#and that “debt” was such a fast gut level response

[mariacallous]

What does it mean to have a middle-class, white-collar professional job?

It used to feel like a promise, a guarantee of a life that might not always run smoothly but would at least be stable, verging sometimes even on smug. It probably meant a mortgage, the kind of job title that made people trust you, and a sense – especially for those who were not born into a middle-class life – of having reached safe harbour. You wouldn’t be rich, but you’d be comfortable. Perhaps just as important, given all success is secretly relative, you would know exactly where you stood: never top of the pile, but at least a reassuringly long way off the bottom. But what happens when those layers start collapsing into each other?

Earlier this week, the Resolution Foundation thinktank released a technical update on the labour market that would probably have gone unnoticed if it hadn’t been published in the slow news days between Christmas and new year. Its authors noted that new graduate salaries have fallen in real terms over the past two decades by about 4% on average, while the minimum wage has risen by 60%.

Though the two lines are still a long way from crossing over, for gen Z and millennials in particular the boundaries between white-collar and blue-collar worlds are getting blurrier.

At first glance, a narrowing of the gap sounds positively healthy. In a more equal society, why wouldn’t the living standards of a barista move closer to those of a barrister? But to put it mildly, what has been happening to the labour market ever since the 2008 crash doesn’t exactly feel like the kind of benign levelling up that brings insecure working-class lives closer to smug middle-class ones, while forcing everyone to shake off snobbish assumptions about which jobs really matter. If anything, it feels more like the opposite: a long levelling down that has seen wages flatlining except where the state actively intervenes to force them up, and precariousness creeping up the income scale instead of security trickling down.

Two decades ago, the median recent graduate starting out in a genuine graduate career could expect to earn two and a half times the minimum wage. Now the premium is only 1.6 times minimum wage for median earners, according to the Resolution Foundation, and the lowest earning graduates are fast approaching parity.

Jobs so hotly desirable that young graduates have to jump through endless hoops and internships just to get a foot in the door – say in publishing, or charity and NGO work, or (let’s be honest) large parts of journalism and other creative industries – offer starting salaries in some cases barely above the £25,000 a year to which a full-time minimum-wage worker waiting tables or stacking shelves could be entitled as of this April. The old glamour and prestige still clings to these careers, but the money? That’s gone, and in some cases it is unlikely to be coming back: not with AI now threatening to gut jobs everywhere from the visual arts to the junior reaches of what were once considered bombproof careers such as accountancy, insurance, law or IT.

The last government’s political response to all of this was mostly to argue about whether fewer teenagers should go to university in future or more of them should do maths, as if the problem were kids wanting the wrong things out of life rather than a stagnant labour market, while ignoring an ominous head of steam building up in the here and now. There is a growing pool of young graduates who faithfully did everything they were told would help them get on in life – working hard at school, getting the grades, slogging through their degrees and sucking up the prospect of years of debt repayments to pay for it – only to realise that they may never be rewarded in the way they were promised. How gen Z reacts to this potentially painful readjustment will help shape the politics of this parliament and beyond.

In his 2023 book End Times, the US academic Peter Turchin identifies ��elite overproduction” – essentially an economy creating far more educated, ambitious potential elite members than it has prestigious jobs to offer them – as a key trigger for revolutions and civil wars, especially when combined with deep economic inequality and high public debt. Though from the outside these thwarted alphas still look relatively privileged compared with their peers, it’s the gap between what they think they were promised and what they actually got that breeds explosive levels of resentment. Frustrated wannabe elites can morph into angry counter-elites, turning on the establishment they had originally dreamed of joining when they realise it isn’t actually going to let them in after all. Though populist parties traditionally do best among working-class voters who never went to college, Turchin argues that it’s when these frustrated elites make common political cause with the more genuinely impoverished masses that they are most likely to combine and crush the centre. If Reform UK succeeds in its dream of overtaking the Tories as the main challenger to Labour – the threat increasingly preoccupying Keir Starmer’s government as it heads into what will undoubtedly be a difficult year – then it might be by bringing together such an unlikely coalition of the aggrieved.

You could argue that a young professional uprising seems a remote prospect in a country such as Britain, where frustrated elites are more likely to vent their anger by just going on strike – as junior doctors did last year, protesting that they could be getting a better hourly rate at Pret a Manger – or kicking out a Tory government than anything more revolutionary.

But the idea that political instability often follows when governments make promises they can’t keep is a sound one, and your heart doesn’t have to bleed for disillusioned graduates to worry that something is broken here. Gen Z voting patterns around the world now suggest at the very least a backlash against mainstream parties and craving for more radical ones. Across Europe and the US, young voters are turning to the far right in worrying numbers; in Britain, the Greens on the left and Nigel Farage’s Reform party on the right experienced surging support among the under-30s last summer. This may be the year we find out whether that was in retrospect the high-water mark of the gen Z revolt, or merely the beginning.

[hellsdogs]

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜ ( eheheh for kimura ♡ )

The smell of fresh blood is mixing with the floral scent that always lingers in her space. Crimson stains his clothes, and his face too, marked of his usual exhaustation after a fucking hell of a day. A scoff escapes from him. “I only get this dirty ever since I've met you, Princess.” He answers, taking his blazer off. Not entirely a lie - Kimura kills in a clean way, a bullet in the head, period. For the past days, ever since that one day, a rage has been boiling inside his guts, awakening something so primal it consumes him - now he kills like the animal he is, with his bare hands, messy. Her home, her rules : he makes his way to the bathroom. The water runs red as he scrubs away the blood. His mind always drifts back to the night they met, him and her : not so long ago, a month actually. It all was supposed to be a simple job: collect the money Ahri owed to the syndicate. But when she couldn’t pay, Ito - Kimura's colleague - a man who has freshly been promoted at the same rank as him, decided he wanted to make her pay another way. "Loosen up Kimuchan. Come on look at her man, she's so fucking hot. Alright alright I go first, I'll let you hit it when I'm done huh?" Kimura’s rage awakaned, a rage in which he couldn't recognize himself. He remembers Ito's screams under the weight and the storms of his own fists - he hit, hit, hit until he could hear the sound of Ito's bones breaking, and the look of terror in the man's eyes as he realized Kimura wouldn't stop until he fucking dies. Ahri remained untouched. In a heavy silence, only his loud, fast, raw breathing could be heard, his face covered in Ito's blood, the skin of his knuckles destroyed as finally he looked at her. At that moment, they both understood he did what he did to keep her safe, her, a complete stranger. She invited him to her home after that, for him to get clean and he accepted. Was Ahri grateful? Kimura didn't want her to be, he didn't want her to see him as a good man, as a savior, as someone he's not. Is he in peace with betraying his clan the way he did? She knows she owes him though, he told her that, he wanted to make it clear as if, again, he didnt want his actions to be associated with goodness or greatness. Past and present seem to mix under the hot water, a haunting past where a young version of him hasn't been capable of doing the same for his own sister, and the present... where the man he became finally did. Ahri and him, they have seen each other often since that night, Kimura visiting her at workplace, they have shared meals, exchanged pieces of their lives, a few drinks. He avoids talking about the aggression she suffered, afraid of hearing words that might echo what his sister could have said or not sure how to reply if she ever asks why he spared her. Out of the shower, he finds clean clothes, the ones he wore that night, ones she apparently washed, an attention he appreciates. He cleans everything in the bathroom, the water, the drops, the blood - before going back to join her. "I just killed a man," he says, falling down in the couch. A sigh escapes, the sigh of the end of a long day. His eyes travel to her. Another man of his clan he killed today. Kimura is disciplined, he follows the rules, being yakuza comes with responsabilities he understands and handles. To kill one of their own probably is the highest level of betrayal. He did it, twice. "I've paid your debt myself so the syndicate won't connect Ito's death to you and I." It almost sounds like an affair, they way he talks about them : you and I.

"It's the only way the clan stays out of it. There's that one son of bitch though, his nose always into my business, he knew the money was mine. So, I had to do what I had to do." A mess he's trying to keep under control. His leans his back against the couch a little more comfortably, exhaling the smoke above his head, pensive. His head falls to the side slowly, his eyes settling back on her. She too, seemed to be quite in a mess - at this workplace of hers, in her life - the more they talked, the more he could see that. His eyes linger a little longer than usual, as if the words that follow are a little unusual for him, he's not the type to ask that to someone, he's not someone people ask that question to either. "Are you alright?"

[themonstersamongus]

In Oath of Silence, Ryker carries the weight of a hunt gone so violently wrong that the memory itself became a wound. During a witch hunt in New Baltimore, Ryker watched his brothers nearly die — Dean choking on his own blood, Sam gutted and fading fast, while Ryker was frozen in a moment of pure helplessness. It broke something in him.

When the hunt was over, and his brothers were barely alive, Ryker did the one thing he never thought he would: he begged Zachariah for help. Not for power, not for salvation — but to erase the memory. And Zachariah agreed for a price.

Now, Ryker carries a void where that night should exist. The others remember. He doesn’t. And none of them bring it up. But cracks bleed through: the phantom guilt, the hollow nightmares, the haunting familiarity of wounds he doesn’t remember receiving.

Ryker may not consciously know what happened in New Baltimore, but his body never forgot. And the longer Heaven holds that piece of him hostage, the closer Zachariah comes to calling in his debt.

---

Verse Themes:

-Forgotten trauma

-Unspoken guilt

-Fractured family secrets

-Angelic manipulation

-Heavy emotional repression

-Psychological tension

---

Environmental Triggers:

The name New Baltimore

-Causes a sharp spike of anxiety, discomfort, or inexplicable dread.

-He’ll instinctively change the subject or leave the room.

The smell of blood mixed with rainwater

-This combination throws his body into an almost fight-or-flight response.

Certain moon phases (full or near-full moons)

-Associated with the time of year the hunt happened.

-Triggers restlessness, insomnia, or unsettled pacing.

The sound of someone gasping or choking

-Sets his nerves on edge instantly.

-Sometimes leaves him physically nauseous without understanding why.

---

Emotional Triggers:

Watching Dean cough or clutch his chest

-Even normal illness makes Ryker react far more strongly than the situation warrants.

-He grows agitated, overprotective, or irritable.

The sound of Sam's voice panicking (even on unrelated hunts)

-Hits a nerve that tightens his chest and speeds his pulse involuntarily.

Feeling helpless on a hunt

-Any moment where he’s unable to protect Dean or Sam from immediate danger starts to pull the edges of that forgotten night forward.

Conversations about "hunts that went bad"

-He gets uncomfortable and tries to redirect or shut it down entirely.

---

Sensory Triggers:

The color deep crimson (specifically in lighting or water)

-Reminds his subconscious of blood pooling in water — triggers unease.

The sound of gurgling or wet breathing

-He often freezes when hearing this sound unexpectedly.

The metallic scent of heavy blood loss

-Has been known to trigger brief flashes of disorientation or headaches.

---

Cognitive Triggers:

Intense headaches when researching certain cases

-If he unknowingly starts digging into anything tied to New Baltimore, headaches build rapidly.

Nightmares of drowning or suffocation

-The dreams don’t include specific faces or names, but the feeling of helplessness is vivid and constant.

Zachariah's Name

-Brings an automatic feeling of anger, discomfort, and vague fear.

---

Subconscious Triggers:

Water (especially cold, still water):

-While not a full phobia, he experiences strong unease being near certain bodies of water alone.

Siblings’ injuries (especially Dean’s chest wounds):

-Anytime Dean gets hurt in the chest or lungs, Ryker’s panic levels spike unnaturally fast.

The sound of ritual chanting (Latin or Enochian):

-Puts him immediately on edge, sometimes causes him to physically back away or tense his jaw.

---

Ryker doesn’t remember New Baltimore—but his body does.

His triggers aren’t loud panic attacks; they’re sharp flashes of dread, quiet avoidance, and protective instincts that go into overdrive. Dean and Sam see it every time — and they carry the burden of knowing why.

I need a Sam or Dean to be an exclusive to my Oath of Silence verse for Ryker. Any candidates? I need one Sam and one Dean. DM me if interested!

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol). 

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.  

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn. 

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor. 

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.” 

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight. 

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number.  “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves. 

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation. 

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.  

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.” 

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss. 

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

 You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping. 

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee. 

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.” 

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.” 

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?” 

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?” 

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you…  And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side. 

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional. 

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression. 

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

 A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

 “I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess. 

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent. 

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin. 

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.” 

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides. 

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue. 

“I think I may need a little…”  Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks. 

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback. 

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry. 

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.” 

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start. 

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips. 

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest. 

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment. 

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself. 

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants. 

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table. 

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud.  There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already. 

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh. 

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him. 

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee. 

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil. 

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers. 

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching. 

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins. 

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan. 

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk. 

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his. 

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.” 

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it. 

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this. 

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt. 

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning. 

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you. 

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something. 

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going. 

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you. 

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting. 

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know. 

He’s not stopping. Until he does. 

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin. 

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.” 

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact  you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth. 

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin. 

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound. 

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it. 

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt.  “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm. 

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat. 

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.” 

This. 

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire. 

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are. 

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.” 

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.  

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.” 

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip. 

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure. 

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you. 

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that. 

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that. 

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure. 

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence. 

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.” 

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding.  Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes. 

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core. 

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever. 

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit. 

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking. 

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes. 

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.  

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect. 

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it. 

 You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat. 

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it. 

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had. 

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?” 

-- 

[border-spam]

Leech Lord AU - Char Breakdown

Seifa A’rosk / Seifa Ur-Machina / Saint of the God King’s Mechanica

Bless u @nikyri-art​ and @lazulizard​ for the art! List of character traits and world-building facets for this character within my story. The Leech Lord Au is the one all other twins content I’ve written is set in.

Troy’s is HERE Tyreen’s is HERE

Note, ye asked and ye received. Literally my first OC ever, no clue what I’m doing, constructive feedback is 100% welcome.

Physical Details:

Right handed.

Very short, 4′11″, and rarely seen out of heeled boots.

5 years older than the twins, in her mid twenties when she came across the scabby looking rat who introduced herself as Tyreen.

Long auburn hair she usually wears in waves.

Right side shave, warm blue eyes, septum/eyebrow/labret facial piercings

Average bodyweight, hourglass shape.

Saint sigil tattoo between her shoulderblades.

Couple of small scars across torso, stab wound near navel, nicks across left ribs. 

Visible facial scar is paper thin and streaks across her right brow into her hairline. Tells everyone this was from a knife fight, but was actually from an echodevice she was trying to scavenge components from blowing in her face a decade ago. Figures she might as well try and get some intimidation points out of it.

Relaxed punk aesthetic she carries into her engineering uniform.

Usually covered in homemade jewelry.

Backstory:

Sei is a migrant junker/mechanic, and has been running a solo career as one since her late teens.

She has no memory of family, and doesn't care in the slightest. Figures she was probably sold into child labor before she was old enough to remember who they were. Loses no sleep over this and rarely gives it any thought.

Grew up traveling with her "Boss" (head of the scavenging ring who managed herself and the other skinny little kids she was raised with) between different rim planets including Pandora, scrapping and repairing tech while scavenging the thousands of ship husks dumped during the corporate wars.

Spent her formative years constantly surrounded by other children and teens who helped each other get each other through what should have been a relatively lonely existence, and developed a close family bond with many.

Retained contact with a lot of them in adulthood. They operate a network of mechanics and engineers across the system, a few of which come to work within the COV Mechanica when they realise she can offer safety.

Spent her childhood and teens learning the art of the deal from her boss, accompanying him on trade runs, market dealings, debt collections, anything and everything he figured would help her in the long term. Learned everything she could while accompanying him as a kid, like a filthy little sponge in too-big overalls and a runny nose.

Engineering and mech skills have been honed from years of pulling apart and crawling into junked ships, repairing and reselling on components for profit.

At 19, she had saved enough to purchase a shitty little rehashed transport ship from her Boss, and set out to start her own trade. They've kept in touch and are on friendly grounds. Still calls him Boss. Never actually learned his name, it didn’t matter.

Seifa spends years migrating between outer planets, building a reputation with her bartering and trade skills. Playing idiot traders like instruments, flirting her way into high profit deals, and starting bar fights. She doesn’t take part in them mind you, she’s a lady. She just starts them. 

It’s an easy way to get a group of “eager investors” to weed out the lesser competition, and leave you able to playfully manipulate yourself into the good graces of someone who’s too horny and pumped up on the hormonal rush of the fight to realise that they are the mark.

Moves to the next planet once she's outstayed her welcome, but always makes more friends than enemies.

At 25, finds a terrified and not remotely intimidating girl in a Pandoran junkyard, who pulls a gun on her. Tyreen tries to mug her with a shitty SMG that's clearly out of ammo, has a jammed trigger, and gets laughed at in response. Gets called a weird, stupid kid. Gets interrogated about how she is too old to be on Pandora and still alive if this is how clueless she is, so what’s going on? 

Ty breaks down into tears and begs to please, please get her some medicine. Her "Brother is so sick” and he's “all she has now”, and they've “no money, no supplies. It wasn’t meant to go like this, it shouldn’t have gone like this but they didn’t know what it would be like.." and in a rare moment of empathy likely routed in years of being around kids this stupid, and clueless, and dumb ... Seifa helps.

Traits: ✓ Positive x Negative:

✓ Confident, both in her appearance and knowledge.

Sei is a jack of all trades, master of none. Her range of knowledge is broad and useful, and her confidence stems both from her well maintained physical appearance, and general competency in most situations where she needs to be.

✓  Socially skilled, fast learner, adaptable. 

She’s been learning on her feet as long as she can remember, and is highly socially skilled, though a lot of her “nice” interactions can be a veneer. She holds people at arms length without them realising she’s not being as open and friendly as she appears.

✓  Self sufficient, reliable, trustworthy.

An adult lifetime of needing to rely solely on herself has left her highly sufficient, and very dependable. Seifa is the kind of person you call when you need something done, and don’t need to ask questions about how she gets you your results. You’ll get what you need.. just don’t hassle her about how she achieved it. You’ll be told to piss off, very clearly.

✓  Excellent negotiator, skilled in controlling conversations and manipulating others from years of trading for a living.

Seifa has been learning how to argue, shift conversations towards her own goals, and turn competitors on each other since she was barely able to carry a wrench. She’s an excellent dealer, and can drop into one of her many characters instantly when they’d help shift a contract towards her gain. Floozy giggling newcomer? Got it. Clueless naive big spender? No problem. Trade baroness about to crush your knuckles? Game on.

It’s something the twin strays she rescues are very interested in learning from her.

✓  Naturally friendly, and deeply caring for those she bonds with.

Sei is generally easy to get on with, between her decent set of social skills and ability to quickly read people, she comes across as quite friendly and overall pleasant to most people. She’s very slow to become genuine around others or show her caring side, an understandable side effect of the kind of life she’s lived, but her close friends are very close, and see her as one for life.

✓  Lawful Neutral.

 Morals are decent ( for a Pandoran) , and is always willing to help someone if it's not too much hassle or won’t put her out. Like the majority of people living on this rock however, she won’t put strangers before her own safety or wellbeing.

x  Very vain.

Sei will sacrifice functionality for style in the Mechanicum without a second thought, and will become frustrated and snappy if unhappy with her appearance and forced into social situations. She’s had a lifetime of curating her looks and using them as a tool, and hates being seen “out of character”.

x Self focused. 

She won’t risk harm physically or to her reputation for someone she has no stake in. Fact of life on Pandora is that people who do that don't tend to live very long, and she’s highly aware of that. Close friends and children are about it when it comes to who she’d take a risk for, and bandits slaughtering each other or ransacking towns is unlikely to be something she’d be very phased by. It’s not that she doesn’t care, she just doesn’t allow herself to.

x Irritable, easily brought to frustration or insulted. Holds grudges badly.

Seifa manages her collected and cool outer demeanor by pushing it over her emotional state. It’s a defense mechanism she’s learned from a lifetime of being in situations where emotion = weakness. Her high personal opinion of herself and pride in her skill means she takes to being insulted very easily. A subordinate who doesn’t show her respect won’t stay in her department long, and an equal who treats her like an underling? She will Never. Let. It. Go.

x Snappy and unpleasant when stressed or overworked, unable to handle emotion based arguments.

Seifa’s response to stress or frustration is to become overwhelmingly in control of the situation, and fiercely logical. Her social niceness evaporates and she defaults to the simple level of “Get this shit done NOW, and don’t question me” when it comes to dolling out required tasks. This is a bad thing to couple with arrogance. She is also completely incapable of arguing with someone who uses emotion instead of logic as their drive, and so while she is able to communicate with Troy very well even in heated times as they both default to logic, arguments between herself and Tyreen can become vicious, as neither is capable of expressing themselves in the other’s language when frustrated.

x Loyalty to close friends can overpower her better judgement in situations.

She’s completely aware of the hypocrisy of this weakness considering the front she likes to portray, being cold and unaffected by problems, but has never been able to stop herself from making this same mistake. Over and over.

x Noticeably arrogant, no respect for the chain of command.

Relying on her gut for survival through her life left her with an inflated sense of worth for her own opinion, and she finds it very hard to really convince herself that others may be the better option, or have more value than her own. This means she can also easily forget her place if she thinks a superior is in the wrong. Has earned her a stab to the abdomen and a broken wrist in the past. Both healed, both scarred. Her arrogance towards the twins, being that they are younger and far less experienced than her in general life, has caused multiple confrontation. She know’s it’s a problem, and she’s trying to get better. She really is.

Likes:

Money.

Personal freedoms.

Self reliance.

Feeling admired and appreciated.

Close companionships with friends who see her as an equal.

Her advice being heeded.

Growing plants.

Tinkering with smalltime tech and gadgets.

The safety of the COV meaning she can finally settle in one place.

Respect.

Being wanted, physically and emotionally.

Tenderness.

Gaming, watching movies, appreciating art. 

Crafting jewelry from scrap

Having her gentle, caring nature be valued.

Men.

Dislikes:

Bullshit. Can't stand people who don't communicate logically.

Being spoken down to.

Her appearance being mocked or intelligence belittled.

Social sycophancy.

Being lied to, having her trust broken when she so rarely gives it.

Unfairness, aimed at her or those she feels protective over ( friends, underlings )

Pointless violence.

Risk taking.

Most things considered *edible* on Pandora.

Men. -

Asks are Open!

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 7/10

Sorry Sharky. It gets better, I promise.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 2.5K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

The first time Sharky worked up the nerve to kiss someone, he figured his luck was golden. Kristi, middle school, cool even with the braces, he’d impressed her with a few spare action figures and some of the extra snacks from his lunch. Talked her ear off more than once, and even had her respond with more than a nod, and an ‘uh huh’ or ‘okay’ to it too.

He had the moment planned out from the start, working up his nerve to pull it off only to get half a sandwich tossed at him mid-go. That, and some applesauce, and having to sit through the rest of the day with stained and sticky clothes had been the cherry on top of the shit sundae he’d made.

He’d thought the situation had been read right. Thought she’d been into him even if he was just a dumbass kid in bad need of a word (or five) breaking down why assuming that was bad – makes you less of an ass that way – and tried not to feel too broken up about it at the time. He could always pick himself back up and try again later.

Now, was no exception. He thought he had the situation down. Had everything sorted right from the start even if he didn’t have all of the pieces set in place yet, only for it all to snarl into a giant knot.

Because of course he’d want to see just what it’d take to get another smile from John, no matter how much he kept his mouth running to do so. To have John seek him out to talk, not just because he was there, but because he wanted to. To share more about himself, what he liked, what he loved. What mattered.

He wanted those things; liked earning them, knowing he’d been the one to make him smile like that. Laugh like that. Wanted to tap into the warm feeling he’d finally linked to it, flowing through him again and again.

So maybe it shouldn’t have been a shock when the other urge hit, saying to kiss the hell out of him. To do it as many times as John would let him, just to hear him react to it. To hold him close, and feel it too.

To earn that. To know he had.

That was an idea he could be okay with. He might’ve even let himself think he’d earned it that day, long enough to see what it tasted like.

And yeah, he did like it. He liked it a whole hell of a lot. Liked it, and John, and was full-on content to keep on kissing him even with the twig under him jabbing him in the ass.

But it wasn’t his call to make. Not alone, and when John pulled back he’d known on some level he’d fucked up.

Enough to know a sad 2 AM text wasn’t going to cut it, but he sent it. Still tried calling at least once as well, even if stammering out an apology wasn’t much better, but he got nothing. No response, no real acknowledgment, just radio silence.

Maybe he’d earned that too.

That, and the news that Joseph slapped him with when he'd finally kicked himself in the ass hard enough to head over and fess up directly. John wasn’t even there for one, and wouldn’t be for the next two weeks.

Two weeks.

Most of his work was usually done at his ranch or around the county, but they’d needed him to fly out for once; all for a few meetings that couldn’t be handled otherwise.

Joe wasn’t rude about it. He even welcomed him warmly once Sharky got through the whole shuffling and awkward rambling on the doorstep bit, half-launching into a speech that he was able to cut off before it got too personal too fast. But Joseph still had to tell him the news at least two more times for it to finally sink in, and the reassuring tone he used didn’t help one bit.

Because he knew what it was like to be avoided, to know that his piss-poor attempts at apologies really had to have fallen flat for John to cut out without any notice like that. And maybe he’d had a delay in replacing his phone – another thing of his he’d managed to wreck – but there were other ways he could’ve reached out to him.

With nothing to go off of, guessing was all he had left. So, with his thoughts pinging back and forth with a vengeance, he did the only thing he could do at the moment.

Work.

Pitching the schedule completely, he came by when he wanted, aware that the days were passing, but tried not to consciously tick them down while doing so. He worked his ass off, and turned the whole thing into the riverside discotheque he'd wanted since this whole mess had started. Had his top one-hundred greatest hits of all time on hand, wore his best headphones, and blared enough music into his eardrums to ensure nothing else could get through.

That’s how he started off this particular day, at least. Singing along loudly, throwing more paint up in lines that would’ve had John complaining next to him and pointing out what to do as he ‘helped’, and the pang he felt from it wasn’t funny at all.

Because it meant he missed that shit too, and that? That was bad.

“This fucking sucks,” he muttered, and brought the roller down only to squeeze his eyes shut before the splatter hit. “Fucking sucks.”

Lowering his headphones, Sharky grabbed for the rag hanging out of his back pocket, and tried to wipe the paint off of his face. It was during this that he caught movement in the distance. Coming down the path, the sunlight shone off of the spotless paint of the car, not a single scratch or dent on it in sight, and his heart jumped straight into his throat.

Scrubbing at the paint on him harder, he stashed the rag and wasn’t sure what the hell he was going for as he shuffled in place, but settled for staring thoughtfully at the wall in front of him. Wiped his hands on his shirt as he heard the door to the car open and close, and had no idea what the first word out of his mouth was going to be.

As it turns out, he didn’t say a thing. Just looked over at John as he walked up, dressed like a damn model himself, suit on with nowhere to go, and felt his face go a full three shades darker in color.

“Hmm.” John studied the building carefully, and tapped a finger on his chin. “You’ve been busy.”

“Uh, yeah.” That came out a little breathier than he would’ve liked, so Sharky cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, dude. You’ve been gone for what, two weeks now? What did you think I was gonna do during that? Take a holiday?”

“Maybe,” John replied. “I’d have considered it. No responsibilities, no oversight. Not a care in the world.”

He hadn’t looked his way yet, focusing on the boathouse instead. Sharky folded his arms just to keep his hands still, and rocked back and forth on his feet, all while the music kept on playing by his ear. He also tried not to read too much into the whole ‘lack of oversight’ part, but failed.

John did turn after a few more minutes, his examination finally over, and walked up to him. His face neutral, everything perfectly in place, and Sharky couldn’t help but stare at him.

“That settles it then,” John said.

“Settles what?”

“You’re done,” he replied coolly. “With the work you’ve put in, and the progress you’ve made, I believe your debt to me has been repaid.”

Everything screeched to a halt. His thoughts, the tapping he’d settled into, and his breath as he held it. “I don’t…you wanna say that again, amigo?”

John didn’t even bat an eye, “You’re free to go. Your help is no longer needed.”

That wasn’t right. The roof still needed work done, the paint was barely starting to dry, and he knew for a fact that this wasn’t finished. He’d stared at all of this with him long enough to know he had maybe a week and a half left, max.

But fine. Maybe he wanted him in another area. To switch to another project, and he latched right onto it.

“Well, you got anything else that you need help with? Think I told Joe I was going to-”

“No. I can manage it from here.”

That idea hadn’t even lasted a minute before John shot it dead.

And there it was, the feeling he'd braced for. The hurt that dug right into his chest, sinking in deep, and he let out a shaky breath as he worked around it.

“Guess I’ll just…” Sharky gestured behind him, attention locked on John as his throat grew tight. “Just start grabbing and loading this up then. Just grab all of this and be on my way.”

Nodding to himself as John stared back, unblinking, his shoulders sagged. Everything else sinking right with him, as a weight settled heavy in his gut.

He knew he wasn’t always going to be around here, but being cut loose like this hadn’t been a possibility he’d considered. Having John all but throw him out mid-job, due to screwing up along the line? Sure. Hell, he would’ve added time due to piss-poor performance, and all that talk of standards months back.

But having him pull this now? After working together so well, for so long?

It stunned him bad enough to keep him from arguing it. He dragged his feet as he gathered up his things, loading them all into the trunk of his car one by one as his disappointment started to hang over him like a cloud.

Sharky shut the trunk and gave John a tentative glance. He didn’t know if he should’ve been looking his way at all, but did it in the hopes he’d get something out of him.

But John wasn’t fazed. Didn’t react, or say anything as he watched him go about his business, somehow even colder than when they’d first started working together. Not angry, annoyed, happy, or anything.

Just nothing. Nothing at all.

Rounding the car, Sharky tugged down on the brim of his hat and hoped it’d stay there. “Guess I’ll see you around?”

“Perhaps. Provided you don’t torch another portion of my property.”

He stopped. Felt the comment dig in a little more than it should’ve, and turned to look at John. Saw the hint of a smirk that lingered there only for it to drop completely.

It hadn’t been a kind thing for John to say, but that John realized it only after looking right at him hurt even more.

Sharky couldn’t hold his tongue any longer at that.

“You know, people talk around here. Have been for years, and will keep on doing that come tomorrow, next week, next year, whenever. I know you’ve heard more than half of what goes on about you here. What they say, and just how they feel about you. Hell, I’ve talked shit plenty about you. Had no real reason to think you weren’t the county’s largest asshole based on the like, ten things we’ve said to each other before the last couple of months. But in some ways you’re an okay guy. Maybe even a great one once you get past the bullshit, and I, uh, like you.”

I like you.

He said it, actually got the words out of his mouth, and didn’t know how he could feel lighter and heavier all at once.

“Yeah, I like you. Didn’t think I’d ever say that and mean it. Probably tell the person claiming it they had a screw loose or something, but I do. And I liked being here. Working with you, being around you, and I don’t…”

Sharky bit the last part of the sentence off, because he knew what he did. He knew exactly what he’d done, and hated that this was the result.

“I, uh, don’t think it really matters what I say at this point, huh?” he muttered, looking John’s way. “Not anymore, at least.”

John’s jaw had tensed sometime in the last minute or so, but he held his tongue. Said nothing, and Sharky had let himself ramble on in spite of it. Had done anything to cover up whatever else he’d try.

Since this really was it, wasn’t it? The last time he was going to be here, talking to him, and he was wasting his time talking about anything other than the way he’d made him feel that day.

He’d never had the best of luck with shit like this anyway.

Giving John a grin, one that he wanted to muster up and mean, he held out his hand to him. “Guess this is where we part ways, amigo, and uh, don’t worry. Don’t think I’ll be taking a joyride in your boat twice.”

Not dropping his stare for a second, John shifted towards him and took his hand. Squeezed it as he shook it, and Sharky felt his grin finally wane as he forced himself to let go.

With one last slap to John’s shoulder, he headed towards his car.

“Charlemagne,” John called after him, but he didn’t slow down. “Charle-Sharky, wait.”

“Just save it, okay?” he snapped, pouring all of his frustration into it. “Don’t bother with the names, the pleading, or whatever this is you’re trying! Persuading me? Now? The fuck’s up with that? Not like you wanted me here to begin with, but it is what it is. I wrecked your shit, I came here to fix it, thinking that was going to be all of it, but this?”

He gestured between them, and let too much show on his face while saying it.

“This on top of everything else? Fucking blows, man. It fucking blows.”

Seeing John’s calm crack wasn’t satisfying. Having to force it to begin with, even less so.

“So just…let it go, huh? Save us both more trouble in the long run.”

Sharky turned, his feet carrying him to his car, and after slamming the door shut behind him, left.

On autopilot, he gunned the engine, not thinking about where the road was winding to. Just away. Far, far, away as he passed each of the signs dotting the valley. Following the road, he revved more than the car liked, content to keep listening to the roar of the motor until it shuddered. Something kicked around outside, pulling his attention straight to it, and he pulled in to a nearby gas station as he caught the familiar smell of burnt rubber.

He idled by the pump. Listened to the engine as he loosened his grip on the steering wheel, and turned the keys to shut it all off. Only then did the silence really hit; leaving him alone with only his heavy, uneven breathing to listen to.

That’s when the blue caught his eye.

Right on the dash sat the sunglasses. Blue, almost as blue as his eyes.

Punching the steering wheel, Sharky swallowed the rest of his feelings down and got out.

[scars-of-the-hart]

Mass Effect 3: From The Ashes -Chapter 2: Burnout

Chapter Two

Burnout

She knew she looked like shit.  The dreams had come again last night, with a vengeance. She could barely look Garrus in the eye as they ate together in the mess, the rest of her crew cheerfully discussing their options for shore leave when they arrived at Palaven. She had done her best to show the usual “Shepard” bravado. Ordered Ash and Vega to get a room in a different building than hers so she didn’t have to hear any of their “recreation,” asked what the best sushi restaurant was, and made comments about taking in the “native scenery” with a pointed, slow scrutiny of Garrus that she swore had actually made him blush.  If Turians could blush… to her horror, she had learned they could bruise.

Once upon a time, once upon a different “Commander Shepard,” she probably wouldn’t have been so casual with her crew. Would have kept her liasons - no fuck “liasons,” her dating life - more private and encouraged others to do the same. She never would have striven for the uptight (in her opinion), stupid professionalism and lack of… liasing… that she knew other officers expected. These were warriors. All of them. Whether they charged out behind her with a gun or made sure the water-filtration system stayed funcional, they had all faced death day in and day out.  And… it was a bunch of mostly humans stuck together in a tin can flying through a vacuum, with things outside (and sometimes inside) that wanted to kill them - spirits knew they needed to take the edge off somehow.

“Spirits”… she’d started swearing like him… well… like he did when he thought she was asleep and couldn’t hear him.

But trying to keep that “professionalism” in the face of so much death, loss and destruction, to stifle anything that might make someone laugh, feel something other than fear, make someone blush... that pursuit seemed petty now.

She felt exhausted at the thought of trying to keep up that bravado when they reached Palaven.  Garrus had assured her that she would have a place of honor among Turians till the end of time for what she had done to save their planet, not to mention the personal services she had done for the Primarch. He told her that she’d better not worry what they thought. But to be honest, that just felt like more pressure.  She had a feeling she might miss being the rogue, back-from-the-dead Spectre everyone thought was crazy, saying that there were monsters hiding under everyone’s cars, rather than the all-saving “Shepard.”

Maybe she should just spend a few months on Tuchanka. At least if she threw a fit and yelled “GO AWAY I SAVED YOU ALL I’M TIRED STILL” she would get some begrudging respect for her level of aggression. She had a feeling the same behavior on Palaven would have them looking at her with pursed mandibles and thinking her “primitive.”

But she wanted to go back now, for his sake. He tried to play it cool, but she knew he was worried. He never for a moment gave any sign that he wanted to be anywhere but her agonizingly slowly healing side. You would think being “synthesized” and full of these little… strands of… something (it was infuriating that no one could tell her what they were) would make you heal fast or some shit like that, but no. The organic part of her stuck with being very organic and patched up at a snail's pace. But she could tell that he felt he urgently needed to get back to Palaven. His father and sister had made it out when the Reapers attacked, barely, but his sister had a broken leg, and the two of them had been very guarded when discussing the health of his mother.

Waking up in his arms in the engine room that morning had been like taking a punch to the gut. He must have taken a seat on the floor at some point, back resting against the wall of the control panel. She had awoken to find herself folded in his arms, her cheek against his bare torso, a sheet from her (no… their bed) half tangled around her but still showing far too much of her underwear-clad body.  She had no memory of being brought into the engine room, no understanding why he was topless; thank the spirits, at least he was wearing pants. She was mortified. She knew he had found her when she had fallen asleep here earlier this week.  She’d woken briefly as he walked down the hall from the engine room, perhaps when she could no longer feel that gentle thrum that surrounded her now.

After waking she had just sat there. Listening to the slow, strangely soothing beating of his heart. At least he was sleeping. After all these fucking dreams… letting him sleep was the least she could do. He was starting to look like shit too. 

And oh god, did she look like shit, she thought as she passed a painfully reflective wall panel, as she made her way towards the bridge.  An engineer passed her with a respectful nod which she returned with a slight smile. They seemed tense, but thankfully said nothing. Well, maybe that was the upside of dying in universe-saving wars… twice. Your crew were impressed or scared of you enough to avoid commenting when you looked like crap. 

She snorted to herself.  She’d have to tell Anderson to use that strategy the next time he had to deal with all the damn politicians. Maybe they could take some shore leave and she could bring him up to speed over a long night of drinks; although he’d probably drink her under the table, coming from London…

The city's name in her head was like a biotic blast to the chest. London. Anderson. Her steps faltered and she grasped the walkway railing with one hand for a moment. Had she really just….was she that stupid? She cursed herself. No, no. There would be no telling Anderson. No seeing that twinkle in his eye behind his Spartan countenance; no hearing him grumble dryly, “I knew it was a bad idea letting them make you a Spectre.”  The pain at that thought was… heavy, as if his absence left yet another mantle of responsibility on her already straining shoulders. Well, she would just have to settle for giving him something interesting to watch from wherever he was now.

She neared the helm and heard EDI and Joker laughing up ahead. Now that was a sound she would never tire of. Garrus thought EDI’s laugh had become eerily human since the synthesis, but Shepard thought it had become delightfully human. She owed the AI an eternal debt of gratitude for what she’d done - not to mention the fact that it meant that Shepard wasn’t the only one changed in ways that no one could understand.

“Hey Shepard!” called Joker as she drew level with them, “Ash told me you were asking for sushi recommendations on Palaven. I’m really sorry but I have something super important to do at the exact time you’re going, so you’ll have to find someone else to be your decoy this time - I mean date.”

At hearing this, EDI began to - no… really? Yep, Shepard wasn’t seeing things - the AI had just rolled her eyes at their pilot.

“Joker continues to think that any kind of combat training, including simple target practice, is a terrible idea,” she said. “Despite Garrus’ and my recommendations.”

“Look,” chided Joker, “I have lived through all these disasters as a pilot. No way am I messing up my survival streak with this one still around and wreaking havoc.” He grinned at her, “With all due respect Commander, I for one think the galaxy would actually be a whole lot safer and quieter if you would stay dead one of these days.”

Her lip twitched. Things would suck without Joker. It would be a hell of a lot harder to deal with all this without him: someone who knew when she couldn’t take any more gentle voices, respectful nods, or awe-filled stares and instead needed a good old ribbing. Needed to feel human for a few minutes.

“I’ll take your feedback into consideration, Lieutenant Moreau.” Shepard said dryly.

“If you want a quieter galaxy, you should accompany her on a mission, Jeff,” EDI offered. “Your lack of cross training is probably the most efficient way to get her killed.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” he shot back at her.

“Well, Lieutenant,” Shepard asked, “Are we still on schedule for our arrival on Palaven? Or have you drifted several days off-course while griping about your untenable world-saving workload?”

EDI snorted. Now even that one surprised Shepard.

“No, Commander. We are on schedule, Ma’am.” he answered. She cringed despite herself. She was fine with that usually, but it never sounded right coming from Joker. “Although, we’ve had a message from Tali.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she was wondering if there was any way we could make a stop on Rannoch on our way to Palaven.” Shepard frowned. “She said she had something she wanted to discuss with you and Liara in person about the… Reapers settlement.”  His voice tensed as he mentioned the Reapers. She had shared her full account of what happened on the Crucible with the closer members of her crew after they picked her and Garrus up from Sur'Kesh and began their current journey. It had been a long night and somehow, despite being in a private room of a Salarian bar, there hadn’t seemed to be enough alcohol. Joker, despite being obviously horrified by the option to destroy all higher functioning synthetics and the ramifications that would have had for EDI, still seemed very distrustful of the idea of giving intellectual freedom to the Reapers.  She didn’t blame him. The damage they had wreaked on Earth’s surface had been horrifying, but she heard several people, even Garrus, say that the carnage in the skies, Reapers ripping through dreadnaughts like they were made of paper, was like nothing he had ever seen before. And Joker had been in the heart of that maelstrom the whole time.

“Did it sound urgent?” she asked. She hated the thought of Garrus waiting longer to see his family.

“From her tone… yeah.” he sighed. She wondered if, underneath all his blustering, he was as worn out as she was. Garrus had talked about retiring on a beach. But you needed to be able to breathe on your own, and walk on your own to go to a beach, and that had taken her a while. Then there were questions to answer, and people to check in on and… oh well. She’d never spent much time on beaches. Maybe she’d have hated sand and it would have been a waste of time. 

“Alright,” she said. “I’m going to check in with Garrus, see if he thinks we can spare the time.” She started towards the back of the ship, “Don’t have too much fun you two,” she called back over her shoulder. “Moreau, you have the bridge.”

As her footsteps rang on the walkway she heard poorly restrained laughter and grumbling.

“You got Moreau’d” sniggered EDI.

“Yeah well you-”

“Twice!”

“Shut up!”

*     *     *

“The engine room?” Liara asked incredulously. Garrus rubbed his eyes and squinted at the equations he had been pretending to try and pay attention to. He should really just throw in the towel. He was only kidding himself at this point.

“Yeah…” he sighed. “Two nights in a row now. So I guess that’s progress.”

Liara gave him a long disparaging look. She pushed off the wall of the main battery where she had been leaning and took a step towards him.

“I’ll talk to her about assisting with her sleep,” she said.

“No. We’re not there yet.” He sighed.

“I don’t think that’s your call to make,” she said softly.

He closed his eyes, shook his head to clear it and continued after a deep breath, “I… look that’s not what I meant.  She’s proud.” He fixed his eyes on Liara. “You know she is. Do you really think she wants to be asked that now? When who the hell knows who is going to want to meet with her when we get to Palaven?”

She frowned. “All the more reason for her to actually be getting rest on the way there.”

Garrus felt trapped. “Maybe we put a cot in there...”

Liara snorted. “Oh, so having everyone on the ship knowing-”

“We could hide it and when she’s ready to go to sleep-”

“What? Have her sneak into the engine room? That’s better for her pride than biotic assistance?”

“I don’t know, ok? I’ve had as much time to work on this problem as you have!” he snapped.

“And I’m telling you I have a better solution for her,” she retorted.

Garrus could feel his irritation growing. “And, why exactly do you think you know what is going to be better for her?” he growled.

“Because I actually-” she stopped herself and let out a long, suffering breath.

Garrus raised his brows, leaning forward on the console with his forearms, fingers laced before him to prevent them becoming fists. He forced nonchalance and drawled, “Oh? Because you actually what?”

Liara just stared at him coldly.

“What?” he pressed, his temper getting the better of him. “Come on, what were you about to say?”

“It’s not important.”

“Really?” he stood up, crossing his arms, “Because I’m pretty sure we were just fighting about how to best protect and help the Commander of this ship and the person who just saved the whole damn galaxy... and whatever it was you were about to say seemed to be the crux of your argument for your recommended course of action… so I’m pretty sure it’s at least a little noteworthy.”

“It’s not.”

“Then we go with the cot.” 

“Are you really making jokes about this?” she scowled.

“A little humor can’t hurt.” 

Liara shook her head. “A little humor? She’s having traumatic night terrors and you’re cracking jokes-”

“Don’t you judge me! I’m the one watching her wake up screaming-” he snarled.

“Oh poor you!” she bit back. “If it's so hard on your precious sleep then let me-”

“Liara, that dependance is going to crush her-”

“How do you know until you ask-”

“Because I know her-”

“NO YOU DON’T.”

It was his turn to go silent, to freeze as the anger coiled within him. “Is that what you were going to say? “Because I actually know her?” Better than I do? Is that it.” He could feel his head pounding.

Her jaw was tight. “You two had one fling nearly a year ago and now a few months of-”

“But your fling years ago makes you the expert-”

“It wasn’t a fling,” she hissed. “I was completely invested-”

“But was she?” He cut back. Liara’s face stilled. Damn. He… he knew it had been a low blow… he was just so-

“At least it didn’t take her dying the first time for me to notice her.”

 Cold outrage filled him, but also a whisper of fear, or regret. She seemed to sense it, she laughed bitterly.

“Incredible.” She walked towards the door but stopped before it, not even bothering to look at him, like someone taking a shot there was no way they could miss; someone who knew there was no outcome besides the bullet finding the mark. Quietly, she added, “and I never would have waited to further things with her. Not if there was even one chance that we might not have much time.” 

She tapped the panel on the wall and the doors slid open. Good, he thought. Leave. Leave him to do something useful and distract him from the all-to-real fears she had mocked. But to his frustration she closed the panel and looked at him, this time with the barest trace of pity, which actually pissed him off more.

“She needs sleep, Garrus.” she said, her first words without venom in a while. “And so do you.”

“I sleep fine.” He growled.

“No you don’t.” He opened his mouth to retort but before he could, she added, “And I know you don’t because I’ve been sitting outside her cabin doors at night, and I can feel you lying there watching her,” she sighed. It did nothing to dispel the air of tension in the room. Her pity deepened, “and you said that you're the one who’s ‘watching her wake up screaming.’”

The doors to the battery snapped open and Shepard stared at them.  “Did I miss something about a meeting?” she asked dryly.

“Ah - no we -” stammered Garrus.

“You sure? I’ve been sleeping like shit, it’s totally gonna make me miss something. I need to see Chakwas or someone about it later…”

“No,” Liara said smoothly, stepping past Shepard, “Garrus was having some trouble with his calculations.” She gave him a meaningful look. “...but I was just able to show him he was wrong.” And with that she left, sealing the door behind her. Garrus seathed silently. He’d have to see if the shooting range had a blue practice dummy.

Shepard gazed at the closed portal for a moment, looking perplexed, “Ok,” she said at last, then crossed to him. “Garrus, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything for you, Shepard.” he said, forcing the damned Asari from his mind and focusing on the woman before him. Damn, she looked more tired than she had been earlier that morning.

She smiled at him, then grew serious. “I know that we were trying to get back to Palaven as quickly as we could to check on your family. But… we just got a message from Tali. She needs Liara and I for something on Rannoch. I think it has something to do with the Reapers, and Joker said it sounded urgent.”

The Reapers, of course she’d have to deal with them even now. His chest was tight but he purred mischievously. “Commander, you flatter a grunt like me by coming here, but our headings are your call.”

“You’re pretty, but don’t think you’re that important,” she said, smacking his arm lightly, then adding seriously, “I just know you’re worried about them and it's been a while since we had any news.”

His heart warmed at her concern. “They’re Vakarians, Shepard. We’re hard to kill. Haven’t you dragged me through hell enough to learn that yet?”

“Clearly not,” she laughed, “Guess we’ll have to keep getting into trouble till it sinks in. But seriously, you’re sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It’ll be fine. Besides… Reapers.... who else are they going to call.....”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. Then squinted at the calibrations on the screen. “So you really needed math help from Liara?” 

“No!” He snapped, before he could help himself, “Uh- well- she was exaggerating.” Yeah, he had definitely seen a blue target practice dummy in the back of a locker somewhere….

“Oh my god, you did!” she teased, “Wow, you must be more worn out than I am.” She squinted at him. “You look like shit, Vakarian. I’ve learned by now Turians can blush and bruise but I didn’t know you could get eyebags too.” He growled at her. “You’re lucky I like scars so much.”

That was it. He grabbed her and pinned her to the wall. 

“Really, Shepard?” he breathed. “Well, then let’s take a look everywhere and see who has more….”

The light dancing in her eyes made his mouth dry. He pushed away his worries and the small, self-conscious voice Shepard had just woken up, and focused on her. Although, it was a bit of a struggle. Did she really have to go there? He knew he looked like shit.

[moonsdancer]

headcanons...

Okay, fam, I’m going to need about 40K fic of platonic soulmates (who occasionally make-out in non-serious and V. PLATONIC ways) roommates Toni and Jughead fic, STAT!

She gets locked out of her uncle’s house regularly and needs a couch to surf on, Jughead has that couch. So give me this...

housemates (trailermates?) jopaz

In which:

The two of them spend long nights lounging on Jughead’s lumpy couch, exchanging sarcastic one-liners and watching bad reality shows, late night infomercials interspersed with classic Agatha Christie and Twilight Zone reruns on a surprisingly quality flat-screen TV they technically stole.

They take turns on who does the cooking. When Jughead does it, it’s really slap-dash beans out of a can on toast with a hot dog (and a few hot dogs for the real Hot Dog) or an overcooked burger... basically, he ends up going to Pop’s and getting them the Duo Double Cheese Special (two double cheeseburgers, fries and some sodas). When Toni does it, she introduces Jughead to novel and revolutionary things like the concept of tasty vegetables and the importance of dietary fibre. Except, when Toni cooks everything tastes amazing - LIKE, restaurant level amazing. And Jughead’s not been to many fancy restaurants but he’s sure of this. Where did she get her skills? Right after her dad split, and her mom died, and she got stuck living with her uncle, her uncle’s girlfriend at the time was a chef at a local diner and she showed Toni everything she knew about a skillet. Jughead didn’t even know hot sauce and peas out of a can could do the things Toni makes it do. And jerk chicken? Toni makes the best jerk in Riverdale, he believes it. He wants to enter her chicken in contests but he’s too scared that other people will discover this treasure and STEAL IT FROM HIM! She also, weirdly, somehow, makes a gourmet grilled cheese that’s Jughead’s favourite. The two of them eat A LOT, it’s probably one of the cornerstones of their friendship.

NOTE: Jughead is ALWAYS on dish duty because Toni hates that shit, and it’s only fair.

Sometimes on nights when the both of them can’t sleep (more often than not for these two), they sit in the dark on Jughead’s trailer’s makeshift porch. Toni occasionally produces a blunt, or Jughead offers a root beer (or a real beer), that they share, while they ruminate on life, love and Riverdale’s latest lurid crime.

On days, mostly weekends, where they’ve got to do a drug/petty theft/whatever run for the Serpents, they spend the mornings oiling  and tinkering on their bikes. Toni’s better at it than Jughead is, and she shows him how to fix his busted oil gauge, where to source mostly decent old tires for when the rubber on his wears thin, and all that good shit. 

Toni’s also a faster and more skilled rider than he is, by far. She goes so fast sometimes, that she disappears on the long stretches of road in front of Jughead, and by the time he catches up, she’s idling by some tree, filing her nails, quirking her eyebrow to ask “What took you so long, Juggie?”

Jughead shows Toni all his favourite places on the Northside. She didn’t have any reason to explore it before, and now she gets to see it through his eyes, and see that maybe it’s not all bad asshole territory. The old drive-in’s totally gutted, and it’s mostly covered in a half-completed paved car-park and dusty construction crap, but they spend some nights out there anyway, throwing rocks at signs, and racing their bikes in circles.

Toni shows Jughead some of her photos, even the ones she’s never shown anyone, that she’s gathered in dusty albums as part of her portfolio.  She’s always dreamed of being one of those awesome travel photographers or maybe fashion or a hard-hitting journalista... anything that would allow her to get out and see the world. “It’s a dumb dream,” she says, with a wry twist of her mouth. “It’ll never happen, or whatever.” Jughead puts a hand on hers and says with confidence, like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life, “It will - I believe in you.”

In turn, Jughead shares some of his stories with her. Short stories that he started writing when he was twelve, remnants of novels that he’s never finished, the Riverdale story he’s constantly writing now. The first time, he just shoved a sheaf of papers at her and ran away to his room, too scared to wait and see what her reaction to reading it would be. But then she gave it back to him, with a few notes in the margins, some really great feedback that helped Jug see where he could improve a couple of things, and a big smiley-crying face (:’DDDDD) with a few hilarious doodles at the end along with the words, You have a gift, don’t ever let anyone make you think different. Now he doesn’t get so shy.

They work on articles for the RED AND BLACK together. The newspaper’s held together with nothing but sticky tape and a wad of gum, and the school doesn’t bother to give them any funds to produce it - but they both believe in it so much that they turn it into an online blog (which is much better for Toni who takes care of all the photography). Riverdale needs to hear the voices of the Southside, to know that the town might step all over them but they’re not worthless or dead. They can still speak out about the shitty reality of their town. It starts with only a few clicks, but when they break a Ghoulie trafficking ring story - there’s no going back. Their “little blog” starts giving the official town paper a run for its money.

They share their war stories. Jughead tells Toni about the day his mother left with Jelly Bean. He tells her about what it was like growing up with his dad, and how he decided to run away and live homeless because he couldn’t take it anymore. About being the weird loner kid in high school whose only friends were good people but that he never could quite shake the feeling of being their charity case or something. The horrible feeling that he was a walking reminder that they might have terrible lives, but at least they weren’t having it as bad as Jughead and his shitty father and his absentee mother. Toni tells Jughead about the day her dad split - she can’t really remember it perfectly, she was five or whatever. She just remembers the sound of the door swinging on its hinges, the voices of her parents yelling at each other, and then her mom locking herself up in her room, crying. After her mom passed, she tried to find her dad. She even got an phone number, somewhere out in Tennessee or something. She hasn’t called it. She tells him about her uncle, who took her in with great reluctance. He wasn’t all bad, at least for the first few years. But then he lost a bunch of money (gambling addiction), and Toni got mixed up with the Serpents. She managed to keep him from getting his ass killed for not paying his debt, and he ends up locking her out of the house whenever the whim takes him because he blames her for all his shitty life choices. It’s whatever. She has a bed, and a roof over her head 1-2 days out of the week. Sweet Pea puts her up some nights, Fangs too, a couple of her on-offs as well. “That’s more than a lot of people can say, right?”

Toni’s the first person Jughead tells that he thinks he might be demisexual and demiromantic or something. That he feels like maybe something’s wrong with him because he loves Betty but sometimes he’s not sure it’s in the way she wants him or needs him to love her. Toni never laughs at him or tells him he’s weird, she just listens and accepts, and he appreciates that.

Jughead reluctantly co-hosts a party with Betty and Archie for the sole purpose of creating an opportunity for Toni to maybe, possibly, probably hit on Cheryl. And you know he must care for Toni a lot because Jughead + Parties is just NO. Anyway, Toni and Cheryl date for a while, and they’re really into each other even though they fight quite a bit. Jughead doesn’t think the weird curdling, burning feeling in the pit of his stomach is jealousy per se because him and Toni aren’t like that. But a tiny ugly part of him is relieved when Toni and Cheryl call it quits in the summer after senior year. “We’re just on different paths, y’know,” Toni says, her eyes are a little red, and Jughead cuddles with her for long hours and makes his infamous beans on toast. 

She’s right though: Cheryl’s off to Paris for something or other. Toni and he are taking a roadtrip on their motorbikes all the way across the country, then down the West Coast and maybe even as far as they can get through Central America (hopefully). It’s not the “responsible” thing to do, but neither of them is sure they want to apply to college like Betty and Veronica, hell, Archie did. And they definitely couldn’t afford it, so an adventure seems like a good idea. Sweet Pea’s coming along for most of the US-leg but he has to come back to help with his family’s shop. Either way, it’ll be awesome, Toni taking photographs, Jughead writing -- maybe they’ll both get their dreams after all!

I could go on. I really could.

But. Someone, please, make it happen. I might make it happen. I make no promises.

[abtlenzymes]

Role of Immuno-Modulators in Promoting Bird Health

In large scale intensive poultry production, only fast growing and high yielding hybrid birds are reared; which are generally more prone for infections, due to lesser disease resistance power and break down of immunity. Well developed immunity is very much important to increase the general disease resistance power of the birds and thereby improve its productivity. Therefore in commercial poultry production, the farmer must pay maximum attention, to develop immunity in the flock. Hence the farmer has to take into consideration several measures, not only to prevent break down of immunity, but also to boost the immunity building process. Vaccination alone is not sufficient to boost immunity. Moreover, they are specific for a particular disease and vaccines are not available for many diseases. Vaccination failures and break down of immunity are more common, due to improper vaccination, poor nutrition, mycotoxins, stress of various kinds, overcrowding, insufficient ventilation, poor flock management, improper housing, poor quality drinking water and many more reasons. There are several immunosuppressive diseases; which will not only cause that particular disease; but also results in general breakdown of immunity. Overall general immunity will not only prevent disease outbreaks, but also results in higher rate of production. Nutritionally balanced, toxin-free feed along with use of immunomodulators in poultry feed will boost the immunity in the poultry.

Need of Immunomodulators in poultry feed under stress conditions

In poultry, homeostasis results in physiological changes of an individual causing stress reduces the overall performance. Various kinds of stress among which, heat stress is more common and badly affects bird performance if proper nutritional and managemental care is not taken into consideration. The heat stressed birds may fall short to perform with respect to the body weight, feed efficiency, laying performance and mortality. However, the heat stress susceptibility of a breed depends upon various factors such as strain, feathering pattern, nutritional plane and production system. Further, it can be considered as a factor responsible for immune suppression in birds, resulting in infectious diseases and reduced performance in the flock. This causes potential economic losses and the farmer need to face the debts in the business. So, to counteract this heat stress induced immune suppression, one should follow certain strategies including supplementation of some nutrients like vitamins, minerals, electrolytes and some additives like probiotics, prebiotics, essential oils, polyherbal preparations, aspirin, betaine, systemic enzymes and acetic acid. These substances bring about the change in the internal environment of gastrointestinal tract and enhances the immunity.

Commonly used Immunomodulators in Poultry

Direct-Fed Microbials (DFMs)/Probiotics have been used as prophylactic agents against enteric pathogens, presumably by balancing microbiota, by modulating host immunity, or both. The dietary Bacillus subtilis, when used in a broiler as a potential growth promoter, can provide beneficial effects on broiler performance and modulate host humoral and cellular immune responses to enteric pathogens.

Butyrate have been appreciated for its beneficial effects on the host, including anti-inflammatory effects on epithelial cells. A scientific study indicated that dietary butyrate supplementation can improve the growth performance in chickens under stress, and that this could be used to moderate the immune response and reduce tissue damage.

Essential oils exert their mode of action mainly with bactericidal effect, enhances the activity of endogenous digestive enzymes and modulation of the immune system.

Prebiotics are non-digestible feed ingredients that are metabolized by specific (beneficial) members of intestinal microbiota and provide health benefits for the host. Prebiotics are capable of modulating gut microbiota and the immune interactions in favour of chicken health.

Vitamin A is a fat soluble vitamin having significant role in immune function and reproduction process. In layer, it reduces heat stress and increases egg production while in broiler it helps in improving overall growth and performance. It is very effective if given in combination with zinc to minimize heat stress.

Vitamin C is a water soluble vitamin and can be synthesized in poultry and not required as a supplement under normal condition. However, in heat stressed chicken, it is proven to be beneficial by reducing corticosterone production with simultaneous increase in insulin and thyroid levels. In case of broiler breeders, it increases egg weight, fertility and hatchability. In heat stressed broiler, Vit.C requirement is more, as it also acts as antioxidant. It improves carcass yield and quality, feed efficiency, carcass protein content and reduces crude fat.

Vitamin E is a fat soluble vitamin and its dietary intake reduces heat stress and improves egg production. It increases plasma concentration of yolk lipids by production and release from liver. It protects the liver and body cells from oxidative injuries also. Vitamin E shall be supplemented before, during and after any stressful condition.

Herbal plants feed additives and their derivatives like secondary metabolites are being used traditionally for their therapeutic and immunomodulatory functions. These herbal principles or metabolites include saponins, glyacoproteins, polysaccharides, and flavonoids etc. These metabolites have a wide variety of medicinal actions like lymphocyte stimulation. 

Systemic enzymes (Immunotech)

Immunotech is a unique systemic enzyme based immunomodulator which comprises a synergistic combination of Serratiopeptidase, Nattokinase, Bromelain, Papain, & Bioflavonoids (Rutin). Immunotech have its application through feed (Immunotech Powder) as well as through drinking water (Immunotech Liquid) and its cost effectiveness makes it as a versatile solution for poultry farmers. In low risk condition (continuous application), it is recommended as a preventive measure to stimulate the immunomodulation process and the overall immune function. In high risk condition (intermittent application), it is flexible and recommended to identify stress periods with precision. Immunotech is a versatile solution having anti-inflammatory, anti-oxidative and fibrinolytic properties that helps in improved immunomodulation and better performance.

Product Specification

Recommended Inclusion Levels :

Immunotech (Feed)

         For Broiler : Pre-starter & starter : 500 g/ton of feed            

                              Finisher : 250 g/ton of feed        

         For Layer/Breeder : 250 g/ton of feed        

Immunotech (Liquid)

         Continuous Application : 250 ml/1000 birds in drinking water twice a day for first two  days of application,  followed by 100 ml/1000 birds twice in a day third day onwards.

         Intermittent Application : 250 ml/1000 birds in drinking water twice a day.

 Presentation :

    Immunotech powder : 1 kg

    Immunotech Liquid : 1. 5 lit

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 12 – Repaying Debt

“Are you an agent of Union?”

“I was.”

Takio walked away after drawing blanket over Yuigi’s body. Meanwhile, Yuigi’s eyes were plastered on his ponytail.

“You sound like you know me, but I don’t know you. Based on what you said, I probably don’t remember you. Who are you? Identify yourself.”

“Takio, an ex-agent of DA-5.”

Yuigi’s back stiffened for a second. The title was familiar, but she never imagined she would ever hear it again.

“DA-5...?”

“Yes. It’s the one you’re thinking of.”

Takio offered her a cup brimming with crystal-clear water, but Yuigi did not even consider taking it. She was busy rolling her eyes with miniscule control.

The DA-5 was a team created by Dr. Aris, an executive researcher originally under the 12th Elder, the commander of the Cerberus. So in a way, DA-5 was categorized in the same power pool as the Cerberus. So Yuigi would not have been so wary of Takio, if it were not for the fact that things have changed as of now.

“I heard you were dead. No, the 12th Elder and the rest of the Cerberus heard that all agents of DA-5 were destroyed. But how come I’m looking at you?”

“...It’s a long story. And I don’t think this is the right opportunity.”

“If you don’t tell me how come you’re alive, there’s no reason for me to trust you or take that from you.”

Takio could guess what was going through Yuigi’s mind. She was pointing out the fact that there is no reason she would not know that he was alive, unless he turned his back on the Union and hid his status on purpose.

There was another option, of course – he faked his death due to a highly classified mission. In fact, Union’s history is marred with an infinity of classified missions, some of which immensely contributed to Union’s development and growth, proven by the archived records.

Yet, the problem is that termination of DA-5, Takio included, was directly reported to an elder and his lesser executive agents. Even if an agent is on a highly classified mission, the personnel directly in charge of the agent or the one who issued such a mission is bound to be informed that the agent has faked death. Since the 12th Elder and the Cerberus never heard that Takio was actually alive, the chance that he is on a top secret mission is close to zero.

Which means it would not be strange for Takio to see Yuigi raging at him with fists ready to crush his skull. Partially to prevent that from happening, Takio decided to tell her the truth, albeit a bit soon.

If this were a normal situation, he would be basically telling her she has lost her job. However, the impact will be bigger than simply losing a job. And since Yuigi was in the top tier of all modified humans of Union, the impact on her would be equivalent to getting shot by a gun, whispered Takio in his head.

“There’s no need to be so guarded, Miss Yuigi. Or rather, now there’s no reason for you to be guarded against me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Union is now virtually history, Miss Yuigi.”

Takio chose to just pull the trigger, as he determined it would be better to cut straight to the point. As expected, he could see an invisible shockwave blasting through Yuigi from head to toe. He could even hear a ‘bang’ just by watching her twitch.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true.”

“Like hell it is. The Union has been reigning as the gigantic hand above everyone’s head with this planet in its grasp. And you’re telling me that giant hand is no more? I’m not buying... Kgh! I’m not buying it... Until I see for my... Ugh!!”

Yuigi attempted to lift herself, but she fell defeated to the pain as if her legs were being wrenched off her torso.

“Please do not move. I could not provide proper treatment for you ever since I took you from the lab, so you are in no condition to...”

“I may have lost my healing power because of Yuri. I may have gone through hell thanks to Crombell’s experiments. And I may have been frozen all this time. Still, it takes less than half a minute for me to throw you into a dumpster. The only reason I’m letting you talk to me is because you saved me, and you’re about to reach the limit of my patience.”

“I will stop you by force if I have to. And one more thing – you can’t beat me anymore. I’m not the one I used to be.”

Bam!

Yuigi slapped Takio’s hand, targeting the cup he was still holding out. The motion was considerably fast, something not to be seen from a lab rat kept in a freezer after a series of experiments carried out while she was breathing.

The ancestral elders of the Union would burst out of their graves to laugh their rotten guts out if they heard what you just said, Yuigi muttered to herself. She was a member of the Cerberus, and he was an agent of the DA-5. However, she was in no mood or shape to correct him or show him that his words are invalid.

Which is why she opted to separate the cup from Takio’s hand a little violently. Her plan was to demonstrate that Bill Shankly is right – form is temporary, class is permanent – with a blow that he would not have foreseen even if he did not put his guards down.

Unfortunately for Yuigi, her plan did not do the trick at all.

‘What the...?’

A feathery breeze brushed her skin when she withdrew her arm, and the moment she raised her head to find out why, she saw Takio extending a cup of water towards her, as if nothing happened.

“Forgive me, but I cannot let you leave this place.”

To her disbelief, the cup was the very one she just struck, teeming with water.

‘Impossible...!’

Yuigi caught that there was a tiny wave inside the cup and quickly scanned the purple-haired man. She realized her speculation is veracious upon noticing that several locks of his hair exhibited a sign of air current running through.

‘Did he just scoop up all that liquid as I merely a took a breath?’

Yuigi could feel her spine immediately stupefied, for she could not detect his movement at all. Even with the fact that her body is a disaster put into account, the most she could pull off was deducing from the flow of air what happened after it had happened. To top it off, it literally happened right in her nose.

‘Even I can’t move that elusively and nimbly. Not even with my battle suit on. And with neither my healing power nor my battle suit, there’s no way I can take down this guy.’

Hence Yuigi concluded it is better and best to endure the humiliation and wait until her body recovers to a useful level.

“You should first hydrate yourself.”

Sighing inwardly, grateful that she did not blindly pick a fight with him, Yuigi succumbed by taking the cup.

“...By the way, how do you know that the Union has fallen?”

“...I took part in triumphing over Union.”

Yuigi stopped in the middle of her slow drinking. But it did not take long until she resumed drinking, apparently having predicted such a reply from him.

“So why would a nemesis of the Union save me? Am I your hostage?”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have brought you to my teammate’s safehouse if I ever intended to make you a hostage.”

Safehouse?

That was when Yuigi finally studied her surroundings.

She was currently seated on a cot placed at the corner of the room, so well-furnished it was no different from a bed. Nearby she spotted a refrigerator, kitchenette equipment, mid-sized table, and chairs. On the other side of the wall was a set of medical equipment, resembling a downsized imitation of Union’s lab facility. She could even find a small space isolated by a door, which she surmised was a toilet or a shower room.

‘Just who could be the owner of this safehouse? It can actually be on a par with Union’s safehouses.’

While she was scrutinizing her environment, Takio was rummaging through the fridge.

“I bet your stomach is far from settled, but you should eat something. I’ve prepared a meal beforehand. As you eat, I’ll answer your questions regarding Union to the best of my abilities.”

“...Then hurry up. I have tons of things to ask.”

*****

Cerberus : entirely gone.

12th Elder : killed.

All elders of Union : vanquished.

Crombell, Dr. Aris, and Yuri : deceased.

Union : presently slumping down the aisle of downfall.

Takio knew that he needs to provide more details than such 5 lines. For example, the 3rd Elder as of now is an ally-slash-person-of-interest for Frankenstein, and Lunark defected from Union long time ago. Yet if he were to do that, there was no telling if and how Yuigi would retaliate to his team and his allies.

He did not forget that strictly speaking, Yuigi was his enemy.

“...So Aris fell by your hands. And you helped with Yuri’s death. And with Crombell’s annihilation.”

“...Precisely.”

“So is it safe for me to assume one of the pedals that accelerated Union’s demolition-slash-extinction belongs to you?”

Takio kept his mouth shut, and he needed not to say more.

“Do you despise me for it?”

It took less than a second for Takio to regret saying that. What kind of person would not blame the one who rid her of her job?

‘Though in this case, she’s closer to a defeated soldier or a citizen of a perished empire than an unemployed. Since she was one of the top agents of Union, she must have been extremely loyal to the Union, almost treating it as a religion.’

Takio therefore kept his silence, expecting Yuigi to bombard him with every curse available in human language.

“...Maybe. Maybe not.”

He was met with a reply not listed on his catalog of possible responses from her, and he tilted his head, a rare gesture from him.

“But I don’t understand. I learned about DA-5’s eradication prior to Cerberus and 12th Elder’s arrival to this country. Which means you had betrayed Union a long time ago. Why would you show me hospitality after all this time?”

“...I am replaying my debt.”

“A debt...?”

Takio bided his time, hoping she would remember. However, he could witness creases piling up upon Yuigi’s forehead and decided it would be wise for him to drop his expectation and get on with refreshing her memories.

“I first saw you in an unknown facility of Union, before I was given the title of DA-5.”

(next chapter)

First of all, sorry for those of you who were waiting for my version of the past between Takio and Yuigi. I originally included that part in this chapter, but the texts got too long, so I had to cut the chapter in the middle. Which means, yes - the next chapter WILL BE about Takio and Yuigi’s past. Hope you will stay tuned!

[call-me-myszko]

Let’s Start With This One

Yesterday I was wandering around the forest, still following the Path, when I heard a rustling in the bushes. 

I took my dagger and I approached it. I thought that it could have been something dangerous and probably deadly. No, I do not have a death wish, but usually scary things bring lot of coin.

So, as soon as I got near it, the noise ceased and the bush went still. I waited, holding my breath for something to jump out but nothing happened.

Just as I was putting away my knife, the rustling started again. I got near it swiftly and guess what? a FUCKING RABBIT JUMPED OUT, and ran away in the woods.

To say I was disappointed is an understatement, it could have been a good dinner at least.

Anyway, I walked back to camp, and I tried to ignore my empty stomach, as I ran out of rations almost a day ago. 

I stocked up the fire with a quick Igni and rolled out my bedroll. My loyal gelding Shard was grazing the grass not far from me, or at least what little he found on the dry soil.

The sun was descending on the horizon, but there was still enough light to notice them.

Nekkers.

A little pack, luckily, but still. They were sneaky and fast creatures, and they were approaching quickly.

I unsheathed my silver sword and got in a defensive stance, rising the weapon at my shoulder level.

The one in the front, covered in red clay marks, shouted something and three of them started running towards me, screaming.

I swinged the sword, effectively cutting one’s arm and making another bleed from a chest wound.

The mutilated one looked at me (I guess, you can never tell with them) and tried to use his claws to gut me. He found itself without a head, but not before plunging his nails in my side. That fucker. I managed to rip down the other two, before what may be called the chieftain threw the rest of them at me. They fell under my sword as I reached the last one. He cried out and tried to bite me, but he only managed to get beheaded.

cutting off his head, I tied it to my saddle bags, then I started cleaning up my sword, nekker blood can be nasty on silver.

I’ll bring the trophy to the next town, hoping to earn something for it. I put aside my cleaned sword and pick up my potions’ bag, rifling through them to find the one I needed.

 Ah, there it is, my trusty Swallow. I chugged it down and put some on the wound, for good measure.

“Fuck, I’ll need a tailor for this” I said, looking at the rip in my leather armour and the tunic underneath.

“but it can wait until tomorrow morning, don't you think Shard?” he snorted in response and resumed his grazing. “thank you, you’re always a joy to speak to.” 

I got in my bedroll, turning my back to the fire and closed my eyes, falling in a light sleep.

The morning after, the first thing I noticed waking up, was the stench. The rotting smell of the nekker head I left near the bags.

Not a big deal, I’ll get rid of it as soon as I get in town, but in the meantime it’s pretty gross.

I packed up the camp and put everything on Shard. 

“Sorry for the smell, I’ll get you some apples when we arrive in town.” I patted his neck. He whinnied and started a gentle trot towards the end of the woods.

After 2 hours, give or take, we arrived to the village, it was a farmer one, so I didn’t expect a big reward for the nekkers.

After putting Shard in the tavern’s stable, I began walking towards the alderman house. I knocked on the wooden door, a loud noise of broken grass and falling metal, probably a tin mug, welcomed me. The door opened and a short man in his 50s, with a short salt and pepper beard greeted me.

“what can I do for you…” and after noticing my medallion “...witcher?”

I raised the monster head “How much for this?”

He turned pale and then slightly green, before covering his nose with a dirty handkerchief.

“By the Gods, keep it down! It stinks like pest.” 

I lowered it and stared at him, right into his watery eyes, rising an eyebrow.

“Fine, fine! I’ll give you 100 orens.”

“150”

“Pest, no way!”

I slightly swayed the head, as if I wanted to throw it at him.

“alright! I’ll give you 150 orens, but get that thing away from my house.”

I nodded, putting the head on the ground.

He went in, leaving the door open, I could see him going around, taking out little pouches of coin from everywhere. “He may have a lot of debts.” I thought.

He got back, five little bags in his hands.

“Here, now go away and do not get near me again.” Then he whispered, not meaning to let me hear “I hope the pest takes you away, mutant!”

I rolled my eyes but after making a mocking bow, I made my way to where I left my horse.

I threw the nekker head in a dunghill on the road, not that it would have made a difference, the stench was almost the same.

I heard a lot of noise as I got close to the stable.

“Oh, come on! Just one song, I swear on my beloved mother’s grave, may she rest in peace. I need co… don’t you dare touch it! No! You will break… the strings, sweet Melitele! My poor harp!” as I took the turn I saw someone I (unfortunately) knew very well. 

My friend Jarek.

I sighed, He can’t stay out of trouble for the love of the Gods for barely one day. We splitted the day before, him saying that he had “important things to do and beautiful people to see.”

As I got closer, people began to move away from me, afraid or maybe just because I smelled like I took a dip in the muck.

I’ll say the latter.

“Jarek, my friend, what are you doing here?” I asked the half-elf bard.

“May the Gods strike me if that is not my Myszko!” he grinned.

“I told you not to call me that.” I glared at him, making him flush and lower his eyes, to my great satisfaction.

“Sorry Rysia, I-”

“What happened? And- No, don’t you dare tell me that you have nothing to do with this.” I interrupted him just as he was opening his mouth to protest.

The crowd was looking at us, curious to see what that situation will bring. I glare was enough to scare away the most of them “What are you looking at?” I asked the others. They grumbled something along the lines of “Fuckin’ witcher” and “mutant”, but apart from a few that got the audacity to spit, everyone left swiftly.

“So? I’m waiting for an explanation.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I was in the tavern, you know, as always, playing my harp and singing my best ones. Oh, by the way, you have to hear the last one I wrote, It’s about a maiden I found in -”

“Jarek” I almost growled.

“Right, as I said, I was in the tavern, and suddenly the owner comes out of the kitchen saying that I can’t stay there, that I should take my “shoddy songs” somewhere else. Can you believe it? Calling my masterpieces, shoddy! How dare he!”  The bard was fuming.

“Let me guess, you refused to and he kicked you out.”

“It was my right to stay there!”

I shook my head “You’ll get killed one of this days. Come on, I have some coin, I’ll buy you something to eat at the market.”

“No need, I have my own - eh, maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” He said after looking into his, sadly, almost empty satchel.

I smiled and throw an arm over his shoulder, steering him towards the lively fair.

“It has grown.” I said touching his black hair, that now caressed his chin. “You look good.”

“Thank you, I quite like it myself.” 

“First, I’ll need to stop at the armourer stall, I’ll need this repaired.” I showed him the ripped leather.

“Then we will eat?”

I chuckled “Yes, then we will eat.”

We stopped at a young woman stand, various tunics were spread on the table, some tinted in vibrant colors, others in less flashy hues. I decided to buy two of them, one white and the other black. I paid the woman for them and handed in the armor to get it repaired.

“Come back tomorrow morning, it will be ready then.”

I nodded and, took the bard by the arm, I dragged him to a food stall.

There were many of them, but this one sold obwarzanek, some sort of big bagels,sprinkled with sesame seeds.

“I missed this thing” whispered the bard, “do you remember when we ate them after the griffin hunt? they were still hot from the oven.”

“I remember.” I huffed a laugh “You burned your tongue because you couldn’t wait for it to cool down.”

He laughed, a real belly one. “Well, you know me, I’m not one who likes to wait.” he winked. “By the way, you look strange without your armour.”

“you have already seen me without.”

“Yes, but not outside, just in your room.”

“mmh, right.”

I approached a little old woman selling various fruits, dried and fresh alike.

“How much for your apples, good woman?”

“I’ll give you six for 3 orens, my dear.” she smiled at me.

“then I’ll take six of them and some dried apples as well, please”

“here, have a good day, dear. And be careful, we need the likes of you around.” she squeezed my hand.

I was a bit taken aback from her words and gesture, but in a good way.

“Why apples? do you want to make a pie?” he joked

“No, I have a horse.”

“what? since when?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“since - forever?” I looked at him “Come, I’ll make you meet him.”

We got to the tavern shed, the stable boy glanced at me weary, than shrugged and resumed his cleaning task.

As I got nearer to Shard, I felt him getting restless. “Hey, good boy. I brought you apples, as promised.” I stroked his forefront. “Jarek, That’s Shard. Shard that’s my friend Jarek. Please don’t bite him like you do with every new person,mh?”

“Gods, he’s gorgeous.” He raised a hand to touch him, but I stopped him before he would find himself without a few fingers. I guided his hand to Shard’s neck, making him caress him there. “Be careful, I was not joking about the biting.”

While he petted his neck, I gave him some apples. After that I brushed him down, taking away the dust of two days on the road. 

“Let’s go Jarek, do you have a room?”

“Not enough coin to take one, that was the reason why I wanted to sing.”

“Let’s go then. See you tomorrow Shard.”

As we entered the tavern, the patrons stopped talking, but I’m used to it by now. I approached the owner and asked for a room with two beds.

I seemed disgusted to speak to me but in the end he gave me the key. I had the suspect that I paid it more than the average but that’s everyday life for me after all. I asked for a bath to be brought up to the room while we drank something.

After two ales we went up, I was looking forward to a good wash, after two weeks worth of river baths and nothing else.

As I sank in the hot water I felt my muscles melt in the heat, I let out a contented sigh.

After the soothing soak, I put on my smallclothes and put myself under the scratchy covers.

“Goodnight bard.”

“Goodnight Myszko, sleep well.”

“Mmh, fuck you.”

And with the soft sound of his stifled laugh, I fell into a deep sleep.

[newstechreviews]

In the early days of Donald Trump’s presidency, the White House was openly fixated on shrinking the footprint of the government Trump was leading. It was one part pander to his rally crowds that he would “drain the swamp” and another part distrust in a man who spent his career atop an empire of his owning. Deep cuts to sectors of the federal workforce, top jobs left unfilled and an open contempt for career bureaucrats were all hallmarks of the first years of Trump’s tenure.

Then the coronavirus pandemic hit, overwhelming the U.S. health-care system and sending the economy into a spiral. The workhorse agencies that had been running on skeleton crews needed to swing into action fast, and suddenly, the neglected organizations and shuttered offices sprinkled around Washington began to look a lot like a liability. The latest relief package negotiated between Congress and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin includes almost $2 billion in new funds set aside for federal workers’ salaries and expenses — a small slice of the total $2.2 trillion package but a sizable increase for an administration that had been at war with its operational cogs.

The move, buried in a package that primarily focused on keeping small businesses open and airlines in the skies, has won praise from pragmatists who say it is merely a first of many relief packages that are to come. But critics — who say that a bigger government is not the answer, even in a pandemic — say it was a federal jobs trough that came through the backdoor.

“It’s classic: government has a crisis, so they decide they’re going to pad their own budgets,” says David McIntosh, the president of the anti-tax Club for Growth. “I was pretty outraged that the government is supposed to be helping the American people create jobs for them and it’s padding its own payroll.”

The biggest pool of those salaries is a $675 million allocation for the Small Business Administration (SBA), now in charge of running a $349 billion program helping small businesses with loans that can be forgiven if employers preserve current payroll levels. The added workload stood to overwhelm the relatively small government body if they weren’t able to add staff to administer the program. Before the pandemic hit, total spending at the Small Business Administration was just a little more than $1 billion. “This is what we need to give them,” says Nick Iacovella, a spokesman for Sen. Marco Rubio, who took the lead in writing the small-business lending plan. On Tuesday, Trump said he was asking for another $250 billion for the loan program.

Keep up to date on the growing threat to global health by signing up for our daily coronavirus newsletter.

The hiring spree isn’t limited to the SBA. Other agencies deemed critical to the federal government’s response to the pandemic are also being given money in the stimulus to build up their ranks or cover overtime costs. The Social Security Administration is slated to get $300 million to bring on new staff to process a backlog of new disability and retirement applications, the Federal Communications Commission was on deck for $200 million and the Department of Treasury was on track to get $104 million more in salaries. The Bureau of Prisons, Congress and the Capitol Police Department also are among the two dozen organizations receiving money to cover salaries.

To be sure, the $2 billion is a relatively small amount in the overall scheme of federal spending. The federal budget is $4.8 trillion, but about two-thirds of that goes to automatic spending on programs like Medicare and Social Security. Civilian federal workers earned $136.3 billion in the fiscal year that ended on Sept. 30, 2016. That means the new money is less than a 2% increase on what the government pays workers.

But for Trump, and the anti-government ideologues who support him, it’s a big shift. Early in his term, Trump went about dismantling the permanent federal bureaucracy that carries from one administration to the other. Instead of relying on the backbone of career federal workers, the Trump administration sought to run things through political loyalists. Even this week, Trump sought to discredit or remove watchdogs who appear critical of his work. And there remain 149 Senate-confirmed positions in Trump’s administration for whom there is no nominee, according to a tracking project from the Partnership for Public Service and The Washington Post.

Raw numbers suggest Trump hasn’t so much gutted the federal workforce as shifted it around. But backwater offices and programs have felt the cuts, and droves of experienced hands have retired rather than navigate the churn of Trump’s making. The result has been seen in surveys of workers’ sliding morale.

Many of the new jobs that the stimulus creates will be done by contractors and subcontractors, not permanent hires who would have union-protected rights. But critics of the move to grow the government payroll say the toehold will be strong and there is no shortage of items on many departments’ to-do lists.

“Once there is a new contractor or subcontractor in an area, they will likely find additional things for them to do once this immediate crisis goes away,” says Paul Winfree, a former Trump White House budget official who sees a mixed bag in the outcome. “It’s possible that we will see an eventual reduction, but it won’t match the pre-crisis levels.”

When asked for comment on its apparent reversal of position, the White House referred TIME to the Office of Management and Budget, which did not respond.

The efficiency of a small government has always been a dream in some corners of the Republican Party. As the anti-tax advocate Grover Norquist famously put it in a 2001, ‘I don’t want to abolish government. I simply want to reduce it to the size where I can drag it into the bathroom and drown it in the bathtub.’

But critics also worry that the government simply cannot afford to bring more people on. The United States is closing in on $24 trillion in debt and there’s talk in Congress of adding another trillion dollars in a follow-up round of coronavirus spending. It is a massive pile of IOUs that could hamper the plans of future administrations — and generations — long after the crisis point of the pandemic passes.

“We’ve been out-of-touch and out-of-control and this just serves to reinforce the fact that once we get past it — and we will get past it — what are we going to do to put our finances in order?” says David Walker, a former Comptroller General of the United States and one of the country’s leading critics of government red ink. Previous generations, he notes, spent wildly during crises or times of war, but deficit spending is now so commonplace no one bats an eye at routine spending that saddles the next generation with the bill. “We have a cultural problem that we’ve got to come to grips with.”

First, though, the country has to get through the immediate crisis.

— With reporting by Tessa Berenson/Washington

Please send tips, leads, and stories from the frontlines to virus@time.com.

[itsfinancethings]

In the early days of Donald Trump’s presidency, the White House was openly fixated on shrinking the footprint of the government Trump was leading. It was one part pander to his rally crowds that he would “drain the swamp” and another part distrust in a man who spent his career atop an empire of his owning. Deep cuts to sectors of the federal workforce, top jobs left unfilled and an open contempt for career bureaucrats were all hallmarks of the first years of Trump’s tenure.

Then the coronavirus pandemic hit, overwhelming the U.S. health-care system and sending the economy into a spiral. The workhorse agencies that had been running on skeleton crews needed to swing into action fast, and suddenly, the neglected organizations and shuttered offices sprinkled around Washington began to look a lot like a liability. The latest relief package negotiated between Congress and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin includes almost $2 billion in new funds set aside for federal workers’ salaries and expenses — a small slice of the total $2.2 trillion package but a sizable increase for an administration that had been at war with its operational cogs.

The move, buried in a package that primarily focused on keeping small businesses open and airlines in the skies, has won praise from pragmatists who say it is merely a first of many relief packages that are to come. But critics — who say that a bigger government is not the answer, even in a pandemic — say it was a federal jobs trough that came through the backdoor.

“It’s classic: government has a crisis, so they decide they’re going to pad their own budgets,” says David McIntosh, the president of the anti-tax Club for Growth. “I was pretty outraged that the government is supposed to be helping the American people create jobs for them and it’s padding its own payroll.”

The biggest pool of those salaries is a $675 million allocation for the Small Business Administration (SBA), now in charge of running a $349 billion program helping small businesses with loans that can be forgiven if employers preserve current payroll levels. The added workload stood to overwhelm the relatively small government body if they weren’t able to add staff to administer the program. Before the pandemic hit, total spending at the Small Business Administration was just a little more than $1 billion. “This is what we need to give them,” says Nick Iacovella, a spokesman for Sen. Marco Rubio, who took the lead in writing the small-business lending plan. On Tuesday, Trump said he was asking for another $250 billion for the loan program.

Keep up to date on the growing threat to global health by signing up for our daily coronavirus newsletter.

The hiring spree isn’t limited to the SBA. Other agencies deemed critical to the federal government’s response to the pandemic are also being given money in the stimulus to build up their ranks or cover overtime costs. The Social Security Administration is slated to get $300 million to bring on new staff to process a backlog of new disability and retirement applications, the Federal Communications Commission was on deck for $200 million and the Department of Treasury was on track to get $104 million more in salaries. The Bureau of Prisons, Congress and the Capitol Police Department also are among the two dozen organizations receiving money to cover salaries.

To be sure, the $2 billion is a relatively small amount in the overall scheme of federal spending. The federal budget is $4.8 trillion, but about two-thirds of that goes to automatic spending on programs like Medicare and Social Security. Civilian federal workers earned $136.3 billion in the fiscal year that ended on Sept. 30, 2016. That means the new money is less than a 2% increase on what the government pays workers.

But for Trump, and the anti-government ideologues who support him, it’s a big shift. Early in his term, Trump went about dismantling the permanent federal bureaucracy that carries from one administration to the other. Instead of relying on the backbone of career federal workers, the Trump administration sought to run things through political loyalists. Even this week, Trump sought to discredit or remove watchdogs who appear critical of his work. And there remain 149 Senate-confirmed positions in Trump’s administration for whom there is no nominee, according to a tracking project from the Partnership for Public Service and The Washington Post.

Raw numbers suggest Trump hasn’t so much gutted the federal workforce as shifted it around. But backwater offices and programs have felt the cuts, and droves of experienced hands have retired rather than navigate the churn of Trump’s making. The result has been seen in surveys of workers’ sliding morale.

Many of the new jobs that the stimulus creates will be done by contractors and subcontractors, not permanent hires who would have union-protected rights. But critics of the move to grow the government payroll say the toehold will be strong and there is no shortage of items on many departments’ to-do lists.

“Once there is a new contractor or subcontractor in an area, they will likely find additional things for them to do once this immediate crisis goes away,” says Paul Winfree, a former Trump White House budget official who sees a mixed bag in the outcome. “It’s possible that we will see an eventual reduction, but it won’t match the pre-crisis levels.”

When asked for comment on its apparent reversal of position, the White House referred TIME to the Office of Management and Budget, which did not respond.

The efficiency of a small government has always been a dream in some corners of the Republican Party. As the anti-tax advocate Grover Norquist famously put it in a 2001, ‘I don’t want to abolish government. I simply want to reduce it to the size where I can drag it into the bathroom and drown it in the bathtub.’

But critics also worry that the government simply cannot afford to bring more people on. The United States is closing in on $24 trillion in debt and there’s talk in Congress of adding another trillion dollars in a follow-up round of coronavirus spending. It is a massive pile of IOUs that could hamper the plans of future administrations — and generations — long after the crisis point of the pandemic passes.

“We’ve been out-of-touch and out-of-control and this just serves to reinforce the fact that once we get past it — and we will get past it — what are we going to do to put our finances in order?” says David Walker, a former Comptroller General of the United States and one of the country’s leading critics of government red ink. Previous generations, he notes, spent wildly during crises or times of war, but deficit spending is now so commonplace no one bats an eye at routine spending that saddles the next generation with the bill. “We have a cultural problem that we’ve got to come to grips with.”

First, though, the country has to get through the immediate crisis.

— With reporting by Tessa Berenson/Washington

Please send tips, leads, and stories from the frontlines to virus@time.com.

[wetrumpfeed]

Afternoon MAGAthread: YOUR WEEKLY PRESIDENTIAL RECAP!

HAPPY SATURDAY PATRIOTS!

This is u/Ivaginaryfriend here and I'm back with all things spicy and dank from the past week! For those that missed any past recaps you can check those out here!

Sunday, January 27th:

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

58,000 non-citizens voted in Texas, with 95,000 non-citizens registered to vote. These numbers are just the tip of the iceberg. All over the country, especially in California, voter fraud is rampant. Must be stopped. Strong voter ID! @foxandfriends

We are not even into February and the cost of illegal immigration so far this year is $18,959,495,168. Cost Friday was $603,331,392. There are at least 25,772,342 illegal aliens, not the 11,000,000 that have been reported for years, in our Country. So ridiculous! DHS

Jens Stoltenberg, NATO Secretary General, just stated that because of me NATO has been able to raise far more money than ever before from its members after many years of decline. It’s called burden sharing. Also, more united. Dems & Fake News like to portray the opposite!

(Retweeting ChatByCC) Strong people stand up for themselves—but stronger people stand up for others. Thank you President @realDonaldTrump for standing up for America.

Thank you to Brit. This is a very big deal in Europe. Fake News is the Enemy of the People!

(Retweeting Ken Paxton) VOTER FRAUD ALERT: The @TXsecofstate discovered approx 95,000 individuals identified by DPS as non-U.S. citizens have a matching voter registration record in TX, approx 58,000 of whom have voted in TX elections. Any illegal vote deprives Americans of their voice.

(Retweeting The GOP) “300 people are dying from heroin overdoses a week in this country, 90% of it is coming over the southern border… We’ve got to stop it.”—@KellyannePolls

#HolocaustMemorialDay

BUILD A WALL & CRIME WILL FALL!

Never thought I’d say this but I think @johnrobertsFox and @GillianHTurner @FoxNews have even less understanding of the Wall negotiations than the folks at FAKE NEWS CNN & NBC! Look to final results! Don’t know how my poll numbers are so good, especially up 19% with Hispanics?

After all that I have done for the Military, our great Veterans, Judges (99), Justices (2), Tax & Regulation Cuts, the Economy, Energy, Trade & MUCH MORE, does anybody really think I won’t build the WALL? Done more in first two years than any President! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Aaaaahaha, Wikileaks putting NYT in their place.

r/politics is propaganda. Their target is us.

Kamala Harris literally prostituted her body to obtain positions of power within the United States government. Then she joined the #MeToo movement and accused Kavanaugh of being a rapist. Now she’s running for President

This is an actual tweet by an actual congressman.... Mark Dice throwing a little shade

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

In Their Heads. 24/7. Rent Free.

Leftist Are Trash.

Interesting

saw this on the pole of a stoplight down the street from my house, right in front of the elementary school

Monday, January 28th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Executive Order on Taking Additional Steps to Address the National Emergency with Respect to Venezuela

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

Tariffs on the “dumping” of Steel in the United States have totally revived our Steel Industry. New and expanded plants are happening all over the U.S. We have not only saved this important industry, but created many jobs. Also, billions paid to our treasury. A BIG WIN FOR U.S.

Numerous states introducing Bible Literacy classes, giving students the option of studying the Bible. Starting to make a turn back? Great!

Howard Schultz doesn’t have the “guts” to run for President! Watched him on @60Minutes last night and I agree with him that he is not the “smartest person.” Besides, America already has that! I only hope that Starbucks is still paying me their rent in Trump Tower!

“In the Media’s effort to destroy the President, they are actually destroying themselves. Given all of the tremendous headwinds this President has faced, it’s amazing he has accomplished so much.” DEROY MURDOCK @foxandfriends I agree!

In the beautiful Midwest, windchill temperatures are reaching minus 60 degrees, the coldest ever recorded. In coming days, expected to get even colder. People can’t last outside even for minutes. What the hell is going on with Global Waming? Please come back fast, we need you!

How does Da Nang Dick (Blumenthal) serve on the Senate Judiciary Committee when he defrauded the American people about his so called War Hero status in Vietnam, only to later admit, with tears pouring down his face, that he was never in Vietnam. An embarrassment to our Country!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

'We don't want open borders': Hispanic pastors back President Trump on immigration

NATO increases spending by $100B due to Trump calling them delinquents

'They Treated Me Like El Chapo': Roger Stone Recounts 'Over-the-Top' Arrest | This arrest is such an outrage... Mueller must go!!!

BOOM!!!!! Federal Panel Of Judges Dismisses All 83 Ethics Complaints Against Brett Kavanaugh!

State of the Union address rescheduled for February 5

Border Patrol Wife Invites Speaker Pelosi to See Why Walls Are Needed

PRESS BRIEFINGS, INTERVIEWS, RALLIES:

Press Beating

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Just a reminder that Reddit intentionally silences the political speech of 700,000 supporters of the President of the United States

Has anyone seen Ruth?

Accurate as hell

This is why I like a small federal government.

Tuesday, January 29th:

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

A low level staffer that I hardly knew named Cliff Sims wrote yet another boring book based on made up stories and fiction. He pretended to be an insider when in fact he was nothing more than a gofer. He signed a non-disclosure agreement. He is a mess!

“Our economy, right now, is the Gold Standard throughout the World.” @IngrahamAngle So true, and not even close!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

GOOSEBUMPS

Soon to be Fired Johns Hopkins Distinguished Service Professor of Psychiatry: Transgenderism is a “mental disorder”, that sex change is “biologically impossible,” and that people who promote sexual reassignment surgery are collaborating with and promoting a mental disorder.

Tucker Carlson: Roger Stone raid shows that CNN is no longer covering Robert Mueller. They're working with him

Twitter Says Advising Fired Journalists to 'Learn to Code' Is Hate Speech. But when reporters were mocking out of work coal miners and manufacturing workers the same way it was okay

LMAO - Nancy and Cryin' Chuck's choice for the Dems' SOTU response is a tax delinquent with nearly $200k in unpaid college debt.

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Al Gore's 10 year Climate Change Challenge

WHERE'S RUTH?

Total disaster

Yikes

Where in the World, is Ruth Bader Ginsberg?

Wednesday, January 30th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Two Nominations Sent to the Senate

President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Judicial Nominees

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

Maduro willing to negotiate with opposition in Venezuela following U.S. sanctions and the cutting off of oil revenues. Guaido is being targeted by Venezuelan Supreme Court. Massive protest expected today. Americans should not travel to Venezuela until further notice.

When I became President, ISIS was out of control in Syria & running rampant. Since then tremendous progress made, especially over last 5 weeks. Caliphate will soon be destroyed, unthinkable two years ago. Negotiating are proceeding well in Afghanistan after 18 years of fighting.. ... ....Fighting continues but the people of Afghanistan want peace in this never ending war. We will soon see if talks will be successful? North Korea relationship is best it has ever been with U.S. No testing, getting remains, hostages returned. Decent chance of Denuclearization... ... ...Time will tell what will happen with North Korea, but at the end of the previous administration, relationship was horrendous and very bad things were about to happen. Now a whole different story. I look forward to seeing Kim Jong Un shortly. Progress being made-big difference!

If the committee of Republicans and Democrats now meeting on Border Security is not discussing or contemplating a Wall or Physical Barrier, they are Wasting their time!

“Three separate caravans marching to our Border. The numbers are tremendous.” @foxandfriends

The Intelligence people seem to be extremely passive and naive when it comes to the dangers of Iran. They are wrong! When I became President Iran was making trouble all over the Middle East, and beyond. Since ending the terrible Iran Nuclear Deal, they are MUCH different, but.... ... ....a source of potential danger and conflict. They are testing Rockets (last week) and more, and are coming very close to the edge. There economy is now crashing, which is the only thing holding them back. Be careful of Iran. Perhaps Intelligence should go back to school!

Dow just broke 25,000. Tremendous news!

Spoke today with Venezuelan Interim President Juan Guaido to congratulate him on his historic assumption of the presidency and reinforced strong United States support for Venezuela’s fight to regain its democracy.... ... ....Large protests all across Venezuela today against Maduro. The fight for freedom has begun!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

JUST IN: Woman who sexually assaulted Infowars reporter has been arrested.

Brad Parscale on Twitter: "Where it counts @realDonaldTrump is stronger than 2016. The fake news establishment media is not fooling these voters."

NO SHIT SHERLOCK ...

This is insanity. Seems like advocating for Post Term Abortion AKA MURDER by any standard I’m aware of. The only thing worse than what the Democrat Governor of VA said was the fact that there’s zero pushback from the host.

Trump slams Virginia Democrats over 'terrible' abortion stance

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Book burnings don't always look like this...

Lion King (NY Progressive Remaster, 2019)

I'm afraid that 2019 is the year that the Supreme Court is going to be RUTHLESS

Judge Orders Release Of Sealed Records From BuzzFeed’s Dossier Lawsuit

Anytime some media company tries to run some sensational headline about MAGA being violent..new rule..always wait 3 days to get the real story.

Thursday, January 31st:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Donald J. Trump Announces Appointments for the Executive Office of the President

Executive Order on Strengthening Buy-American Preferences for Infrastructure Projects

President Trump's Message on Securing our Border

President Trump Meets with American Manufacturers and Signs an Executive Order

President Trump Meets with the Vice Premier of the People's Republic of China

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

So great to watch & listen to all these people who write books & talk about my presidential campaign and so many others things related to winning, and how I should be doing “IT.” As I take it all in, I then sit back, look around, & say “gee, I’m in the White House, & they’re not!

Large sections of WALL have already been built with much more either under construction or ready to go. Renovation of existing WALLS is also a very big part of the plan to finally, after many decades, properly Secure Our Border. The Wall is getting done one way or the other!

Lets just call them WALLS from now on and stop playing political games! A WALL is a WALL!

With Murders up 33% in Mexico, a record, why wouldn’t any sane person want to build a Wall! Construction has started and will not stop until it is finished. @LouDobbs @foxandfriends

China’s top trade negotiators are in the U.S. meeting with our representatives. Meetings are going well with good intent and spirit on both sides. China does not want an increase in Tariffs and feels they will do much better if they make a deal. They are correct. I will be...... ... ....meeting with their top leaders and representatives today in the Oval Office. No final deal will be made until my friend President Xi, and I, meet in the near future to discuss and agree on some of the long standing and more difficult points. Very comprehensive transaction.... ... ....China’s representatives and I are trying to do a complete deal, leaving NOTHING unresolved on the table. All of the many problems are being discussed and will be hopefully resolved. Tariffs on China increase to 25% on March 1st, so all working hard to complete by that date!

Republicans on the Homeland Security Committee are wasting their time. Democrats, despite all of the evidence, proof and Caravans coming, are not going to give money to build the DESPERATELY needed WALL. I’ve got you covered. Wall is already being built, I don’t expect much help!

Democrats are becoming the Party of late term abortion, high taxes, Open Borders and Crime!

More troops being sent to the Southern Border to stop the attempted Invasion of Illegals, through large Caravans, into our Country. We have stopped the previous Caravans, and we will stop these also. With a Wall it would be soooo much easier and less expensive. Being Built!

Looking for China to open their Markets not only to Financial Services, which they are now doing, but also to our Manufacturing, Farmers and other U.S. businesses and industries. Without this a deal would be unacceptable!

Schumer and the Democrats are big fans of being weak and passive with Iran. They have no clue as to the danger they would be inflicting on our Country. Iran is in financial chaos now because of the sanctions and Iran Deal termination. Dems put us in a bad place - but now good!

Very sadly, Murder cases in Mexico in 2018 rose 33% from 2017, to 33,341. This is a big contributor to the Humanitarian Crisis taking place on our Southern Border and then spreading throughout our Country. Worse even than Afghanistan. Much caused by DRUGS. Wall is being built!

(Video)

Just concluded a great meeting with my Intel team in the Oval Office who told me that what they said on Tuesday at the Senate Hearing was mischaracterized by the media - and we are very much in agreement on Iran, ISIS, North Korea, etc. Their testimony was distorted press.... ... ....I would suggest you read the COMPLETE testimony from Tuesday. A false narrative is so bad for our Country. I value our intelligence community. Happily, we had a very good meeting, and we are all on the same page!

Our great U.S. Border Patrol Agents made the biggest Fentanyl bust in our Country’s history. Thanks, as always, for a job well done!

Just out: The big deal, very mysterious Don jr telephone calls, after the innocent Trump Tower meeting, that the media & Dems said were made to his father (me), were just conclusively found NOT to be made to me. They were made to friends & business associates of Don. Really sad!

Nellie Ohr, the wife of DOJ official Bruce Ohr, was long ago investigating for pay (GPS Fusion) members of my family, feeding it to her husband who was then giving it to the FBI, even though it was created by ousted & discredited Christopher Steele. Illegal! WITCH HUNT

This Witch Hunt must end!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

President Trump warned us 2 years ago that the Democrat party would push for late term abortion.. watch Clinton accuse him of using "scare tactics"

"nO vOters, wE wOuLD NEVER dO tHAT" - 2 YEARS LATER ...

And they wonder why we call them NPC. Behold, the womanoid robot.

House Dems Reject GOP Proposal to Block Raises for Federal Employees Guilty of Sexual Misconduct. Vote was chaired by Democrat Tony Cardenas, who is accused of drugging teenage girl

Graham: We’re Getting Trump’s Ninth Circuit Nominees Confirmed

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Press that button!! You know you want to!

Roger Stone Explains How to Dress for Court

Ohio Passes Heartbeat Bill Which Bans Abortions After 6 Weeks

White people in Chicago at 2AM...

Friday, February 1st:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Personnel to Key Administration Posts

President Trump Meets to Discuss Fighting Human Trafficking on the Southern Border

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

I inherited a total mess in Syria and Afghanistan, the “Endless Wars” of unlimited spending and death. During my campaign I said, very strongly, that these wars must finally end. We spend $50 Billion a year in Afghanistan and have hit them so hard that we are now talking peace... ... ....after 18 long years. Syria was loaded with ISIS until I came along. We will soon have destroyed 100% of the Caliphate, but will be watching them closely. It is now time to start coming home and, after many years, spending our money wisely. Certain people must get smart!

Best January for the DOW in over 30 years. We have, by far, the strongest economy in the world!

JOBS, JOBS, JOBS!

Great news on Foxconn in Wisconsin after my conversation with Terry Gou!

(Retweeting The White House) "We added 304,000 jobs, which was a shocker to a lot of people. It wasn't a shocker to me."

Thank you to Senator Rob Portman and Senator Cory Gardner for the early and warm endorsement. We will ALL WIN in 2020 together!

National African American History Month is an occasion to rediscover the enduring stories of African Americans and the gifts of freedom, purpose, and opportunity they have bestowed on future generations..

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Governor Who Endorsed Infanticide Received $2 Million From Planned Parenthood

EMBARRASSING - Elizabeth Warren apologizes to Cherokee Nation over taking DNA test to prove Native American roots

Virginia Governor on Blast!!! @GovernorVA Are you the one in blackface or the one in the KKK hood?

Very Fake News CNN falsely labels Northam a Republican.

REMINDER: Cory Booker Groped Someone In High School and Wrote an Op-Ed About It. Then Tried to Destroy Kavanaugh's Life. Fuck Him.

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

If Fake News Journalists need help coding, I know a guy.

YUGE difference between President Trump and Ralph Northam!

u/Daniel_Wat posted this in r/dankmemes

Northamsgone

New Planned Parenthood Ad Campaign is looking lit 🔥👽

Saturday, February 2nd:

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

(D)Ralph Northam now claims he is neither the blackface or KKK person in his yearbook photo...ok...so why was his nickname “Coonman”?

Planned Parenthood receives about $500,000,000 a year in taxpayer funds. In the most recent election, Planned Parenthood helped contribute $30,000,000 to Democrat’s campaigns. Democrat politicians are buying campaign contributions with your hard-earned money. It’s a corrupt money laundering cycle.

The greatest jobs President America has ever seen! MAGAnomics – January Jobs Report, Massive Wage Growth, Manufacturing Report and Overall Economic Numbers Stun Financial Media…

Don Jr. is a certified spice dealer

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

The two parties in a nutshell.

Quick Shills are up early. Post pics that make them realize they have no charisma or class

“And I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling Republicans!”

Definitely not the most convincing apology I have ever seen.

WHAT A SPICY WEEK!

Of course no recap is complete without some tunes for your jamming pleasures:

I'll Keep You Safe

World On Fire

One Dance

It's Strange

Right To It

Imagine

MAGA ON PATRIOTS!

submitted by /u/Ivaginaryfriend [link] [comments]

[robgrayofficial]

HAPPY SATURDAY PATRIOTS!This is u/Ivaginaryfriend here and I'm back with all things spicy and dank from the past week! For those that missed any past recaps you can check those out here!Sunday, January 27th:🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:58,000 non-citizens voted in Texas, with 95,000 non-citizens registered to vote. These numbers are just the tip of the iceberg. All over the country, especially in California, voter fraud is rampant. Must be stopped. Strong voter ID! @foxandfriendsWe are not even into February and the cost of illegal immigration so far this year is $18,959,495,168. Cost Friday was $603,331,392. There are at least 25,772,342 illegal aliens, not the 11,000,000 that have been reported for years, in our Country. So ridiculous! DHSJens Stoltenberg, NATO Secretary General, just stated that because of me NATO has been able to raise far more money than ever before from its members after many years of decline. It’s called burden sharing. Also, more united. Dems & Fake News like to portray the opposite!(Retweeting ChatByCC) Strong people stand up for themselves—but stronger people stand up for others. Thank you President @realDonaldTrump for standing up for America.Thank you to Brit. This is a very big deal in Europe. Fake News is the Enemy of the People!(Retweeting Ken Paxton) VOTER FRAUD ALERT: The @TXsecofstate discovered approx 95,000 individuals identified by DPS as non-U.S. citizens have a matching voter registration record in TX, approx 58,000 of whom have voted in TX elections. Any illegal vote deprives Americans of their voice.(Retweeting The GOP) “300 people are dying from heroin overdoses a week in this country, 90% of it is coming over the southern border… We’ve got to stop it.”—@KellyannePolls#HolocaustMemorialDayBUILD A WALL & CRIME WILL FALL!Never thought I’d say this but I think @johnrobertsFox and @GillianHTurner @FoxNews have even less understanding of the Wall negotiations than the folks at FAKE NEWS CNN & NBC! Look to final results! Don’t know how my poll numbers are so good, especially up 19% with Hispanics?After all that I have done for the Military, our great Veterans, Judges (99), Justices (2), Tax & Regulation Cuts, the Economy, Energy, Trade & MUCH MORE, does anybody really think I won’t build the WALL? Done more in first two years than any President! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Aaaaahaha, Wikileaks putting NYT in their place.r/politics is propaganda. Their target is us.Kamala Harris literally prostituted her body to obtain positions of power within the United States government. Then she joined the #MeToo movement and accused Kavanaugh of being a rapist. Now she’s running for PresidentThis is an actual tweet by an actual congressman.... Mark Dice throwing a little shade🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:In Their Heads. 24/7. Rent Free.Leftist Are Trash.Interestingsaw this on the pole of a stoplight down the street from my house, right in front of the elementary schoolMonday, January 28th:TODAY'S ACTION:Executive Order on Taking Additional Steps to Address the National Emergency with Respect to Venezuela🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:Tariffs on the “dumping” of Steel in the United States have totally revived our Steel Industry. New and expanded plants are happening all over the U.S. We have not only saved this important industry, but created many jobs. Also, billions paid to our treasury. A BIG WIN FOR U.S.Numerous states introducing Bible Literacy classes, giving students the option of studying the Bible. Starting to make a turn back? Great!Howard Schultz doesn’t have the “guts” to run for President! Watched him on @60Minutes last night and I agree with him that he is not the “smartest person.” Besides, America already has that! I only hope that Starbucks is still paying me their rent in Trump Tower!“In the Media’s effort to destroy the President, they are actually destroying themselves. Given all of the tremendous headwinds this President has faced, it’s amazing he has accomplished so much.” DEROY MURDOCK @foxandfriends I agree!In the beautiful Midwest, windchill temperatures are reaching minus 60 degrees, the coldest ever recorded. In coming days, expected to get even colder. People can’t last outside even for minutes. What the hell is going on with Global Waming? Please come back fast, we need you!How does Da Nang Dick (Blumenthal) serve on the Senate Judiciary Committee when he defrauded the American people about his so called War Hero status in Vietnam, only to later admit, with tears pouring down his face, that he was never in Vietnam. An embarrassment to our Country!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:'We don't want open borders': Hispanic pastors back President Trump on immigrationNATO increases spending by $100B due to Trump calling them delinquents'They Treated Me Like El Chapo': Roger Stone Recounts 'Over-the-Top' Arrest | This arrest is such an outrage... Mueller must go!!!BOOM!!!!! Federal Panel Of Judges Dismisses All 83 Ethics Complaints Against Brett Kavanaugh!State of the Union address rescheduled for February 5Border Patrol Wife Invites Speaker Pelosi to See Why Walls Are NeededPRESS BRIEFINGS, INTERVIEWS, RALLIES:Press Beating🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Just a reminder that Reddit intentionally silences the political speech of 700,000 supporters of the President of the United StatesHas anyone seen Ruth?Accurate as hellThis is why I like a small federal government.Tuesday, January 29th:🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:A low level staffer that I hardly knew named Cliff Sims wrote yet another boring book based on made up stories and fiction. He pretended to be an insider when in fact he was nothing more than a gofer. He signed a non-disclosure agreement. He is a mess!“Our economy, right now, is the Gold Standard throughout the World.” @IngrahamAngle So true, and not even close!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:GOOSEBUMPSSoon to be Fired Johns Hopkins Distinguished Service Professor of Psychiatry: Transgenderism is a “mental disorder”, that sex change is “biologically impossible,” and that people who promote sexual reassignment surgery are collaborating with and promoting a mental disorder.Tucker Carlson: Roger Stone raid shows that CNN is no longer covering Robert Mueller. They're working with himTwitter Says Advising Fired Journalists to 'Learn to Code' Is Hate Speech. But when reporters were mocking out of work coal miners and manufacturing workers the same way it was okayLMAO - Nancy and Cryin' Chuck's choice for the Dems' SOTU response is a tax delinquent with nearly $200k in unpaid college debt.🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Al Gore's 10 year Climate Change ChallengeWHERE'S RUTH?Total disasterYikesWhere in the World, is Ruth Bader Ginsberg?Wednesday, January 30th:TODAY'S ACTION:Two Nominations Sent to the SenatePresident Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Judicial Nominees🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:Maduro willing to negotiate with opposition in Venezuela following U.S. sanctions and the cutting off of oil revenues. Guaido is being targeted by Venezuelan Supreme Court. Massive protest expected today. Americans should not travel to Venezuela until further notice.When I became President, ISIS was out of control in Syria & running rampant. Since then tremendous progress made, especially over last 5 weeks. Caliphate will soon be destroyed, unthinkable two years ago. Negotiating are proceeding well in Afghanistan after 18 years of fighting.. ... ....Fighting continues but the people of Afghanistan want peace in this never ending war. We will soon see if talks will be successful? North Korea relationship is best it has ever been with U.S. No testing, getting remains, hostages returned. Decent chance of Denuclearization... ... ...Time will tell what will happen with North Korea, but at the end of the previous administration, relationship was horrendous and very bad things were about to happen. Now a whole different story. I look forward to seeing Kim Jong Un shortly. Progress being made-big difference!If the committee of Republicans and Democrats now meeting on Border Security is not discussing or contemplating a Wall or Physical Barrier, they are Wasting their time!“Three separate caravans marching to our Border. The numbers are tremendous.” @foxandfriendsThe Intelligence people seem to be extremely passive and naive when it comes to the dangers of Iran. They are wrong! When I became President Iran was making trouble all over the Middle East, and beyond. Since ending the terrible Iran Nuclear Deal, they are MUCH different, but.... ... ....a source of potential danger and conflict. They are testing Rockets (last week) and more, and are coming very close to the edge. There economy is now crashing, which is the only thing holding them back. Be careful of Iran. Perhaps Intelligence should go back to school!Dow just broke 25,000. Tremendous news!Spoke today with Venezuelan Interim President Juan Guaido to congratulate him on his historic assumption of the presidency and reinforced strong United States support for Venezuela’s fight to regain its democracy.... ... ....Large protests all across Venezuela today against Maduro. The fight for freedom has begun!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:JUST IN: Woman who sexually assaulted Infowars reporter has been arrested.Brad Parscale on Twitter: "Where it counts @realDonaldTrump is stronger than 2016. The fake news establishment media is not fooling these voters."NO SHIT SHERLOCK ...This is insanity. Seems like advocating for Post Term Abortion AKA MURDER by any standard I’m aware of. The only thing worse than what the Democrat Governor of VA said was the fact that there’s zero pushback from the host.Trump slams Virginia Democrats over 'terrible' abortion stance🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Book burnings don't always look like this...Lion King (NY Progressive Remaster, 2019)I'm afraid that 2019 is the year that the Supreme Court is going to be RUTHLESSJudge Orders Release Of Sealed Records From BuzzFeed’s Dossier LawsuitAnytime some media company tries to run some sensational headline about MAGA being violent..new rule..always wait 3 days to get the real story.Thursday, January 31st:TODAY'S ACTION:President Donald J. Trump Announces Appointments for the Executive Office of the PresidentExecutive Order on Strengthening Buy-American Preferences for Infrastructure ProjectsPresident Trump's Message on Securing our BorderPresident Trump Meets with American Manufacturers and Signs an Executive OrderPresident Trump Meets with the Vice Premier of the People's Republic of China🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:So great to watch & listen to all these people who write books & talk about my presidential campaign and so many others things related to winning, and how I should be doing “IT.” As I take it all in, I then sit back, look around, & say “gee, I’m in the White House, & they’re not!Large sections of WALL have already been built with much more either under construction or ready to go. Renovation of existing WALLS is also a very big part of the plan to finally, after many decades, properly Secure Our Border. The Wall is getting done one way or the other!Lets just call them WALLS from now on and stop playing political games! A WALL is a WALL!With Murders up 33% in Mexico, a record, why wouldn’t any sane person want to build a Wall! Construction has started and will not stop until it is finished. @LouDobbs @foxandfriendsChina’s top trade negotiators are in the U.S. meeting with our representatives. Meetings are going well with good intent and spirit on both sides. China does not want an increase in Tariffs and feels they will do much better if they make a deal. They are correct. I will be...... ... ....meeting with their top leaders and representatives today in the Oval Office. No final deal will be made until my friend President Xi, and I, meet in the near future to discuss and agree on some of the long standing and more difficult points. Very comprehensive transaction.... ... ....China’s representatives and I are trying to do a complete deal, leaving NOTHING unresolved on the table. All of the many problems are being discussed and will be hopefully resolved. Tariffs on China increase to 25% on March 1st, so all working hard to complete by that date!Republicans on the Homeland Security Committee are wasting their time. Democrats, despite all of the evidence, proof and Caravans coming, are not going to give money to build the DESPERATELY needed WALL. I’ve got you covered. Wall is already being built, I don’t expect much help!Democrats are becoming the Party of late term abortion, high taxes, Open Borders and Crime!More troops being sent to the Southern Border to stop the attempted Invasion of Illegals, through large Caravans, into our Country. We have stopped the previous Caravans, and we will stop these also. With a Wall it would be soooo much easier and less expensive. Being Built!Looking for China to open their Markets not only to Financial Services, which they are now doing, but also to our Manufacturing, Farmers and other U.S. businesses and industries. Without this a deal would be unacceptable!Schumer and the Democrats are big fans of being weak and passive with Iran. They have no clue as to the danger they would be inflicting on our Country. Iran is in financial chaos now because of the sanctions and Iran Deal termination. Dems put us in a bad place - but now good!Very sadly, Murder cases in Mexico in 2018 rose 33% from 2017, to 33,341. This is a big contributor to the Humanitarian Crisis taking place on our Southern Border and then spreading throughout our Country. Worse even than Afghanistan. Much caused by DRUGS. Wall is being built!(Video)Just concluded a great meeting with my Intel team in the Oval Office who told me that what they said on Tuesday at the Senate Hearing was mischaracterized by the media - and we are very much in agreement on Iran, ISIS, North Korea, etc. Their testimony was distorted press.... ... ....I would suggest you read the COMPLETE testimony from Tuesday. A false narrative is so bad for our Country. I value our intelligence community. Happily, we had a very good meeting, and we are all on the same page!Our great U.S. Border Patrol Agents made the biggest Fentanyl bust in our Country’s history. Thanks, as always, for a job well done!Just out: The big deal, very mysterious Don jr telephone calls, after the innocent Trump Tower meeting, that the media & Dems said were made to his father (me), were just conclusively found NOT to be made to me. They were made to friends & business associates of Don. Really sad!Nellie Ohr, the wife of DOJ official Bruce Ohr, was long ago investigating for pay (GPS Fusion) members of my family, feeding it to her husband who was then giving it to the FBI, even though it was created by ousted & discredited Christopher Steele. Illegal! WITCH HUNTThis Witch Hunt must end!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:President Trump warned us 2 years ago that the Democrat party would push for late term abortion.. watch Clinton accuse him of using "scare tactics""nO vOters, wE wOuLD NEVER dO tHAT" - 2 YEARS LATER ...And they wonder why we call them NPC. Behold, the womanoid robot.House Dems Reject GOP Proposal to Block Raises for Federal Employees Guilty of Sexual Misconduct. Vote was chaired by Democrat Tony Cardenas, who is accused of drugging teenage girlGraham: We’re Getting Trump’s Ninth Circuit Nominees Confirmed🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Press that button!! You know you want to!Roger Stone Explains How to Dress for CourtOhio Passes Heartbeat Bill Which Bans Abortions After 6 WeeksWhite people in Chicago at 2AM...Friday, February 1st:TODAY'S ACTION:President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Personnel to Key Administration PostsPresident Trump Meets to Discuss Fighting Human Trafficking on the Southern Border🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:I inherited a total mess in Syria and Afghanistan, the “Endless Wars” of unlimited spending and death. During my campaign I said, very strongly, that these wars must finally end. We spend $50 Billion a year in Afghanistan and have hit them so hard that we are now talking peace... ... ....after 18 long years. Syria was loaded with ISIS until I came along. We will soon have destroyed 100% of the Caliphate, but will be watching them closely. It is now time to start coming home and, after many years, spending our money wisely. Certain people must get smart!Best January for the DOW in over 30 years. We have, by far, the strongest economy in the world!JOBS, JOBS, JOBS!Great news on Foxconn in Wisconsin after my conversation with Terry Gou!(Retweeting The White House) "We added 304,000 jobs, which was a shocker to a lot of people. It wasn't a shocker to me."Thank you to Senator Rob Portman and Senator Cory Gardner for the early and warm endorsement. We will ALL WIN in 2020 together!National African American History Month is an occasion to rediscover the enduring stories of African Americans and the gifts of freedom, purpose, and opportunity they have bestowed on future generations..SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Governor Who Endorsed Infanticide Received $2 Million From Planned ParenthoodEMBARRASSING - Elizabeth Warren apologizes to Cherokee Nation over taking DNA test to prove Native American rootsVirginia Governor on Blast!!! @GovernorVA Are you the one in blackface or the one in the KKK hood?Very Fake News CNN falsely labels Northam a Republican.REMINDER: Cory Booker Groped Someone In High School and Wrote an Op-Ed About It. Then Tried to Destroy Kavanaugh's Life. Fuck Him.🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:If Fake News Journalists need help coding, I know a guy.YUGE difference between President Trump and Ralph Northam!u/Daniel_Wat posted this in r/dankmemesNorthamsgoneNew Planned Parenthood Ad Campaign is looking lit 🔥👽Saturday, February 2nd:SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:(D)Ralph Northam now claims he is neither the blackface or KKK person in his yearbook photo...ok...so why was his nickname “Coonman”?Planned Parenthood receives about $500,000,000 a year in taxpayer funds. In the most recent election, Planned Parenthood helped contribute $30,000,000 to Democrat’s campaigns. Democrat politicians are buying campaign contributions with your hard-earned money. It’s a corrupt money laundering cycle.The greatest jobs President America has ever seen! MAGAnomics – January Jobs Report, Massive Wage Growth, Manufacturing Report and Overall Economic Numbers Stun Financial Media…Don Jr. is a certified spice dealer🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:The two parties in a nutshell.Quick Shills are up early. Post pics that make them realize they have no charisma or class“And I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling Republicans!”Definitely not the most convincing apology I have ever seen.WHAT A SPICY WEEK!Of course no recap is complete without some tunes for your jamming pleasures:I'll Keep You SafeWorld On FireOne DanceIt's StrangeRight To ItImagineMAGA ON PATRIOTS! #robgray

[theconservativebrief]

President Donald Trump is “not even a little bit happy” with the Federal Reserve and the man he tapped to lead it, Chair Jerome Powell. And he’s got no problem saying it.

Trump has been complaining about the Fed for a while now, putting on the pressure in interviews and on Twitter for the central bank to bend to his will when it comes to interest rates. In a sit-down with the Washington Post this week, he continued his Fed offensive, calling it a “much bigger problem than China” when it comes to the economy and expressing his anger with Powell, whom he chose as chair of the Fed in 2017 over then-Chair Janet Yellen, whose term expired in February.

“I’m doing deals, and I’m not being accommodated by the Fed,” Trump said. “I’m not happy with the Fed. They’re making a mistake because I have a gut, and my gut tells me more sometimes than anybody’s brain can ever tell me.”

The “mistake” he’s referring to is changing interest rates, one of the Federal Reserve’s main jobs. The Fed is responsible for influencing the availability and cost of credit in the American economy, and it does so by setting the “federal funds rate” — the interest rate banks charge each other for overnight loans. Banks, in turn, raise the interest rates they charge customers.

So why does Trump care about what the Fed is doing with interest rates? In a nutshell, he’s worried that when it increases rates, that will dampen the stock market he’s taken credit for and pump the brakes on the economic growth he’s promised.

William McChesney Martin, who led the Federal Reserve for nearly two decades, famously joked that the Fed’s job is to “take away the punch bowl just as the party gets going.” To continue the metaphor, like how some bars set the clock a bit fast to get everyone out the door before closing time, the Fed’s job is to cool down the economy just as things start getting fun.

Trump wants his party to keep going.

“This is really about his expectations of what a Fed chair looks like and what policy he thinks, in the short term, is most beneficial to him,” Sarah Binder, a political science professor at George Washington University, told me.

When the Fed fears the economy might be overheating or sees inflation on the rise, it can hike interest rates to slow the whole thing down. That raises the cost of borrowing for banks and, in turn, for consumers, which eventually affects spending across the economy.

The bank has a “dual mandate,” a set of goals it is supposed to achieve: maximizing employment and stabilizing prices for goods and services. In practice, that means the Fed needs to try to keep the unemployment rate low — the idea being that if borrowing costs are low, businesses will have more money to invest and expand and ultimately hire more workers — and target an inflation rate of 2 percent, because a higher inflation rate is costlier than a lower one.

During the Great Recession, the Fed slashed interest rates to zero and kept them there for years in an effort to help the United States economy recover. The theory is that low interest rates boost both investment and consumption because it’s cheaper to borrow, and therefore, there’s less incentive to save.

In December 2015, the Fed raised rates for the first time since 2006, by 0.25 percentage points, and has been slowly raising them ever since, by a quarter of a percentage point each time, under both Yellen and Powell. Currently, the federal funds rate is 2 to 2.25 percent. The Fed is expected to hike rates by another quarter of a point in December.

That’s still low — prior to the financial crisis in 2006, they were at more than 5 percent. In the early 1980s, the Fed hiked rates to as much as 20 percent to fight inflation.

In a speech at the Economic Club of New York on Wednesday, Powell said that rates are “still low by historical standards” but are “just below the broad range of estimates of the level that would be neutral for the economy.” Stocks jumped in reaction.

Trump has spent much of his presidency bragging about the stock market rally (which has recently waned) and promising a big boost in economic growth. Rising interest rates are a threat to that.

When interest rates rise, that can spook the stock market because it makes other classes of investments — such as bonds and CDs — more attractive. Zero and super-low interest rates in recent years have made stocks the only place for investors to make money, and the fear is that as the Fed raises rates, investors will start to look elsewhere. Higher rates make borrowing more expensive and slow down credit flows to companies and individuals, which could be a drag on stocks.

Rate increases can also slow the growth of the economy by making credit more expensive. The economy depends on debt to finance all kinds of growth patterns, from consumer holiday shopping to mortgages, and the more expensive it is to get credit, the less spending.

During his presidential campaign, Trump often criticized the Fed, alleging it was keeping interest rates artificially low in an effort to prop up the Obama economy. He seems to have been, in a way, telegraphing what he expects Powell to do for him.

He’s also looking for someone to point the finger at when the stock market starts acting up or if economic growth slows.

“What we’re seeing here is that Trump needs something to say that when things are great, it’s Trump, and when they are not, it’s someone else,” said Peter Conti-Brown, an assistant professor and financial historian at the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. “That someone else, in this case, would be Jerome Powell and the Federal Reserve.”

The Fed has a tough balance to strike — raise interest rates enough to keep the economy from overheating, but avoid overdoing it so as to surprise markets or cause a recession. Fed Vice Chair Richard Clarida said in a recent interview with CNBC that Powell had compared the Fed’s plotting to being in a dark room, “especially without your shoes on, you want to go slow so you don’t stub your toe.”

And there are plenty of people who think the Fed might be acting too aggressively right now.

“This is a live debate, and the Fed is not privy to some sort of Platonic ideal about what interest rates must be,” Conti-Brown told me. “They don’t have that information, they’re guessing at it, and they’ll be the first to admit it.”

But the Fed is, at least theoretically, supposed to be an independent body that sets monetary policy free from political influence. It’s not unheard of for presidents to try to sway it one way or the other — Lyndon Johnson and Henry Truman clashed with the central bank — but most of the cajoling has taken place behind closed doors, especially since Bill Clinton, Binder said.

“Most presidents only do that when the economy is in rough shape, when they want looser rates and the Fed sees the need to tighten rates,” she said. “Trump is complaining when the economy is, at least on the surface, doing quite well.”

If anything, in fact, Trump’s policies — namely, the $1.5 trillion tax cut and increase in deficit spending — might be pushing the Fed to act more aggressively. The tax cut and spending are meant to stimulate the economy and could thus influence the Fed’s decision to raise rates to slow things down.

“In some sense, the Fed is following Trump here,” Conti-Brown said.

Of course, Trump didn’t have to pick Powell.

He could have renominated Yellen, who was appointed by President Barack Obama in 2012, since it’s been a norm for presidents to renominate Fed chairs picked by their predecessors. Yellen proved to be a steady hand at the Fed, is more qualified than Powell, and was a key player in steering the US economy through recovery after the recession. But Trump didn’t want her. (The Washington Post reported that part of Trump’s issue with Yellen was that at 5-foot-3, she was too short.)

Trump was fixated on Janet Yellen being too short to run the Federal Reserve, per several current and former advisers. He instead picked Jerome Powell — who has repeatedly disappointed him with interest rates decisions. https://t.co/JraIfKS5Zw

— Josh Dawsey (@jdawsey1) November 28, 2018

It’s not clear whether Powell’s actions are much different than Yellen’s would have been, as both are considered to be rather dovish — meaning they prefer looser policies, such as low interest rates. And the Fed’s been on the current rate increase path for a while.

“What the Fed is doing here is part of a longer trend that began in earnest in 2015 but also was telegraphed in decision-making as early as 2012,” Conti-Brown said.

But Trump wanted to put in his own guy, and apparently with that, he expected loyalty — the same way he did with former Attorney General Jeff Sessions and former FBI Director James Comey. Kevin Warsh, a former Fed governor who was one of the contenders against Powell to replace Yellen, said in an interview this year that the Fed’s independence was “probably not an obvious feature to the president.”

It’s not clear what Trump might have told Powell in terms of expectations before appointing him, but what is obvious is that the president is not pleased with how this has played out.

“He seems to have this notion that Powell wasn’t going to be raising rates, that he wasn’t going to be tightening up the cost of credit,” Binder said. “I don’t know where Trump exactly got that notion, or if that’s just part of his expectations of what it means to be a loyal appointee of President Trump.”

Original Source -> Trump’s beef with the Fed, explained

via The Conservative Brief