with dry humor.

You laughed again, the tension between you easing slightly. “Good to know.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, the air between you charged with possibilities. Then you leaned forward just enough that your shoulder brushed his, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “So what now, Aaron? You going to keep playing it safe, or are you finally going to make a move and follow through?”

Hotch held your gaze, his pulse quickening in a way that was entirely unfamiliar and yet oddly welcome. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you replied, your grin returning.

Before he could overthink it, he leaned down, his hand resting lightly on the edge of your desk as his lips brushed against yours. The kiss was brief but electric, leaving both of you slightly breathless when he pulled back.

“Well,” you said after a moment, your voice a little unsteady but filled with warmth. “That’s one way to balance the budget.”

Hotch chuckled softly, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “I hope that’s not the only thing you take away from this.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, your grin turning wicked again. “I’ll send you the itemized breakdown tomorrow.”

He laughed, a rare, genuine sound, and as the two of you stood there in the quiet of your office, Hotch couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what he’d been missing.

The next morning, Hotch walked into the bullpen, his usual stoic demeanor firmly in place—at least on the outside. Inside, he felt lighter than he had in years. But any illusion of subtlety was shattered the moment he saw Morgan smirking at him from across the room.

“Morning, Hotch,” Morgan said, his tone far too casual. “You look…different today. Get a good night’s sleep?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, choosing not to dignify the comment with a response. He made his way toward his office, but before he could escape, Garcia intercepted him, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Oh, boss man, you’ve got that look,” she teased, waggling her eyebrows. “The look of a man who’s either won the lottery or—” Her eyes widened in dramatic realization. “—had a life-altering, swoon-worthy moment with a certain someone in finance.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Garcia—”

“Don’t deny it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I have sources.”

Before he could reply, the elevator dinged, and you stepped out, striding confidently into the bullpen with your signature blend of poise and sass. You caught Hotch’s eye and shot him a subtle, knowing smile that sent a ripple of warmth through him.

Garcia caught the exchange and gasped audibly. “Oh my God! It’s true!”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I knew it. Didn’t I say he had an in with her?”

“You said it,” Prentiss confirmed, her tone amused. “Repeatedly. But he's really getting it in with her.”

JJ just shook her head, smiling. “Well, at least we know why the budget meetings keep getting longer.”

Hotch leveled a calm, measured glare at his team. “I don’t recall calling a team meeting on my personal life.”

“Ah, but your personal life is so much more interesting than budget cuts,” Rossi said with a wink. “You should let us enjoy it.”

“I’m glad you’re all entertained,” Hotch said dryly, turning toward his office. But as he walked away, he caught your voice behind him.

“Don’t be too hard on them, Aaron,” you called amusement lacing your tone.

The laughter that followed was warm and genuine, and for once, Hotch didn’t mind being the subject of it. As he stepped into his office and closed the door, he glanced back at you through the glass, catching your playful smile once more.

Yes, this was definitely worth breaking the rules for.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[leyavo]

Dad!141 x Dyslexic!kid

Summary: tf141 x their kids struggling with dyslexia at school. Requested by anon [Masterlist]

John’s pissed when he finds out your teachers been making you stand against the wall each time you’ve failed your weekly spelling test. It’s always when they add a new word that you struggle to remember it, mixing the order of letters. You’d just transferred to a new school due his work and being closer to the military base. The last one had more funding, better understanding of your dyslexia. Whereas this one looked like it was stuck in the eighties and didn’t have enough teachers to watch the kids.

“What do you mean they make you stand against the wall?” He asks, fork clanging to his plate at dinner one night.

“They make me stand in front of the wall and read the words so I don’t forget.” You say it like it’s the most logical thing, but John’s chest aches. He’s tried telling you that your brains wired different, that you’re not slow or dumb. Just learn different than others.

He loves the way your mind works. How you pick up on things he’s never thought of or how you’re good with fixing things. Reminds himself that your short term memory isn’t the best, so he’s patient with you and explains again no matter how many times he has before.

“I’ll talk to ya’ teacher,” he grumbles, ruffling your hair. “Eat that broccoli.” He points to your plate, trying to contain the boiling rage burning the back of his throat.

John schedules a meeting with the headmaster, all the little things you told him about the teacher, noted down the day it happened. How many times it happened. Ended up getting you moved to a different class and he was able to talk to your new teacher and make them aware of your dyslexia etc. Checked in a couple weeks later with new teacher and you to see you were okay.

Simon stares at your school report and glances to you. On paper you’re a completely different kid, described as too quiet, need to participate more in the classroom and work on your reading, you’re behind for your age. Given an extra five minutes now for your tests. The teacher had mentioned that your recent dyslexic diagnosis had discouraged to do work and engage with others.

The comic books in your room are the only ones you like to read, complain every time you look at a bigger body of text. You’d been spending most of your time in the library instead of the playground, organising the books on the shelves.

At home Simon can’t get you to shut up, there’s always something coming out of your mouth that he regularly tells you take a breath. So he sits you down before bed and asks you what’s going on.

“Everything’s harder now,” you say, picking at the broken nail in your lap. “I notice it more and it’s so annoying. Why can’t I just be like you.”

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders and tucks you into his side. “You’re just like me,” he says, squeezing you in his hold.

“I am?” You pull away staring up at him in awe.

“Yeah, you’re bloody stubborn…don’t give up most times. Keep at this and ask for help if you need it kid.”

And it’s like he’s lit something, fuelled something inside of you to combat anything in your way. There’s some frustrated tears and shouted tantrums, but he always reminds you to ask for help when you feel like that.

Kyle’s more upset than angry as he sits in the car on the driveway. He’s just picked you up from school for fighting, you haven’t said a word nor have you explained why you punched a kid bigger than you. No your face scrunched up, knuckles scraped and resting in your lap. The teachers didn’t see what happened on the playground, so it’s a case of he said, she said. You won’t talk though, which makes you the bad kid.

“Come on, poppet. Can’t stick up for you if you don’t tell me what happened. I’m on your side.” He says, shifting in the front seat and leaning into the back towards you. “They push you?”

You were a little smaller than some of them, an easy target if they didn’t know who your dad was.

“They called me dumb, said I was slow.” A little pout on your lips and brows furrowed.

And Kyle listens to you as you tell him about how the teacher made you read in front of the whole class - something that had been agreed they wouldn’t force you to do. How you stumbled over the words, the kids muffling their sniggers and making fun of you in the playground. How you warned the one kid to shut up.

“And I hit him, then asked him did I stutter?”

Kyle’s proud of you for sticking up for yourself, you’d warned them and they still stepped over your boundaries so he’s not going to punish you for it. Just going to remind you that violence isn’t always the solution as now you’re the one suspended from school. He’ll talk to your teachers and get it sorted out.

Johnny can’t understand why he’s being called into the headmasters office again for the second time this week. He walks into the reception area and you’re sitting in one of those awkward plastic chairs with your head hung low.

Something about disrupting the class, refusing to read aloud and not handing in your homework. It’s been a rough couple months since your dyslexia diagnosis and you’re too clever using it as an excuse to neglect your school work. The youngest of four it’s easy for you to go under radar, but now Johnny is on your case and checking anything school related.

The headmaster drones on about your three older siblings and how they were a great addition to the school. Eldest even setting a new school record for test results. Johnny can see the sag of your shoulders as it’s said, he knows you’ve got big shoes to fill and knows you’re different, all his kids are.

Johnny drives the long way home, glancing at you in the rearview mirror in the back. “I don’ expect ya’ to be like them,” he says, trying to catch your gaze in the reflection.

“Not smart enough anyways,” you mumbled, arms crossed tightly over your chest and head turned to the trees flitting past the window.

“Eh! Look at me,” Johnny snaps and you do. “You’re smart in other ways, just want you to try. Alright?” And it’s true you’re a whizz at connecting wires with Johnny whenever he’s trying to fix something, you even remember the name of every tool in the garage and its use. There’s just other things you have to work harder at.

“Yeah, Da’. I’ll try.”

🤌 there might be mistakes/errors due to dyslexia lol - Leya

[wilwheaton]

Republicans are not the victors of a tumultuous campaign week that saw President Joe Biden flub his first debate and former President Donald Trump win a landmark Supreme Court ruling — the oligarchy is, a new analysis contends. Slate writers Dahlia Lithwick and Mark Joseph Stern presented an alternative Wednesday to the predominant political narrative that Biden’s campaign is nosediving while a newly disciplined Trump reaps the benefit. Rather than look at the face of the political parties, they raise the specter of Supreme Court rulings they say demonstrate a cataclysmic governmental shift. “Make no mistake about it,” the pair write, “When a court that has been battered by near-weekly reports of undisclosed oligarch-funded vacations (and gifts and super yachts and tricked out RVs and secret conferences with high-paying Koch supporters getting access to justices) decides to make it easier to bribe public officials—as it did in Snyder v. U.S.—that’s a very public signal that the conservative supermajority does not care what you think.”

'Make no mistake about it': Op-ed warns an elite 'supermajority' has already won 2024

The thoroughly corrupt MAGA 6 must be impeached and removed from the court. Democrats must take off the gloves, and fight as dirty as the other side. Literally everything is at stake.

[tanoraqui]

we’ve gotten to the stage of unemployment (7 weeks, 20 job applications, 1 phone interview, job app rate has notably slowed bc I’m so fucking tired of job apps) where I’ve started daydreaming about if maybe secret supernatural organizations, that fight monsters or do magical research or whatnot, need grants managers, and if so how does one get hired by them. By reference presumably, right? Maybe someone who interviews me (if/when I get more interviews) will decide I’m not right for their organization, but they’ll forward my details to someone who runs a monster-hunting agency that gets funding from a mix of wealthy immortals, foundations funded & run by old magical families or a wealthy mundane or two who’s In The Know because a monster-hunter saved their life once, and maybe the US Defense Department, though that really opens up a whole can of worldbuilding worms. I would accept, of course, even if there’s a risk (inevitably downplayed by the interviewer) of the office being attacked by monsters and the administrative staff being killed because we’re all redshirts (the interviewer winces when I say “redshirts”, but doesn’t really argue). I accept because I’m absolutely feral with curiosity, which of course the original interviewer—the one for a normal job, who knows that her cousin works at a monster-hunting agency and needs a new grants manager—picked up on, as well as maybe we got far enough in the interview that I mentioned D&D (genuinely worth mentioning, in that I lead a weekly team-based collaborative creative workshop, and once managed a four-year project to a collectively satisfying conclusion; while also a shining hallmark of a fantasy nerd who’d be delighted to work for a monster-hunting agency). (IF I first ascertain that their definition of “monster” isn’t just, like, “humanoid who is different from us and could easily live in peace if we reached out, acknowledged their personhood and worked to accommodate their needs as well as ours.” I don’t just trust like that!)

I expect it’d be nigh impossible to get good photos for a grant report or supplementary application material, for a secret monster-hunting agency. As described above, we’re presumably applying to funders that underdtand this, and certainly not trying to convince anyone via grant application that the supernatural is real. Like, the team can pose with their weapons, but action shots aren’t gonna happen. If there’s a monster weak enough to safely catch and contain, they could drag it back to base and I could photograph it there, or go into the field I guess… See, I’m already considering the practicalities; I’d be so fucking good at this job. @secret supernatural agencies that need funding PLEASE HIRE ME.

[seventyfaces]

Oooh, oooh, I can be a #finfluencer!

*clears throat*

Buy shares in an index fund or two or three or four. Cover the market as best you can. Automate your investments, whether it be yearly, quarterly, monthly, fortnightly, weekly, or daily. Re-invest your dividends and capital gains. Do not take money out until it is needed. Only move money around if, over the course of a year or more, the index fund underperforms your other index funds. Automating deposits + "buy low, sell high" = it will even out over time.

USA: Remember that investment income is income and must be reported on your taxes; your investment site will provide you with the forms.

If you cannot afford the minimum buy-in to an index fund (Vanguard's tend to be ~$3,000), then you do not have enough spare cash on hand to be investing in anything. Remember that you will keep your shares in the index fund, but the price can crash, leaving you with the same number of shares but less money. Do not take money out until it is needed; the more shares you have when it's low means the more money you have when it's high.

Do not pick stocks. Ever. Even that one. I mean it. If you must pick stocks, have a small child or an animal pick them for you; random chance is better than your educated guess.

Anyone who tells you they can outperform the market and have major successes every quarter is incorrect at best and committing a crime at worst.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The Guardian has uncovered evidence showing how Israel has relaunched a controversial entity as part of a broader public relations campaign to target US college campuses and redefine antisemitism in US law. Seconds after a smoke alarm subsided during the hearing, Chikli assured the lawmakers that there was new money in the budget for a pushback campaign, which was separate from more traditional public relations and paid advertising content produced by the government. It included 80 programs already under way for advocacy efforts “to be done in the ‘Concert’ way”, he said. The “Concert” remark referred to a sprawling relaunch of a controversial Israeli government program initially known as Kela Shlomo, designed to carry out what Israel called “mass consciousness activities” targeted largely at the US and Europe. Concert, now known as Voices of Israel, previously worked with groups spearheading a campaign to pass so-called “anti-BDS” state laws that penalize Americans for engaging in boycotts or other non-violent protests of Israel. Its latest incarnation is part of a hardline and sometimes covert operation by the Israeli government to strike back at student protests, human rights organizations and other voices of dissent. Voices’ latest activities were conducted through non-profits and other entities that often do not disclose donor information. From October through May, Chikli has overseen at least 32m shekels, or about $8.6m, spent on government advocacy to reframe the public debate.

[...]

Haaretz and the New York Times recently revealed that Chikli’s ministry had tapped a public relations firm to secretly pressure American lawmakers. The firm used hundreds of fake accounts posting pro-Israel or anti-Muslim content on X (formerly Twitter), Facebook and Instagram. (The diaspora affairs ministry denied involvement in the campaign, which reportedly provided about $2m to an Israeli firm for the social media posts.) But that effort is only one of many such campaigns coordinated by the ministry, which has received limited news coverage. The ministry of diaspora affairs and its partners compile weekly reports based on tips from pro-Israel US student groups, some of which receive funding from Israeli government sources. For example, Hillel International, a co-founder of the Israel on Campus Coalition network and one of the largest Jewish campus groups in the world, has reported financial and strategic support from Mosaic United, a public benefit corporation backed by Chikli’s ministry. The longstanding partnership is now being utilized to shape the political debate over Israel’s war. In February, Hillel’s chief executive, Adam Lehman, appeared before the Knesset to discuss the strategic partnership with Mosaic and the ministry of diaspora affairs, which he said had already produced results.

24 June 2024

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lydia O'Connor at HuffPost:

President Donald Trump has signed an executive order shuttering the agency that oversees Voice of America ― a government-funded, anti-propaganda, international media outlet that’s been in operation since World War II. The order Trump signed Friday calls for the closure of the U.S. Agency for Global Media, which manages VOA and other diplomatic news efforts. More than 1,300 of VOA’s journalists and other staffers were placed on administrative leave Saturday, according to a Facebook post from VOA Director Michael Abramowitz obtained by The Washington Post. Kari Lake, the Agency for Global Media’s special adviser who once called for the imprisonment of journalists, cheered its demise on social media, saying: “There’s a reason it’s referred to as ‘pound-for-pound the most corrupt agency in Washington DC.’ Because it is!” A press release from the agency was even harsher, calling it “a giant rot and burden to the American taxpayer — a national security risk for this nation — and irretrievably broken.” The Associated Press wire service shared Friday that the agency terminated its contracts with them, and Reuters and Agence France-Presse. Since 1942, VOA has shared news globally from the American perspective and sought to fight propaganda through the broadcasting of uncensored information to people around the world living under oppressive regimes. On its website, VOA touts itself as “the largest U.S. international broadcaster, providing news and information in nearly 50 languages to an estimated weekly audience of more than 354 million people,” and emphasizes that its reporting will always be “accurate, objective, and comprehensive.”

Satan-possessed anti-American free press-destroying tyrant Donald Trump signs national security-jeopardizing executive order that closes down Voice of America, a respected outlet that provided valuable news to those in authoritarian regimes lacking vital press freedoms.

See Also:

Steady (Dan Rather): The Truth Dies with Him

Living It (Olivia Troye): Silenced.

[entrackrme]

Funding and acquisitions in Indian startup this week [26 – 31 Aug]

During the week, 31 Indian startups raised around $490.32 million in funding. These deals count 7 growth-stage deals and 19 early-stage deals while 5 startups kept their transaction details undisclosed.

If you want to get complete information related to this topic click HERE.

[mariacallous]

The economic winds whipped up by President Trump’s “Liberation Day” tariff proclamations in early April have been anything but a gentle breeze. Rising prices, fomenting trade wars, and uncertainty about when tariffs will go into effect has led to a volatile economic climate.

People looking to buy electronics and other goods affected by the tariffs are trying to figure out whether they should wait it out to see if the administration’s trade policies become more favorable, or quickly scoop up what they can while prices are still cheap-ish.

For consumers weighing a purchasing decision, buy now, pay later services like Klarna, Affirm, and Afterpay are offering to make that choice easier.

These companies make a relatively straightforward case: Spread out the cost of a purchase into smaller, more manageable payments over the course of a few weeks or months. Because BNPL services make deals with the sellers they’re providing the payment plans for, the companies behind the BNPLs don’t charge interest to the customer. So instead of spacing out a purchase with a credit card, say—which usually charges a high interest rate—BNPL would get you that thing you want for the listed price.

BNPL companies don’t require you to have good credit, and some only charge fees if you’re late with your payments. Otherwise it’s a nice free amenity—and one that might indicate bigger financial troubles across the economy.

Nadine Chabrier, ​​senior policy council at the nonprofit Center for Responsible Lending, says it is easy to see why BNPL services are appealing. “The top reasons consumers use buy now, pay later is because they can't afford the full cost of the item at once,” she says. “Another reason is because there's a higher approval rate. It's that convenience factor.”

Economic uncertainty—over tariffs, rising inflation, and the possibility of a looming recession—is giving consumers pause about stretching their limited funds. It’s rocky times like these when BNPL services become even more appealing.

“BNPL really skyrocketed in adoption during the pandemic,” says Matt Gross, a spokesperson for Affirm. “It may not be as high-growth now as you saw in 2020, 2021, when everyone was stuck at home shopping online, but we're still growing at orders of magnitude faster than broader spending and consumption levels.”

Stress Spending

Economic watchdogs have concerns about BNPL. The services often appeal to people with lower incomes, who financial experts have warned may be at risk of financially overextending themselves. Still, BNPL services are now woven into nearly every digital payment platform, and people have come to rely on them. PayPal offers it now, letting you spread out payments of almost anything. Klarna has partnered with DoorDash, so you can pay for your family’s dinner in weekly installments. And people aren’t just using them for electronics and pizza delivery, but also for basic essentials: A recent study found that 25 percent of BNPL users in the US were relying on the services to cover the costs of food and household sundries.

“Before tariffs even came into the picture, people were already using BNPL for gas and groceries,” Chabrier says. “We're already talking about folks who may not have a lot of money or credit to spare. Additional economic stress could be hard.”

“Absolutely, this is a leading indicator of financial distress,” says Martin Kleinbard, founder of the consultancy firm Granular Fintech who formerly worked at the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau and coauthored a CFPB report about BNPL. “Consumers are smart. They understand where they’re getting the lowest-cost-of-credit option here and are going to avail themselves of that for the goods they have to get.”

Kleinbard says that in terms of acquiring debt, BNPL services can be more forgiving than high-interest loans like credit cards and payday loans.

“BNPL has grown rapidly over the last five years,” Kleinbard says. “But it's still a tiny, tiny fraction of the overall spending and borrowing pie. You really have to think about it in the context of the alternatives. If the alternative is you were going to borrow anyway and it's an important purchase, then this is a pretty damn good option. This isn't a product with a lot of gotchas.”

Economically, lots of people have compared the looming uncertainty of the tariff situation with that of the pandemic. But Gross says Affirm has weathered the storm before and doesn’t expect this economic shakeup to be all that different.

“I wouldn't go so far as to say this is an opportunity for us, other than to say that I think the last several years and years into the future is an opportunity,” Gross says. “People are shifting their payment preferences to favor these types of products. And so in that sense, we are trying to be their favorite way to pay—not just when things are uncertain, but all the time.”

Storm Watch

Shawn DuBravac, chief economist at the electronics trade association IPC, says he agrees this is indeed a moment for buy now, pay later services, for better or worse. It’s a service that’s growing during a time of uncertainty that will make the service more appealing. The financial leg up it provides can indeed be helpful, but DuBravac cautions that the benefits are likely not evenly distributed.

“This could be a very good thing for some people; this could be a great service that could help them through a tough week,” DuBravac says. “But you can't get around the fact that people who are using it then might have all of a sudden a downturn in their job. They lose their job, their household goes from two incomes to one income, all of a sudden they're strained.”

As with any loan, both the borrower and the lender incur risk. DuBravac says this moment, if the economy truly does spiral, may be the first real test of whether the BNPL industry is stable enough to keep themselves and their borrowers afloat. How well that system maintains in the face of financial downturn really depends on whether people are using it as a convenience or out of necessity.

“Are they using it as a bridge or are they using it as a crutch?” DuBravac says. “If they're using it as a crutch, then I think there's a lot more risk there.”

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - January 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Homes built with clay, grass, plastic and glass: How a Caribbean island is shying away from concrete

“[… Clay] traps moisture which then evaporates and pulls heat from the surface as it goes. […] The roof is covered in old recycled advertising banners and piece of a water tank, the other half of which is used to house some of Rahaman-Noronha's fish [… and] multi-coloured glass bottles inset into walls provide an avenue for streams of light and colour.”

2. To Combat Phoenix’s Extreme Heat, a New Program Provides Sustainable Shade

“The neighborhood workshops allow residents to get a shade plan tailored to their community’s needs and identify the locations where officials can plant trees. Meanwhile, the workforce-development side of the program creates the jobs needed to keep the trees alive for generations[….]”

3. Conservation corridors provide hope for Latin America’s felines

“[… S]cience has shown that to maintain healthy populations there needs to be connection between individuals. [… A] protected area that is close to another has more species and more potential for their survival.”

4. Social program cuts tuberculosis cases among Brazil's poorest by more than half

“The decrease [“in TB cases and deaths”] was over 50% in extremely poor people and more than 60% among the Indigenous populations. […] "We know that the program improves access to food [… and healthcare…] and strengthens people's immune defenses as a result.””

5. Geothermal has vast potential to meet the world’s power needs

“New geothermal systems could technically provide as much as 600 terawatts of carbon-free power capacity by 2050[…. C]ountries could cost-effectively deploy over 800 GW of geothermal power capacity using technology that’s in development today[….]”

6. New D.C. Catholic archbishop is pro-LGBTQ+ and anti-Trump

“In 2018, he objected to the blaming of gay priests for the clergy sexual abuse crisis, “saying that such abuse was a matter of power, not sexual orientation[….]” “We must disrupt those who portray refugees as enemies [… and] seek to rob our medical care, especially from the poor.””

7. Chesapeake Bay Will Gain New Wildlife Refuge

“The Chesapeake Bay area will have a new wildlife refuge for the first time in a quarter century. […] “This new refuge offers an opportunity to halt and even reverse biodiversity loss in this important place, and in a way that fully integrates and respects the leadership and rights of Indigenous peoples and local communities.””

8. Inside Svalbard seed vault’s critical mission to stop our favourite fruit and veg from going extinct

“[… T]he world’s largest secure seed storage […] sits proudly in a massive former coal mine[….] Right now, there are over 1,331,458 samples of 6,297 crop species. […] “During 2024, 61 seed genebanks deposited 64,331 seed samples, including 21 from institutes that deposited seeds for the first time this year[….]””

9. Medical debt will be erased from credit reports for all Americans under new federal rule

“The rule will affect more than 15 million Americans, raising their credit scores by an estimated average of 20 points. [… S]tates and localities have already utilized American Rescue Plan (ARP) funds to support the elimination of over $1 billion in medical debt for more than 700,000 Americans[….]”

10. 'Forgotten' water harvesting system transforms 'barren wasteland' into thriving farmland

“"The process started with the community-based participatory planning[….]” 10% to 15% of the water will actually soak into the ground to replenish the water table, creating a more sustainable agricultural process.”

December 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[sjsmith56]

What am I Going to Do With You?

Summary: An investigative reporter involved in an altercation worries about the reaction from her boss and boyfriend, media mogul Bucky Barnes.

Length: 3.6 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, John Walker, Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton.

Warnings: language, power imbalance, age difference (Bucky is 40, OFC is 29), fears of infidelity.

Author notes: Sometimes a writer struggles with inspiration and sometimes it comes from out of the blue. The inspiration for this story came from the photoshoot Sebastian did for Entertainment Weekly, promoting The Apprentice. Several pictures gave me a media mogul vibe and I went from there. What happens after the ending is left to your imagination. Go wild.

I sat there beside the sergeant's desk, waiting to be released after being bailed out, worrying about Bucky's reaction when he got up there.  It wasn't my fault this time.  It really wasn't, but I knew that wasn't going to wash with him.  This time he wouldn't be able to keep it out of the news as it was already going viral over social media.  The door behind me opened, making me turn in curiosity, and John Walker came out, still holding an ice bag to his nose.  Shaking my head, I faced forward, ignoring him.

"You broke my fucking nose," he whined, as he passed me, looking back as I sat there.

"You're lucky I didn't break more," I answered, the fire within me flaring up again.  "Next time, maybe you'll think twice about bullying some kid because you didn't get your exact favourite brand of fucking still water.  God, you're such a dickwad."

"John, let it go," said his lawyer, guiding him towards the door out of the office.  "You can press civil charges for the injury."

"No, he can't!" I yelled, before the door closed.  "He assaulted me.  It's all over social media and all my friends saw him shove me first."

The sergeant at the desk glared at me and I sat back in my chair, then repositioned the ice bag on my right hand.  I probably broke something on Walker's stupid nose.  Then the door into the office opened, and Bucky walked in.  He just stood there for the longest moment with that look on his face, the one that told me I really fucked up good this time.  It wasn't an angry look, but it was disappointed and that, more than anything, upset me.  I could feel the tightness begin in my throat and then my lips began to tremble.  Clamping my jaw down I suppressed the urge to cry, not because I didn't want to but because if I did, any one there could take a picture of me, and it would go out on social media with the tags #Bucky Barnes girlfriend arrested again #how many times is too many? #is this the end for Bucky and Skye? 

He looked so good as well, wearing clothes I helped pick out.  The oversized tweed jacket paired with the black slacks, mint green dress shirt and deep brown tie was something else.  Prada really suited him.  He smiled at the sergeant, offering him the receipt for my bail.

"Did a paramedic check Ms. Knight's hand?" he asked.

The sergeant nodded.  "She refused treatment.  They thought she might have broken it."  He looked over at me.  "She's been okay here, except when Walker came out."

Bucky smirked.  "Yeah, assholes have that effect on her.  Are we good here?"

The sergeant smiled and handed Bucky his receipt back as well as my purse.  With an audible exhale he came over to me and kneeled down, gently removing the ice bag from my right hand, then inspecting it himself. 

"Does it hurt?"  I nodded.  "Come on, I'll take you to the clinic to get it x-rayed."

"The clinic, really?" 

I was being a brat, I know, but he put the ice bag back on my hand and stood up, waiting for me.

"Skye, you know that every use of the clinic provides funding for the free clinic in Bed-Stuy.  It's late, we're both tired and they can see you and treat you within an hour.  Put your outrage somewhere else for a moment."

He was right.  He usually was and he never crowed about it or made it into a big deal.  It was one of the things I loved about him.  After holding the office door open for me, he pressed the elevator button, then allowed me to go in first, his hand slightly on the small of my back.  The door closed on us.

"Do you want to hear what happened?"

"I know what happened," he answered calmly.  "Nat called me, and you know that she never sugar coats it.  There are enough videos on Snapchat, Instagram, and X to make a movie about it."

"Are you mad at me?" His calm demeanour was getting to me.

"Mad?  Why would I be mad?  You stood up to a bully who was trying to get a kid fired for being the one who told him they didn't have his favourite brand of still water."

"But I hit him.  Broke his nose, probably."

A slight smile appeared on Bucky's face.  "He pushed you before you did hit him, so it was self-defence."  He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head.  "I'm not mad.  I am concerned that you wasted a punch on that asshole and not on someone who matters."  He breathed out.  "Not that there's going to be a repeat of this, right?"

He gazed at me; his blue eyes dominant on his bearded face.  It was the same face he used in business as owner / CEO of an entertainment company that was a major player in news, movies, and television programming.  That face was rarely used on me but when it was, I knew he meant it.  I nodded my head, thoroughly chastened. 

"Now, there are news crews outside the precinct, including some of my own people," he said.  "They're going to be pushing you for a statement.  I can speak for you if you wish but if you choose to say something, don't be inflammatory.  John Walker might be an asshole but there are still powerful people who support him and don't like it when he's shown in a negative light.  They can drag your name through the mud, and by extension, mine.  I can handle it, so you don't have to protect me.  I'll protect you as much as I can, but I can't be seen giving you preferential treatment as you're still an employee and there is a power imbalance between us.  Accusations of favouritism because you're my girlfriend take away from your own abilities and I won't be accused of that."

I smiled a little.  He was protective of me, but I got my job because I was good at it, not because I was sleeping with him.  In fact, I had my job before I ever met him, and we didn't sleep together for almost two months after we started dating.  For a few moments before the elevator door opened, I remembered the night we met.  For two years I had been working as an investigative reporter for an affiliate station in the east, going to bat for people up against uncaring bureaucracies, or helping those who fell between the cracks when they were dealing with assholes who took their money but didn't deliver the goods.  I was nominated for a national news award and went to New York for the awards ceremony.  It was an open bar, and I lined up to order a drink.  Just as I got to the front, I heard a man's voice.

"May I buy you a drink?"

"It's an open bar," I said, before turning to face the voice, then almost falling down at the sight of the man next to me.

His chestnut hair was longish but well styled, and his close clipped beard with the slightest bit of grey in it was definitely attractive.  He wore an Armani tuxedo, Cartier watch, and shoes that probably cost more than I made in a month.  It was his eyes that captured me the most, as the blue grey hue stood out in their intensity.  Then he smiled and I was lost.

"It is an open bar," he agreed, "but for a bit extra I can promise you a better quality champagne, or whatever you want.  My treat."

"Champagne, then," I answered. 

He nodded at the bartender and held up two fingers, then pulled out his wallet.  Producing a black card with no writing on it, he touched the terminal and slid the card back into its spot, pulling out a hundred-dollar bill for the tip jar.  At first, I thought it was a bit of an extravagant display of wealth, but he looked at my face and chuckled.

"I'm not showing off.  It's the smallest bill I have but is appropriate for the price of this champagne."

He handed me my glass, then took his and ushered me over to a spot beside a large plant.  Before he could introduce himself, another man noticed him and joined us.

"James, you made it." He glanced at me.  "You brought a date?"

"We don't know each other," I said quickly.  "He just bought me a drink."

"Tony, this is Skye Knight," replied Bucky.  "She works at one of my affiliate stations and is up for a national award in investigative reporting.  Miss Knight, this is Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, parent company of Red Iron Media.  I'm James Barnes, technically your boss."

He knew who I was.  I opened my mouth to say something but all that came out was a hurried thank you for the drink.  As the two men began talking business, I realized I was in over my head and quickly interrupted them to say I saw someone I knew and excused myself.  As soon as I was out of view (or so I thought) I downed my champagne and escaped to the ladies' room, where I promptly hyperventilated.  A red headed woman glanced at me.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine," I said, unconvincingly.  "I just embarrassed myself in front of James Barnes and Tony Stark.  No biggie."

She chuckled, then offered me her hand.  "Natasha Romanov, I work for Mr. Barnes.  You shouldn't be intimidated by him.  He's one of the good ones.  Stark isn't bad either."

"Skye Knight," I replied.  "I didn't recognize either of them."

"You're up for an investigative reporting award," she said.  "Mr. Barnes was very pleased that someone with a regional station was nominated.  He's always pleased when the news division does well.  Don't worry about it."  She looked at her watch.  "We should be taking our seats.  If I remember correctly, you're sitting at Mr. Barnes' table.  He's probably already there, wondering where we are."

It was at that moment of reliving that night that the elevator door opened, and the flashes of photographers began, even though they were still outside, crowded around the glass doors.  Bucky looked at me.

"Ready?" 

I nodded and he guided me out into the press of people.  There were questions about what happened and if I was injured.  Then the questions were thrown at Bucky.

"How do you feel about your star reporter being involved in an altercation with John Walker?  When he came out earlier, he hinted at a possible civil suit against you and Skye."

He looked out over the assembly then at me.  His stoicism was impressive as he gave no sign that he was bothered by any of it.

"I commend Ms. Knight for trying to stand up for an individual who was being bullied.  When John Walker became belligerent enough to push her, she reacted as anyone would when feeling threatened.  It's not the first time he has been accused of bullying behaviour.  The videos of bystanders show that he was the aggressor by assaulting her first.  I stand by Ms. Knight as a valued member of our news services and will defend her right to intervene when she sees someone being bullied."

There were several more questions and although I did speak, my hand started to hurt.  When one of the photographers brushed up against me, I cried out and Bucky immediately shielded me, then asked for the reporters to clear so he could take me for medical attention.  Clint was there with the car, and he came forward, clearing a path for us until we could get in the back seat. 

"Straight to the clinic please," said Bucky, then he turned to me.  "You should have said something.  I would have cut that circus short."

I didn't reply, but I did begin to cry because I was almost at my limit, and Bucky put his arm around me, murmuring I would be okay.  His sympathy was almost worse than his disappointment.  Soon, we were at the clinic, and he escorted me in where I was whisked away for an x-ray.  When I was brought back to an examining room, Bucky was waiting for me.  Less than 10 minutes later, I was given a shot for the pain, then Dr. Banner came in and confirmed I broke a bone in my hand.

"Boxer's fracture," he said.  "We'll have to reduce it before we splint and wrap your hand.  It will take about six weeks to heal and another six weeks for you to get your strength back.  No boxing, obviously, but you should avoid using it at all.  That includes computer use."

I groaned a little, but he just smiled at me then left to prepare the kit to wrap up my hand. 

"After you heal up, you're taking boxing lessons to learn how to hit properly," said Bucky, before Dr. Banner returned.

"I thought you said I couldn't do that anymore," I replied, sarcastically.

"You still need to know how to defend yourself and it's great exercise."  He crossed his legs at the knee.  "How do you think I keep my girlish figure?"

He was grinning when he said that which almost made me laugh.  Dr. Banner and a nurse returned to tend to me.  Even with the painkiller it hurt when he reset the bone, but as he wrapped my hand up after fitting the splint, the compression helped relieve some of it.  He recommended more ice packs and gave me two days worth of strong pain killers, saying I should be okay with over-the-counter medication after.  Bucky shook his hand, then walked me out to the car, where Clint hopped out and opened the back door for us.

"Home?" he asked. 

Bucky nodded.  I leaned against him, then placed my uninjured hand on his.  He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb as we rode.  It was almost 2 am when Clint pulled up to the tower.

"I won't be going in tomorrow," Bucky said.  "I'll telecommute.  Take the day, sleep in, have lunch with your wife and I'll see you the day after."

"Sure thing," replied Clint, then he opened the back door for us and waited until we were inside the lobby door before driving off.

On the way up in the elevator, my mind wandered again as Bucky checked his phone.  He smirked a few times.

"Walker's people are trying to spin it that you were drunk," he said.  "The people aren't buying it.  He didn't even have a reservation at the restaurant and bullied the maître d' into giving him and his entourage a table.  Several people who were there are saying he was rude well before you got there.  I'll get Steve to make a call to him, remind him that if the general public found out about his side pieces that it could get ugly for him."

"Do you have any side pieces?" I blurted out, as the pain killers had taken effect and loosened my tongue.

He had been married before and was separated when we met, although I wouldn't go out with him until his divorce from Sharon was finalized.  My question must have surprised him because he said nothing, making me wonder if I was now the one living in denial.  When the elevator door to the penthouse opened, I walked straight to our bedroom and got changed, after cleaning my face with one hand.  That was fun.  When I came out, wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else, Bucky was sitting in a leather armchair, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up.

"Come here," he said, softly, patting his lap.

I knelt on the floor in front of him, unwilling to sit where he wanted me.  With a bit of a frown, he rested his head on his hand, and gazed intently at me.  I knew that what I said bothered him as the crease between his brow returned after disappearing during the car ride. 

"Why did you say that?" he asked, watching my face intently.

I shrugged.  "I'm feeling a little loopy, I guess.  It just came out."

"Have I done anything to make you think that I'm cheating on you?"

"No, never.  Forget I said it."

"I can't," he replied.  "I'm bothered you would think that of me."  He leaned closer, taking my face in his hands.  "What am I going to do with you?"

I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I uttered something borne out of my own insecurities.

"Are you going to break up with me?"

He pulled me up into his lap, enclosing me with his arms and kissing my face all over.  Then he made sure I was looking directly at him. 

"No, I love you," he replied, his voice cracking slightly.  "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.  Why do you think I would want to break up with you?"

I frowned and looked away.  "Social media tags.  It seems that I'm often making the news instead of reporting on it and people say that at some point it will make us break up."

"Fuck social media.  They don't know how much I love you.  Making the news comes with the job.  It has since we started dating.  You remember the night we met, right?"  I nodded.  "Remember how you ran from me and Tony because you were so intimidated?"  I looked at him in surprise.  "I knew.  You looked like a deer in the headlights.  It was adorable and I knew then that I wanted to know you.  Then you found out I was separated from Sharon but not divorced and refused to go out with me until it got finalized.  Didn't stop the gossip rags and bloggers from making stuff up about us.  You won that award and suddenly the pictures of us having that drink were being paraded as proof that we were together.  They even said that Tony and I shared you as a girlfriend.  You don't know how many lawsuit threats I made on your behalf when I became aware they were going to sully your name for breaking up my marriage."

"Are you serious?  How come I didn't know about this?"

"Because I had your back."  A soft look came over his face as he gazed at me.  "Maybe, we should give them something real to talk about."

"Like what?"

He shifted a little, reaching into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a small box.  My heart flipped when I saw it and I could barely breathe.

"I've been carrying this around for a few weeks now, waiting for the right moment.  I could have sprung for a room full of flowers in front of all of our friends, and cases of that champagne I bought you the night we met but that's been done before.  How many guys ask their girlfriends to marry them after they've broken their hand, punching an asshole in the nose because he was bullying someone?  You're authentic, Skye.  You live life to the fullest, you stick up for anyone who needs your help, your principles are beyond reproach, and you make me feel like I'm 30 again, instead of the 40-year-old man that I am.  I love everything about you, and I don't want to wait any longer.  Would you marry me?"

I hadn't even seen the ring yet, as the box was still closed but I looked into his eyes and saw what I saw every moment I ever spent with him.  He loved me, a 29-year-old woman raised by a single mother, who taught me to always stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves.  I grew up in a trailer park and wore clothes from thrift stores.  Bucky was born into old money wealth, attended private schools, and an Ivy League college.  But he was also raised by a single mother, widowed with four children, and grew up not taking anything for granted.  He volunteered in food banks and soup kitchens and used his wealth to help those who barely had enough to live on.  Now, he wanted me to be with him forever.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

He opened the ring box displaying a ring with an enormous solitaire diamond.  Big, yes but simple and beautiful.  It fit perfectly then he kissed me, deeply but slowly, as his hands held me firmly on his lap.  We sat there for some time, admiring the ring and each other until he stood up and carried me bridal style to the bed. 

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked once again, as he loosened then removed his tie, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Whatever you want," was my answer, as the rest of his clothes were abandoned. 

"I want you, always," he said, joining me on the bed, his blue eyes darkened with desire.

Always, I liked the sound of that.

One Shots Masterlist

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[parrishsrubberplant]

Staying Informed Under 47

It has not been enjoyable watching my country's rapid (un)planned disassembly. I have family and close friends whose lives' works are funded by the NSF, NIH, and NEH. I want to someday receive the Social Security benefits I've paid into over the last fifteen years of my working life. I believe the federal government can make people's lives better (the interstate highway system! the ACA! etc.!). I prefer to practice kindness over cruelty.

I've been walking a fine line between staying informed and doom-scrolling. Oddly, it helps that I have a commute now. My previous commute was an 8-10 minute walk (yes, I hate my past self too). Noise-cancelling headphones have become essential. In fact, they are The Cheat Code to making public transit bearable. Lalala, itinerant preacher, I can't hear you preaching before 8 am - instead I hear Jon, Jules, Jonathan, et. al:

Pod Save America - lots of opinionated snark, yes, but it also feels like a flamethrower against the darkness a lot of the time

Politico Playbook Daily Briefing - the perfect length for the first leg of my commute to work. Eugene Daniels's voice is the auditory equivalent of qiviut yarn.

the NPR Politics Podcast - these are a good length for my morning walk with my dog (15-25 minutes). The hosts are chill (as much as anyone can be while dangerous oligarchs grab everything) and conversational.

The Guardian's Politics Weekly America - there's so much happening so fast that the weekly format of this show is helpful--it can't cover everything, so it doesn't. Jonathan Freedland also has genuine conversations with the experts he invites on.

Slate's Outward, because queer joy is magical and queer history is everywhere.

I have to mentioned 99 Years (subtitle: "A Black exploration of the deliberate creation of the whitest state in the nation."). Which state? Maine! Ten minutes into the first episode I was sending the link out to everyone I know who listens to podcasts (so, @allthefoolmine, who has been trying to get me into podcasts for literal years).

I tried Citations Needed on Tumblr's advice and it really, really didn't work for me--so I shan't link it here. Go forth and search for it on DuckDuckGo if you wish.

I also subscribe to the following newsletters / visit the following news sites:

WTFJHT specifically focuses on the Presidency.

Letters from an American - sometimes Heather Cox Richardson's sources overlap with Matt Kiser's. If you're looking for fluid prose, this is the newsletter you want. Oftentimes LfaA is less of a news summary and more of a meditation on a specific facet of the news (or response to a specific date - this morning, 12 February, was about Abraham Lincoln as today is his 216th birthday).

Grist - a Tumblr reccommendation that happily did land for me. Focuses on climate and the environment.

Pro Publica (balanced / skews left on the media bias chart)

AP News - if folks on Tumblr say 'no one is talking about this' for Pete's sake check here; the Associated Press has most likely covered it. Brief and clear. Their Lifestyle and Oddities sections are often fun. I deeply appreciate their AP Fact Check articles.

My Mom likes PBS NewsHour! She and my Dad spent lockdown looking for Lisa's cat who often appeared in the background when Lisa Desjardins was reporting from home.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I remember a tweet by Barkjack a few years back. Meghan apparently joked to some friends at dinner that she was making more money than Harry. While I know you don't believe in their reporting, ever since I've been thinking about whether M could actually be the one paying child support in case of a divorce.

That seemed like a crazy idea, but not only does her fall seem endless, now it is being said that she's the breadwinner in the new US weekly article. That's also why she souldn't wait long for a divorce. If H still has some assets, she should try to get money now. Because he doesn't seem to have any business line up and if for the next years, she's the only one bringing in money while he lives on his fund, it might not work in her favor.

Also in the article, they try to put a positive spin about it, like she's an active woman, a boss girl who doesn't care about the princess life and that's just an absolute joke. I'm not a materialistic person AT ALL, but if I busted my ass off at work, then married a rich man, I would definitely enjoy the privileges to live a slow life. Yes, I would totally live the trad wife life for the first years if we had children, then eventually taking a part time job. Instead M has to go back hustling to make money. She might be happy living her influencer dreams, but I bet she's fuming that it absolutely must be a financial success at all cost.

Oh, it’s not a crazy idea at all.

I’ve said several times before that if Meghan isn’t careful with her PR — all the stories about her net worth, how much these contracts are, how much she’s raking in with ARO/now As Ever, how much she works — she could very well end up owing not just child support but also alimony to Harry.

The more her PR talks about work and about money, and the quieter his PR gets about the same topics, the more Meghan keeps digging her own hole to a lifelong hustle.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Friday

SpaceTime 20250502 Series 28 Episode 53

Large carbon deposits discovered on Mars

NASA’s Mars Curiosity rover has discovered evidence of a carbon cycle on ancient Mars.

The billion-dollar Square Kilometre Array project

Construction work is now well underway on what will be the world’s largest radio telescope the Square Kilometre Array in outback Western Australia.

A busy time aboard the International Space Station

Three crew members from the International Space Station have successfully returned to Earth landing on the Kazakhstan Steppe 27 and a half hours after undocking from the orbiting outpost.

The Science Report

New study casts doubt on the dangers of the deadly H5N1 bird flu’s spread to humans.

Claims social skills may not be the most useful indicator of autism.

A major threat to the Australian regent honeyeater.

Skeptics guide to 15 paranormal myths that just won’t die.

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through your favourite podcast download provider or from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He was the dorky school kid who spent his weekends at the Australian Museum. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on a career in journalism and radio broadcasting. Gary’s radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. His first gigs were spent as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist, and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth. That compares to the ABC’s overall radio listenership of just 5.6 per cent. The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.