#Bail Money Loans

[exjonenews]

Understanding the Legalities of Bail Money Loans in Rowland Heights

Navigating the legal intricacies of bail money loans in Rowland Heights is a crucial aspect for anyone faced with the task of arranging bail. This article aims to provide a clear understanding of the legal framework surrounding bail loans, helping individuals make informed decisions while ensuring compliance with local laws and regulations.

The Legal Framework of Bail in California

In California, the bail system is regulated by both state laws and local regulations. In Rowland Heights, these regulations determine bail amounts, the process for posting bail, and the operation of bail bond services. Understanding these laws is essential to ensure that one's approach to securing a bail loan is legally sound and in line with state and local guidelines.

Rights and Protections for Loan Seekers

When seeking a bail money loan, it’s important to be aware of your legal rights and protections. California law provides safeguards against predatory lending practices, including caps on interest rates and fees that bail bond companies can charge. Knowing these rights can help protect individuals from unfair loan terms and financial exploitation.

Key Legal Terms in Bail Bond Agreements

Bail bond agreements often include legal terms that can be complex and difficult to understand. Key terms such as 'collateral', 'indemnitor', and 'forfeiture' should be clearly understood before signing any agreement. It's advisable to consult with a legal expert or attorney to review and explain the terms of any bail bond contract.

Avoiding Predatory Lending Practices

In Rowland Heights, as in other areas, the potential for predatory lending practices exists. Being vigilant about the terms of the loan, the reputation of the lender, and the overall cost of the bail bond is crucial. This includes being aware of any hidden fees, high interest rates, or unfair collateral requirements.

Local Legal Support and Resources

For those in Rowland Heights, accessing local legal support can provide additional clarity and assistance. Local legal aid organizations, attorneys specializing in bail bond law, and community legal clinics can offer valuable advice and support. Utilizing these resources can help ensure that one navigates the bail loan process with a full understanding of their legal rights and obligations.

Conclusion

Understanding the legalities of bail money loans in Rowland Heights is a fundamental step in responsibly managing the bail process. By being informed about the legal framework, knowing your rights and protections, and seeking professional legal advice, individuals can navigate this complex terrain more effectively. This knowledge not only aids in making informed decisions but also helps in protecting oneself from potential legal and financial pitfalls.

[acme-bail]

Facing arrest in California can be overwhelming, but knowing the right steps can make all the difference. Click here for an easy-to-follow guide on what to do next. Don't navigate this alone – find out how to protect your rights today!

[thepeacefulgarden]

Promises you must make to yourself (and keep) when it's time to detach with love

I will stop trying to control anyone but myself.

I will set boundaries with this person, and I will not rescind those boundaries.

I will make those boundaries clear.

I will not give in to temper tantrums, threats, tears, bargaining, guilt trips, or other manipulative tactics. Instead, I will walk away.

I will stop doing things for them that they are capable of doing for themselves, and should be doing for themselves.

I will stop "loaning" them money I know I'm never going to get back.

I will let them be responsible for their own lives, and their own choices, and I will take responsibility for mine.

If it's necessary, I will remove myself and any children and/or pets from the household, and I will get us to safety.

I will prioritize my safety and well-being, and the safety and well-being of any children or pets.

I will not cover and lie for this person anymore.

I will no longer defend or make excuses for their unacceptable behavior.

I will prioritize my needs over their wants.

I will know that I am doing this because I love them and care about them, and I will absolve myself of guilt.

I will cultivate a support system of my own.

I will absolve myself of responsibility for their happiness, their life choices, their behavior, their words, and their responsibilities.

I will regulate my emotions when they try to dysregulate me. I will not lose my cool, no matter how much they agitate me.

If I cannot deescalate them, I will walk away.

I will absolve myself of responsibility for their feelings. I will let them be mad. Or sad. Or whatever else.

I will not bail them out of legal trouble.

I will not bail them out of any other kind of trouble or crisis.

I will no longer give this person second, third, fourth, fifth, hundredth chances they don't deserve.

I will accept that the situation is what it is, and I will stop trying to minimize or deny how bad it is.

I will accept that I cannot change or control them, and I will stop trying to do so.

I will find a sense of meaning, identity, and purpose outside of my relationship with them, or feeling "needed" or "wanted" by them, or anyone else.

I will let them face the consequences of their behavior, and I will absolve myself of responsibility for those consequences.

I will know and understand that I have done my best, and I cannot help someone who won't help themselves.

I will know that, no matter how much they may protest otherwise, I am not being selfish.

[ms-demeanor]

If you don't mind me asking, what happened with the nutrition stuff?

The only in-state school accepting nutrition students as a second bachelor's degree is 300 miles away from the place where I can both work and afford housing.

At this point my options are:

Move to the area with the school, which would require quitting my job (losing my insurance!) and probably taking out loans to afford housing.

Take out loans to go to a nearby private school.

Take out loans to go to an out of state program with online classes.

The second and third options would probably cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $100k, and the first option would cost less but would mean there was no possibility of me working to pay for rent or insurance while finishing the degree. I'm just not willing to take on that level of debt for a field that I'm deeply interested in but that doesn't appear to pay well enough to justify that kind of debt when I'm approaching my forties and don't know if I'd be physically able to get through the internship required for certification.

If a local state school ends up opening up their nutrition program to 2nd bachelor's students, I would jump on that immediately, but both programs I was looking at two years ago are no longer open for students in my situation.

So it has nothing to do with losing interest or not being able to keep up with the work, I just plain can't afford it and am unwilling to take that much of a risk.

The community college I'm looking at for the computer science program is a lot more technical than my current school, and has a nutrition certification that is a lot more comprehensive than the classes I've been able to take so far, so I may end up doing some nutrition stuff while I do the computer stuff too.

I had considered getting a nursing degree (because there are a bunch of local state schools with nursing programs open) and focusing on nutrition once I finished that, but I realized that I just don't have the level of interest in nursing that I would need to go that route. The only reason I'm still involved with either computer classes or nutrition classes is because I'm genuinely interested, and I get the feeling that if I tried to finish nursing school I'd waste a lot of time and money and bail out, or I'd finish and I'd hate my options.

So computers and a growing resentment for the US education system it is!

[syrupfog]

Law thinks he has it figured out. 

That scrawny kid who just wandered into the university’s yearly flu vaccine clinic Law was manning and just DECIDED that Law was his new best friend— Luffy, he said his name was. Monkey D. Luffy, as if anyone could take that name seriously.

Law thinks he’s figured it out, though. How Luffy CHOOSES the people he does, and adds them to his group. 

(not that Law is IN his group, absolutely not). 

Sanji’s the most obvious one. He’s INCREDIBLY useful, no one could deny that. He cooks obscene amounts of food for everyone.

Nami, too, feels like a given. She has CONNECTIONS, knows how to use them, keeps records and receipts and organizes all the parties that Luffy spontaneously seems to decide on. She’s the brains. 

Zoro Law struggled with at first, the man seems to just think about swords—

but seeing them out in public, Law realizes he’s like a human guard dog, leering over Luffy’s shoulder at anyone who disagrees. Chopper seems a little young— is the kid even in undergrad?— but he’s first aid trained and Law’s seen him put it to use on numerous occasions already.

Now Nico Robin— how on EARTH Luffy managed to make friends with the youngest tenured professor GLU has ever had is beyond Law, but she has connections in academia the way Nami does on the streets. Law would bet money that Robin’s the only reason Luffy is still enrolled.

Usopp’s an odd one, but he’s… well, funny might not be exactly the right word. Entertaining. And more importantly can fix anyone’s computer or phone within an hour. He adds weird features when he does, but his work is solid.

Franky is a GIVEN, he’s the one with the converted old double decker bus — Law didn’t think they even HAD those here — and auto garage. Luffy says the word and he’ll fix anyone’s car free of charge. It’s ridiculous what Luffy can get people to do.

Brook is also obvious. Most famous musician this side of the East Blue, how on EARTH did Luffy meet him? Regardless, the man’s surely a millionaire slumming it with the rest of them for the chance to play what he wants to play and be appreciated for it

Jinbei was confusing until Law learned how they met — that protest that Luffy (along with half his crew) were arrested at last semester. Professor Emeritus in the law department, he was once famous for organizing protests around campus, and eagerly bailed them all out.

So, Law’s figured it out. As much as Luffy SEEMS like a carefree brainless soul, he’s been strategic from the very first step, surrounding himself with everyone he needs to stay on top. He’s incredibly devious, honestly, Law’s almost intimidated.

He also knows that this means he doesn’t have a place among them. 

As much as he’s always planned on being a surgeon, things just don’t work out sometimes. Like when your adopted uncle frames your adopted father for tax fraud and make it look like HE’S a millionaire—

Meaning you suddenly end up with a dad in jail AND getting rejected for FAFSA. No money, no loans, one single scholarship that Law’s about to be dropped from. Sorry Luffy, you’re going to have to find a surgeon somewhere else. Chopper will be good enough, surely.

He tries to separate himself from Luffy, but that’s easier said than done, as Luffy sticks to him like glue when they’re in the same place. The man’s incorrigible, impossible, guileless, brazen… 

Law ends up yelling at him in the middle of a party thrown at Jinbei’s house.

Shouts that he’s dropping out, failing, not going to live up to whatever role Luffy’s recruited him to fill. Tells him to find another surgeon, they’re a dime a dozen on med campus anyway. Storms out before he does something dumb like tear up.

Oddly enough it’s Usopp who follows him. 

He sits down next to Law, looking stiff and uncomfortable, and declares that he “knows what Law’s going through”, which feels, well, patently untrue. 

“I did this like a year ago,” Usopp says. “Tried to tell him to drop me.”

They’re sitting on the curb. Law scrunches grass between his fingers and stares at the road. 

“I had a car,” Usopp says. “She was BEAUTIFUL. Best car you’ve ever seen. Two hundred miles to the gallon and ran on French fry grease.” 

Ah, this is one of those stories.

Usopp deflates. “Then she died,” he says. “We’d just met Franky and he told me she was beyond repair. Then he offered up that bus he has, replacing her before she was even in the ground yet! And like, I’m not going to say he was replacing ME, but like—“

Law nods. 

“It’s not like I had a lot going for me anyway,” Usopp says. “Not compared to Nami or Sanji or Chopper. I thought I was just lucky Luffy found me early, when his standards were lower.” He laughs, but there’s no joy behind it.

“Anyway,” he picks at the laces of his shoes. “That car’s at the bottom of a lake now, may she rest in peace. And after I tried to pull what you just pulled, Luffy really fucking let me have it.” He ducks his head. “Told me I was being fucking stupid, and he was right.”

He glances up at the sky and Law watches, a queasy feeling in the base of his stomach. 

“Turns out,” Usopp says after a long pause, “Luffy really does just choose people he likes.” He sighs. “You’re just lucky, actually, because I don’t think he’s liked anyone as much as you.”

Law grimaces. He doesn’t FEEL lucky. 

Usopp, taking his queue, stands up. “The sooner you admit what you’re dealing with, though, the more he’s able to help.” 

Then he leaves Law alone. 

And Law… finds he doesn’t want to BE alone.

He slinks back into the party maybe twenty minutes later. It’s chill. Brook is taking song requests. Sanji is handing out grilled halloumi. 

Luffy immediately walks up to him. “Why didn’t you TELL ME,” he asks, indignant. 

“What, that my life is a mess?”

“Everyone’s life is a mess, silly,” Luffy says. “But we can HELP, duh.” 

“I think even YOU can’t keep me from getting kicked out of GLU,” Law says. 

“No,” Luffy agrees. “But HE can.” 

He points to Jinbei, sitting at an old yellowed desktop computer in the corner.

“I have friends in the law department who haven’t retired yet,” Jinbei says. He has small spectacles perched on his nose. “They know people. Sending a few emails now.” 

Chopper walks up to the two of them, looking shy. “I can help you study,” he says. “N-not that you need it!”

Nico Robin comes over, cocktails in each hand, pushing one of them into his. “Student services is accommodating,” she says. “If you know who to ask.” 

“YOW!” Shouts Franky from the couch. “And I just hacked their system and changed your grades!” 

Law chokes on his drink.

“SEE?” Luffy huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s FINE. You freaked out for nothing!” 

Law squints at him. “And if it’s not fine, Luffy-ya? If none of this helps and I still fail out of school?” 

Luffy purses his lips. “Duh, then you can just come live with me.“

He looks incredibly petulant. “It’s not like I like you BECAUSE you’re a surgeon. I like you because I asked for two of every shot and you said I’d have to choose a fake name instead of telling me no!” 

Ah. He did do that, didn’t he.

“And anyway, *i* don’t have a degree and I’m fine!” 

“You’re GETTING one,” Law points out. 

Luffy looks at him like he’s lost it. “I attend classes because they’re fun,” he says. “I don’t even have a high school degree, I don’t care about that stuff.” 

…huh.

“Now come on,” Luffy says, wrapping small boney fingers around Law’s wrist. Zoro’s going to play snooker with me and I need you to watch to make sure he doesn’t cheat, because I don’t know the rules.” 

And Law follows him. 

And follows him. 

And follows him.

And when he starts his next semester with his dad out of jail because Jinbei’s connections are honestly a little scary, and when he doesn’t sleep for three days in a row during finals week, and when he gets into the exact fellowship he wants, working under Marco himself—

Law follows Luffy. 

Because nothing else makes sense. 

Law hasn’t figured Luffy out at all But he’s figured everyone else out. Understands the magnetism they’re all drawn to. 

And when he falls into bed with Luffy at the end of long days and weeks, He knows he’s the lucky one.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for giving my friend some Rules and charging him $ when he breaks them?

As usual, sounds crazy but stay with me here.

Me (40f) and J (35m) met about 2 years ago, briefly dated, and quickly figured out we were Just Friends. At the time he was looking for a new place to live, my landlord was looking to fill a vacancy in my building, now we're neighbors.

Last July I noticed he hadn't been home in a few days (his assigned parking is right next to mine). Not answering messages. Start to get worried. Search his name in the local jail, there he is. (Got pulled over for speeding and a past legal issue, that I knew about, was not resolved like he thought it was.) A clerical error had him stuck in jail for 10 days. Eventually bond gets set and I bail him out.

I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid: never loan what you can't afford to lose. The second that money left my pocket it was written off in my brain. He lost his job, he lost his vehicle. But to my complete surprise, he immediately called up an old boss and got a new job. Great! Now how to get there?

I have a M-F day job and my commute is a 3 minute walk. His new job is overnight at a C store. So it just made perfect sense for him to take my car to work. This worked great for a few months.

Then a few months ago he got a gf, it got serious real quick, she moved in with him, he changed jobs, and now the car situation is getting fucking complicated. I had no problem with him taking my car to work, he owes me money (which he has been paying) so him having a job is ideal.

But now he's using my car like it's his. I had to remind him that it's my fucking car, you're just supposed to be using it to get to work, ASK if you wanna use it for anything else. He apparently didn't get the memo cuz one day I came home early from work cuz I had a Dr appt and my car was not where it should be. Turns out he and his gf went shopping and I had to reschedule my appt. I was furious.

So I laid down some Rules: He puts gas in the car. He takes care of maintenance (oil change, car wash, wiper blades, etc.). But most importantly, if it is not going anywhere other than his or gf's job, HE HAS TO KEEP ME INFORMED. I made sure he understood that I was not keeping tabs on him, I just need to know where my car is in case, I dunno, he mysteriously disappears again.

I had already been keeping a paper record of every time he paid me some money back. So now I'm charging him $10 every time he breaks a rule. Yes, he agreed to this. I've had to do it a handful of times, and I tell him every time.

And before anyone asks: no, the gf is not a part of this problem. We get along great, we're all adults here. She knows everything you now know.

So, AITA for fining my friend when he breaks a rule?

What are these acronyms?

[robertreich]

Is Crypto Really Going To Crash? (Yes)

Crypto is going to crash and could take your savings with it.

In June 2022, Bitcoin dropped over 30 percent to its lowest values since December 2020, and Ethereum, the second-most valuable cryptocurrency, fell about 35 percent. TerraUSD, a so-called “stablecoin,” also collapsed when its underlying cryptocurrency LUNA lost 97 percent of its value in just 24 hours, apparently destroying some investors’ life savings. The implosion helped trigger a crypto meltdown that erased $300 billion in value across the market.

As cryptocurrency prices plummeted, Celsius Network — an experimental cryptocurrency lender — announced it was freezing withdrawals “due to extreme market conditions.”

These crypto crashes and freezes have fueled worries that the complex crypto banking and lending system is on the brink of ruin.

But this crash shouldn’t surprise anyone familiar with the industry – or anyone who remembers the financial crashes of 1929 and 2008.

Let me explain.

In the murky world of crypto decentralized finance, known as DeFi, it’s hard to understand who provides money for loans, where the money flows, or how easy it is to trigger currency meltdowns. 

There are no standards for issues of custody, risk management, or capital reserves. There are no transparency requirements. Investors often don’t know how their money is being handled. Deposits are not insured.

It’s a Ponzi scheme. Like all Ponzi schemes, getting rich depends on how many other investors follow you into it – until somebody’s left holding the worthless crypto coin.

Why isn’t this market regulated? Follow the money.

The crypto industry is pouring huge amounts into political campaigns. It has hired scores of former government officials and regulators to lobby on its behalf — including three former chairs of the Securities and Exchange Commission, three former chairs of the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, three former U.S. senators, and even former Treasury Secretary Larry Summers.

In the past, cryptocurrencies kept rising by attracting new investors and big Wall Street money, along with celebrity endorsements. But all Ponzi schemes topple eventually – just like the Wild West finances of the 1920s did.

Back then, Americans had been getting rich by speculating on shares of stock, as other investors followed them into these risky assets — pushing their values ever upwards. When the toppling occurred in 1929, it plunged the nation and the world into the Great Depression.

That crash resulted in the Glass-Steagall Act, signed into law by Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933. Glass-Steagall separated commercial banking from investment banking, putting an end to the giant Ponzi scheme that had overtaken the American economy and led to the Great Crash of 1929.

It took a full generation to forget that crash and allow the forces that caused it to repeat their havoc.

By the mid-1980s, as the stock market soared, speculators noticed they could make even more money if they gambled with other people’s money, as speculators did in the 1920s. They pushed Congress to deregulate Wall Street, arguing that the United States financial sector would otherwise lose its competitive standing internationally.

The final blow was in 1999, when the Clinton administration succumbed to intensive lobbying and ditched what remained of Glass-Steagall. With its repeal, American finance once again became a betting parlor.

Inevitably, Wall Street suffered another near-death experience when its Ponzi schemes began toppling in 2008, just as they had in 1929. While the U.S. government bailed out the biggest banks and financial institutions, millions of Americans lost their jobs, their savings, and their homes – but only a single banking executive went to jail. In the wake of the 2008 financial crisis, a new but watered-down version of Glass-Steagall was enacted — the Dodd-Frank Act.

Which brings us — nearly a century after Glass-Steagall — to today’s crypto crash.

If we should have learned anything from the crashes of 1929 and 2008, it’s that regulation of financial markets is essential. Otherwise they turn into Ponzi schemes — leaving small investors with nothing and endangering the entire economy.

It’s time for the Biden administration and Congress to end the crypto Ponzi scheme. In the meantime, share this video so your friends and family don’t fall for it.

[alex51324]

Please note that the civil fraud case is about him misrepresenting how wealthy he is, in order to get better rates on loans and insurance.

He is appealing, because of course he is, but he needs to put up the amount of the judgement in order to appeal; he would get it back if the appeal succeeded. The amount--it's called "disgorgement"--is based on what he is estimated to have fraudulently obtained.

In other words, the amount of money he got, by claiming to be wealthy, is an amount that he now can neither cough up, nor get anybody to lend to him. It's not just that he doesn't have the full $464 million in cash/liquid assets: he doesn't have enough to put up to get the loan*.

According to his own attorneys, he has approached 30 underwriters in an effort to secure a loan. None of them are interested in securing this loan with real estate or other non-liquid assets**.

So now he's asking the court to cut him a break, so that he can appeal the ruling. You know, the ruling saying that he lied about being rich, in order to fraudulently obtain loans. Because he doesn't have the money, and can't find anyone willing to believe him when he says he's good for it.

He's asking them to let him appeal without putting up the bond, so he can go back to court and prove that he really is rich and has no need to defraud anyone to get a loan.

(*No idea what they're asking in terms of collateral, but for reference, if you are a common criminal putting up a bond to get out of jail before trial, the bail bondsman usually asks 10% of the bond amount.)

(**Gee, I wonder why?)

[theehorsepusssy]

Can we be frens

Sure. But I gotta warn you I don't loan bail money or give birthday presents or answer texts or help you move or anything like that

[theboywithburninghands]

SURPRISE! Two chapters in one day, whaaaaat. Okay so the truth is I had the last part finished in full, but man this is the part I have been WAITING for, man, you have no idea. Uh all credit to @rottentricks of course for this AU, but yeah! Here’s the second part of this behemoth of a chapter. Oh, but warning. It’s violent. Like, quite violent. But sweet.

T/W: Violence, gore, mucus, medical gore, fantasy racism

Animals Ch. 3: Sheep Part 2

Now things are really what they seem

No, this is no bad dream!

—

Zooble and Pomni arrived outside Kaufmo’s house. It was, thankfully, unguarded. The cops really must have been stretched to the limit quelling the protests downtown. Zooble hopped off of ZigZag and tied her off on the nearby fence, taking an apple out of her bag as a reward for her hard work today. She even got an extra apple, hopefully to curb her appetite enough so she wouldn’t eat any of the neighbor’s lawns.

“You be good now, okay, princess?” Zooble said, touching faces with ZigZag. The horse gave a content snort. Pomni hopped off the horse, a little less clumsily this time.

“Alright. So we go looking for clues. We don’t take anything, just make some notes. We should keep our gloves on just in case-”

“‘We?’” Zooble tilted their cowboy hat up. “Nah, I think ya meant you. This was your idea, so you’re taking the initiative. I thought about it on the way over, I’m not risking a B&E charge.”

Pomni frowned. “I thought you said Jax was your best friend. You’re not willing to risk it all for him?”

“Watch it, city girl,” Zooble warned, pointing their hook at Pomni. “The guilt trip card won’t work with me. Don’t forget, you’re a pretty young lady with rich parents who can bail you outta trouble. Me? I’m the weirdo that’s friends with The Autumnvale Cannibal. Cops’ll take one look at me and clap me in cuffs.”

Pomni glared at Zooble for a moment, but her expression softened. They did have a point, given how prejudiced the cops were around here. Still, it wasn’t quite that easy…

“I’m not here for fun, I’m trying to help your friend. My scholarship is at stake if I get caught, so I’ll have to go back home to my family and explain how I lost the one chance to get my MFA.”

Pomni looked down at the snow. “And my parents aren’t that rich… I took out huge loans to get through college, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the assistantship money.”

Zooble looked at Pomni for a long while. Their breath steamed in a consistent pattern, like a machine.

“Can you… can you stop looking at me like that?” Pomni murmured, shrinking her neck down until her chin sat between her shoulders.

“Alright. Here’s my offer. You go in and do what you gotta do. I’ll keep watch out here.”

“Okay. Is there a way you can signal me discreetly if someone is coming?” Pomni asked.

“I’ll have ZigZag whinny.” Zooble replied, petting their horse’s nose gently.

“You…trained her to do that?”

Zooble looked at Pomni, a star of pride in their eyes. “She knows a lot of tricks. Now get going, we’re wasting time.”

Pomni nodded, approaching Kaufmo’s front door. He lived in a condo, one of those situations where a big house was divided into two separate living spaces. Zooble told her Kaufmo lived on the bottom floor, #7. She tried the handle and it didn’t budge. Nah, she couldn’t be that lucky. She glanced around on the front stoop. If she was a little lucky, she might be able to find a hide-a-key. She checked below the welcome mat that read “Definitely Not a Crack House”, then noticed a collection of smooth rocks stacked in a little cairn in the corner. Pomni picked up a few of them, until one on the bottom rattled.

Bingo.

She popped the top of the fake rock open and a key dropped into her gloved palm. She gave a thumbs up to Zooble, who discreetly tipped their hat in response. Pomni slid the key into the door and opened it. She then carefully replaced the key and the fake rock, going inside the anteroom and locking the door behind her.

A set of wooden stairs led up to #8. To her right was the door to #7, which she gingerly attempted to open. It clicked open with no problem.

Kaufmo’s condo wasn’t much. A big hardwood room made up most of the living space, divided into a living room, granite top kitchen and hallway leading into the back of the condo, presumably the bathroom and bedroom.

Pomni took a careful look around. A few gossip magazines on the coffee table, dirty dishes from a days old meal sitting in the sink, the food now caked on and probably in need of a scrub with steel wool. Pretty normal stuff. Altogether pretty clean for a guy that had serious depression. He had a monstera deliciosa in a terracotta pot by the couch that was turning somewhat brown, in desperate need of water. Pomni thought about giving it a quick drink from the kitchen faucet, but remembered she was trespassing and thought not. She moved into the back of the condo.

The bathroom was a little cluttered and the sink had a lot of toothpaste stains on the marble, but it was also relatively clean. She opened the mirror cabinet and found a ton of pills. Zoloft, Escitalopram, Prozac, Xanax, Lithium… yeesh, this guy tried everything. There were some she had never even heard of before. What in the hell was “hydroxizine?” Hm.

She looked down at the toilet and saw it was clogged. The water nearly reached the top of the bowl. Someone might have flushed something they shouldn’t have down there… that, or she was about to make a very bad and very gross mistake. She picked up the plunger sitting beside the toilet, your classic wooden handle and pink rubber affair, and stuck it into the water. After only two or three pushes, she lifted up the plunger, bracing herself for the worst.

Pills. Dozens of waterlogged and half dissolved pills of different shapes and colors floated out onto the surface of the water. Some were plain green circular tablets, some were capsules divided into blue and orange halves, some were bright pink like Benadryl.

Kaufmo appeared to have a full stock of pills in his medicine cabinet, and another full stock of them dumped into his toilet.

Her eye caught something else in the toilet water. Something black and charred. Burnt paper? Something was burned and flushed down the toilet along with a whole pharmacy’s worth of pills. It was impossible to tell what the document was since it was scorched black and mostly dissolved by the water. The toilet, its throat now clear, slurped the refuse down the drain with a sloppy gurgle. The tank began to refill with a long sigh of relief.

Pomni set the plunger back down and closed the lid of the toilet. A clue? Perhaps. But who could-

From outside, ZigZag whinnied.

Pomni’s heart leapt into her throat as she heard cars pull up outside. A large black pick-up and a black van, both with an official looking red, yellow and blue seal on the side. Oh God. Nononono.

She looked around for an exit. The front door was out of the question, but was there a back door? No, she hadn't seen one! Didn’t that violate some kind of fire code?!

A few people in matching blue uniforms exited the vehicles. One of them, a burly blonde woman with a strong jaw, approached Zooble while the others, two men and a bull, came up to the door. She had to find an escape route, or a hiding spot, or-

Window. There was a window! At the end of the hallway, there was a sliding window!

She pulled apart the sunbleached maroon curtains and hurriedly turned the window lock. It had rarely been used and stuck fast, so Pomni had to give it a vicious, adrenaline-charged crank to open it. It finally squealed open with a weak sprinkle of taupe paint chips all over the sill. She grinded the window along its track, feeling a puff of wintry air as she heard boots in the anteroom.

“Alright, you know the drill, guys. Heavy stuff in the van first, bed, couch, tables, tv-”

Pomni climbed and leapt out the window without looking, her purse snagging on the sill and popping open. She fell about six feet and landed on her ass with a thud in the shared backyard, her stuff strewn about everywhere around her.

“Oh, snap. Hey, Cliff. Window’s open. Someone mighta broke in.” a voice said from above her.

“Aw, shit. Someone better tell Charlene. You see anyone down there?”

Pomni scrabbled about, grabbing everything she could that had fallen out of her purse, pencils, bottles of Advil and pads, a notebook for quick sketches, her wallet… she cradled them all and hurried over to the side of the house. Luck threw her another bone, as a strong pine tree had been growing in the backyard for who knows how long. Its branches kept too much snow from falling onto the grass, so there wasn’t quite enough on the ground for her to leave bootprints. She made it around the side of the house, pressing herself against the bricks and panting hard, sending up steam in long jets. She covered her mouth.

“Nah, I don’t see anybody.” someone just out of sight said from the window.

“You think the dude just left his window open?” another voice asked.

“Nah, if he did there’d be snow on the ground in here. Someone prolly climbed in from back here.”

Pomni hurriedly stuffed her belongings back into her purse and crept around the edge of the house. She peered around the corner.

Zooble and the blonde woman were still talking. She couldn’t run out there now, they would immediately figure out what was going on. Pomni took a look at the logo on their vehicles.

TRUSTED REPOSSESSION SOLUTIONS

(TRS)

Repo men. They were just repo men… not the cops. Still, not good. The cops were just one call away, and didn’t repo men work for the government..? One of the men exited the house and said something to the blonde woman, who looked at Zooble with narrowed eyes.

“Case the whole place, make sure nothing’s missing. Thanks, Tyler.” the woman put her hands on her wide hips. “You mind opening your saddlebags?” she said to Zooble.

“Not at all,” Zooble replied.

Zooble opened their bags and took out everything. In one bag, apples and carrots in a Tupperware container and a few road flares. In the other, a bouquet of flowers still wrapped up in shiny plastic and a pretty pink satin ribbon, a few tools for leatherwork, and a bottle of huge pills, presumably for ZigZag.

“What are these for?” the repo woman said.

“I told you, I’m here to pay my respects.” Zooble said. They took the bouquet and laid it in front of Kaufmo’s mailbox.

The Bull repo man lumbered out onto the porch. Pomni only knew it was him since she saw a single long white horn from her hiding place.

“Hey, Charlene, we checked the whole place. Nothing’s missing.” he grunted.

“Nothing’s missing? Really? You checked everything?” the repo lady asked.

“Yup. Tv, desktop, loose change, drugs, it’s all still there. The only thing is… it looks like someone might have used the bathroom.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“It looks like someone might have used the bathroom.” she echoed.

“Yup.” the Bull said.

The repo woman looked off to the side for a minute. She then turned back to Zooble. “Okay. Uh, I guess you’re free to go.”

“Toldja I wasn’t up to anything.” Zooble drawled.

“Nope, I was wrong. Looks like you were just the victim of some bad timing and a crackhead that needed to pee.” the woman said. She looked as though she had never expected to say those words in that order.

“Should we check for anything that got stolen out back, boss?” the bull asked.

Noooo nonono please no…

“Uh….. nah. He didn’t have a grill or anything listed in the inventory.”

Pomni sighed deeply.

Zooble climbed up onto ZigZag. “Good luck with everything, Miss.” They gently flicked ZigZags reins and headed off down the road. The repo woman went into her truck with a clipboard and paper and went inside.

Once they got far enough down the street to see Pomni hidden beside the house, they locked eyes with her. Pomni motioned them to move along. It would still look incredibly suspicious if she suddenly ran around the side of the house and jumped onto Zooble’s horse. Zooble gave the faintest of nods and continued on.

Pomni remained pinned to the side of the house for a good 45 minutes. She couldn’t just run away, it needed to look like she was just a pedestrian… just another passerby on her way, tra la la. It needed to be perfect. She waited until the entire repo team was inside, apparently working on getting the bed frame out of the house, and then she dashed up the hill. She made it to the sidewalk unnoticed, and, just to cover her tracks some more, she walked in the opposite direction of Zooble.

The adrenaline had worn off, and she felt cold to her bones. Standing still for that long in snowy weather was NOT a good time. She sneezed into her sleeve.

“Bless you,” one of the repo men said, carrying out the mattress down the porch steps with his team.

“Thanks,” Pomni replied, sniffling and continuing on in that direction. She didn’t stop moving until she was well out of sight, turning the corner and leaning against a street sign, letting out a long, relieved sigh. She enjoyed the cold sunlight for a few moments before continuing on.

—

Pomni’s watch read 6:07 by the time she had reached the café. Where had the time gone..? She’d gotten up around 12:45, it took her around twenty minutes to get ready, the ride to town with Zooble was another twenty minutes, she ate half her brunch and left with Zooble around 2:30, another twenty minute ride to get to Kaufmo’s house, about an hour spent looking around the house and pinned down by the repo men, and her walk back to town was almost another two hours since she had to find her way through the town streets on foot. It wasn’t a big town, true, but the freezing single digit gusts and heavy snow on the ground slowed her down considerably… 7 would be soon, which was when you absolutely needed to be inside, although it was really recommended you be behind a drop barred door around 6:30, as cloudy or moonless nights make it so some extra hungry Nightwalkers were emboldened to start their hunt a little early. The sky was covered in snow clouds the entire day, so it would be a darker night faster.

Pomni coughed raggedly. Her throat felt raw, her face hurt from chilblains, her lungs felt clotted, and she was exhausted. She had found something resembling two clues, but nothing that incriminated anyone else. All she had really gotten was a nasty oncoming cold.

She arrived at the cafe doors to find them closed and the lights off. Ragatha went home to beat the sunset. It was expected, she had the good sense to not risk his own life. But man… she’d been hoping to warm up at least a bit before the long walk home.

She trudged home. The sky was turning a pleasant shade of pink. Would have been more pleasant had she not been freezing her ass off. She just wanted to lay in bed by the radiator. It had been an awful day.

Zooble was right. She was just a stupid city girl. The college was paying her to draw fucking pictures, for God’s sake. What the hell could she accomplish out here?! She was wasting everyone’s time… her parents and the townsfolk’s. And her own.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment, slowly. As she arrived at her door, she leaned against it let out a protracted sigh, followed by a nasty cough. She leaned over the railing and spat the gunk she coughed up out onto the snow.

She heard something. Was her phone ringing? She pressed an ear to the cold door. Yeah, her phone was ringing. Probably her parents. Great. She opened her purse to get her keys, content taking her time and letting it go straight to voicemail. She didn’t want to talk right now, or do much of anything right now.

Her keys weren’t in her purse.

“Huh..?”

She patted her puffer jacket’s pockets and her fleece. Empty. What the hell, what had happened to-?!

Oh god.

When she jumped out the window. Her purse opened. Her keys must have fallen out. They were miles away, buried under snow, and the sun was setting.

“Oh no… no… no God, no, NO!”

Pomni hurried to the stairs. Okay, calm down. Calm down! if she sprinted across town, she might be able to make it back to Kaufmo’s house in time to grab her keys. They were probably right under the window where she fell, blending in with the grass or an errant drift of snow. She would just run, run like her life depended on it, which it did! All she had to-

When her boot hit the second step, she slipped.

Her stomach squeezed itself into a ball and she let out a shriek, falling sideways. Her right arm slammed into the stairs, blocking any blunt force trauma to her ribs but in turn ripping open the skin under her coat. Her forehead scraped the freezing concrete and her beanie fell off as she rolled over twice, the sharp edges of the stairs narrowly missing her spine but in turn slicing her back as she rolled out onto the snow.

Pomni laid there for a moment. Slowly, she let out a long, pained, howl. Pain bloomed fiery red on her right arm, her forehead, and her back. She felt sticky hot blood weeping out of her forehead, sticking to her bangs and nearly getting in her eyes.

She tried moving her hurt arm. It wasn’t broken but it flared with pain the moment she moved it. Even with her body going numb from the snow, it hurt in the same burning hot way rope burn or road rash felt, like it would never go away and that all your nerves had been grated off and screamed together in agony. She feebly rolled onto her hands and knees, blood dripping from her head in dark beads onto the snow. She felt tears spill out of her eyes and snot run out of her nose.

There was a sound beside her. She looked. She stopped crying.

A beast laid not 20 feet away from her. It was almost completely camouflaged by the darkness save for a pair of white, foglike eyes, teardrop shaped and running the entire length of its bulky, Bull terrier-like skull. Its body was slim, almost disproportionately so to its head, with long, curved legs and hooved feet. It looked at Pomni with tranquil hunger. Upon Pomni making eye contact with it, the Nightwalker rose to its feet, padded silently over to the girl, and sank its teeth into her side.

Pomni let out a scream, shock having melted away into primal terror as the Nightwalker bit into her torso. Her multiple layers only halted the blunter of its teeth, its two front canines cutting through the fabric like garden shears and plunging into her belly. Pomni drove her fists into the Nightwalker’s head, the creature hanging on, nonplussed. It attempted a deeper bite only for Pomni kick it hard in one of its legs, causing it to stumble onto the snow and let go for a moment. Threads of white polyester clung to its bloody fangs. Pomni scrabbled backwards, her body being practically unable to process the level of pain it was currently in. If she could stand up, she would have just fallen right back down as her legs felt boneless. She was dead. She was going to die.

The creature licked its chops free of blood and fluff before padding its way towards Pomni, in no particular rush. It made no sound as it attacked, not even a growl of effort or surprise at being knocked down. It was as unfeeling as the blackest, coldest winter night. And it wasn’t done with her yet, no sir.

Something glinted in the air. The Nightwalker froze as a wet shluck sound cut through the snowy wind. It stumbled over, twitching and confused, unaware of why it suddenly had such an awful pain in its side.

A butcher’s knife was buried up to the handle in its hairless black abdomen. Pomni screamed again as an enormous beast on two legs thundered through the snow at them, eyes glowing with yellow moon malice. The Nightwalker opened its maw in feeble resistance as the beast skidded over to it, grabbing the knife and pulling it all the way down across its belly, steaming black entrails shlorping onto the snow as its skin and muscle were peeled away by hairy paws. The Nightwalker dropped its head onto the snow, its eyes dimming like a dying lightbulb. Dead.

Pomni felt her consciousness fading as well. Soon, the beast would fall onto her too, digging into the wound in her side with its paws and ripping her open like a gory birthday present. The last thing she saw before everything went black was that horrible pair of yellow eyes, looking down at her, furious, hungry…

…concerned?

—

Autumnvale had it out for Jax since he was a baby. Nothing in life was ever just given to him, he had to take it. He had to chew off the hands that abused him, and if that meant losing any chance at going to school with “normal kids,” fine by him. He only liked his parents and Zooble anyway. Everyone else thought he was a freak and a monster.

So that’s exactly what they got once he reached adulthood. Jax played into the monster persona, snapping his daggerlike teeth at anyone that came too close, enjoying his meat bloody and raw and sometimes live in front of horrified socialites, hiding in dark corners so his piercing, lupine eyes glinted at passerby and terrified them about walking the town’s streets at night. He didn’t try to act pleasant, because that got him nothing. Just frightened looks at best, slurs and insults at worst. At least being a monster made people leave him the fuck alone.

So it was no surprise, really, that someone in town decided it was time to put him away for good. Even if he hadn’t done anything wrong, the faintest whiff of trouble on his part would cause the cops to jump on him like a pouncing tiger. Cut out the benign tumor before it ruptured and becomes malignant. It was a clever little trick, using one of his knives to cut Kaufmo’s arms. Probably didn’t even need to actually kill Kaufmo, someone probably just found him in the tree and slit his arms open. Any excuse to get Big, Bad Jax off the street.

What was a surprise, however, was when the Sheriff came to his cell late that evening. Posturing little twerp that he was, the Sheriff liked to make himself look like a tough guy by wearing shades and a cowboy hat. It made Jax snort derisively every time he saw him. “Lookee me, mommy! I’m a big boy in a big hat!”

The Sheriff looked the color of sour milk, and his hands shook as he fumbled with his keyring to open the door to Jax’s cell.

“What’s the occasion? You wanna play with the bunny, copper?~” Jax purred, showing off his fangs.

The Sheriff opened the door, stepping back and quaking with either rage or fear or a concoction of both.

“Your bail’s been posted, Kingston. You’re free to go.”

Jax’s smile fell. “Someone paid half a million? On me?”

“That’s what I just said, now get outta here. We’ll return your belongings up front.” The Sheriff barked.

Jax didn’t move. The sheriff smacked his nightstick against the bars.

“Get going! I’m tired of looking at your ugly face!”

Jax thought it was a joke, a pretty predictable one too, but, against all common sense… it wasn’t. Someone anonymous had posted his bail, and he was soon up front of the police station, getting all of his belongings back and signing release papers. He didn’t have much on him when those dick-swinging big city detectives rolled up to arrest him, just a knife he was using to make beef pork chops and his keys. The cops undid his handcuffs and he was led outside.

It was around 6:15, so that crowd that had been yelling about letting him go all day had been sent away to avoid the Nightwalkers. Thank god. All those people cheering for him would have made him berserk. Even his dad wasn’t waiting for him, but he didn’t hold it against him. He was getting up there in age, and Nightwalkers could probably make quick work of him now. Maybe the cops just… didn't tell anyone he was getting out tonight. That wouldn’t surprise him. Jax took a long, deep breath, savoring the fresh, cold night air, before tucking his hands in his pockets and heading down the road out of town.

He had only one stop to make before he went home. That girl he met just before the gumshoes showed up. What was her name? She either didn’t tell him or only told him once. He remembered where she said she was staying. That teeny little apartment on the edge of town. He wanted to pay her a visit.

She intrigued him. She was one of the few people that wasn’t terrified of him right off the bat. He wanted to at least say thank you in person for sticking up for him like that. Zooble would’ve done the same, but they had been friends for two decades. The Girl only met him for a few minutes and wanted to help him. He wondered what it could have been?

Perhaps she was intrigued by him too.

It wasn’t until he got about halfway up the road by the farms, the sunlight gradually fading out from pink, that he heard a high pitched scream. He normally wouldn’t care about some idiot staying out past curfew ‘cause they thought they were invincible. But he only knew of one person who lived out in the boonies like this who might get caught by a Nightwalker.

He ran, pulling his knife out of his pocket, towards the noise.

—

Jax carried The Girl on his shoulder, moving as quickly as his legs could carry him. He knew there would be more Nightwalkers. There were always more Nightwalkers. But, he knew this town like he knew meat; exactly where to cut through.

At the end of the road, he slid down into the gully where Snapfinger Creek ran. There was nowhere for any of those things to hide down here, and if you were fast enough, which he was, it shaved off about ten minutes of time you might waste taking the main road. The water was soaking his boots, yet he kept on moving. His fur would delay the onset of chilblains long enough for him to get home and warm up. More importantly, so she could warm up.

The Girl was conscious, but barely. Her body trembled, presumably both from shock and from cold. She didn’t have any broken bones, but there were some nasty scrapes on her arm, her head and her back, and the Nightwalker took one hell of a bite out of her side. He could smell the blood. They normally went right for the head with those big-ass mouths of theirs… she got lucky for getting so unbelievably unlucky.

Soon enough, he reached the end of the creek at Snapfinger Creek Bridge, clambering up the hillside and onto the bridge. He sniffed, testing the air for the smell of blood and dark.

Nothing. Just The Girl’s wounds. She was sticky against his shirt. Normally the scent of blood made him hungry, since it meant fresh meat, ready for the cooking. Right now, it just made him scared.

He went back to running, keeping his eyes peeled at all times. Full dark had only just fallen, so The Nightwalkers probably hadn’t had the chance to group up in their little herds. Good. If The Girl had been out around ten or eleven, they all would have pulled her apart like a chicken wing.

He eventually saw the worn-out old roof of his barn, his animals would need food… But they could wait. They had some leftover food in their troughs, The Girl needed to be patched up or she would die. He hurried across his pasture, plunging his hand into his pocket and pulling out his ring of keys. Propping The Girl against his shoulder and holding her fast with his chin, he found his house key whilst moving. He felt hard-packed dirt under his boots, and knew he had found the path to his house. It had snowed a good deal, but not enough to completely hide the earth beneath it. He came up to his door, unlocking it swiftly, slipping inside and slamming the door shut, pulling down the drop bar.

He flicked on the lights. His house was only a touch warmer than the outside due to him not running the furnace for nearly two days. Warmth could wait, wounds needed sealing now.

The hospital was the better choice if he wanted The Girl to live, but it was a much longer trip, which meant more time for the Nightwalkers to come out. He was tough, yes, but he wasn’t tough enough for a herd of them. And it would just delay The Girl getting help long enough for her to bleed to death. He held The Girl under his chin again and pulled a blanket out from the trunk at the foot of his bed, one that had become weathered and a little smelly over the years. It was white with blue and black stripes, he couldn’t even remember why he had it. No love lost if The Girl bled all over it.

He flipped it open and laid it out on the floor, gently laying The Girl down on the blanket, supporting her head as he did so. Her mouth hung open and she trembled. Her chest rose and fell. Her puffer coat had a massive hole in the side with polyester wisping out of it, her hat was missing, and the white fleece she wore was soaked and scarlet.

“Okay… I’m doing this so you live.” he said to her. He undid her jacket and fleece, leaving her in just a torn open black shirt and snow pants. He gulped and gingerly lifted the shirt off of her belly, it clinging to her body before peeling itself free. She had a large set of bite marks in a sideways “U” shape along her side. Nightwalkers only really punctured with their top teeth, the bottom more used to hold prey in place so they could drink their blood. Most of the top teeth only scraped The Girl’s skin, but the canines got her good. They left deep punctures on her belly. It hadn’t gotten through her stomach lining, thank god, the sepsis that would cause would have been hellish agony for The Girl. Lines of blood and pinkish pus oozed from the punctures, and these were clearly her biggest predicament at the moment.

“Clean them and patch them. Then she’ll be okay.” Jax said to himself. He went to his bathroom and grabbed his first aid kit and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. It was half empty and hadn’t been used in maybe a year. But it was still alcohol. He found a washcloth, a clean one, and doused it in the alcohol.

“Okay. Sorry in advance.”

He gently swabbed the cloth in the deepest punctures, scooping out blood and pus. The Girl let out a burbly cry and convulsed, Jax touching her gently on the side of the face.

“Shhhhhshshsh, I gotcha I gotcha I gotcha, I’m makin’ it better…” Jax crooned. The toothmark he cleaned out was a clean pink for a moment before it bloomed red with fresh blood. That was good, all the infection was out and now the body was working to patch itself up. He found some gauze and gently packed it into the wound, The Girl mewling in the back of her throat.

“Shhhhhh, I know, I know… I know it hurts, but I’m makin’ it better…”

He covered the packed wound with one of those big fat square bandages. Now onto the next one. He rinsed the washcloth free of blood and discharge in his bathroom sink, wrung it out, rinsed it again, wrung it and reapplied more alcohol.

“Okay, here we go… last big one.” Jax said as he came back to The Girl. He gently scooped the wound clean. This time her eyes opened and she gasped sharply.

“Hhhurting me…!” she slurred.

“I know, but I have to, I’m cleaning your bite… you’re lucky to be alive…”

Jax startled himself at how soft and delicate he made his growl of a voice sound. Did he really care all that much about this girl..?

“Where’m I…” the girl slurred, her voice frail.

“My house. Do you remember me? I’m Jax.”

It probably wasn’t a good idea to mention that he was the town butcher, as in her delirium, The Girl might think he meant that he was going to butcher her.

“Jax…?” she mumbled.

“Yeah. Jax Kingston. What about you?” he asked. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember that if she had already told him.

“Pom… Pomni… aren’t you s’posed t’be arrested.. ooooowwwww…”

She let out a moan of pain as Jax packed the other wound with gauze.

“Pomni. Sorry, that’s the last one, I promise.” he soothed, putting another big bandage over it.

Pomni coughed hideously, clutching at her stomach in pain.

“Hurts so much… cold…”

“Okay. I can fix the cold part at least. Just let me-”

“C-C-Cold… please no more…”

Alright. The biggest wounds were patched up, she was freezing. He scooped her up, leaving his medical supplies behind, and went over to his bed. He wrapped her up in his quilt, only her head being visible. He let her lay swaddled for a bit as he got a fire going in his hearth. He hadn’t gotten too much new firewood, but it burned okay. He picked her up again, unwrapping her from the blanket and putting it around both of them, making sure she was close to him. She really was freezing, any longer out there and she might have gotten hypothermia…

He sat in front of the fire, her in his lap. She laid against him, shivering. Eventually, the shivering became less severe. The warmth of the fire and his fur was finally starting to work.

She coughed again and whimpered with pain. Jax ever so slightly tightened his grip.

“I gotcha.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I gotcha…” He felt a peculiar warmth in his chest, not just from her gradually returning body heat. He kept wanting to tell her that he had her, that she was safe. Even if she didn’t answer back.

Tomorrow he would take her to the hospital where she could get real help. But right now.

He had her. She was safe.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

If you feel like doing it, could you explain this story about de Middleton's debt? I have read contradicting versions

No, the Middletons are not public figures. Not my lane.

Any time you sell something (a property, a house, a car, a company), the loans and liens are paid off first before the seller sees any money. So if the Middletons had debt when they sold Party Pieces last year, the creditors would have taken their money first before Mike and Carole saw any money go into their pocket. So from the point of sale, any new debt incurred by Party Pieces belongs to the new owners. The Middletons are out of it; they no longer own the company, their creditors are paid, their hands are clean.

It’s like when you buy a house or a car. You don’t buy/inherit the seller’s loans. Your money pays off their loans first before the seller sees any in-your-pocket profit.

This new $300K debt everyone is suddenly talking about is debt that belongs to the new owners. But the new owners aren’t Middletons, they’re nobodies, so it’s not worth reporting on. But remind everyone Party Pieces used to be Kate Middleton’s parents’ company and make people think the Middletons are still in it, now you’ve got a story. It’s clickbait and they’re doing it because the Waleses aren’t giving them content.

(I haven’t done any research or looked up what’s happening with Party Pieces so if this is the wrong understanding, then it is what it is. Mike and Carole aren’t public figures, and Party Pieces is a private company, so I don’t see the point in covering them or critiquing them. Now if Party Pieces was Kate’s company or the Royal Foundation bailed them out, then yeah. I’d be all over it like I am with Roop/ARO. But it’s not. So I don’t care and neither should anyone else.)

[howlinchickhowl]

It's coffeeshop day! I couldn't possibly miss coffeeshop day. I want you to know I am absolutely working on the next full chapter of Ristretto, but for today's a.u.gust prompt I thought it would be fun to do a little switcheroo, so here is a little Ristretto Mickey POV for while you wait. @gallavichthings as always, thank you :)

edited to add a link for Ristretto, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, this is my coffeeshop au I am already writing! So if you like this little sojourn, you can go read that as well.

Thank you for the extra foam eleven - coffeeshop

Fucking Iggy. Mickey thinks to himself as he barrels down the street, uncaring about the slow moving pedestrians he bumps on the way. Stupid fucking idiot.

They talked about this shit. Last week they talked about this shit. Him and Ig and Mandy they’d sat down at the shitty kitchen table they’d rescued from a dumpster and talked about how things were gonna be. They’d laid it all out, they’d all agreed, they were done with it, the life they’d been raised to lead, drugs and guns and fights and prison and parole and dying shitty violent deaths at the hand of shitty violent assholes who claimed they were your friends.

They were done with it. All three of them. Colin too when he gets out of jail if he wants. They were supposed to be going straight. So why the fuck was he now spending his afternoon scrambling around everywhere he can think of to put together fucking bail money? Because Iggy was a stupid fucking idiot. That much has always been true and Mickey was just as much of an idiot to think that that might have changed.

He’s been to Sandy’s and hit up his buddy Greg at the home, but he’s still a hundred and fifty bucks short and Mandy’s not answering her phone, so now he’s about to do something he and Iggy both had been expressly forbidden to do and visit her at work.

He’s so worked up he pushes the door so hard that it almost bounces off its hinges, and he locks eyes with Mandy almost immediately. Her face is like thunder and she storms over to him like she’s about to pitch a fit. Well she’s not the only fucking one.

“What?” She demands when she reaches him, not quite a whisper but definitely not the volume that he knows she’d be using if they weren’t at her job right now. She looks back over her shoulder at her co-worker, a tall red-head who is clearly watching them and clearly trying not to look like he’s watching them. Mandy grabs him and shoves him out of the way of the door, a little further from the counter, and he gets that she’s not happy to see him but none of this is his fucking fault and he doesn’t appreciate being manhandled.

“You’re not supposed to come here.” She says through gritted teeth, like he doesn’t already know she doesn’t want their family anywhere near her first real on the level employment.

“Yeah no shit Mandy, I look like I wanna be here? Answer your fuckin’ phone in future.”

“I’m not supposed to have my phone out here shitbrain, what the fuck is so important?”

They’ve gotten a bit louder, the heat of their words burning away at their control, but shooting a look back towards the counter he makes a conscious effort to lower his voice again. He’s got to be here but he doesn’t have to let everyone know they got jailbirds in the family.

“Iggy got himself a fuckin’ assault charge and I ain’t got enough for bail.”

“What the fuck Mick?!” Mandy casts furtive glances all around her and leans in closer to him, “Who’d he assault?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, just some bar fight or somethin’, it’s not serious, but because of his record and his last name they’re holdin’ him.”

“Fucking assholes. How much you need?”

It’s a lot, and he hates that he couldn’t put it together. A year ago, he could’ve, easy. That’s barely a morning’s worth of hand-jobs at the rub and tug and even without the actual jobs he could’ve just asked Sasha for a quick loan. Now they’ve gone straight it’s a lot harder to find any serious amount of ready money. He winces.

“Another one-fifty-two.”

“What am I, a stripper? I don’t carry that much cash Mickey!”

“I don’t know what you do, just give me whatever you’ve got and don’t be a fucking bitch about it alright? This is ruining my day just as much as it is yours.”

She heaves a huge great sigh and stomps off behind the counter into whatever staff room they have back there and Mickey is just stood there like a spare prick at a picnic waiting for her to come back.

He locks eyes with the redhead, who is watching him anxiously from his spot behind the counter. Mickey’s not stupid, he knows what people’s first impression of him usually is, he worked hard for that first impression when he was growing up, doing his best to intimidate anyone he ever came into contact with.

It bothers him sometimes, that he worked so hard on it that now he freaks people out without even trying, but today he’s got other shit on his mind and he doesn’t much care if some guy Mandy shills coffee with thinks he’s bad news. He crosses his arms across his chest and stares the guy down, daring him to say something, knowing that he never will.

He’s kind of hot, Mickey realizes while he’s standing there, even if he is a pussy. There’s the hair, for one thing, Mickey’s always kind of had a thing for a redhead, plus he’s built, in a lean kind of way, and his face is like, not unpleasant to look at. And because he learned growing up that if you find something pleasant to look at you shouldn’t look at it for too long, he cuts eye contact and looks away.

Mandy marches back out into the store with a wad of cash and her ratty Sun Times tote bag that she shoves in his hands with a pissed off,

“There.”

The cash he gets, he’s grateful for, it looks like maybe sixty bucks,  the tote bag though, he doesn’t know what to do with. He shakes it at her for emphasis.

“What’s this for?”

“My card wallet is in there, get whatever cash there is out of the ATM, I don’t even know what I’ve got in there right now. And there’s a MAC palette I’m selling to Scheana, you know Scheana with the pinkeye?” Yeah, he fuckin’ knows Scheana, dirty fuckin’ skank always trying to come on to him and eating all his pizza rolls.  “She lives on Harper, you’ll get forty for that.”

“The fuck’s a MAC palette?”

“It’s fucking eyeshadow dickwad.”

She shoves him, hard in the shoulder, and he stumbles, resents the fuck out of his whole family.

“Take it easy bitchface, I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“Just get out of here, and tell Iggy I’m gonna kick his ass when I see him.”

She’s gone already, heading back to the counter, not even looking at him when he says,

“Yeah yeah, later.”

And he’s gone, out the door and on his way to the ATM, cursing the day any of his siblings were born, and already trying not to think too hard about dark freckles on pale skin and a head of shocking red hair.

He lasts three weeks.

It’s into October when he finally caves and engineers his route to work to take him past Tamp & Grind. And, well, his sister is working, it would be weird not to stop in and say hey, or whatever.

It’s stupid, he’s aware. He’s only seen the guy once, doesn’t even know if he’s gay, doesn’t even know if he’s working. Plus Mandy will probably tear him a new one when she gets home later. All very real and good reasons not to go there.

And yet.

He shoulders open the door, it’s warm inside, the air smells sweet and rich, he’d been in such a frenzy last time he was here he hadn’t really noticed anything about it. Apart from Ian.

That’s his name, Ian. Mandy’s co-worker who has been occupying most of Mickey’s idle thoughts for the last few weeks. He’s tried, surreptitiously, to learn anything about him from Mandy when they’ve both been home at the same time. According to Mandy he’s ‘cool’ and ‘funny’ and ‘doesn’t suck ass’ like some of her other co-workers. She’s not exactly easy to get information out of but he knows she likes coming to work more on days when Ian will be there, so when she breezed out the door this afternoon with half a smile on her face he’d taken a chance on it being a day Ian was working too.

He was right. Mandy is sat up on one of the counters, can’t be fucking sanitary, and Ian is stood just by her, messing with something under the counter.

“Could I be a sexy latte?” He hears Mandy ask, smiling over at Ian, and what a weird and disturbing image.

“What the fuck?” Mickey finds himself asking, getting the attention of the two of them and oh. He’d kind of convinced himself the last couple of weeks that his brain had amplified how good looking Ian was, that he was actually just a regular looking guy and it was just the fantasy of him that Mickey was powerlessly focused on. Boy had he been wrong.

If anything he’s more good looking than Mickey remembers, sculpted face and long lashes and deep green eyes the shade of pondweed, but in like a hot way. Shit.

“What are you doing here?” Mandy asks like he’s a fucking bug she flicked off of her windscreen this morning come back for a second go.

“Was in the neighborhood.” It’s not a good answer, suspicious as fuck, really. Mandy scrunches her nose up at him and raises one eyebrow.

“Why?” She asks. He can’t think of a single good reason.

“None o’your fuckin’ business, that’s why.”

She rings him through a coffee and they bicker back and forth about the price for a minute or two, four bucks for a black coffee seems like daylight fucking robbery to him, maybe they should open a fucking coffee shop, seems like that’s where all the money is these days. Fuck the coke, give ‘em caffeine.

He looks around the shop a little while he waits for his drink, reading the flyers stuck up on the noticeboard, fiddling with the little packets of Splenda and wooden stirrers and shit, all while chancing little glimpses of Ian behind the espresso machine. Not too obvious. Mandy already knows something’s up, she’s not giving him enough shit about being here, she’s definitely gonna get into him later, so he’s not trying to hide his interest from her, exactly. But he doesn’t want to let onto Ian just now, doesn’t want to make the guy uncomfortable if he’s not gay, or if he’s just not into Mickey. He’s shooting his own discreet glances Mickey’s way though so he feels like maybe it’s not a totally one-sided thing.

Mandy calls him over when his drink’s ready and he takes a sip right when he grabs it, suddenly itching for something to do, some purpose after he’s been stood around for five minutes just waiting. They’ve given him a fucking hazelnut latte.

Sometimes he can’t fucking stand his sister.

He always orders black coffee. Everywhere he goes, black coffee. Sure he’s got a bit of a thing for sugar, who in the world doesn’t like something sweet? And when Mandy shows up sometimes with some sort of flavored monstrosity he’ll take a sip or two, it’s no big deal. But now she’s made it seem to Ian like he’s some sort of pussy who not only likes caffeinated syrup drinks like a fourteen year old girl, but also is too much of a pussy to admit he likes them.

She’s a fucking bitch, and he tells her as much, and Ian. Well. Ian doesn’t like that.

Mandy’s probably been called a bitch a thousand times in her life, and no one has ever jumped to her defense before now. But Ian, fucking, knight in shining green apron is right there, hand on Mandy’s back, telling Mickey not to talk to her that way, and what the fuck? Mandy gives as good as she gets and if Ian hasn’t learned that yet he will, and probably soon.

It’s not not hot, him squaring up to Mickey, though the fact that it’s over Mandy’s honor gives him some pause for thought, makes him wonder if he’s got it wrong, if Ian’s actually into Mandy, actually not interested in Mickey at all, actually just a straight guy who Mickey’s been projecting onto. But when he licks his lips and calls him tough guy he can see Ian’s eyes flicker like it did something for him.

He takes off with his sugary drink and spends the rest of his walk to work trying to figure out what exactly is the deal with Ian, and when’s the next time he can go back. Preferably on a day when Mandy isn’t working.

[sunsafewriting]

Do A Flip - chapter 4 excerpt (full chapter will be finished and uploaded soon).

Lilith.

“— so Bea and I are gonna get a place together,” Ava concludes happily, moving her little figurine four places and handing Camila literally all of her money, because Camila now owns both blue hotels. “Which is cool, right?” 

It’s actually fucking ridiculous, but no one at the table will say so. Even Lilith, because Shannon, Mary, and Camila are all glaring at her, like she can’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut. Which she can, thank you very much. 

If Ava and Beatrice want to escalate their bullshit, that’s their business. As long as Lilith is never expected to set foot inside their apartment, then Lilith will continue her reluctant detente with Ava. No matter what Shannon says, it is a detente unless Lilith actually hits Ava. Threatening her doesn’t count. 

And — fine. Lilith can admit that Ava’s not the worst person out there, She’s too energetic and too annoying and has such a bad sense of humour that Lilith has taken to just walking away if she so much as starts to look vaguely amused, but Ava’s not as irresponsible as Lilith first took her for. She shows up for the kid, and she shows up for Beatrice. And so Lilith has begrudgingly afforded Ava a spot on the list of people she’ll actually spend time around. Only if her company is diluted by the presence of others, of course; Lilith’s not going to do anything crazy, like hang out with her one-on-one. 

“That is very cool,” Camila replies, adding Ava’s cash to the small mountain already piled up in front of her. 

Ava takes two fifties from Beatrice’s stash — utterly blatant in her cheating, utterly unbothered by it. “It’s a loan, Bea. I’ll pay you back.” 

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway, it’ll suck that we won’t be neighbours anymore,” Ava says to Camila, “but I can come visit. And you can come over to our place whenever.” 

Somehow, Shannon must actually see the words just make sure you knock form in Lilith’s mind, because she nudges Mary, who kicks Lilith under the table. 

“Are you staying in the area?” Shannon asks smoothly. 

“Everything’s here, like Bea’s uni and St Michael’s, so we’re gonna try.” 

“I talked to the landlord about keeping our apartment, but he wants to turn it into an AirBnB,” Beatrice adds, with no small amount of judgement in her voice. 

Lilith has already heard Beatrice’s lecture about rental policies and tenant protection. Ava has, too. At least they were all in the car together at the time, which meant that Lilith wasn’t subjected to that look Ava gets on her face when Beatrice really starts in on a tangent about something. 

“It’s a shit market,” Mary agrees. “You’ve got to know someone.”

There’s a general grumbling of agreement. 

Lilith sighs. “I know someone,” she admits. If her mother could see Lilith now, offering something without getting anything in return — not even a signed agreement preventing Ava from practically sitting in Beatrice’s lap when they do movie nights — she’d disown her. “Neil from my Thursday class is going back to the States, so he needs someone to take over his lease. His street is close to the kid. And your stupid bar.” 

All of them turn to her. 

She shrugs, uncomfortable, then bails, going back to the kitchen to pour herself another drink. At least Mary keeps good gin here. 

Because no good deed goes unpunished, Ava follows after her, smiling entirely too much like someone who thinks Lilith is being nice to her, and not enough like someone who appreciates that Lilith was only trying to avoid having to listen to Ava complain. 

“You could really set that up?” Ava asks. 

“Yes.” 

Neil has never said no to Lilith. But then, that’s a power she has over most people. It’s probably something to do with being tall and hot and smart and accomplished. 

“That would be very, very awesome of you.” 

“Mm.” 

Ava, with unprecedented audacity, takes the bottle of gin right out of Lilith’s hands. 

“What are you —”

“Hush. You’ll like it,” she says, grabbing a few other things from the cupboard and carefully pouring it all into the cup. 

Lilith allows this, even if only because Ava’s confidence in her bartending could stand to be taken down a peg — Beatrice has been brainwashed by Ava’s outfits; there’s no way her drinks are that good, if you’re not distracted by the low-cut tops — and Lilith is giving herself a freebie to be a bit mean. 

Ava finishes mixing her elaborate nonsense and hands the cup back to Lilith, watching her expectantly. 

Lilith takes a sip. 

It’s really fucking excellent, and she’s not fast enough to stop pleasant surprise from showing on her face. 

“Ha!” Ava crows, smacking her hand against the countertop. “You like it. And you like me.” 

“I don’t like you,” Lilith bites back. “I like Beatrice. And Diego.”

Beatrice is always going to be a sister to her, in the way that Lilith understands sisters: as people whose stupidity you tolerate because a part of you is contingent on their presence in your life; people who understand you, sometimes too much. And Diego — well, one time, he’d let her trick Ava into leaning against wet paint, and she’d returned the favour by letting him tell her about underground turtles, so that’s something. 

But Ava is undeterred. “They’re my favourite people, so you liking them means that I like you. Too bad.” 

Lilith takes another sip of her drink. It doesn’t miraculously drop in quality, and Ava remains regrettably gleeful. “I could squash you.”

“I know.” 

Lilith hates how certain Ava seems that she won’t. 

-

Here's the link to the earlier chapters if you're interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43728831

[naturalrights-retard]

By Mac Slavo

Bank of America is warning the American slave class to expect the national debt to top $50 trillion. Citing data from the Congressional Budget Office, the U.S. national debt is very likely to surge by $20 trillion over the next decade.

That is if the entire global debt-based fiat currency system even lasts that long. The ruling classes of the globe have big plans to ensure they control every aspect of every human being’s existence on this planet.

Worldwide Digital IDs Will Be Required To Participate In Society By 2030

The US exceeded its debt ceiling, which was legally set at $31.4 trillion, in January 2023. After months of warnings of an imminent and economically disastrous default from the US Treasury, President Joe Biden in June signed a bipartisan debt bill that allowed the limit to be lifted until January 2025. This effectively allowed the government to keep borrowing without limits through next year. Debt spiked to $32 trillion less than two weeks after the bill was approved and has been piling up ever since. –RT

According to the forecast, the current outstanding public debt amounts to roughly $33.6 trillion, but at the pace it is growing and due to “fiscal excess in the 2020s,” it is likely to grow by $5.2 billion daily for the next 10 years, which would put it at around $54 trillion by 2033, according to a report by RT. 

“US public debt is… more than the combined GDPs of China, Japan, Germany, and India,” Bank of America investment strategist Michael Hartnett noted in the forecast. He warned, however, that Washington was unlikely to stop taking loans even if the federal deficit is contained because borrowing is seen as a means to fuel economic growth and help drive the circulation of money. “Likely central banks may simply bail out governments in coming years via quantitative easing and the introduction of yield curve control,” Hartnett added.

That means we should expect the cost of living to rise as inflation continues to beat down the slave class and the rulers devalue the already worthles fiat currency even further.

[themattress]

Favorite Villains of Classic English Literature

Professor Moriarty - This villain is pure, beautiful simplicity: he's an alternate version of the hero with the morality removed. Both Holmes and Moriarty are quirky loners with genius IQs that thrive on challenging their intellects via loaning it out to others in some form of service. But Holmes has a conscience, a sense of right and wrong, which is why his service is that of a consulting detective, whereas Moriarty is a total sociopath whose service is that of a consulting criminal, meaning that he has an invisible hand in almost every crime that's carried out in London. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle gives an absolutely perfect description of him and how he operates as a villain: "He is the Napoleon of crime. He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city. He is a genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first order. He sits motionless, like a spider in the center of its web, but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them. He does little himself. He only plans. But his agents are numerous and splendidly organized. Is there a crime to be done, a paper to be abstracted, we will say, a house to be rifled, a man to be removed--the word is passed to the Professor, the matter is organized and carried out. The agent may be caught. In that case money is found for his bail or his defense. But the central power which uses the agent is never caught--never so much as suspected."

Favorite adaptations: Professor Moriarty (Ernest Torrence) in Sherlock Holmes (Fox, 1932), Professor Moriarty (Lionel Atwill) in Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon (Universal, 1943), Professor Moriarty (Eric Porter) in Sherlock Holmes (Granada, 1984), Professor Ratigan (Vincent Price) in The Great Mouse Detective (Disney, 1986), Jim Moriarty (Andrew Scott) in Sherlock (BBC, 2010), Jamie Moriarty (Natalie Dormer) in Elementary (CBS, 2012), and William "Liam" James Moriarty (Soma Saito) in Moriarty the Patriot (Shueisha, 2016).

Captain Hook - If Professor Moriarty is a great complex presentation of a simple character, then Captain Hook is the opposite: a complex character who is presented simply. A ruthless pirate captain with a limb replaced by the object he derives his name from is the easiest thing in the world to understand, but there's much more to old James beneath that surface: a well-educated English gentleman depressed with the notion that he's squandered his life away but too far gone in his pride to turn back, constantly striving for "good form" even when his occupation doesn't allow for much of it, and obsessed with getting revenge on Peter Pan partly out of jealousy and partly to distract from the inevitability of the end result of what Pan did to him - namely, an ever-pursuing crocodile that will ultimately mark the end of his life when the clock it swallowed finally stops ticking. If Pan shows the problems with never growing up, then Hook shows the problems with losing your innocence when you grow up. For as over the top of a villainous character as he is, he's also a tragic, even relatable one.

Favorite adaptations: Captain Hook (Ernest Torrence) in Peter Pan (Paramount, 1924), Captain Hook (Hans Conreid) in Peter Pan (Disney, 1953), Captain Hook (Cyril Ritchard) in Peter Pan (Broadway, 1954), Captain Hook (Tim Curry) in Peter Pan and the Pirates (Fox, 1990), Captain Hook (Dustin Hoffman) in Hook (Amblin, 1991), Captain Hook (Jason Isaacs) in Peter Pan (Universal, 2003), "Jimmy" (Rhys Ifans) in Neverland (Syfy, 2011), Killian Jones (Colin O'Donoghue) in Once Upon a Time (ABC, 2012), Captain Hook (Stan Tucci) in Peter and Wendy (ITV, 2015) and Captain Hook (Jude Law) in Peter and Wendy (Disney, 2023).

And hey, wouldn't you know it! The same actor got the ball rolling in my favorite adaptations of both these characters! Clearly, the two of them were always destined to share this post.