#call it what it is! it IS price gouging!

[treasure-mimic]

So, let me try and put everything together here, because I really do think it needs to be talked about.

Today, Unity announced that it intends to apply a fee to use its software. Then it got worse.

For those not in the know, Unity is the most popular free to use video game development tool, offering a basic version for individuals who want to learn how to create games or create independently alongside paid versions for corporations or people who want more features. It's decent enough at this job, has issues but for the price point I can't complain, and is the idea entry point into creating in this medium, it's a very important piece of software.

But speaking of tools, the CEO is a massive one. When he was the COO of EA, he advocated for using, what out and out sounds like emotional manipulation to coerce players into microtransactions.

"A consumer gets engaged in a property, they might spend 10, 20, 30, 50 hours on the game and then when they're deep into the game they're well invested in it. We're not gouging, but we're charging and at that point in time the commitment can be pretty high."

He also called game developers who don't discuss monetization early in the planning stages of development, quote, "fucking idiots".

So that sets the stage for what might be one of the most bald-faced greediest moves I've seen from a corporation in a minute. Most at least have the sense of self-preservation to hide it.

A few hours ago, Unity posted this announcement on the official blog.

Effective January 1, 2024, we will introduce a new Unity Runtime Fee that’s based on game installs. We will also add cloud-based asset storage, Unity DevOps tools, and AI at runtime at no extra cost to Unity subscription plans this November. We are introducing a Unity Runtime Fee that is based upon each time a qualifying game is downloaded by an end user. We chose this because each time a game is downloaded, the Unity Runtime is also installed. Also we believe that an initial install-based fee allows creators to keep the ongoing financial gains from player engagement, unlike a revenue share.

Now there are a few red flags to note in this pitch immediately.

Unity is planning on charging a fee on all games which use its engine.

This is a flat fee per number of installs.

They are using an always online runtime function to determine whether a game is downloaded.

There is just so many things wrong with this that it's hard to know where to start, not helped by this FAQ which doubled down on a lot of the major issues people had.

I guess let's start with what people noticed first. Because it's using a system baked into the software itself, Unity would not be differentiating between a "purchase" and a "download". If someone uninstalls and reinstalls a game, that's two downloads. If someone gets a new computer or a new console and downloads a game already purchased from their account, that's two download. If someone pirates the game, the studio will be asked to pay for that download.

Q: How are you going to collect installs? A: We leverage our own proprietary data model. We believe it gives an accurate determination of the number of times the runtime is distributed for a given project. Q: Is software made in unity going to be calling home to unity whenever it's ran, even for enterprice licenses? A: We use a composite model for counting runtime installs that collects data from numerous sources. The Unity Runtime Fee will use data in compliance with GDPR and CCPA. The data being requested is aggregated and is being used for billing purposes. Q: If a user reinstalls/redownloads a game / changes their hardware, will that count as multiple installs? A: Yes. The creator will need to pay for all future installs. The reason is that Unity doesn’t receive end-player information, just aggregate data. Q: What's going to stop us being charged for pirated copies of our games? A: We do already have fraud detection practices in our Ads technology which is solving a similar problem, so we will leverage that know-how as a starting point. We recognize that users will have concerns about this and we will make available a process for them to submit their concerns to our fraud compliance team.

This is potentially related to a new system that will require Unity Personal developers to go online at least once every three days.

Starting in November, Unity Personal users will get a new sign-in and online user experience. Users will need to be signed into the Hub with their Unity ID and connect to the internet to use Unity. If the internet connection is lost, users can continue using Unity for up to 3 days while offline. More details to come, when this change takes effect.

It's unclear whether this requirement will be attached to any and all Unity games, though it would explain how they're theoretically able to track "the number of installs", and why the methodology for tracking these installs is so shit, as we'll discuss later.

Unity claims that it will only leverage this fee to games which surpass a certain threshold of downloads and yearly revenue.

Only games that meet the following thresholds qualify for the Unity Runtime Fee: Unity Personal and Unity Plus: Those that have made $200,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 200,000 lifetime game installs. Unity Pro and Unity Enterprise: Those that have made $1,000,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 1,000,000 lifetime game installs.

They don't say how they're going to collect information on a game's revenue, likely this is just to say that they're only interested in squeezing larger products (games like Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail, Fate Grand Order, Among Us, and Fall Guys) and not every 2 dollar puzzle platformer that drops on Steam. But also, these larger products have the easiest time porting off of Unity and the most incentives to, meaning realistically those heaviest impacted are going to be the ones who just barely meet this threshold, most of them indie developers.

Aggro Crab Games, one of the first to properly break this story, points out that systems like the Xbox Game Pass, which is already pretty predatory towards smaller developers, will quickly inflate their "lifetime game installs" meaning even skimming the threshold of that 200k revenue, will be asked to pay a fee per install, not a percentage on said revenue.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Hey Gamers!

Today, Unity (the engine we use to make our games) announced that they'll soon be taking a fee from developers for every copy of the game installed over a certain threshold - regardless of how that copy was obtained.

Guess who has a somewhat highly anticipated game coming to Xbox Game Pass in 2024? That's right, it's us and a lot of other developers.

That means Another Crab's Treasure will be free to install for the 25 million Game Pass subscribers. If a fraction of those users download our game, Unity could take a fee that puts an enormous dent in our income and threatens the sustainability of our business.

And that's before we even think about sales on other platforms, or pirated installs of our game, or even multiple installs by the same user!!!

This decision puts us and countless other studios in a position where we might not be able to justify using Unity for our future titles. If these changes aren't rolled back, we'll be heavily considering abandoning our wealth of Unity expertise we've accumulated over the years and starting from scratch in a new engine. Which is really something we'd rather not do.

On behalf of the dev community, we're calling on Unity to reverse the latest in a string of shortsighted decisions that seem to prioritize shareholders over their product's actual users.

I fucking hate it here.

-Aggro Crab - END DESCRIPTION]

That fee, by the way, is a flat fee. Not a percentage, not a royalty. This means that any games made in Unity expecting any kind of success are heavily incentivized to cost as much as possible.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A table listing the various fees by number of Installs over the Install Threshold vs. version of Unity used, ranging from $0.01 to $0.20 per install. END DESCRIPTION]

Basic elementary school math tells us that if a game comes out for $1.99, they will be paying, at maximum, 10% of their revenue to Unity, whereas jacking the price up to $59.99 lowers that percentage to something closer to 0.3%. Obviously any company, especially any company in financial desperation, which a sudden anchor on all your revenue is going to create, is going to choose the latter.

Furthermore, and following the trend of "fuck anyone who doesn't ask for money", Unity helpfully defines what an install is on their main site.

While I'm looking at this page as it exists now, it currently says

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

However, I saw a screenshot saying something different, and utilizing the Wayback Machine we can see that this phrasing was changed at some point in the few hours since this announcement went up. Instead, it reads:

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming or web browser is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

Screenshot for posterity:

That would mean web browser games made in Unity would count towards this install threshold. You could legitimately drive the count up simply by continuously refreshing the page. The FAQ, again, doubles down.

Q: Does this affect WebGL and streamed games? A: Games on all platforms are eligible for the fee but will only incur costs if both the install and revenue thresholds are crossed. Installs - which involves initialization of the runtime on a client device - are counted on all platforms the same way (WebGL and streaming included).

And, what I personally consider to be the most suspect claim in this entire debacle, they claim that "lifetime installs" includes installs prior to this change going into effect.

Will this fee apply to games using Unity Runtime that are already on the market on January 1, 2024? Yes, the fee applies to eligible games currently in market that continue to distribute the runtime. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

Again, again, doubled down in the FAQ.

Q: Are these fees going to apply to games which have been out for years already? If you met the threshold 2 years ago, you'll start owing for any installs monthly from January, no? (in theory). It says they'll use previous installs to determine threshold eligibility & then you'll start owing them for the new ones. A: Yes, assuming the game is eligible and distributing the Unity Runtime then runtime fees will apply. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

That would involve billing companies for using their software before telling them of the existence of a bill. Holding their actions to a contract that they performed before the contract existed!

Okay. I think that's everything. So far.

There is one thing that I want to mention before ending this post, unfortunately it's a little conspiratorial, but it's so hard to believe that anyone genuinely thought this was a good idea that it's stuck in my brain as a significant possibility.

A few days ago it was reported that Unity's CEO sold 2,000 shares of his own company.

On September 6, 2023, John Riccitiello, President and CEO of Unity Software Inc (NYSE:U), sold 2,000 shares of the company. This move is part of a larger trend for the insider, who over the past year has sold a total of 50,610 shares and purchased none.

I would not be surprised if this decision gets reversed tomorrow, that it was literally only made for the CEO to short his own goddamn company, because I would sooner believe that this whole thing is some idiotic attempt at committing fraud than a real monetization strategy, even knowing how unfathomably greedy these people can be.

So, with all that said, what do we do now?

Well, in all likelihood you won't need to do anything. As I said, some of the biggest names in the industry would be directly affected by this change, and you can bet your bottom dollar that they're not just going to take it lying down. After all, the only way to stop a greedy CEO is with a greedier CEO, right?

(I fucking hate it here.)

And that's not mentioning the indie devs who are already talking about abandoning the engine.

[Links display tweets from the lead developer of Among Us saying it'd be less costly to hire people to move the game off of Unity and Cult of the Lamb's official twitter saying the game won't be available after January 1st in response to the news.]

That being said, I'm still shaken by all this. The fact that Unity is openly willing to go back and punish its developers for ever having used the engine in the past makes me question my relationship to it.

The news has given rise to the visibility of free, open source alternative Godot, which, if you're interested, is likely a better option than Unity at this point. Mostly, though, I just hope we can get out of this whole, fucking, environment where creatives are treated as an endless mill of free profits that's going to be continuously ratcheted up and up to drive unsustainable infinite corporate growth that our entire economy is based on for some fuckin reason.

Anyways, that's that, I find having these big posts that break everything down to be helpful.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An Epic antitrust loss for Google

A jury just found Google guilty on all counts of antitrust violations stemming from its dispute with Epic, maker of Fortnite, which brought a variety of claims related to how Google runs its app marketplace. This is huge:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/11/technology/epic-games-google-antitrust-ruling.html

The mobile app store world is a duopoly run by Google and Apple. Both use a variety of tactics to prevent their customers from installing third party app stores, which funnels all app makers into their own app stores. Those app stores cream an eye-popping 30% off every purchase made in an app.

This is a shocking amount to charge for payment processing. The payments sector is incredibly monopolized and notorious for its price-gouging – and its standard (wildly inflated) rate is 2-5%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Now, in theory, Epic doesn't have to sell in Google Play, the official Android app store. Unlike Apple's iOS, Android permit both sideloading (installing an app directly without using an app store) and configuring your device to use a different app store. In practice, Google uses a variety of anticompetitive tricks to prevent these app stores from springing up and to dissuade Android users from sideloading. Proving that Google's actions – like paying Activision $360m as part of "Project Hug" (no, really!) – were intended to prevent new app storesfrom springing up was a big lift for Epic. But they managed it, in large part thanks to Google's own internal communications, wherein executives admitted that this was exactly why Project Hug existed. This is part of a pattern with Big Tech antitrust: many of the charges are theoretically very hard to make stick, but because the companies put their evil plans in writing (think of the fraudulent crypto exchange FTX, whose top execs all conferred in a groupchat called "Wirefraud"), Big Tech keeps losing in court:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Now, I do like to dunk on Big Tech for this kind of thing, because it's objectively funny and because the companies make so many unforced errors. But in an important sense, this kind of written record is impossible to avoid. Any large institution can only make and enact policy through administrative systems, and those systems leave behind a paper-trail: memos, meeting minutes, etc. Yes, we all know that quote from The Wire: "Is you taking notes on a fucking criminal conspiracy?" But inevitably, any ambitious conspiracy can only exist if someone is taking notes.

What's more, any large conspiracy involving lots of parties will inevitably produce leaks. Think of this as the corollary to the idea that the moon landing can't be a hoax, because there's no way 400,000 co-conspirators could keep the secret. Big Tech's conspiracies required hundreds or even thousands of collaborators to keep their mouths shut, and eventually someone blabs:

https://www.science.org/content/article/fake-moon-landing-you-d-need-400000-conspirators

This is part of a wave of antitrust cases being brought against the tech giants. As Matt Stoller writes, the guilty-on-all-counts jury verdict will leak into current and future actions. Remember, Google spent much of this year in court fighting the DoJ, who argued that the company bribed Apple not to make a competing search engine, paying tens of billions every year to keep a competitor from emerging. Now that a jury has convinced Google of doing that to prevent alternative app stores from emerging, claims that it used these pay-for-delay tactics in other sectros get a lot more credible:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/boom-google-loses-antitrust-case

On that note: what about Apple? Epic brought a very similar case against Apple and lost. Both Apple and Epic are appealing that case to the Supreme Court, and now that Google has been convicted in a similar case, it might prompt the Supremes to weigh in and resolve the seeming inconsistencies in the interpretation of federal law.

This is a key moment in the long project to wrest antitrust away from the pro-monopoly side, who spent decades "training" judges to produce verdicts that run counter to the plain language of America's antitrust law:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

There's 40 years' worth of bad precedent to overturn. The good news is that we've got the law on our side. Literally, the wording of the laws and the records of the Congressional debate leading to their passage, all militate towards the (incredibly obvious) conclusion that the purpose of anti-monopoly law is to fight monopoly, not defend it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

It's amazing to realize that we got into this monopoly quagmire because judges just literally refused to enforce the law. That's what makes one part of the jury verdict against Google so exciting: the jury found that Google's insistence that Play Store sellers use its payment processor was an act of illegal tying. Today, "tying" is an obscure legal theory, but few doctrines would be more useful in disenshittifying the internet. A company is guilty of illegal tying when it forces you to use unrelated products or services as a condition of using the product you actually want. The abandonment of tying led to a host of horribles, from printer companies forcing you to buy ink at $10,000/gallon to Livenation forcing venues to sell tickets through its Ticketmaster subsidiary.

The next phase of this comes when the judge decides on the penalty. Epic doesn't want cash damages – it wants the judge to order Google to fulfill its promise of "an open, competitive Android ecosystem for all users and industry participants." They've asked the judge to order Google to facilitate third-party app stores, and to separate app stores from payment processors. As Stoller puts it, they want to "crush Google’s control over Android":

https://www.epicgames.com/site/en-US/news/epic-v-google-trial-verdict-a-win-for-all-developers

Google has sworn to appeal, surprising no one. The Times's expert says that they will have a tough time winning, given how clear the verdict was. Whatever this means for Google and Android, it means a lot for a future free from monopolies.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/12/im-feeling-lucky/#hugger-mugger

[mechaknight-98]

Paragon (NSFW) FT Yeji

author’s note Yeji is super hot especially in this dress. Been meaning to write her and I think I hit the right notes for this one

I got the call that the villain Light Fury was rampaging through the city. I groaned and suited up. I flew to Downtown

“Oh, Paragon you finally arrive. I was getting worried you wouldn’t show.”

My head was killing me so I responded, “Look light fury it’s barely Tuesday and it’s been a long week so can we hurry up.” I watched as the Villainess hesitated when she locked eyes with me. They held…concern no impossible no girl would interested in me especially not a supervillain as attractive as Light Fury. Huh, that’s a weird thought. I pondered, “Do I have a crush on my Archenemy?”

Lost in thought I didn’t see the giant plasma bolt flying towards me. It knocked me into an abandoned warehouse. It hurt but I was processing several different emotions so I just sat there for a minute.

“Do I like light fury ?” I ask myself.“No impossible I’m a hero. She’s a villain, but she's so smart, industrious, funny and we’re so close.” I say to myself.

“Am I a villain?” I questioned as I had teamed up with light fury numerous times to beat up on the worst of the Villains . Despite her being a supervillain it was quite often our values aligned. Unbeknownst to me light fury was flying to the warehouse as I was having my crisis.

“Like I almost killed my landlord yesterday for price gouging. I was so close to snapping his pencil neck. Although gouging his eyes out would have been more poetic. Listen to me I am one step short from monologing about the evils of the world and I don't feel anything except satisfaction because I keep feeling these unbearably strong violent ideations and antisocial tendencies. Am I just cosplaying hero to satisfy these cravings for violence I’ve been having.” Light Fury overhears me and is immediately taken back at hearing the hero she’s been fighting for the past 2 years having some very villainous thoughts, but she’d be remiss if she didn’t admit she kinda liked it when I flew off the handle. What came to her mind was their team-up where I nearly beat Dr.Cataclysm to death. almost single-handed. She saw the fire alight in his eyes and his heart race when they faced him. The rage and fire she got from me seemed to invigorate her making her powers stronger in the fight. She moved her hand into a skin-tight suit as she began to touch herself as she listened

“Maybe I should just finish the fight with light fury, turn her in, and call it a day, but she looks so hot today that new suit she wears makes her body look so good…what am I saying that’s my arch-villain and I’m drooling over her like I’m in high school again. I need a girlfriend.” I lamented Light Fury began to touch herself more intensely as she listened to my inner turmoil. The thought of corrupting her opposite excited her to no end. “What the fuck is wrong with me today. First, the landlord raised the rent, I almost lost it, and now I am lusting over my Archenemy. Get a grip, Hugo. I know I should go back to therapy…no that didn’t stop the rage I feel though. The only thing that quells that has been doing all the superhero stuff, but I’ve been getting worse.” I lament further

Watching me agonize and ponder my position Yeji stifles a moan escaping from her lips. The bottom of her villain suit and panties are gone as she further gives into her desires. His fingers dive in and out of her starving pussy.

“Hugo” light fury whispers. The first time she’s heard the real name of her nemesis. It excited her, but not in the case of perceived advantage but to be more intimate with the object of desires she has long repressed. Light fury gets a little closer now feeling herself burning up from arousal over my mental crisis and me lusting over her. She was also coming to terms with her loneliness and seeing such a strong and fertile young man who desired her…well her body reacted accordingly. I hear rustling and turn to see Light Fury standing in the corner of the warehouse shadows covering her. I turn to her terrified I ready myself to fight but light fury approaches me calmly her hips sashay with an eerily seductive quality. Seeing her half-naked paralyzed me as my body demands to fuck her but my mind rages against the primal part of me. As always her gaze is intense on approach but not of hatred. I see only one thing in her eyes…desire

“Little hero has been having some less than heroic thoughts about me. It gets me a little excited” She coos as she closes in on me her body pins me to the ground. I stiffen everywhere.

I’m used to being close to her but never with this feeling between us. She wraps her arms around me and brings me into her embrace. “Shush your worries.” She comes close. My resolve is hanging by a thread we both want each other but I… I can’t bring myself to…”Come, little hero.” She whispered in a seductive tone, and the thoughts I had been suppressing broke the floodgates. I rip Light Fury’s mask and my helmet off and devour her in a fervent kiss. The fiery Dragon queen as she was known by many greedily accepted my advances.

I run my hand through her auburn hair as the kiss between us begins to turn more passionate. Light Fury’s claws extended as she tore into my armor leaving me bare before her. She broke our kiss to appraise my body. Her eyes stopped at my crotch.

“Hmm, looks lit “Little hero” isn’t so little.” Light Fury says with a smile. Her hands reach out to my cock and I groan.

“Oh fuck light fury.” I moan light fury smiles maliciously as she strokes me a bit harder. One of my hands ventures down to her folds eager to reciprocate her passion and lust

“Yeji.” Light Fury says

“Huh?”I question

“My name is Yeji.” Light Fury responds

“Fuck Yeji keep going.” I moan as she gets a particularly substantial grip on my cock. Yeji smiles wickedly.

“Beg for it little hero Beg for your archenemy to make you cum.” Yeji says as takes a violent grip on my…no her cock. My body and mind have fully submitted to her whims.

“Please Yeji make me cum.”

Yeji grins madly fawning over the power she holds over me

“You can do better.” She admonishes

“Oh fuck Yeji please let me cum. ride my cock tills it’s spent in your pussy. Fuck me till I can’t even remember my name.” I moan desperate to feel her pussy on my cock. Yeji smirks before mounting me. She moans intensely as I fill her to the brim.

“Little hero isn’t so little.” Yeji coos. I groan as she holds me in place. Her pussy pulsated around my cock attempting to properly adjust to it. She groaned, and then she began to ride me. it started slow at first as we still were feeling each other out pawing at each other and getting to know each other's body. hers was tight and firm but bowed and curved in all the hottest and best places. Yeji smiled as his hands dug into my flesh. "Big Hero likes his Archenemy's pussy." she asks I nod breathlessly. Yeji takes it as a provocation to increase her pace which is par the course for her. Yeji is as unrelenting in riding me as she is in our fights perhaps more so here.

"You know Paragon you saved me before I became Light Fury," Yeji said as she sank further down onto my rod before lifting her tight sexy ass and slamming it back down on my crotch. I groan as she orgasms then and there. I continue to thrust in her extending the endeavor as I question her previous statement.

"Really?" I ask curious about previous encounters.

"Yes When Dr Cataclysm was collecting women for his vile experiment I was one of the subjects. His greatest success and his greatest failure." He called me." My blood boiled at the mention of Dr Cataclysm he had killed one of my closest friends and it took everything in me to let the Hero's association deal with him. He was a monster with no morals or guidance. few villains were as reviled as he was. In my anger, Yeji squealed.

"Oh Hero you're being so rough now. I love it. Did I strike a nerve mentioning the Good Doctor? Don't worry Big Hero. It was not your fault. The association made you stay your hand." Yeji says unknowingly. igniting the fire within me that burned brighter than any star.

"That fucking bastard hid among us like a wolf in sheepskin. He mocked us. and led us on goose chases while he preyed on the vulnerable. I should have ripped his throat out when I had his neck in my hands." I growled as I thrust into Yeji. She smiled seeing the color of my eyes change to the burnt Umber they would get whenever I was truly angry. Yeji was in bliss as I took my anger out on her. I fucked her harder and harder my senses dulling as pleasure and anger washed over me while using her. Yeji's smile was wicked and bright as I continued to thrust in and out of her tight pussy.

"I can feel you twitching harder Hero. Are you about to cum. Do it Cum in my pussy. Do it." Yeji mewled with a needy tone. Her words sent me over the edge as I dumped a load into her wanton pussy. As our bodies calmed down we stared at each other a confusing wave of emotions washed over us as the sexual tension dissipated.

"I can't believe I did that," we said simultaneously as our rationale came back to us. Yeji looked at me with a Vulnerable look.

"I am sorry Paragon. I shouldn't have done that to you," she said remorseful. I dismissed her.

"No, I was a consenting participant." I rebuked "Fuck...Why did you have to be so cute." I lament. Yeji looks at me with a surprised shocked look before blushing.

"Is that affection in your tone?" Yeji questions sternly.

I nod, "Yeah you are stunning, and had the circumstances been different I definitely would have asked you out."

"What's stopping Hugo from Asking Yeji out?" Yeji asks me with an innocent look

"Really? you know what screw it we're already this deep in. Hi Yeji would you like to get coffee sometime?" I ask meekly. Yeji smiles a more wholesome smile and winks at me. "I'd love to Hugo."

"Does tomorrow work?" she asks. I nod. "Great. Give me your phone so we can share numbers. I nod and conjure my phone to my hand.

"Oh, that's so cool," Yeji notes smiling. I smile brightly at her back, and we exchange numbers. I conjure my civilian clothes while she does a Carter twirl and turns back into her nice form-fitting black dress I assumed she was wearing before.

"You're drooling." Yeji teased. I nodded and rebuked

"Yes. Do you see how hot you are? Or is it only on me to tell you?"

Yeji smiles before saying, "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I hope so because my goodness you are stunning," I reply

Yeji smiles then her face goes stern. "Okay stop it. you're too sweet." I nod and reply

"I am sorry this is just my first relationship...Being a hero and with my actual job. it doesn't leave time for much...Cavorting with others." as I explain Yeji's face softens.

"I never considered that, but yeah you keep your identity secret," Yeji affirms and I nod.

we both walk out of the warehouse. I use my magic to repair it.

"You know I don't know how your powers work?" Yeji asked with innocent curiosity.

"Oh no missy I am not revealing the secret of my powers. What if you're just using me to get to know my weaknesses?"

"Hugo I let you cum in me...Quite a bit I might add I can still feel it sloshing inside of me." Yeji laughs. I laugh with her and reply

"Well, I can't be too careful. We are still enemies after all."

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 10: ROLEPLAY

captain john price x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.0k words

summary: rocked by the deployment of your husband, you strike up an unlikely supportive relationship with a captain at his base...

cw: f!reader. cheating, consistent references to the reader's husband, star-crossed lovers vibes, fingering (?), supportive and mild dirty talk, p in v sex mention.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 11: BREEDING KINK ⇾

You don’t mean to rely on Captain Price so much during your husband’s deployment. Complete mischance. As though you’d tripped and fell into his office– However, it also feels inescapable. 

Written in the stars that you would happen to find him that day. 

Tear stricken, burdened with the grief of struggling to maintain a healthy lifestyle since your husband flew out to Urzikstan. The weeks without contact, persistent distress without certainty that he was alive– it was all unbearable. 

When Price had found you practically prostrating yourself before the barracks in a desperate attempt to petition for some news about your husband’s condition, you were certain he’d throw you off the grounds. When he’d taken you into his arms, informing you he wasn’t at liberty to divulge such sensitive information, you’d been thankful for the kindness he’d offered. Compassionate eyes tracing your face as he gently wiped your tears away with combat-marred palms, John had eased the ache that had been burdening you since deployment day. 

You try to convince yourself it isn’t often… But in truth you find yourself visiting every day.

Find the length of time he holds your hands to comfort you extend far past what was reasonable. He laces your fingers together, warming the outside of your wedding band, and squeezing gently in a silent acknowledgement of your loneliness… Even if it was beginning to feel a whole lot less isolating with him. 

Find yourself touching him more. You reach to fix his collar when you leave, playfully reminding him that he needed to keep his uniform straight. Picking fluff from his shoulder, straightening that ridiculous hat he always wore. Any excuse to find a way to hold him, to feel that warmth.

Soon, you find yourself relying on him to fill the void of the bed that your husband's deployment had left behind. Inevitable. Those comforting eyes, the ever present physical comfort John offered you– It felt natural to want to feel that beneath bed sheets, to feel the warmth of his kisses elsewhere than your lips. It’s constant, night after night. Soon he stops knocking on the door and lets himself in, stops asking where to find a glass to give you some water. It’s familiar, domestic even. It’s guilt-inducing. 

The scratch of John’s beard between your thighs feels like penance for this cardinal sin. You assumed the scratches you’d gouged into his back had the same effect when he stood in the shower following your trysts. A painful reminder of your husband in Urzikstan, unwitting to his wife’s disloyalty. Her desperation. 

Truthfully, you wish the shame was enough to stop, to call off this affair and refocus your affections. It wasn’t. 

“John,” You whimper as he presses his thumb into your spit soaked clit, pressing slow, messy kisses to the bare skin of your hip. He’s deliberate, circling the swollen nerves with the pinpoint precision bestowed upon an expert marksman. When your hips stutter upwards, seeking more friction, you feel the enamel of his teeth against your hip bone, a small smile pulling on his lips. 

“Yes, Love?” His answer is drawn out, voice husky, and it makes the walls of your pussy clench desperately. When you glance to him, his sapphire irises remain trained on the looseness of your jaw, the shapes your lips make when he drags his thumbprint jussst right–

“Oh my god,” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut when he presses another tender, almost loving kiss to your stomach, his beard scraping your skin. Like flint striking stone, sparks skitter along your nerves, fizzling across synapses. “Fuck fu– don’t stop–”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” John’s tongue traces over the dip of your public bone, barely missing your clit and nearly reducing you to tears with how you want to kiss him– to tell him how hopelessly you love him. It’s twisted and fucked up and utterly deplorable but, oh, you love him. The tingling bliss at your clit pinpoints, and your eyes squeeze closed, your eyebrows pulling in, “Yeah, is that it? Come on, Love, That’s it. That’s it.” 

He tightens the circles he’s drawing on your throbbing clit, moving his thumb faster to close in on his target and relishing in the writhing of your body, the heaviness of your breathing and the tightness of your fingers in his cropped hair. You rock your hips to match his, your own pace stuttering as your arousal arcs violently.

Your walls squeeze around nothing, the tightly drawn circles rubbing against your clit practically snapping you in half with the force of your orgasm. It spiders through your limbs, prickling heat forcing your back from the mattress with a wail of John’s name. He kisses at your skin throughout the devastating flood of hormones, murmuring gentle encouragement. 

“That’s it, Love. So good for me.” 

You can’t deny it anymore, can’t refute the indisputable. You love him– utterly adore the man that practically lays himself at your feet in order to brighten your day. Given the bemused expressions his team would give him when you exited his office, you’d guessed such effort was abnormal for him. Reserved only for you– even if he knew you could never offer him the same unconditional affection. 

Glancing to your rings, wedding band and diamond engagement ring strewn haphazardly across the bedside table, the threat of tears prickles your eyes. 

“Hey,” you hear John mumble softly, his beard scraping your skin as he pressed gentle, loving kisses against your cheekbone, “Where’re you going? Need you here with me, Love.”

Closing your eyes for just a moment, you rid your mind of your husband. Shove the memory of him into a box in the far corner of your mind as you cradle the face of the man you love, offering him a gentle smile when you look into the sapphire of his irises. 

“I’m here,” you murmur. 

“Good,” he mumbles back, the edges of his eyes crinkling when you let out a soft gap, the head of his cock gently pushing inside of your slick pussy. 

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh @km-ffluv @decaffeinateddinosauronearth @domaniquessidehoe2 @arrozyfrijoles23 @amisouki @sleepysheepsstuff @chunguk @lundenloves @marylovesdilfs @ninahhh-brahh @namelesshumanperson @limegreenbabx @doggydale @wiltedwonderland @justsayk @pennachilles @harrypotter-loveboat @skeleton-island

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee

[sant-riley]

Proposal headcanons [ft. Ghost and Soap]

To the anon who asked about proposals, I lost the ask bc tumblr ate shit and I had to rewrite these <3 I hope you see this

Soap

Hes the kind of boyfriend who has the ring on him at all times.

He fiddles with the damn box constantly, one hand shoved in his pants to brush his fingers over the box. He'll take it out sometimes and just stare down at it and just try and hype himself up to just go up and ask.

With the life you both live, there's hardly any romantic setup that he can plan and he can't help but feel insecure.

Ghost sees him at least once a week messing with the box and wants to gouge his eyes out. "Just ask them already, they won't say no Johnny."

It finally happens when you're the instructor for the day, training the new recruits in close combat. John watches you as you teach, leaning up against the wall. Everything is going well until some dipshit Rookie tries to tell you what you're doing 'wrong', Soap knows you can defend yourself so he just smirks as you make the Rookie face you.

He audibly laughs when you flip the kid over your back, the kid getting the air knocked out of him.

The smile on your face while you breath heavily is enough for him to finally make his move, and next thing he knows, he's on one knee and looking up at you with heart eyes.

You look like you're about to cry when you throw yourself at him and hug him saying yes over and over. All the recruits are happy for their sergeants and politely clap while Price chooses to kick the Rookie to make sure he's alive.

When y'all finally have the wedding, he proudly wears his wedding band, never taking it off. His has your initial ingraved <3

Ghost

Never once did he ever entertain the thought of marriage, let alone a relationship. The life and work he leads along with the trauma of his family is almost too much to bare.

But then you waltz in and change everything he once thought he knew he wanted.

He doesn't buy a ring, but the thought lingers and eats him alive when he stares down at your empty fingers.

The man feels his heart ache at how much he wants to give you a ring to claim you as his forever. But he represses it and moves about his day. He's too scared, scared of how you make him feel. Hell, he hasn't even said I love you yet to your face, he feels out of his element and it fucks him up.

The time comes when you're both in a shitty safe house, your gear taken off as he fishes for a bullet in your thigh, shushing you as he prods. He can't help but think that was too close of a call, and he murmurs without thinking "I need you to marry me 'fore you go doin' this shit."

He quickly realizes what he just fucking said and snaps his mouth shut, going back to focusing on your wound and hoping you didn't hear him bc of all the adrenaline and pain.

Fortunately for him you do, bringing a small hand up to his mask and gently caressing it, moving his head up to face you.

"I'll gladly be a Riley with you."

When all is said and done, you have a nice scar to remember your proposal for your entire life and the best fiance known to man. You're never messed with on base since your last name officially got changed to Riley on your uniform.

Ghost wears his ring on his dog tags, he clutches them before every mission and gently kisses it every time before he goes out.

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky   @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

In 1832 Andrew Jackson stomped out the “nullification theory” when South Carolina declared federal law “null and void” and threatened to secede.

Historical figures are multi-faceted and led complex public and private lives. While justly regarded as a monster for what he did to Native Americans he also prevented a potential civil war and kept the union together. However one action does not necessarily balance the scales. History and politics is not black and white and will always remain shades of grey.

Governor Abbott is a political showman keeping the redneck fantasy of Tex-ass secession alive. They tell the Tex-ass MAGAts that Texas-ass is the only state not connected to the power grid because someday they might secede again. Truth is they keep it separate because Tex-ass RepubliKKKlans and their top 1% masters are all major shareholders in the ERCOT grid and make millions from price gouging their own constituents.

The border is something the RepubliKKKlans revisit every election year. They stir up the uneducated and misinformed base with racist and xenophobic nativist talk of an invasion and then when the election is over they do little or nothing about it.

Two years ago Republican operatives were detained in Brazil and questioned about their role in organizing migrant convoys and sending them to the U.S. southern border to make the Dems look bad. We all know they do this but the tv news won’t cover it. The far-right always gets a free pass by tv news. If you want real news about politics you have to go to respected print media and their associated websites for the whole story.

Greg Abbott will continue to human traffick migrants across the country and kill them at the border. US law supersedes state laws and he has no business messing with immigration. He’s trying to provoke a showdown with Biden so he can claim Joe is a dictator and rally the deplorable base. Biden is commander-in-chief of the Texas National Guard and could have the Defense Department order them to stand down but that would be risky politically so instead he keeps beating Abbott in court. Even if Biden ordered the Texas National Guard to stand down, Texas has a large state militia called the Texas State Guard that only answers to the governor and is not connected to the federal government. Abbott could always order those yahoos to commit atrocities against migrants and block federal agents. It’s all about creating a certain false perception of Dems appearing to want open borders.

Tex-ass once had a thriving economy that contributed to the federal government. However in the past 20 years Republicans have held power there and driven the state into the ground. Economically and socially it is now bordering on being a failed 3rd world state where oligarchs and gunslinging nativist white supremacists run amok. Tex-ass like most other red states is now a welfare state taking more from the federal government than it turns in. A handful of blue economic powerhouse states in the northeast and on the west coast now support nearly the entire nation. We pay high taxes that go to support Confederate states and the oligarchs that get perpetual kickbacks there.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Captain Price Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Career sabotage, age gap, virginity kink (?), smut, AFAB Reader, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, mention of power fantasies, Price is a top, sir kink, mentions of male masturbation, toxic behaviour, abhorent behaviour, SERIOUSLY TOXIC BEHAVIOUR!, mention of a gun, description of a wound/injury, mentions of injuries, mention of blood, brief speculation of medical issues, pet names, profanity, etc.

You'd ensnared Price with your dark wit and humour, mirroring much of his own; and the smile you often served him with.

It took a long time - an arduous process you didn't even know you were engaging in - but you had Price wrapped around your finger within a year.

And he suspected that his liking of you - merely brief flickers of fantasies to ease him off to sleep or to get himself off - ran much deeper than he initially suspected.

Sure, he liked you; he worked with you, saw you every day - he'd think something was amiss if he didn't like you.

Though, that initial companionable enjoyment he - and the rest of the 141 - got from your fresh perspectives and attentiveness caused something in Price to...change.

He felt the shift, knew its symptoms, yet never found himself falling victim to it.

Until now.

He brushed it off at first, keeping his chatter with you tame, dull, if anything, to slow the spread, to stop it.

But he couldn't deny, as the months went on, how you made him feel, regardless of how hard he tried to push you away.

You made him feel safe, truly safe, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Sure, he was a big guy, more than perfectly capable of killing when necessary (and unnecessary), but that didn't mean he wasn't subject to the odd adrenaline rush here and there, a bullet wound to the thigh, a gouge to the shoulder.

And despite being younger than him, you were always there to patch him up, to see to him. It was your job. It was inevitable.

You knew that, Price knew that - yet something inside prevented him from believing that your stray touches, the tender look in your eyes, the soft tone of your voice, were merely a symptom of your profession.

They were evidence of your fancying of him, too.

And he decided to let you know that he knew.

It started off with looks - longer than usual. Longing.

In the common room, passing each other in the halls, during conversations.

He'd tease you from time to time, just to see your face break out in a flush of colour.

"Y'know what, (Y/N)?" he'd say, leaning in across the cafeteria table. "You have beautiful eyes."

If you managed to bypass your own embarrassment and shoot a compliment back, albeit sarcastic-- "Not as mysterious as yours, Captain,"-- he'd fall for you harder.

Btw, calling him "Captain," or "Sir," makes all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock.

Has jacked off to his power fantasies before now.

Man's a top, it's just in his nature to want authority over everyone else (you).

After that, he started being more physical with you.

He decided to teach you how to use a gun - "For your own safety," of course.

It was all (mostly) a ploy to have a plausible excuse to be pressed up behind you, arms around yours, head resting on your shoulder as he praised you for your aim.

And to hear you yelp, to feel you graze just the right parts of him whenever you recoiled after firing, into his chest and...elsewhere.

Sent him absolutely over the edge - used it as fuel for his increasingly frequent self-love sessions.

Though, he did actually want you to be able to protect yourself when it came down to it.

But, he always sees himself as your protector; your man on whom you can depend for anything.

One evening, disinfecting a wound on his abdomen as he sat on the edge of one of the operating tables, you and Price got to talking.

"Pretty nasty cut here, Captain," you said, wiping an antiseptic cotton pad across Price's wound.

He winced, though kept the light smile on his face.

"Ah well, all worth it to come and see you,"

You shot him a look of sarcasm, though smiled, finding the sincerity in his words.

"I hope you're not getting injured just for me!"

Your statement was jestful, but the sentiment was genuine.

Price's eyes squinted in a smile.

"What if I was?" he said, his hands sliding to his knees, ignoring the pulsing in his wound and coming eye level with you as you rose.

You were taken aback, though at least tried to look like you'd regained your composure.

You scoffed, discarding the bloodied cotton into a nearby bin.

"Ah yes, a big, strong man like you can't possibly be killed by a mere bullet just to come and see the medic."

Price felt something in him clench, tighten.

He gave a huff of a laugh.

"You'd be surprised the things a man'll do to see a pretty woman."

Your back was to Price, gathering his shirt and hat. You faltered, unsure as to whether you'd heard him correctly.

You shook your head, choosing to humour him. To not take him seriously.

Big mistake.

Price took your: "You know, you could always just come and see me without getting hurt," as gospel.

That night, he imagined you, pleased to see him (in more ways than one), begging to take him.

He could hear your voice chanting his name, moaning and panting as he had you bent over his desk, slamming into you.

After that, he took you up on your offer, visiting you on evenings he knew you weren't busy, where your greatest priority would be paperwork.

You'd talk, get to know each other more and more, you discovering his penchant for World War literature, and he of your interest in video games.

He often compared his tastes to yours, ruminating on how much he could teach you if you'd let him.

You were younger than him by a good margin, yet already so intelligent, so...independent.

Price wanted to change that.

He wanted you to depend on him, and only him, for everything.

One evening, he watched you at the bar with the rest of the Task Force.

Soap seemed rather pleased to see you, sidling up beside you and holding you by your waist, pulling you into his chest.

It all appeared as playful teasing - as many of the Task Force members often subjected you to - but to Price, it spelled a bigger picture.

That night, after you'd returned to Base, Price took his chance.

He knew you hadn't been drinking, so you were of sound mind.

He knew he had to act now.

"Y'know," he said, watching you fumble with your keycard, trying to re-enter the medical wing. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be alone on nights like these."

He took a drag of a cigar you'd just noticed he had: him always being equipped with one made you blind to when he was smoking so close to you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking up at him briefly before managing to swipe the right side of your card.

You entered the building, and held the door open for Price. He followed behind.

"Cold. Lonely." His voice was low, vibrating at such a frequency that had you feeling hot. You wondered how he could possibly have this effect on you.

"Who says I'm lonely?" you said, flashing him a smile. You continued walking to your sleeping quarters. Price knew; he'd memorised the layout of the medical wing. Your route.

"I have you."

You meant it more as a compliment to his character rather than an invitation. But Price saw it how he wanted to.

"Yeah," his voice was deeper now, somehow. Lower, as if trying to reach beneath your skirt. "You do."

Price was literally living the dream after that.

No, literally: he had you bent over the edge of your bed, ploughing into you, with you practically crying into the covers beneath him.

His grip on your hips was harsh, months of pent-up sexual frustration being pumped into you.

And that wasn't the only thing Price was planning on pumping into you.

He came to realise, through your months of friendship, that he loved you in a way he hadn't felt about anyone in a long time.

He felt...protective of you - of your innocence.

Despite the horrific injuries you'd had to deal with in your line of work, you maintained your somewhat carefree demeanour.

That, and Price knew you'd never taken anyone before.

Your years of studying, training and working wouldn't allow for it; both you and Price knew that.

And here he was, stretching you out on his thick cock, hitting crevices you'd never even felt before.

You were a doctor - a medic - you knew how sex worked.

And you knew, from your years of textbook study, that you were close. And that Price likely was, too.

"C-Captain- cu-- ah!" Price gripped your chin, forcing you to look back at him.

"That's it," he said, panting, sweating, twitching. "Say my name again."

"P-Price-"

Price landed a slap on your backside, harsh enough to send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Try again, Princess."

He felt you clench around him at the name. His lip twitched up in a smirk.

"Captain..." you breathed out. You knew what you wanted to say - needed to say.

"Don't cum inside me," you pleaded, eyes wide and hazy. "Please."

You didn't have birth control to-hand, and you'd heard too many miracle stories about women still getting pregnant regardless of the aid of a pill regardless to risk it.

Price gave no acknowledgement of your worry, instead continuing to slam into you.

He was relentless, forcing you to your end quicker than you could register it.

You cried out, voice obscured by the covers, as your orgasm tore through you, gripping the sheets as Price was gripping your hips.

He continued to pump into you, prolonging your orgasm, keeping the mist settling over your mind from dissipating. Keeping your judgement from telling him to pull out.

It didn't occur to you until it was too late.

Price groaned, guttural and primal, and something hot and thick filled you.

Price's grip slid up to your waist, one hand settling on the small of your back and the other settling on your stomach, rubbing it.

Both panting and coming down from your high, your mind cleared.

First came the shame - the crushing reality that you'd just had sex with your superior, the man who'd near enough employed you - then, the realisation of a bigger issue.

"You...you didn't pull out..." Your voice was soft, throat dry with incessant panting and moaning.

Between breaths, Price uttered: "Don't worry, Princess. Got the pill."

Relief washed over you, then logic. Of course, why on earth would your superior risk you getting pregnant? Then again, why would he have contraceptives to-hand? This was a military base.

Little did you know.

Price did end up giving you a pill soon afterwards. A placebo, nothing more. Not that you knew that.

You and Price went on with your...relationship?...after your encounter.

You were confused, to say the least; unsure of how to approach Captain Price now that you'd grown to know him so intimately.

Yet he almost acted as if you hadn't; as if the whole thing were nothing more than a dream.

Almost.

The longing gazes and half-smiles let you know that he was still very much aware of all that you'd done together, though instead of the room thickening with tension whenever he was around, you felt shame. Ashamed.

You knew you couldn't undo what had been done, but you could go on and pretend it never happened - the only way you could think to put it behind you.

In the meantime, Price seemed so occupied these days, having important meetings with people you didn't even know or care to ask about, so he had little opportunity to remind you of your experience with him.

Though, he reminded himself of it every day - the fact that he'd been your first, the first (and only) to claim you.

The thought crossed his mind whenever he was fortunate enough to see you in the hallways, whenever he came to you with a scuff or a scrape.

A month passed. And that's where it all ended for you.

The sickness began, your stomach turning more mornings than not, leaving you breathless and fatigued before the day even began.

Your energy seemed to drain quicker, too, leaving you a ghoul of yourself on some days.

The other 141 members seemed to take note, asking you if you were okay, if you were eating enough.

All except Price.

The way he looked at you now - when word of your health's sudden downturn spread - was masked, as if he knew something. Like he knew whatever forbidden knowledge he possessed hid in his eyes, which he kept cold and unreadable.

Eventually, you decided to get tested for...well, everything. You got blood tests, tracked your symptoms, tried to make sense of this sudden onset of sickness.

You considered it was something you'd been eating, but you ate more or less the same meals before the sickness began.

You considered every possibility - blood disorder, stomach bug, liver issues - all except that which you hadn't daned the most obvious.

And when your test results returned, you felt your world shatter.

On your report, in a box in a long table, was a sign. The only confirmation of any illness on that entire report.

Pregnant: Positive.

Your worst fear had been confirmed. And now, you had to confirm it to Price.

Skittering through the hall, you found his office.

Surprisingly, there were no voices on the other end now, usually emanating from this room, muffled and secretive. 'Associates of Price' was the only identification you gave them.

You knocked, was told to enter. You obeyed.

Entering the room, you noticed that Price wasn't smoking his signature cigar, the air of the room clear, unobstructed by smoke.

Price had his legs resting on the edge of his desk, a perfect image of laxity while you, an homage to stress.

Your breath shuttered, and you rubbed one hand with the other. Price remained motionless, as if poised for your answer. Poised for attack.

You couldn't think straight, instead saying the first thing that came into your mind.

"You're not smoking, Captain." You tried to smile, but the attempt was diluted by your fear. Price only gave a knowing smile.

"Mmh. Wouldn't be good for the baby, would it?" The casualty with which he said it almost disguised the statement itself. You smiled, looking down at your hands, then your gaze snapped up to meet his.

His smile broadened, as if he were hearing the news of your pregnancy for the first time.

He took his legs off the desk and stood, his figure's shadow almost reaching you.

"You've...read my report, then?" you tried, cautiously. You didn't want to entertain the hundred other possibilities you were considering.

"No." Price's answer was immediate, firm. He walked around his desk, hands behind his back, and stopped before you.

"Then...how could you possibly..."

The realisation had been there, nestled between your other speculations like a pea between mattresses, pricking you, making you uncomfortable.

Price brought a hand to the side of your face, holding it.

His large hands would have, at any other time, brought you great comfort. But now...

You took a step back, one hand over where your child was, the other ready to defend you.

Only now did Price's smile falter. His gaze became colder, serious.

"Now, now, (Y/N), this isn't all doom and gloo-"

"You gave me a fake pill, didn't you!" It wasn't a question, rather an accusation.

Price sighed, rubbing his beard.

You stepped back, inching towards the door.

"You- You knocked me up on purpose!"

"Now don't go throwing 'round accusations like that-"

"Why not? It's true!"

Price lunged at you, covering your mouth with his hand. With the other he pressed a button on the wall - a big red one that looked like it should never be pressed.

Two soldiers came in - makeshift security guards.

Price handed you to them.

"Put her in isolation; she'll be shipped back tomorrow."

And now, in your cell, rocking back and forth, you cried.

You truly believed this to just be a nightmare - nothing more.

And it only worsened when Price visited you.

He pulled up a chair, sitting before you in your cell.

He leaned forward on his thighs as he had done that evening on the operating table.

"It's for your own good-"

"Oh, fuck off."

You were in no mood to barter, to absolve him of his crimes.

Price's brow twitched, yet he remained composed.

"I'm trying to be reasonable here, (Y/N)."

You scoffed. "You're not reasonable. You act on impulse, on flights of fancy. And this is just another byproduct of that."

Price looked somewhat offended.

"You think this is a flight of fancy?" he said. "You think you are just a flight of fancy?"

He pulled his chair closer to your cell, and leaned in.

"I have put more thought and consideration into you than I have done any other person, any other operation-"

"And look where that's gotten us."

"(Y/N), let me speak-"

"Or what?" you challenged. You came up the the glass of the cell, close enough that your breath fogged against it.

"Or what? You're gonna kill me?"

Price shot you a look that made the doubt flicker in your mind - that he actually would.

Price sighed, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm doing this to keep you safe."

Despite the overwhelming urge to interrupt him, to scream bloody murder at him, you let him talk. For now.

Seeing you were finally letting him explain himself, Price continued, his features softening.

"The military's no place for a girl like you, (Y/N)."

"I'm a woman. Not some complacent little schoolgirl fawning over a teacher-"

"Then what would you call how you've been actin' around me, hm?"

A smug look crossed his face. You sought to correct that.

"What do you mean? You pursued me!"

"Then how do you account for all our time together?"

You racked your brain for what he could have possibly been talking about. The only times you'd spent time with him voluntarily felt - mostly - purely platonic. To you, at least.

"Those touches," he said, nigh whispered, his voice sibilant. "Those looks. Those conversations--"

"You mean me doing my job?"

"Oh, come now, don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"Captain-"

"Call me John."

You took a deep breath, trying to compose both yourself and your response.

"John, listen, I don't know what I've done to you, but whatever it is, surely I didn't warrant...this."

"You--" John looked at you as if you'd shot him. "You think this is condemnation?"

You felt confusion bubble in your mind, dyeing your thoughts with the colour of uncertainty.

"You don't?"

John sighed deeply, rubbed his temple.

"This," he began, "is to protect you."

"From what?"

"Your job."

You threw your hands up in the air, feeling as if you'd gotten nowhere - that your questions still hadn't been answered.

"I love my job, John! I love taking care of people, I love the 141, I love-"

"Me?"

Your breath caught in your throat. The look in John's eye was serious as death.

You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn't believe that he mean it - that he loved you. After all, you didn't love him.

"I just don't see what you're trying to protect me from, John." You skirted around his question, folding your arms across your chest.

John acknowledged your answer by not acknowledging it at all.

"You know the risks of my line of work - of our duty,"

He stared dead into your eyes and you couldn't look away.

"And I can't - won't - let you be a victim of it."

"A victim?" Your voice was airy, inflated with disbelief.

"I chose this profession, I have bled for it-"

"Which is exactly my point! I don't want you getting hurt anymore-"

"Why do you care?-"

"Because I love you!"

Price's voice thundered, making your very bones quiver.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You stepped back, more stumbled, the weight of Price's statement shooting past you like a javelin. Just missing you.

Too much ran through your mind after that, making you nigh-unresponsive to John.

Everything that occurred afterwards became a cesspool of moments and emotions, barely strung together by a thread of logic.

A caretaker came in shortly after, telling you, in a voice that was none of which you knew, yet possessing a sentiment you recognised immediately as Price's plan:

"We'll be excusing you from your medical obligations until a year after your child's birth, after which you'll be free to return to work--"

Even through the buzzing of your own anxiety, a flicker of hope lit within you.

"--given that your superior authorises your return."

Aaand it was snuffed out.

Your heart sank, nerves frying, mind going blank.

So this was his scheme, you thought.

24 hours later, an aircraft descended from the heavens to pluck you from reality. And Price was there, over your shoulder, providing little comfort.

He had a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it, squeezing it.

His breath was hot on your neck, unfazed by the cold breeze ushered your way by the blades of the helicopter.

"I'll be with you soon," he told you, uttering it into your ear. Even the cotton-eared effect of the crushing wind and metal couldn't mask his words, his voice.

It sent shivers down your spine. Unsettled you.

Once released from the grip and watchful eye of the Captain, you sprung into action, pleading with the attendee to get help, to do something - that Price was not the valiant hero everyone thought him to be--

And the attendee did nothing.

In fact, they seemed to be on his side, already knowledgeable of Price's misdeeds and not caring for how they affected his victims.

Though, they did admit, he'd never done anything like this before.

"Seems like you're special," they said, leaning back into their seat.

Mortified, and truly alone, you sank back, stomach heavy with the weight of your reality and the life growing inside you.

You were taken home after that, but you knew it was not truly your home.

Price had been here, one way or another; you could tell by how the house no longer felt like you - smelled like you.

And when you checked the crevices and corners, you knew why.

Cameras. Few and far between, but obvious if you knew where to look.

Either Price didn't know you as well as he thought, or he knew you too well; knew that you'd find the cameras, a reminder of your binding to him.

Now and forever. With a man you didn't think capable of such cruelty, nor such "love".

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[howl224tgeundying]

When a moron is calling for something like 20/h as the minimum wage and they call it a "livable wage" or something, don't even hit them with the logic that the second wages go up rent will follow as soon the local lows allow (in some cases the next month), just ask them "What if we lowered the cost of living instead of raising the minimum wage?"

Because there was a time when if you had a dollar, you could eat at a fast food place, but now you can't. There was a time when you could work a part time job and pay off college, or work any minimum wage job and support a family of 4 and buy a house.

Work on preventing price gouging or predatory practices, if you push for any legislation, it should be to put limits on things like rent, which often accounts for more than half people's wages. The second wages go up, the more expensive everything becomes soon after, it literally changes nothing except actually making the dollar worth less over time.

[girlneuter]

we need to bring back the term price gouging. no more higher rates no more prime time no more surge pricing no more raising prices at times when a service has more demand. don’t let them rename what it really is.

every time you see a restaurant or an app or any company that raises its prices to take advantage of consumers especially when it’s for things like housing, food, or transportation, we should start calling attention to them for price gouging the cost of living. and we should be loudly opposing anyone that believes it’s right to take advantage of us over the things we need to literally be alive

[vixencrawley]

A Price To Pay |•Dark!Ominis Gaunt x Stripper!Mc

Chapter 1: On My Feet

Summary: 5 years after graduating from Hogwarts, Ominis Gaunt has shocked the ministry by taking over the Gaunt household, inheriting every single power that the famous family has from his brother, changing in ways Mc doesn't realize; Mc's prestigious family has gone into ruin after her father's arrest and her little sister developing a serious illness. Mc was desperate to get cash to get her sister back into a hospital, she thought maybe she could "borrow" some money from her dearest friend Ominis. Mc will soon find out that the new and improved Gaunt will take back what's supposed to be his no matter what it takes.

Genre: Dark Romance, Angst, Smutty

Word Count: 2,546k

Author's Note: This is my first time writing fanfiction so please be kind and send helpful critisim, i must warn the readers that this is a dark romance ff so please do not read if you are uncomfortable with it. and no smut yet thats for the next chapter hehehe.

BE. GONE. MINORS.

Warning: 18+, Kidnapping, Robbery, Dying, Stockholm Syndrome, Rough Sex, Master kink, explicit sexual content, aged-up characters, love triangle? Eye gouging, explicit dancing 

Footsteps collide with the muddy waters scattered around the dark street. I pant heavily as I try to run as fast as a scared fox, sharp edges of a gold plated porcelain plate dug through my skin yet I ignored the pain.

Sounds of my dark clock harmonized with the stomps of countless horses "Capture her!" yelled by a guard drawing their wands towards the running figure .

My skin shivered from the cold unforgivable air. I knew I shouldn't have stolen from the gaunts but this is the only way I could save her, Ominis will understand..right? Turning my heel to a secluded alleyway a wall began to slowly appear from the ground. I quickly grabbed onto a pile of boxes, threw them in the ground creating a quick makeshift ramp.

Without hesitation I ran towards the crowded pub across the street. I hid behind a few pedestrians and slipped through the backdoor. I dropped the sack of stolen items I was holding and quickly grabbed the bag hidden behind a few garbage bins, moving the stolen items in it. 

Shuffling around my pockets to pull out two veils of polyjuice potion. I saw a harmless sleeping homeless person and dosed the polyjuice potion onto them. Having them transform as a version of me, with a heavy heart I regrettably leave the homeless person posing as me to distract the guards who were following me. 

I calmly walked towards an alley while I drank the remaining polyjuice potion. Turning into a fine gentleman, my hair turning gray, facial hair starts to grow above my lip. I took off my cloak revealing a more high class three piece suit, no one suspects a man. 

Walking down the streets with the confidence of an innocent man as I hear guards capturing the 'suspect' on the abandoned alleyway. I look back ensuring myself that they would let the man go as soon they figured out they were actually innocent. 'they would be fine, I need to do this for Alice' 

__________________________________

Knockturn Alley became my home. No matter how dangerous it may be it was a place that unseemly turned into something familiar. I used to remember coming here with another of my old friends, Sebastian Sallow, he would always claim to protect me from the wandering eyes of passersby. Oh how much I missed the sense of safety, quickly walking to an almost rundown apartment building. 

Unlocking the door and opening it to see my younger sister, Alice making tea. Her body is weak from this muggle illness called cancer, her hair falling like a leaf in the autumn season. 

Small single bedroom with a few kitchen items on the west side of the room. It was lifeless, something I'm sure Alice isn't used to but was our home, it was the only thing i could afford with a hectic schedule.

I dropped my bag, quickly rushing towards her side "Alice, I told you not to strain your body didn't I?" I calmly said as I led her back to the one bed on the apartment floor. "I know sister.. I just thought I could make you some breakfast today" Alice coughed as she laid down on the bed. 

"You shouldn't worry about those things Alice" pulling the blankets over her fragile shivering body "If I'm not worried about such things who would sister?" She commented, causing me to smile from the corners of my mouth. 

"I can handle myself Alice, I'm your great big sister after all" I stretched my arm out flexing it, showing my little sister how strong her big sister is. She giggled at my gesture but her smile quickly faded. "Are you working late again?" 

It was hard enough to support the both of us after our father was convicted through the crimes of treason. Taking all of my family's wealth as compensation from all the lives he scammed away, I know leaving Alice alone in the rundown apartment wasn't the best idea but it was the only one I could afford…for now.’Getting her back to St. Mungos is my first priority’

Getting up from the floor I walk towards the kitchen, if you can call it that. I picked up the bag I threw on the ground and moved it to the dirty counter. 

"Unfortunately, yes.. but don't worry after my shift we'll be able to have enough for you to be back in St. Mungos for a couple of months and after you get better I'll take you to the carnival" I announced as I finished making breakfast from the unfinished food Alice created earlier.

I hear my sister squeal in excitement. She would always tell me she wanted to go to that carnival around the corner of Knockturn Alley. With the remaining cash that should be left after I give it to Eugene. 

As soon as I finished making breakfast I got two plates and set a portion for me and Alice. Intentionally making Alice's portion much bigger than mine, placing Alice's plate in front of her. She immediately started eating her breakfast.

"Did you get a promotion in your waitress job,sister?" Alice asked full of curiosity, I took a deep breath. It's hard to lie to my sister. I know she wouldn't approve of me being an exotic dancer or even a thief but it's the only way I could pay for her expensive care at St. Mungus not to mention the countless potions. 

"Yeah so you have nothing to worry about" I smiled towards her hoping she wouldn't push more questions. "Oh Merlin! I forgot to tell you something sister" she weakly grabbed a letter that was hidden inside the bedside drawer. 

"An owl came by earlier and left this letter, it was addressed to you" she handed me the letter, it was pristine it looked like it was written with the fanciest paper anyone could afford. I turned the envelope and a certain word got my attention. 

'Gaunt' "It's from the Gaunts, I think it's from Ominis, your best friend, sister!" Alice said excitedly but all I could feel was horror, maybe it was a mistake I made sure he wouldn't recognize me! 

"I missed Ominis sister! Do you remember when he would always give me sweets when his family used to visit us in London!" My sister reminisced about Ominis. I didn't want to tell her how much the gaunt family turned their back on us when father was imprisoned for treason. 

"Yeah I missed Ominis too.." I whispered as I got up to hide the envelope in the closet. 

Ominis Gaunt was my best friend, someone who I could play violin as he played piano, someone who I could sneak out of the bedroom to grab snacks in the kitchen, someone who would tutor me in charms class, or someone who would comfort you after Sebastian ran away.

“Ominis! Guess what I just found in the garden?” I said with a child-like smile hiding a small item behind my back. I knew ominous couldn't see but i still wanted it to be a surprise “Could it perhaps be another grimes fairy tale book?” Ominis proclaimed with a small smirk forming in the corner of his mouth, his head never leaving the book he held. “Nope! Guess again!” I shook my head, swaying my body weight back and forth as I looked down at my yellow gown.

Slowly looking up at young Ominis who wore a green plaid vest with a white beige linen shirt paired with a black trousers. He looked rather dashing in outerwear. He dropped the braille book on top of the table in front of his chair. Ominis took a deep breath and creased his chin “Ah ha! Could it be a pastry?” He declared with a proud smile.

“Nope! Do you want me to tell you?” I giggled at Ominis who hadn't guessed the item I was holding behind my back. He smiled defeatingly and looked at my general direction “ Okay fine please tell me what it is”. “Hold out your hand” I said as I reached for his tiny hands, he willingly reached for mine as well; gently opening his palms I placed a very delicate daisy onto it “It's a daisy! I found it in the backside of the garden!”

Gently guiding his fingers to ‘see’ the flower “Sadly there was only one i couldn't find a field of them! I heard from our muggle servant that in the  muggle world there is a field of daisies that exists in the countryside!”  Sitting next to his legs I placed my head on his lap.I so badly wanted to see a field of daisies..Do you think Hogwarts has a field of daisies?” I questioned him hoping he would answer yes “I don't think hogwarts has a field of daisies,little dove”

I pouted my bottom lip, knowing deep down I wouldn't be able to see a field of daisies ``urgh”. Ominis gently patted my head “Don't worry i promise you’ll see a field of daisies, i'll make sure you’ll see a plentiful” that statement alone still made me sad i was able to see a field of daisies what about Ominis? Disheartened, I gazed upon Ominis; he looked really handsome with his foggy blue eyes. “I don't want to see a field of daisies anymore”

“How so?” He asked with curiosity “Well if i can see a field of daisies then you wouldn't! I wanna experience that with you ominis!” He caressed my cheeks,feeling his warmth calmed  me in a way I couldn't describe. “ Its okay, i know without my sight im not able to experience things with you but as long as i am with you i am perfectly fine with it” 

I would be lying if i haven't said that ominis’s words often leave me blushing red. He let go of my cheeks and grabbed his want in his pockets and did a unfamiliar spell “Presavation Acentio!” He announced as he flicked and whipped his wand  casting an invisible cast around the single daisy. I stared at it in awe. “What spell did you just use?And where did you learn that Omi?” He giggled at my curiosity “Just some books i had been reading in preparation for my first year in hogwarts”

Sadly, I remembered that ominis would have to leave to attend Hogwarts in a few months; I wouldn't be able to play with him. “It's a preservation spell you can keep the daisy for decades” He placed it on the palm of my hands. I shook my head and got up to his level “No! You should keep it! You're leaving for Hogwarts and you don't have anything to remember me by!” I inserted the daisy in his dress pocket in his vest “When you go to Hogwarts I want you to remember me every time you see a daisy”.

Ominis chuckled at my gestures and grabbed my hand, he kissed the back of my hand “I couldn't possibly forget someone like you my little dove, but if you wished i will remember you as i smell a hint of daisy or even grazed upon one” I smiled proudly knowing ominis would remember be by a beautiful flower. 

__________________________________

After making sure my sister was well fed I quietly left and locked the apartment ensuring she wouldn't be able to wake up from me leaving so quickly. 

It was time for my shift at the pub, countless people flooded the place. It's surrounded by nobles who are dealing illegal crimes at the sideline, and obviously numerous drunkies who drink their lives' problems away. ‘How ignorant’. 

I sighed and entered the staffroom, changing into a laced corset with matching lace stockings. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder sending cold shivers down my spine. "Mc! There you are"  a enthusiastic tone said by the one and only Eugene O'Brien. 

"Well hello to you too Eugene" I said in a condescending tone towards him. "Don't be like that Mc, I'm the one helping you after all" he prompted his arm around my shoulder. 

Flinching from the sudden action I kept a straight face even if I was disgusted at his gesture, I know deep down he is not helping me with good intentions. But he is the only one who can get me jobs like a exotic dancer and even a thief at such short notice. 

I took a deep breath and avoided eye contact as he went on about a whore he banged. I clutched my chest trying to suppress my shaky hands. 

His laugh faded as he noticed my demeanor, he harshly grabbed my chin to face him "Don't give me that attitude Crawley! Remember the hand that feeds you" 

I looked up at him trying to look at his other features like his brown locks or that  scar across his lips. I know if I ever looked at him eye to eye he would sense my fear of him. He was right, Alice and I are only alive because he gave me a chance at numerous jobs. 

I nodded at his statement, my fingers trembled" I'm sorry Eugene.. I'm just on edge today..please forgive me.." I begged hoping he would let my unprofessional attitude go, legs felt weak as I tried to intimidate him back. 

He rashly let go of my chin, tossing me down on the ground. I stayed on the ground not wanting to look up at his tall figure. "You should be grateful I started a small conversation with a whore like you." He bent down and grabbed my hair, forcing me to look at him. 

"Where's the items I told you to steal?" I shakily pointed at the bag I came in a while ago, it is filled with the items I was instructed to grab. He let go my hair and snatched the bag "I'll get your share later slut"

I pant heavily frightened by his cruel actions towards me, I looked away trying to focus on the mold on the lockers instead of trying to suppress my panic at the situation. 

A knock was heard through the door and Eugene walked towards. I looked at the door's direction still avoiding eye contact, another staff member came and whispered something to Eugene and quickly left after. 

I reluctantly got up from the floor, even if my limbs slowly turned into jelly. Snapping his fingers, it rang in my ears and swiftly looked at Eugene's direction, I lowered my head not wanting to give him more reasons to get furious. 

"Mc! Get ready your regular Mr. Snake requested you" the mention of Mr. Snake somehow calmed my nerves, out of every regulars that had requested for me he had happened to be my favorite. 

He was a gentleman yet still carried a demanding aura. He would always request me and would often extend his time until my shift ends. "I understand I'll get ready"

"He's in the green room" Eugene commented as he left and headed towards his office, while looking through the bag. I swallowed the lump on my throat not realizing I was holding my breath. I opened my locker again and swiftly reapplied my makeup

tags: @littletealight @slootmagix @jakesully-sbabygirl @lizonzon @slytherinmodqueen @khamanix @belladorea @mehnotenoughtime @choccy-milky @cuffmeinblack @greedyforgarreth

[baby-jaguar]

Lust by Nature {Part 4}

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

MDNI: 18+!

Warnings for this chapter: Drugging, hinted non-con but just a hair

Word Count: 5,777

Summary: He’d been used to the small messages telling him to make you simmer down, something not uncommon in the scope of you being, well, you.

A/N: There are a few POV Shifts and time skips in here, denoted by the "---". Work has been kicking my butt so sorry this is late. I hope ye enjoy

Waking up, you almost bit a medic’s hand off.

Wild and afraid. It was sudden and the place was seemingly so new that it triggered your fight or flight. You did not want them anywhere close and for far too long than you deemed necessary. Insistent on them leaving you to heal on your own even if you’re sucked dry of any magic at this point. Snapping your teeth like a wild animal when one medic tried taking your shirt off to get to the gouge on your side, before snarling as two were tag teaming you to keep you down. 

Something about their hands not feeling warm enough, not having the smell of tobacco leaves stained into their skin to leave a trail of smoke. Yet there was something lurking in the air. Something different; You knew the scent was familiar, it felt like it belonged in the medical ward yet it shouldn’t be here near you. It screamed danger, something clawing and scratching at your mind to remember.

The scent trails around the room like the smell of burnt clover, making your stomach want to recoil and throw up its acid with the lack of any substance in it. 

The lab.

Neurons fire off, and your hackles are raised. Literally. Hissing and ignoring the medics around you, yowling like a damned animal in pain when you realize what you’re smelling. Stuck in fear, now grappling with the sheets as your hands grab onto the bed rails, shaking the bed as you shift in short and shaky bursts.

---

Somedays Price’s office felt like a sanctuary, while others, it feels like his own jail cell. Head down, furiously scribbling his memories onto paper to prepare the after-action report while leaving a separate sheet blank and off to the side with your name at the top.

God, he had it in his head that he needed to be so fucking pissed at you. For the dream, for disobeying orders, for getting hurt. But he knows it’s irrational and can at least objectify his emotions enough to see them from a third-person point of view.

His head’s in his ass and he’s acting like a fucking boy.

Even Soap had earned a scolding from the Captain, taking it in strive to only break the berating with a smirk on his lips. He knew. Johnny knew, Ghost knew, and even fucking Gaz knew that you were getting underneath Price’s skin. Something no woman had ever done so easily and successfully before.

His cell rings, not his personal mobile but rather his work flip phone. One that either means business or trouble.

“Laswell.”

The number was unsaved, as all are since this was the one he toted around everywhere while deployed. 

“Captain. I’ve got some news for you. Now a good time?”

Leaning back, he takes this saving grace as a moment to rest his eyes and hand from writing. “Of course. Wha’s goin’ on?”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the line, sounding like she’s standing up to walk somewhere. Price presumes it is towards a window. Dramatic woman.

“We’ve gotten word that there's some unrest back in-”

Her statement is cut off when the phone begins vibrating again. “Laswell, hold on. I’ve been expecting this call, can I catch you in a moment?”

A scoff is his answer before cutting the call and switching to the new one.

“Yes?”

“Need you in Med, stat. Saint’s going-”

“On it.” Snapping his phone shut while moving to the door. He’d been used to the small messages telling him to make you simmer down, something not uncommon in the scope of you being, well, you. 

He can hear the commotion at the end of the hall before he’s near the door. Opening the door in a flurry, he finds you in a state he’s never seen before; Wide-eyed, backed into the back of the bed, and curled up to shield yourself. A second sweep of the room makes him realize you’re not protecting yourself from the medics. No, you’re looking towards him, but seemingly not at him.

“Saint.” The growl catches your attention, focusing on his mustache twitching as his eyebrows furrow. “Care to tell me why the medics said you need to leave the infirmary before you make one of the staff go to inpatient?”

“It's wrong. Doesn’t smell right.” In return, your head only snaps in his direction, eyes only keeping on his for a moment. “Don’t take me back, I don’t want to go back.”

The blatant stare you receive is more than enough to let you know he’s lost in whatever this whirlwind of emotions is. “You need to settle down, and behave.” The whisper is a promised threat, entirely off-kilter from what you need right now.

“I don’t want them touching me!” You hiss almost petulantly, being sure to restrain your voice for only him to hear. “I have to leave. Just let me heal myself, please-”

His hands move out of sight from your narrowed eyes as you beg; Coming up to capture your jaw with one hand as the other holds your shoulder. He steadily leans in to hold your face still.

“You need to stay and get checked out. You were hurt, sweetheart.” The harsh command battles with the softness of his palm cupping your jaw as his thumb stroking your cheek.

That’s when you saw him through the window. 

A man, dressed in square glasses and a white coat that seemed cheap and fake in material. A scam of a man. Dr. Deidrick. 

This man knows you well, as you know him. He was a constant in the lab, the person who oversaw all testing of blood, vitals, but most importantly testing the magic inside you. A large amount of scars on your body were because of him, always measuring your healing capabilities depending on your energy levels and what you had used as energy prior to the test.

Locked in a stare-down, Price only registers your change when you stiffen and stagger a breath. “What’s wrong?”

Looking at where your eyes are, he finds the man looking in through the small door window, glaring at your face, seemingly at where Price touches you gently. When he moves to glance at Price, he gives a small nod before entering. 

“Everything okay, Captain?” His tone is polite and neutral, speaking to Price while his gaze remains on you. “Is she having a little fit?” 

The clicks of his dress shoes make more noise of his entrance, your hands latching onto Price’s forearms.

“And you are?”

The doctor laughs, giving a smile more than forced. This you know for certain.

“My apologies, I am Dr. Deidrick. I came to visit once I heard our little demon was wounded.”

His possessiveness in the phrasing alone ticks off the Captain's mind, raising questions as to what in the fuck is going on. He can feel the slight tremor of your hold and, for more decency, the hand cupping your jaw moves to hold onto yours.

“So, you’re from the facility?”

“Yes, I was her previous caretaker in medical for the last several years.” Cockiness evident when his attention shifts to grab the chart at the end of the bed. “I hope you do not mind I came to check in on her healing and progress. Just a simple evaluation and report.”

He reads over the chart for a moment; Flipping the page while moving closer to your side, opposite of Price. 

“How are you feeling, Devil?”

Instead of quiping a sharp or actual answer, the response is enough to shock the Captain.

“Hello, Dr. Deidrick.” Speaking softly and politely, as if you were some nobel greeting a high priest. Don’t misbehave.

You’ve learned this lesson with him.

“Hello. Now, how are you feeling?” He digs in further with the question, eyes moving up from the paper with a weighted look.

“I’m fine. Sore. Tender. I told them I could heal on my own.”

"Mm..." Dedrick watches as you speak before moving to place the clipboard down, grabbing a pair of gloves.  "And you believe that you can heal yourself easily?" His voice remaining calm and civil.

That's one thing you’ve always hated. Even in the cruelest and inhumane moments when studying creatures and hybrids alike, he had the calmest voice.

“Yes, I’ve dealt with worse.” Spitting the answer at him in a quick snap, you can't help but let anger flare. “You of all people should know that.”

Dedrick's expression changes for the first time. His eyebrows raise and jaw tightening in warning with a sharp look.

"I know that you can heal, but that doesn't mean that you should." A hint of an edge to his voice bleeds through. "Your injuries are still serious. If you leave here before fully healed, that would be highly irresponsible."

“The medics already cleaned and sutured it. There’s nothing more to do.”

You can see the game he plays, yet you’re playing it too. Price doesn’t know, the entirety of your team doesn’t know. If for their sake or the sake of keeping yourself alive, it's not certain. 

Telling Price would solve this problem right here, right now. Screaming the horrors Dr. Deidrick has committed to others and to you could easily raise alarm bells through the whole base, yet you remain a perfect little actor. Just as you were trained.

“I’ll determine that for you, not you.” Deidrick retorts shorty, gaze shifting from your body to Price. “I will have to do an exam of the wound and her damage. Just to make sure there are no outliers to her magic or health.”

There isn't room for argument here, seeing as Price is a Captain and not a fucking Doctor over mystical creatures and beings.

“Well, I can be in the room with her. That be an issue?”

The most Deidrick can muster is a forced grin, narrowing his eyes to Price’s presence. “Yes, that is perfectly understandable for you to oversee the process, Captain.”

A swift silence ensues as Deidrick walks to the medical cabinets and the end of the room, looking over his clipboard and grabbing medical tools- the kind that isn’t even needed but instead for show. All for the sake of Price.

The velcro cuff of the sphygmomanometer wraps around your arm before the manual pump begins from Deidricks hands. The cold stethoscope in the crook of your elbow, silence as he measures your blood pressure. Just as he is about to speak, the sharp ringing of a dial tone sounds out.

“Shit- I have to take this.” Price’s hand retrieves the phone from his pocket, confirming the caller. “Be right back.”

“No… No, please.” Unabasidly begging, your hands on your Captains arm to try and anchor him to you. “Don’t go.” It's a quiet plead, begging if that, but the wild look in your eyes makes him stiffen for a moment while caught between two choices.

“I’ll be right back. Be good.” The faint squeeze of your hand registers in tandem with him leaning down to place a reassuring kiss on your head. Before you can beg again, he’s out the door.

---

“Laswell.” Price speaks quietly into the phone, moving into the hallway near the medic’s station, a few idling around on their computers to input vitals.

“Said you were gonna call me back, John. Got worried your old mind forgot about me.”

A small scoff out of courtesy for the woman's harsh humor, yet he doesn’t say anything back.

“Anyway, I need to tell you where your group has been assigned to. You’re headed out to-”

“Do you happen to know if any personnel relating to Saint's previous facility can be on base?”

Cutting off Laswell would usually end with a sharp reprimand akin to an elementary school teacher. Yet this question is well worth her thought. Even she can recognize that.

“Not without warning and an established confirmation of visitation. It’s the normal protocol for off-site visitors to that level. Why?”

He chews the side of his cheek, nodding in thought as he confirms what he previously knew. His eyes flit between your medical room’s door, the window to the outside, before settling on a whiteboard with various patient names.

“There’s a doctor in the med unit with her right now. Say’s he found out she was wounded and came to check on her… That’s just downright unnatural when she was wounded three days ago for fuck sake. How’d he even find out?”

Silence greets him in response, but it's a sign of her thinking. A tussle of paper sounds out before typing on her keyboard. “There was no agreement or discernment of their medical staff being on base. Only the executives and her previous commander. He shouldn’t be there nor even have access.”

It only confirms Price’s simmering anxiety, eyes stuck on your door from afar.

“What did you say his name was?”

“Dr. Deidrick. Said he’d be givin’ her an exam of the wound-” The words die in a sharp crumble on his tongue when you scream his name.

“Was that-”

“Send the boys my way, I’m dealing with it.” Hanging up the phone, his body already shouldering the door at a moment’s notice.

It doesn’t budge.

Looking through the window, he’s met with your wide eyes, brows arched up, while your body tries to scurry off the bed yet you���re not even moving. The sight of brown leather tied to your wrists becomes glaringly obvious. 

“Somebody get this door open, right fucking now!” The bellow echos in the hallway, sending a fluttering panic around the staff while he continuously tries to shoulder the door and get the handle down.

“John! Help me!” Your howling meets his ears to send a shiver down his spine. I should have listened, I should have stayed, I should be in there.

I should be protecting her.

Shifting his stance to the left, he can see Deidrick at the counters, holding up a small brown vial while extracting its contents into a syringe. Only after he deems it filled, pushing the air bubble out, does he look to Price. 

“It’s just to settle her down, not to worry.”

God, he wants to throw up. He wants to murder this man with his hands and rip each artery from his body to hang up as vines growing onto the wall. He wants nothing more than to soothe your crying face in his arms away from whatever torture is going on right in front of him.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THE KEY?” He shouts again, sparing a glance towards the staff as five of them look in drawers around the main pod of their stations.

Movement from the room demands his attention, the footsteps ringing out in heavy weighted clicks on the floors. You can’t even look back to Price, struggling like an animal caught in a metal trap.

---

“They already know, just fucking run while you can.” The guttural hiss is uncontrolled as it leaves you, voice raw from lack of water in your mouth accompanied by the panting of your breath. Eyes only set on Deidrick, you can’t focus on anything but keeping the needle away from you.

“This is your exam, my dear. There’s no harm in that.” He chastizes, tsking you with a mocking voice. Fully seeing his old self alights your body and magic, trying to strum out of you like a whip, yet so dulled into yourself with nothing to thrive on.

“I can see how weak you are. Have they not been taking care of you?” The coldness of his hand dawns upon your face, grabbing roughly on your jaw to pull you towards him. “You know I can give you what you need.” The green of his eyes makes you sour, having only ever seen them as a rancid mix of piss yellow and barf green to match his existence.

“You’ll settle down and be a good girl for me, yeah? Just like old times.”

“I can’t wait to torture you in hell.” 

He laughs, a genuine smile lighting his face up as he leans in closer. “The sweetest promise of eternity, devil.” 

Moving back after giving your jaw a far too firm squeeze, his bony fingers bring the needle up to the light to double-check before gripping the meat of your bicep. “Dont. Move.”

You couldn’t hear anything over the commotion outside, thus, when the metal door slams open, you jump.

Right into the fucking needle.

A shocked cry leaves you, eyes now stuck in fear to watch for the amount he pushes through. 

Half of the dose goes into your arm.

It would have been more, save for the body that immediately pulls him and the needle away from you, throwing him onto the ground.

Price stands, heaving and shaking with a snarl lighting up his face while looking down on the man. 

“When I put you under, it will be six feet under the god damned ground.” His hands are on the man in a flurry of movements, checking his waistline for any other surprises, and when finding none, he throws a punch at him.

Then again. And again. And Again.

You don’t realize you’re stuck in a trance of watching him until warm hands find your wrist on the opposite side of the commotion. You’re startled until being met with warm brown eyes that match his skin, his smile calming.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” Gaz’s hands work quickly on undoing the straps of your wrists, letting the sounds of the fighting echo in the room while rushing footsteps come from the hallway.

Ghost and Soap enter the doorway, a quick survey before getting to Price and doing god knows what to the man- you can’t see anymore as Gaz cradles you into his neck. Tucking the blanket around your backside before carrying you away in a bridal carry, he shushes you when his scent and warmth break you into a sob.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’ve got you now.” Vaguely registering his lips on your head, your eyes dim into a barely open gaze while the world moves too fast around you. Hot tears track down your face and onto his shirt.

“You’re with us now. Not gonna let that happen ever again.”

The sound of a whimper mixes in when you call out his name. Raising a hand to grasp his shirt in a weak fist as you register him moving you to somewhere through the hallways. Somewhere familiar; the team’s common room.

“Gonna make you nice and comfortable right here. Not gonna leave you, Saint.”

And in the most ironic series of events, for a second time, your world goes dark.

---

The sound of the TV playing a god-forsaken soccer football game makes you stir. Muscles stiff and tired, a feeling of something on the back of your hand makes you wince. Groaning, you move the other hand to paw at the intrusion, before someone else’s touch halts you.

“Hey now, none of that.” The soft voice from earlier speaks out, with an almost hint of authority as he moves your hands away from each other. “You’ve got an IV in you, Need to keep that in for a bit longer.”

Stirring, the world comes back into view when your eyes open slowly and try to blink the yellow overhead lights away. “Gaz?” His name is slurred in your drowsy speech, head lifting up to look around before finding him face to face with you.

“Good morning, Princess. How’ya feelin?”

Stiff, sore, like you just got run over by a train. 

“Not too bad.” Sitting in his lap, now in a pair of sweats and a shirt that you recognize isn’t yours, you both sit under a fuzzy blanket pulled from your room. “What happened? Where is-?”

“Hang on, let's focus on you first. Does your side hurt right now?”

It does, a constant stinging that radiates into a dull thrumming. It feels bulky, the firmness of tape keeping down what you presume to be gauze while it pulls at the peachfuzz on your skin. Your arm, the one that took the injection, feels sorer than after a full mission. 

“Feels fine right now, would like some meds maybe later.” Quietly responding before looking up to his brown eyes. While Gaz usually has enough snark to serve his entire country, his gently and nurturing tendencies highlight in the soft and intimate moment.

He holds the qualities of a leader, and possibly be concerning at his young age. But seeing as he’s grown under Price’s wing, being a favored candidate from the beginning, maybe his weight was a shouldered experience to lighten the Captain's load. Maybe he won’t be able to fully take his place until the gentleness withers away into hate and bloodborne desire to bark and bite under the pull of a leash.

Maybe he’ll get sick of it and decide to have a family, leaving this life behind when he feels his hands have turned far too dirty.

He turns his gaze to the TV for a moment, drawing a long sigh in before releasing, a small frown on his lips. “You remember anything?”

You’d rather not. Had you still been in a sterile environment, you’d have woken in a panic just as before. 

“Yes. The… yes.” Glancing away, you can feel the shift in your eyes focus. “I remember something happening when I saw Price’s face then you were there.”

You miss the look of worry on his face when the game on TV catches your attention as someone scores. “Where are the others?’

“Price and Soap dealing with the brass. Ghost was here a second ago but will be right back.” Gaz’s head tilts back behind him to check around before reaching up to the IV bag behind you two. “You’re just about finished, you fine if I take this out?”

Offering him your hand, he removes the tube and tape before placing a gauze square and bandaid over it. “Not supposed to take it out until you’re completely done, but you’ll drink your water, yea?” Inadvertently speaking close to your ear while he clamps the IV line shut, a chill runs down your spine.

“Mm, I will. Thank you.” Silent gratitude for him being sweet enough to let you off the tether, you take it as a signal of freedom and try to get up. Before being interrupted.

“Stay down, Saint.”

Ghost enters the archway of the common room; Dressed in baggy sweats and a T-shirt that shouldn't be as form-fitting as it is. A black gator mask hides the lower half of his face. He makes his way to a spot on the couch adjacent to you and Gaz.

“Your stitches are barely holding from earlier. Not allowed to be moving like that.” 

Underneath you, Gaz squirms while clearing his throat once you settle down. “Ah, actually. Ghost.” He starts, voice now sounding reluctant with trepidation. “You mind taking over for a bit? Haven’t eaten and need to piss.”

A mix between a laugh and worry crosses your mind as you pout when realizing he’d been here the whole time with you. 

“Sorry, Kyle.” Whispered as you give his shoulder a pat, looking to Ghost for whatever his plan would be. “How long was I out?”

The lieutenant scoots next to you, arms brought out to grab underneath your legs and back before gently transferring you into his lap. You can feel Gaz getting up behind you, a soft squeeze on your shoulder before he leaves. “Bout an hour ‘n half.” 

The difference between Gaz and Ghost is definitely in size, but the lieutenants body is firm and demands that you accommodate to him rather than how Gaz’s size lets his boldly mold to you. You’re still blinking slowly, sluggishly trying to reintegrate your mind into full speed. A grunt acknowledges the statement.  

“Didn’t know you had blond hair.” 

Ghost is pretty, not even in his own way, he is just simply pretty. Brown eyes contrast the lightness of his hair, some spots missing where scars trail over his scalp. His forehead also having lines from stitches done too messy, wrinkles from years of fighting, and a few freckles decorate the top bridge of his nose. A second scan shows a hairline scar over his left eyelid, a group of eyelashes being blond where the scar ends.

“You wouldn’t ‘ave known.” A huffed laugh makes his chest puff up, only looking down at you for a moment before watching the game. 

Before you can even ask another question, he voice muted. “That… doctor. He wasn’t supposed to be on base. Not even from what he did, but there was no agreement to have the facility’s medical here. Not even the command can get on here without clearance and a schedule.” 

The clench in your jaw halts your words, growing almost distant in the eyes as you digest the information. “So how did he get on base? Just lie his way through everything?”

Ghost sighs, watching one of the teams score a goal before turning back to you. 

“Yes. Fucking skunk lied his way through, altered some ID and got into medical. They say he was watching over your file and once he saw your name ping in as a combat injury, he was acting as your attending and case manager.”

It really should send more of a chill down your back than the small amount it does, rather, a sluggish feeling churning in your stomach. You’ve been through horrible things. Having eyes on you stopped phasing you a while ago.

Letting the conversation drop, you both turn your attention towards the football game to watch the halfway point. You find a place for your face to rest on his collarbone, laying yourself to use his chest like a pillow. He doesn’t react, yet in moments where the visiting team comes close to scoring a goal, his knee bounces in anticipation. 

“Did you ever play any sports?”

His knee settles before responding. “Hockey. Short time, but ‘s fun.” 

“Hm, was gonna take you for a rugby kinda guy.”

“Nah, that's more John’s style. The both of them.” The mental image of a younger pair of Johns conjures in your mind, a soft grin twitching the corners of your mouth at the thought. “Sometimes they’ll play when we’re together on leave.”

“Leave?” A pause as your eyes blink open slowly. You don’t remember closing them. “Like you guys just… Leave?”

The feeling of his large, warm, hand moving to hold your back comes when he shifts to look down at you. “Leave. When we get a break from duty.” It comes out as a question more so, his brows furrowing down.

“Oh.” Matching his confusion. “I didn’t get to have those. Nowhere to just, go.” You didn’t have a home, lost that long ago. Sadness was gaslit into happiness by telling yourself you didn’t have to pay rent, and bills, and not worrying about the economy.

Something shifts in his eyes, Ghost himself looking like a kicked puppy now as he takes in your implications. Softness emits subtly in his eyes and the way he slightly rests you on his chest when pushing you into him. 

“I’m sure you can ask Capt’ to fix that.” A soft scratch of your scalp leads you to settle down, and when you keep breathing in the smell of him, you fall asleep.

---

“... lost it by a point. Bloody coach looks like a muppet.”

“Won’t be able to show his face for the next year. Damn bloke.”

The voice sends enough of a spark to take you out of your REM cycle, now taking stock of where you’re at. From the smell of it, you’re on the couch but now lay on it instead of a body. There's a few more steps of shuffling before it stills.

“How is she?”

The warmth next to you grunts, shifting to leave the couch. “Seems fine, but fell back asleep quickly once Gaz left ‘er with me.” The new set of footsteps have a distinct gait, trying to be silent but failing with the TV no longer being on. “How’d your side go?”

“Almost got me on excessive force.” The croaky voice makes your mind wake up more, realizing its Price. “Almost knocked the brass out hearing that. Had to make sure he saw the vials and needles he snuck in.”

“Was he going to… do anyth-”

“No.” Price cuts Ghost off immediately, something lying in the tautness of his voice. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know, else I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.”

Exhaustion covers your body and mind, fighting it to the point where it feels like you have to unstick yourself from the couch but tingling makes your body want to still. You pull on your muscles enough that Price notices.

“Hey, pretty girl. Can you hear me?”

The groan that leaves you is enough of a signal that you can. One of his hands moves to pet your hair down as the other adjusts the blanket on you. Footsteps elsewhere fade away, signaling Ghost’s departure. Your eyes open to watch Price squat down in front of you.

“There she is.” He coo’s in a hushed whisper. Part of you wants to cry at how good it makes your heart feel. All you can manage is a whimper.

“Still tired?”

“Mhh. Yes.” Croaking makes you realize how thirsty you are, somewhat regretting not staying up to drink your water like you’d promised Gaz. “Where were you?”

Blue eyes leave the depths of your red ones, tracing over your face to your neck, down to your body, and how you lay on your uninjured side. “Taking care of business. Nothing to worry about.”

His hand comes back to your arm, making you flinch as he presses onto the tiny spot of dried blood. The small twinge of pain from his softness makes you want to scream at him, cry at him while crying for him to hold you. To give any emotion clearly while silence eats away between you.

“Did I mess up?”

The white of his eyes shows a bit more when he widens them in surprise, fliting up to hold your gaze. “No… No, Saint. You did not mess up.” In a moment, he moves to his knees, crowding you onto the couch while bringing your face closer to his. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left you in there. Should have fuckin’ listened to you.” 

In a twisted sense, the couch seems like his pew, and you are the body he weeps over. Wrapped in a blanket is a far-off notion from any white to be buried in, but your open eyes just feel so tired and dulled from the last few days. Rightfully so. His hands cup your face like they would hold a bible open, finding scripture in the features of your face.

Price doesn’t cry. How much would it take to make him? Has he had a family? Did he lose someone he loved because of enemies? Did he have a tragic backstory that granted him an almost immortal sense of luck?

There’s certainly no angel on his shoulder because you’d have fought and killed it on the first day.

“You didn’t know.” Starting hoarsely, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. “I didn’t want you to know.”

There's dissatisfaction from hearing your answer, a pull at the corners of his mouth. “I need to know, Saint. I have to know. That’s not goin’ to happen again.” Leaning down to press his chapped lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

The feeling of his hair in your hands is surprisingly soft, almost as surprising when you realize you’re bringing him in to kiss you. 

It’s soft, languid, and slow, yet anxiety boiling at the bottom of your stomach. His lips part yours, leading you to taste the tobacco you tried days ago. His mustache and beard scratch your face, prickling your skin in an added sense of feeling to grapple onto. Dragging you closer with an arm wrapped behind your back, his tongue teases yours before diving in deeper.

“While this is sickeningly romantic,”

The voice makes you gasp like a whore in her lover's shared bed, the drawl sardonic enough to know it is exactly not that.

It’s so much worse.

“I rather prefer a different type of scene.” 

The woman stands against the doorway, arms crossed while she surveys the scene. Dressed in black pants and a turtleneck, her blue eyes light up with the white overcoat that shields her from the coldness of desert nights.

“Kate-” Price backpedals, separating himself from you enough to sit up straight from his place on the floor. Stuttering, he glances at you before back to her, a blush fading into existence on his aged skin. “I- uh. What are you doing here?’

Kate Laswell, smirks before looking at you with a slightly softer expression. She’s still cocky through and through from catching her prestigious ally making out with his little demon. 

“After the shit show got up the ladder, I decided to make a quick trip to check-in. And, you never called me back, Captain.” 

Ok, now it is starting to seem like a lovers quarrel. Feeling out of place, you don't move until Price takes a moment to clear his throat, leaning forward as if to obstruct you from her view.

“Well, I’m assuming it’s more serious than a phone call let it out to be.” Standing his hand brushes your shoulder before he crosses his arms. Laswell watches, moving forward a bit. Her eyes glance towards you, a subtle nod in greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Saint. Sorry to interrupt.” Absolutely no shame eludes from this woman. Continuing on, she holds Price’s gaze;  “A base just got accredited for their first hybrid operator. Similar to our situation with Saint.” She takes a moment to look over you, briefly checking out the remainder of the IV bag on its stand. “Need you to go do didactics for our friends.”

“And which friends are you speaking of this time.” 

She pauses, a flicker of her lips turning upwards if only for a moment. 

“You’ll be headed back to Las Almas.”

As if watching a dramatic TV show, your eyes flit back to take in his reaction. If you had the energy, you’d feel bad for Price’s stress levels. With the sigh he lets out, you know that he can never catch a break.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Greedflation, but for prisoners

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Apr 21) in TORINO, then Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Today in "Capitalists Hate Capitalism" news: The Appeal has published the first-ever survey of national prison commissary prices, revealing just how badly the prison profiteer system gouges American's all-time, world-record-beating prison population:

https://theappeal.org/locked-in-priced-out-how-much-prison-commissary-prices/

Like every aspect of the prison contracting system, prison commissaries – the stores where prisoners are able to buy food, sundries, toiletries and other items – are dominated by private equity funds that have bought out all the smaller players. Private equity deals always involve gigantic amounts of debt (typically, the first thing PE companies do after acquiring a company is to borrow heavily against it and then pay themselves a hefty dividend).

The need to service this debt drives PE companies to cut quality, squeeze suppliers, and raise prices. That's why PE loves to buy up the kinds of businesses you must spend your money at: dialysis clinics, long-term care facilities, funeral homes, and prison services.

Prisoners, after all, are a literal captive market. Unlike capitalist ventures, which involve the risk that a customer will take their business elsewhere, prison commissary providers have the most airtight of monopolies over prisoners' shopping.

Not that prisoners have a lot of money to spend. The 13th Amendment specifically allows for the enslavement of convicted criminals, and so even though many prisoners are subject to forced labor, they aren't necessarily paid for it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

Six states ban paying prisoners anything. North Carolina caps prisoners' pay at one dollar per day. Nationally, prisoners earn $0.52/hour, while producing $11b/year in goods and services:

https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html

So there's a double cruelty to prison commissary price-gouging. Prisoners earn far less than any other kind of worker, and they pay vastly inflated prices for the necessities of life. There's also a triple cruelty: prisoners' families – deprived of an incarcerated breadwinner's earnings – are called upon to make up the difference for jacked up commissary prices out of their own strained finances.

So what does prison profiteering look like, in dollars and sense? Here's the first-of-its-kind database tracking the costs of food, hygiene items and religious items in 46 states:

https://theappeal.org/commissary-database/

Prisoners rely heavily on commissaries for food. Prisons serve spoiled, inedible food, and often there isn't enough to go around – prisoners who rely on the food provided by their institutions literally starve. This is worst in prisons where private equity funds have taken over the cafeteria, which is inevitable accompanied by swingeing cuts to food quality and portions:

https://theappeal.org/prison-food-virginia-fluvanna-correctional-center/

So you have one private equity fund starving prisoners, and another that's gouging them on food. Or sometimes it's the same company. Keefe Group, owned by HIG Capital, provides commissaries to prisons whose cafeterias are managed by other HIG Capital portfolio companies like Trinity Services Group. HIG also owns the prison health-care company Wellpath – so if they give you food poisoning, they get paid twice.

Wellpath delivers "grossly inadequate healthcare":

https://theappeal.org/massachusetts-prisons-wellpath-dentures-teeth/

And Trinity serves "meager portions of inedible food":

https://theappeal.org/clayton-county-jail-sheriff-election/

When prison commissaries gouge on food, no part of the inventory is spared, even the cheapest items. In Florida, a packet of ramen costs $1.06, 300% more inside the prison than it does at the Target down the street:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24444312-fl_doc_combined_commissary_lists#document/p6/a2444049

America's prisoners aren't just hungry, they're also hot. The climate emergency is sending temperatures in America's largely un-air-conditioned prisons soaring to dangerous levels. Commissaries capitalize on this, too: an 8" fan costs $40 in Delaware's Sussex Correctional Institution. In Georgia, that fan goes for $32 (but prisoners are not paid for their labor in Georgia pens). And in scorching Texas, the commissary raised the price of water by 50% last summer:

https://www.tpr.org/criminal-justice/2023-07-20/texas-charges-prisoners-50-more-for-water-for-as-heat-wave-continues

Toiletries are also sold at prices that would make an airport gift-shop blush. Need denture adhesive? That's $12.28 in an Idaho pen, triple the retail price. 15% of America's prisoners are over 55. The Keefe Group – sister company to the "grossly inadequate" healthcare company Wellpath – operates that commissary. In Oregon, the commissary charges a 200% markup on hearing-aid batteries. Vermont charges a 500% markup on reading glasses. Imagine spending decades in prison: toothless, blind, and deaf.

Then there's the religious items. Bibles and Christmas cards are surprisingly reasonable, but a Qaran will run you $26 in Vermont, where a Bible is a mere $4.55. Kufi caps – which cost $3 or less in the free world – go for $12 in Indiana prisons. A Virginia prisoner needs to work for 8 hours to earn enough to buy a commissary Ramadan card (you can buy a Christmas card after three hours' labor).

Prison price-gougers are finally facing a comeuppance. California's new BASIC Act caps prison commissary markups at 35% (California commissaries used to charge 63-200% markups):

https://theappeal.org/price-gouging-in-california-prisons-newsom-signature/

Last year, Nevada banned any markup on hygiene items:

https://www.leg.state.nv.us/App/NELIS/REL/82nd2023/Bill/10425/Overview

And prison tech monopolist Securus has been driven to the brink of bankruptcy, thanks to the activism of Worth Rises and its coalition partners:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/08/money-talks/

When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time. Prisons show us how businesses would treat us if they could get away with it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/20/captive-market/#locked-in

[kcrossvine-art]

Hey folks n blokes! A few days ago ya might've been one of the people who helpfully responded to my question asking which LotR recipe we should cook next, and you all had great ideas. Including a golum salmonella sushi platter. There were a few that twinkled directly into my eyes, but only one fish gets fried at a time! Thanks @vensre for the suggestion!

Today from Lord of the Rings, we will be making Bilbo Baggin's Seed Cakes

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Seed Cake?” YOU MIGHT ASKIf you're an amer*can like me, you might have never heard of a seed cake outside of the context of bird feeders.

Salted butter

Fine sugar

Whole milk

Eggs

Almond flour

Vanilla extract

Brown sugar

Caraway/fennel seeds

Ground anise seed

Ground nutmeg

The real key ingredient here is the caraway seeds. The factor that ties all recipes together. Important note, anise seeds and anise stars are 2 separate things!

AND, “what does a Seed Cake taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKTastes like what an old bookstore smells like.

Smells like warm licorice

But without the chemical-y aftertaste

Take a shortbread and make it denser and with less airpockets. Thats your texture.

A little bit like gingerbread but nuttier, earthier

Very rich

Beautiful crumbly brown outside, soft teddybear-brown inside

Pairs well with a glass of milk hahaha

"A wonderful blend of sweet and savoury, seed cakes make a perfect after-supper morsel."-LotR Online. Mentioned both in the books and the MMO, being served after dinner ties into their real-life origins! Before caraway seeds in cakes became popular in the victorian era, they were often candied and served as dessert because caraway seeds help with after-meal indigestion.

. used an herb grinder for the anise seeds . used light brown sugar where brown sugar called for . used blanched almond flour . if i made this again, would probably use higher quantity of nutmeg or add cinammon

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From entering the kitchen, to having this in my stomach, it took roughly 2 hours? Ish? Definitely make sure to let your 2 sticks of butter and 3 eggs sit out a bit beforehand so they reach room temp, it helps them whip together the warmer they are.

The most difficult part of this recipe was finding the seeds. Everything except the caraway/fennel and anise seed i already had, and maybe its a recent thing but since when did grocery stores start charging such an obscene amount for a regular bottle of spices? Is it not enough to have everything else infected by price-gouging, now we'll be scraping pennies for our little flavor heavens? Bleh. 

The seed cake is a new experience for me also, and many pardons if some sacred seed cake rule has been broken today. It tasted fantastic! The licorice was a strong flavor I've never experienced in this form before, it suits itself well. If you're baking for children or have a sweeter palette, the bitterness may be a bit much, but just have them dunk it in milk honestly. It did feel like there was some 'empty space' on my palette while eating- if that makes any sense? It couldve been layered with another flavor but i still can't put my finger on what that missing flavor could be.

Definitely be careful to put the eggs into the butter/sugar a little bit at a time. I got impatient the first-go, and the eggs incorporated less, and it led to a greasier cake. People seem to say that storing these and eating them the next day makes them taste better, i cannot attest as i ate both within the same day of making them. 

This recipe has earned itself a glimmering 7/10, for making my kitchen smell nice but also making me use a standmixer if i want my arms to stay attached (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) 

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

220g salted butter

225g fine sugar

16g of milk

3 eggs

175g almond flour

2 drops vanilla extract

Pinch of brown sugar

1tbsp caraway seeds

1 1/2tbsp  ground anise seed

1/2tsp ground nutmeg

Method:

Pre-heat the oven to 320F. Soften the butter and let eggs come to room temperature. 

Cream the butter by itself for around 5 minutes with a standmixer on med., until light in color. Add sugar and continue until the mixture is pale and fluffy.

In a seperate bowl beat the eggs until 'frothy'. 

Stir a small amount at a time of the eggs iinto the butter and sugar mixture, making sure each portion incorporates as you go.

Add the caraway, ground anise seed, ground nutmeg, and vanilla extract.

Gently fold in the almond flour. Careful not to overmix.

Add a tablespoon of milk, or until the batter keeps its form but drips off an upside down spoon.

Pour into a greased 9-inch round cake pan, if not available muffin/cupcake pans should also work.

Sprinkle a bit of brown sugar on top.

Bake for 40-50 minutes. Cool for 10 before serving.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

This week's grocery trip...

Sticker shock. I've talked about how much they'd gone up on things over the last few weeks. Today kinda took the cake.

Even at GrocOut, things were a dollar more than they had been, or else are not there altogether. The tortillas for instance: $5.99 and I'm not talkin' fancy gluten free nada...just plain fucking flour tortillas. All the breads that used to be $3.99 are now $5.49 or $5.99. The 5lb bag of plain Gold Medal flour is now $5.99.

Lucky was actually worse, which I've come to expect now. They're still not as bad as Safeway on most things, but what they choose to jack the prices on, and by HOW MUCH makes me want to report them for price gouging.

I do a lot of baking, so i use the plain Crisco baking sticks when shortening is called for. Last time I was there they had gone up to $6.49...today they were $8.49 !!!! I am gonna see what Safeway has them for next time I get a prescription. I literally just shook my head and walked on. My mom used to buy the damn Gallon Can of the stuff to fry with for less than two bucks. Now the tiny plastic tub (no bigger than a cup) is $6.99 and the three-pack of the sticks is, again, an unbelievable $8.49.

The BonMammon preserves, another one I check to see the price on, are also $8.49. For a TINY JAR of preserves. I used to buy them on sale fo $3.99!!!!!! They were never more than $4.99, until they were suddenly going up a fucking dollar a week, like most of these other things.

I got stuff we need, butter, eggs, milk, etc. and those were about the same as last week, but i couldn't justify getting the quart of whipping cream, it's now $8.99, the pint is $6.49, the largest is $15.49.

In all, everything I usually get at GroceOut for about $80 tops, was $125.80 today. Lucky was another $58.something on top of that. And today is May 3. I have $110 left on the EBT for the fucking rest of the month.

It's usery. It's price gouging...it's becoming impossible, like everything fucking else!

[cripplecharacters]

(2/3)

The second character is the MC's father and he is the one i am moderately worried about

Bit of info:

His parents where high nobility, they where also perfectionist, violent narcisissts obsesesd with their bloodline who belived themself above all other humans, and where up to their neck in the more unsavory parts of organized crime. This leads to him being obssesed with being the best possible father to his son and a good husband to his wife. He also uses his influence as a duke to benefit and protect the common people as much as he can since the servants of his parents did their best to protect him and give him a better childhod when he was still living and he holds commoners in a high regard because of this among other things.

So for the bad part:

He does his best to do good lawfuly but he has no problem with using violent and/or unlawful methods to protect the vulnerabel. Whic most sane person wouldn't consider a bad thing, i know, but its still moraly ambiguos. especialy He also manipulates other nobels and uses bribery when things call for it (most nobels in his kingdom do the same, but coruption is coruption.) He also strugels with anger isuess and has a tendency to violently lose his temper if someone threthens or insults his son or wife even in the slightest. He mellows out a lot as the story progreses and eventualy completely stops with any unlawful activities or bribery and his temper improves a lot but his last, and most severe outburst and its consequences lead to him losing an eye and suffering several moderately sized second and tird degrre burns on his back, shoulders, feet and on the front of his lower legs.

A quick run down of that: the crown prince beats up the MC, breaking his nose and causing him a concusion, cuts his face with a dagger and trys to stab him in the neck. Dear old dad arives on the scene, loses his mind, and beats the crown prince into a pile of bloody mush ( the Prince lives, i am on the fence of giving him a disability especialy a facial difference due to the injuries he suffers. It would be realistic since MC's dad fully intended to murder him there and only stoped because his son called out to him. But even if he improves criticaly once his dad is put out of comision and attacking the MC was not his idea, he is still not a great guy at this point and i would like to avoid unfortunate implications of him deserving what he got / impliying that disability is a punishment that some people deserve instead of something that just is/ perpetuating the bad-old trope of bad or moraly grey character with a facial difference. Is there any way i could do this while avoiding these things or should i find a way for him to fully heal from his injuries? It can be done, but it would be convoluted)

Back to bussines. This performance earns the MC's father several things

His son's survival of the encounter with the prince.

The king's unbribeled attention and anger aimed at his family.

A nice indefinite stay in the deepest cell of the castle dungeon

A bat- shit insane offer from the king to save his own life at the price of the MC being executed in his place (MC has a claim to the trone, its stronger than the princes, he has no intention of ever claiming the throne, the king doesn't care) This is on the basis of "eye for an eye tooth for a tooth, heir for a heir" (even if the prince recovers completely he would still find him uselessafter the public humiliation, his failure to make the MC "unfit to rule" and the mental trauma he suffered due to the incident. ). The MC's father finds this repulsive

The first treason charge in a century after he unsuprisingly refuses said offer.

What transpires at his execution is what leads to his scars. There is a law i made up for this fantasy country that a man executed for threason shall be publicly hanged and left hanging untill the ravens gouge out their eyes and then whatever remains of them shall be burned ( i did this partialy because of a saying in my mother tongue i found a great potential in for being even harsher an insult and partialy becasue it makes for great horror pushed either way. If its a problem i am willing to change it ) One of the gods decide to interveen. Fyi: They are the god of death,the dead, the afterlife and rebirth. And he is the most unanbiolugusly good character among the few gods who are mentioned by name and given any amount of "page-time."They are also much more eager to help humans directly since he adores them. The gods also have a rule that each time they interween and change fate it leaves a permanent impact on the world, the bigger the change the bigger the impact. Revealing himself to a populace whose greatest contact with gods in the last milenia was recently meeting their curent envoy to declare his intentions has a significantly higher cost on the world-changing scale than sending a raven to remove one of his eyes and pinch a piece out of his face near enoug the other to conceal it and then putting out the pire with a thunder storm before their newly minted charge burns to a crisp. Also it still gets the divine intention across nicely.

The MC's father is actualy pretty positive about his situation and he actualy likes the scars since his parents would absolutely loath that he isn't "perfect" anymore and also considers them a a badge of honor since he saved his with gaining them. The only reason he dislikes them beside the pain is because he is incapabel of filling his position as the leader of the army and on field comander of the branch of the army responsible the magical fires and the king forces his son to take it and leave the one he curently fills as the leader of the other branch.

To clear some things up related to the previous ask: He did manage to escape from joining the militia when he was younger.

The millitia in this world is used against monsters and not rival kingdoms, and joining it is not mandatory for any member of the populace.

Leadership is suposed to be based on merit not bloodline.

He ended up in the position he is in along with his son as leaders of the army against both of their will due to a deal he made to ensure steady dose of medication the MC's mother needs to survive.

By this point in the story (post "execution") she no longer needs it because the other MC and her family helped treat the injury so it was not life threatening anymore and it requers medication she can easily make herself.

The king has other things to blackmail the family with that are more than enough to jerk them around.

Is this aceptabel as it is? Is there a way i could make it better? Is there anything i must change no matter what?

I am worried about the two implications i mentioned with the prince, but also the story takes a turn for the worse for a good whileafter this happens and that could be another can of worms i dont want to imply . And honestly there could be things that completely slipped my attention. How can i avoide those? I am unsure if this character is someone who would even make for good representation instead of harmful but its important plot-vise that he is incapacitated after this and this is the thing i been planing on using for a while and it fits his story but i am wiling to change this if it would cause harm.

Thank you in advance.

Hi again!

Before I get to the actual ask - please don't equate violence to "narcissism". Narcissism is a mental health term (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) and it doesn't cause a person to be violent or abusive. Same for the use of "sane/insane" later in the ask - please try to look for a different word in the future.

I don't think that being morally ambiguous is necessarily a bad thing, but being violent does encroach on the ableist stereotype territory. It would be a good idea to expand on how his family's values have affected him, rather than just to put the Aggressive Man character on the pipeline of ending up with a facial difference as if it's some kind of natural progression (because it's not).

As for the villain becoming disabled - I mean, if he was almost killed then it makes sense, but does it have to be a facial difference? Maybe instead he gets his legs broken and has chronic pain afterward, or gets double vision from being hit on the head (two random things that I also have, and in my opinion they would cause way less tropey connotations?). And if he has to have something happen to his face, why not nerve pain or trouble breathing through his nose, or something? Try to think of other injuries than just FD if that's what you're specifically (and reasonably) worried about.

Re: healing his injuries - sometimes people heal, sometimes not, often they heal some but not all. It all depends on the specific injuries and what you decide would make sense to happen with them. Just don't cure permanent disabilities that don't get better; stick to injuries that could be improved with things like physical therapy or medication.

I'm not particularly worried about "disability as punishment" here because it's more of a "fuck around and find out" or "foreseeable consequences" event rather than if, e.g. God cursed him for his actions and the curse was that he was disabled or something.

The scenario of him being burnt seems actually fine to me. Normally I would be iffy on a character being well, literally punished for something he has done with a disability, but here it's pretty clear that coming out of that with a disability is the better option (as opposed to being dead). Pushing this point would be a great subversion of the dreaded "better dead than disabled" trope that gets used way too often. I do like that he doesn't mind his scars (being bothered by pain is completely normal), and it seems that it would make sense for his backstory to feel like that about them. I presume that his parents' beliefs are framed as unquestionably ableist, so I won't dwell on that.

I'm not sure about the second reason he dislikes them though - apologies if I'm just misunderstanding - but why would his scars make him unable to be an army commander as opposed to being charged with treason? It would be good to make it clear in the story because I feel like his scars are probably irrelevant here, unless there's some sort of law against disabled people being in a position of power (?).

My general recommendations would be:

Have characters without disabilities/facial differences that are violent, or have anger issues, etc.

Have more characters with facial differences who don't fall into the tropes at all - non-aggressive, non-fighter characters even. I'm sure there are nobles or servants who are mostly occupied with boring stuff who could have facial differences while popping up in a chapter or two?

There's a difference between one character existing and that one character going into ableist territory, versus five characters existing out of which only one goes into that. 20% is a coincidence that doesn't mean much, 100% is a pattern that's hard to not notice.

For including more characters with FD "naturally", I will try to write a longer piece in the third part - for disabled characters in general, I recommend this post!

I hope this helps, and that I understood all the questions correctly!

mod Sasza

[aethermoose]

SoapGhostRoach Soulmate Drabble

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Idea: People can hear their soulmate's voice in times of great distress. For Simon, he hears it while in captivity under Roba. Simon's not expecting to even have a soulmate. Let alone two. And he definitely never planned on actually meeting them.

Word Count: 700

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

cw // gore, blood, general nastiness with Simon’s torture | angst with a happy ending

Pain. That was the only thing he had felt for months at this point. Nonstop torture in whatever sick way Roba decided to prescribe it. Simon didn’t feel in control of his body anymore. It wasn’t his. It didn’t belong to him. Like a large part of him had died once he was brought in here. Everything left was a shell. An empty shell that refused to die. And no matter what, Simon refused to talk. He wasn’t a traitor. He wasn’t a coward. He was a good soldier. A strong man with an iron will. And he wouldn’t let these people take that away from him. That little slice of pride he had left wouldn’t allow it.

But he was beginning to rethink all of that as he felt his flesh sliced and a hole gouged into his side. When that hook pierced through muscle that was never supposed to see the light of day, Simon howled in pain. It tore through his soul, shredded it to ribbons as he was hoisted higher and higher, the chain creaking under the strain. The sound of metal groaning like that, threatening to bend to his much more pliable bone.. it was a sound that would haunt Simon for whatever sort of life he had after this - no matter how short it might be.

Numbness. It started to creep in like a sickness, a deadly poison that was leeching his lifeblood. It started in his toes and fingers as warm, sticky blood trickled down his side and dripped to the hardened earth below him. It crept up his arms, tickling the skin as flies began to buzz around the open wound, looking for a spot to land. It started to lap at his torso and that’s when the fear hit him like a truck. He was dying. This would be the end for him. There was no way he would make it out of this. Even if he talked. Even if he spilled everything he wouldn’t get out of this. Right?

Until he heard it. Like a soft caress against his ears he heard his own name spoken so softly. So sweetly. “Simon..” they called to him. He could distinctly hear it. Two voices. Two. One with a thick Scottish accent, the other a much more subdued British one - not too much unlike his own. The voices melded against him, wrapping him in imaginary arms and squeezing him tight, tight, tight. As if they were holding him together.

“Come home..” they whispered again and it took everything in Simon not to break right there. He was never under the impression he would hear his soulmate. Never. It seemed rare enough anyways and Simon had been through so much he was starting to think he didn’t have one anyways. But.. but two? That was unheard of. Unless Simon was going absolutely batshit insane, there were two voices there.

And he had to find them.

It wouldn’t be until a few years after he got back that would find the owners of those voices though. After he dug himself out of that grave and was picked up and shipped to Price’s doorstep. Ghost took time to recover. A lot of time. Until Price deemed him ready for missions again. He hid behind that hard shell mask and never left that comfort. He had given up on finding the owners of those voices by now. It wasn’t worth it.

Until he was going on a quick mission with his new team. Men he hadn’t met before but was assured by Price that they would get along.

“Nice to meet ya, L.t.!”

“Pleased to meet you."

A Scot and a Brit. Voices he knew. Voices that had pulled him from the depths of despair and hopelessness. Voices he realized very quickly had saved his life. Attached to two men that made Simon’s deadened heart stutter back to life.

If he smiled behind that skull mask as he muttered out a “fuckin’ hell”, no one needed to know.

If the sergeants’ eyes lit up when they heard him speak, again, no one needed to know.