#cash flow train

[artisticdivasworld]

Leveraging Outsourcing for Strategic Growth

In the dynamic landscape of small business operations, the strategic decision to outsource Accounts Receivable (A/R) functions can unlock significant growth potential. While the immediate benefits of outsourcing—such as improved cash flow, reduced overhead costs, and enhanced efficiency—are well-documented, there’s a transformative opportunity that often goes underexplored: the re-skilling of…

[mikemilan]

Achieving Financial Excellence: Uncovering Cash Flow Advantages and Effectively Managing Cash Flow

Understanding and effectively managing cash flow is essential for success in the ever-evolving business landscape. We will delve into the advantages of cash flow consulting and how CashFlowMikes can propel your business to new heights by optimizing cash flow, providing expert guidance, and driving financial growth.

[coachamakaadindu]

Gaining with training in Internet Marketing Business Is 24/7 involvement.

Gaining with training in Internet Marketing Business Is 24/7 involvement.

Internet Marketing Is 24/7, Not A One-Time Stunt Team When you’re new to operating an Internet Marketing Business, it’s natural totake one look at the Web and become overwhelmed. So many sites! So manyoptions! Do you go for pay-per-click advertising? Online classified ad sites?Banner exchanges? Should you get a Website of your own? How? Where? Thequestions are endless—and it’s easy to…

[therobotmonster]

Please don’t use midjourney it steals art from pretty much every artist out there without any compensation. I didn’t know this at first and tried it but then during the creation process i saw water marks and Getty image logos (though I’m sure they’ve hidden that now) so it’s definitely stealing.

No, it isn't. And you've taken the wrong lesson from the Getty watermark issue.

AI training on public facing, published work is fair use. Any published piece could be located, examined, and learned from by a human artist. This does not require the permission of the owner of said work. A mechanical apparatus does not change this principle.

All we, as artists, own, are specific expressions. We do not own styles, ideas, concepts, plots, or tropes. We do not even own the work we create in a proper sense. All our work flows from the commons, and all of it flows back to it. IP is a limited patent on specific expressions, and what constitutes infringement is the end result of the creative process. What goes into it is irrelevant, and upending that process to put inspiration and reference as infringement is the end of art as we know it.

The Getty watermark issue is an example of overfitting, wherein a repetitive element in the dataset over-emphasizes specific features to the point of disrupting the system's attempts at the creation of novel images.

No one denies that the SD dataset is trained on images Getty claims to own, but Getty has so polluted the image search functions of the internet with their watermarked images that the idea of a getty watermark has been picked up the same way the AI might pick up the idea of an eye or a tree branch. It is a systemic failure that Shutterstock and Getty can be so monopolistic and ubiquitous that a dateset trained on literally everything public facing on the internet would be polluted with their watermarks.

Watermarks that, by the way, they add to public domain images, and that google prioritizes over clean versions.

The lawsuits being brought against Midjourney and Stable Diffusion are copyright overreach being presented as a theft tissue. The facts of the matter are not as the litigants state. The images aren't stored, the SD weights are a 4 gig file trained on 250 terabytes, roughly 4 bytes per image. It runs local, does not reach out to image sources over IP. All you've got are mathematical patterns and ratios. I would go so far as to say that the class action suit is based on outright lies.

But for a moment, let's entertain the idea that what goes into a work, as inspiration, can be copyrighted. That styles can be stolen. That what goes in defines infringement, rather than what comes out. What happens then?

Well, the bad news is that if Stable Diffusion and Midjourney were shut down tomorrow, Stable Diffusion is in the wild. It runs local, it's user-trainable. In short, the genie isn't going back in the bottle. Plus, the way diffusion AI works, there's no way to trace a gen to its sources. The weights don't work like that. The indexing would be larger than the entire set of stored patterns.

Well good news, there's an AI for that. The current version is called CLIP Interrogator And it works on everything. Not just AI generated, but any image. It can find what style it closely matches, reverse engineer a prompt. It's crude now, but it will improve.

Now, you've already established that using the same patterns as another work is infringement. You've already established that inspiration is theft. And now there's a robot that tells lawyers who you draw like.

Sure, you can fight it in court. If it goes go to court. But who's to say they won't just staplegun that AI to a monetization re-direction bot like youtube has going with their content ID? Awesome T-shirt design you uploaded to your print-on-demand shop... too bad your art style resembles that from a cartoon from 1973 that Universal got as part of an acquisition and they've claimed all your cash. Sure you can file a DMCA counter-notice, but we all know how that goes.

And then there's this fantasy that upending the system would help artists. But who would "own" that style? Is that piece stealing the style of Stephen Silver, or Disney's Kim Possible(TM)? When you work for Disney their contracts say everything you make is theirs. Every doodle. Every drawing. If the styles are copyrightable, a company could hire an artist straight out of school, publish their work under work-for-hire, fire them, and then go after them for "stealing" the style they developed while working for said corp.

Not to mention that a handful of companies own so much media that it is going to be impossible to find an artist that hasn't been influenced by something under their control.

Oh, and that stock of source images that companies like Disney and Universal have? These kinds of lawsuits won't stop them from building AIs with that material that they "own". The power goes into corp hands, they can down staff to their heart's content and everyone else is denied the ability to compete with them. Worst of all possible worlds.

Be careful what wishes you make when holding the copyright monkey's paw.

[devilfic]

Do you still make Batman x reader? If yes, could I request a "reader figures out Bruce Wayne is Batman"?

Thank you!

❝honeymoon❞

parts: next plot: 'til death do you part. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce. words: 760.

a/n: a little something quick that I thought of!

Recognizing that you had agreed to this, you had been prepared to accept anything. An affair, a drug addiction, secret ties to the mafia overlords like high society always suspected. That was your job as Bruce's spouse: contractually obligated to be okay with it and never let anyone find out about it. Whatever it was.

Even now, as your brain short circuits and the floor feels like you're about to sink right into it, you're looking for ways to be okay with this, and he's looking at you like he wants to kill you.

It's a fleeting look. One second there, the next vanished. Neither of you say anything but there is a world of things being felt, you're certain. One of you has to budge. "This... isn’t what I was expecting."

But Bruce doesn't laugh (and you'd never expect him to, not in your presence). He stands there, heaving slow breaths to calm himself down, the cowl still conspicuously trembling between both of his hands. He could've tossed it or let it go but it's almost like you've frozen him solid.

"Where did you get that?" Is all he demands, eyes trained on the key glimmering in your hand now. "The doormen have orders to-"

"To not let me in? I know. I had the key made myself. Your doormen are easy to persuade with the right amount of money."

Bruce's lip twitches and he scoffs. "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, about 75% convinced of it yourself, "It does me no good to have extra eyes on me, and I'm sure you've got contingency plans in place were I or anyone else to expose you. You were always very good about that. Plans."

"Of course you won't. Your mother wouldn't approve of the disruption in cash flow."

Your eyes narrow. "I am not interested in what my mother wants."

"Why not? She's a part of this marriage, too. Isn't she?"

"Can we talk about the suit?" Bruce stiffens when you bring back attention to the compromised position you'd found him in. "I have questions, and I suppose if you want me to be good at lying about your... hobby, you'll have to prep me."

"I think the less you know, the better. Personally."

"The 'my husband's just busy with work' spiel is getting old, and people are already starting to talk about us living apart. Now, when I agreed to marry you," you watch him flinch as you take a step forward, "I promised that I would be with you in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, 'til death do us part. Your business is my business. Your secret," within arm's length of his cowl, you wrench it from his grasp and he relents rather easily, "is my secret. I will take it with me to the grave so long as you keep up your end of the bargain."

Up close, you take in the black paint smeared over his eyes, a fitting backdrop for his stunning eyes so cool. The fire in the hearth flickers off of them, reflecting back at you as you stand but inches apart.

Just as you stole his cowl, Bruce steals your key. He holds it up in the palm of his glove, "You want to move in."

You hum, "It would help with appearances. And my mother would be pleased."

"I thought you weren't interested in what your mother wants."

"I'm not, but she's interested in you, and given tonight's revelation... I think you'd like someone keeping her nose out of your business."

You punctuate your point with a touch to his chest, palm laid flat over his heart and the several layers of iron-clad padding in front of it. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks down at it, then back at you. There's discomfort there but... something else. Resignation, you'd wager. Defeat. You almost sigh in relief when it dawns on you that you've—rather miraculously—won this battle going in completely blind.

Later, it will dawn on you (or plummet on you) just what you've witnessed tonight. Just what you've agreed to. Just who you've married.

Bruce peels your hand away, placing the key in your palm before releasing it like a burning stone. "There are guest rooms on the second floor." He pauses when you're not fast enough to school your expression, his mouth turning down into a scowl, "This changes nothing else." And he stalks away.

Nothing else. This changes nothing else, but if anyone were to ask, the honeymoon was going great.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat​ @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

[ericsprincess]

slow it down

nc-17, san/wooyoung/reader, boucy au, boxer!san, pimp!wooyoung (kinda), mafia leader!reader, f/m/m threesome, prostitution (technically), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, felching

~~~

“...3, 2, 1!” DING DING DING!

The audience roars as the referee raises the hand of the winner as the defeated lies motionless on the ground. The winner himself is wavering, having obvious trouble keeping himself standing straight. His face is bloody, his lip is busted and he has bruises everywhere. His white wifebeater is stained with blood and sweat. He drops his hand and looks like he’s about to faint, when his coach (?) comes running to him and catches him at the last moment, holding a water bottle to his mouth and making him drink. The boxer holds on to his coach like a lifeline, swallowing big gulps of water before straightening up and throwing his fist to the air, letting out a victorious yell.

He slumps back to his coach's embrace and lets himself be led off the ring, the coach supporting him carefully so he doesn’t trip. Your eyes are following them, as you are sitting at the bar, sipping your drink. 

They take a stop at the promoters booth where they collect their cash prize and bet money, the coach pocketing the hefty stack of dollars. They talk a little bit more, probably about the possibilities for future matches, before disappearing somewhere in the backstage dressing rooms.

You turn your head back to the stage. The host is already in the ring, trying to introduce the next match’s fighters, but the audience is still yelling the winner’s name like in a trance. San, and he’s obviously the star of tonight’s event. 

You finish your drink, hop off the bar stool and head to the backstage. 

~~~

It doesn’t take long to find the dressing room where they are at - there aren't that many and most of them are empty. You find them in the last one and you know it’s the one where they are immediately - the door is not completely closed and the lights are on. 

You push the door more open and lean in the doorway. San is half-sitting half-lying on a little dinky sofa and his coach is kneeling in front of him, cleaning his wounds. He seems to be talking to San in a calm, low voice, but you can’t make up the words. It feels very intimate. San’s eyes are closed and his coach is turned away from you so neither can see you standing there. It gives you a chance to observe them for a bit. 

San is really handsome. That’s obvious and it’s also the reason why you’re there. His face is naturally beautiful, even marred with scratches and wounds, his hair jet black with strands falling into his face in a charming way. His body is muscular and strong with broad arms, big chest and narrow waist. He’s the epitome of deadly power - silent, strong, but agile. 

His coach - well. You would lie if you said he’s not handsome. He’s nicely built, the pecs peeking from his unbuttoned shirt revealing that he’s more trained and strong than he looks at first sight. His face is also handsome, with his pretty cheekbones and beaky nose. But he looks so sleazy. He looks like he’s there to cause trouble and discussing anything with him is like handling a slimy snake, that’s twisting and turning and slipping out of your hands. He’s attractive, but in an infuriating way.

They haven’t noticed you yet so you clear your throat to get their attention. 

San’s coach turns his head and stands up. 

“Well hello,” he drawls. “I thought we’ve already gotten our reward. Did the bar owners send us a freebie? I’m Wooyoung, what’s your name, beautiful?” he grins and blatantly checks you out. His eyes run over you and he’s clearly enjoying what he sees. You’re dressed casually, in black skinny jeans, black shirt tucked into them and a leather jacket. Your long hair is flowing, as opposed to the conservative intricate bun you wear for your usual meetings. This one is not usual though. 

You shift your weight and subtly move the side of your leather jacket, so he can see the gun strapped on your waist. It wipes his grin out immediately. 

“I’m afraid not. I am Y/N Y/L/N,“  you turn to San. “I saw your match and I have heard a lot about you. I would have a business proposal, if you are interested.” He looks up at you from the sofa, but doesn’t say anything and closes his eyes again, as if he were too tired to even talk.

“That depends on what kind of business,” Wooyung cuts in.

“Excuse me, but I was talking to him, not you,” you frown. He’s already starting to get on your nerves. 

“All the business goes through me,” Wooyung grins dangerously and puts his hand on San’s shoulder, his intent is clearly to show you who’s in charge. 

“So, you’re his pimp,” you raise an eyebrow. 

“I prefer the term manager,” he smiles at you. “After all, he’s always free to refuse any job I get for him.” 

“Then let him hear me out and decide for himself.” you’re getting impatient. 

“Are you some kind of a mafia boss? Because we don’t kill people,” starts Wooyoung, nodding at your gun, but you interrupt him. 

“That’s not the nature of the job I want to offer.” you say. You don’t deny the mafia accusation. 

You wait for the inevitable interruption by Wooyoung, but he just waves his hand to prompt you to continue. 

“As I said, I saw your match and I was really impressed. I would like to buy your time tonight,” you say. 

“For how much?” asks Wooyoung.

“10 000 dollars,” you reply. “Cash, half upfront.” you pull out a wad of banknotes and hold them up, so they know you’re not bluffing. San opens his eyes from where he’s laying sprawled on the sofa. 

“Ooookay?” Wooyoung is obviously surprised. “And what would he do?”

“Well, I would like to make use of his…private time,” you’re not sure how to word it. You don’t want to imply you want him to prostitute himself to you, even though it’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re telling this to Wooyoung, but you’re looking at San. His eyes are intense and he seems fully awake and alerted, also measuring you up with his eyes. 

“I- I’m not sure we do this kind of jobs..” Wooyoung hesitates. 

San pulls on his sleeve. Wooyoung looks at him, and you’re sure there is some kind of telepathic connection going on, because after a few seconds of intense eye contact, Wooyoung turns back to you. “He agrees.” Wooyoung confirms, even though San hasn’t said a word. 

“Do you have anything specific in mind?” 

“Not really. Just, the usual,” you blush. You didn’t think that far, since you didn’t really expect San to agree. “Or anything that occurs in the moment. But, of course, it depends on how San feels about...performing. I’m not sure about the extent of his injuries.”    

“I’m not that injured,” San grumbles. It’s the first time he speaks out loud tonight and it catches you off guard. “I can perform.” He has a nice voice, you think. I wonder how he sounds when he cums.

“Well then, it’s settled,” Wooyoung claps his hands and reaches his palm towards you. You roll your eyes and put half of the money into his hands and he shoves it into his pocket immediately. 

“Do you want to move elsewhere?” he asks. 

“No, here is sufficient.” You would never admit it too Wooyoung, but fucking in dirty dressing room at the backstage of the boxer match, with the door that doesn’t lock well… it gives you the thrills already.

“Okay,” he replies and throws himself on an old armchair on the opposite side of the sofa. 

You’re perplexed. “Aren’t you going to leave?” you ask in disbelief. 

“No, of course not. I need to keep an eye on him. And you.” he smirks and reclines back to make himself more comfortable. 

“Bullshit. You just want to watch,” He’s so annoying. You’re almost fuming at the audacity of this guy. 

“Well, let’s say that’s a welcomed benefit.” he winks and you scoff, turning away from him. There is no point in arguing. 

You hesitate. Both of them are looking at you, awaiting your actions and it’s getting awkward. Ah, to hell with it, you decide, shrug off your jacket and with a few steps you come to the sofa and sit on San’s lap. He put his hands to your waist.

“Can I kiss you? Or does it hurt too much?” you nod at his busted lip.

“I don’t mind pain,” he shakes his head, putting his hand on your neck he pulls you for a kiss. The kiss is fierce and tastes of blood, he’s not hesitating to push his tongue into your mouth and fight you for dominance.

He’s trying to unbutton your blouse singlehandedly with his other hand and when he succeeds and takes it off you, he squeezes your tits hard. He breaks the kiss to move his mouth along your jawline to suck and lick on your neck. 

“You’re really pretty,” mumbles San into your neck. “I would have done it for free, you know,” he nuzzles.  “Don’t tell Wooyoung that.” That makes you laugh a little. 

You can feel him getting hard under you and you know you’re not doing much better yourself. You’re moving a little, rubbing your pussy over his cock, to get at least some stimulation for both of you, while he sucks and licks at your tits. You’re getting really into it and San’s hands on your waist help to guide your movement too. His breathing is getting heavier and he’s really hard under you.

“Do you want to make him come just from your dry humping? I thought you wanted to fuck,” Wooyoung’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Ugh.

You stop moving and look back over your shoulder to Wooyoung, sprawled on the armchair, as if he were watching a movie.  

“What’s your problem?” you frown. 

“If you make him come now, he’ll fall asleep in like 3 minutes and then what? Will you expect a refund?” Wooyoung shrugs. “Just thinking of business.” 

“Fine.” you stand up and unbutton your pants, but San bats your hands away and does it himself. He pulls them down together with your panties and you grab his shoulder for better balance while you step out of them. 

San pulls you for a kiss, running his hands over the backs of your thighs up to your ass, slightly pulling it apart, making you realize that you’re standing bent over right in front of Wooyoung who has the first row seat to your bare ass and wet pussy. You briefly wonder if San did this on purpose. 

San quickly unzips his own jeans and pulls out his cock. He’s already hard and leaking, the tip red and angry and you can’t wait to get it in you. 

“Do you have a condom?” you ask San impatiently. Yours are laying somewhere on the floor in the jacket pocket, and it seems way too far now. 

“He’s clean,” Wooyoung answers for him. 

“How do you know that?” you ask, your patience running thin. 

“Let’s say,” drawls Wooyoung with a smug smile. “I know about everyone he sleeps with.”

You frown, but you’re not going to argue with him. It’s hotter like this anyways. 

You take San’s cock in your hand and slowly sink on it. You can’t resist looking at Wooyoung over your shoulder. He’s watching intensely and it’s clear he’s not unaffected either - his boner is starting to show and while one of his hands is on the armrest, the other is getting dangerously close to his crotch. 

You slowly start to move and ride San’s cock. He’s a nice size and feels so nice and deep everytime you drop down. San’s hands are roaming all over your body, touching your ass, back, squeezing your tits while he’s sucking on your neck and collarbones, obviously trying to make up for the lack of his own movement in you. It’s not like you care much about that - he’s tired and injured and it’s not like you don’t prefer to just use a hot man like a toy. That’s actually why you’re even here. 

The room is resonating with the disgusting squelching sounds as both you and San are getting wetter, your bodily fluids mixing together with sweat. You’re riding him tirelessly, gasping and whimpering, trying to get you both close to finish, when San suddenly moans so loud it almost startles you.

“What..” you’re confused, but you’re not stopping. 

San is blushing. “He just licked my balls,” What. That makes you even more confused, but then you suddenly feel it. Wooyoung’s hot wet tongue on your asshole, his hands grabbing your asscheeks for better access. 

Oh fuck. You didn’t even hear him approach. It feels too good to ponder about it, and just the sheer audacity of Wooyoung to dare to join like that riles you up even more. Not to mention that he’s just casually eating your ass like that, with full enthusiasm, tongue moving down to lick around San’s cock at the point where he’s entering your pussy. It feels like his tongue is everywhere at the same time.

“Was this part of the deal?” you laugh, red, sweaty and out of breath, but not stopping. You’re so close.

“It’s on the house,” mumbles Wooyoung, getting back to eating your ass like it’s his last meal. 

He tries to push his tongue inside, and at the same moment San pinches your nipple just right, and that makes you come, so hard that San has to tighten his grip on your waist so you don’t fall off him as you move. He must be close too, the moment he senses that you have almost finished he grabs you by the waist with both hands and starts roughly thrusting up into you. It takes only a few thrusts though, and you can feel him coming in you. 

You slump against him, tired and out of breath and fucked out. San’s softening cock is slipping out of your pussy and you don’t know what Wooyoung is doing to him this time, but it makes San squirm. Wooyoung moves his attention to you, licking your pussy from behind, slurping San’s come straight out of it. It’s overstimulating and you can’t come again like that, not yet, but you can hear Wooyoung’s whimpers and moans as he’s licking inside of you, and you’re pretty sure he’s getting off on it - so you let him, holding onto San while catching your breath. 

It doesn’t take him long before you can hear him cumming into his own hand. After a moment, he breathes out and straightens. You look back and you see him offer his hand, dirtied with his own cum to San, for San to eat out off, like a dog getting a treat.

You drop down on the sofa. 

“Does he not mind..that?” 

San finishes licking Wooyoung’s hand clean. 

“He knows to never bite a hand that feeds him,” he says. It makes you feel something.

San lies down next to you on the cramped sofa. He closes his eyes and seems to be out as light immediately. 

“So…is that it?” 

“I do actually have a real job offer for you. Come work for me.” you suggest. 

“And do what?” scoffs Wooyoung. “Kill people? Or worse, die for you? Sorry, I don’t think either of us is interested in that.” 

“Not necessarily. Although you could work the usual jobs if you wanted - protection, deals, and such. But if you don’t, I’m sure we can use San’s skill as an instructor for our new recruits. He wouldn’t have to fight anymore” you shrug. For a man like San, there is always something to do in your organization.

“We’re a package deal.” replies Wooyoung. The real meaning of his sentence is clear - what would I do? What’s in there for me?

“I’m aware. I could use an assistant and you seem more than capable,” you reply nonchalantly, although you already know you will regret it. Wooyoung will definitely make annoying you his primary job. You’re looking forward to this. 

“Your lodging, food, salary, everything will be provided. You’ll live a more comfortable life. You don’t have to decide now, but I’m sure you would appreciate at least not having to live in a van, and- hmmppf” you get interrupted by San, who suddenly appears awake and surprises you with a kiss. He’s too passionate, tongue licking in your mouth, tasting of Wooyoung’s cum, and you don’t know if it’s desperation or gratitude, but you accept it. You wonder where he’s getting the energy for this though, but he’s almost mauling you with the fierceness of his kiss. 

“Well, I guess it’s decided,” Wooyoung pecks you on the cheek and his lips linger there for a moment until he whispers in your ear.

“Boss.”

You don’t need a better answer. 

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the obey me brothers with an s/o who works as a bunny girl at a bar?

Obey me Brothers + Bunny Girl s/o

Lucifer

Lucifer didn’t like being here.

He made an effort every year to do the bunny-butler event; at first to help his community, but then with Lord Diavolo asked. However, he never really liked it.

The only thing he did like about it was meeting [Y/N]. They were bright, helpful, and clearly too classy to be in a posh, but over sexualized, place like this.

“What can I get you gentleman?”

“Ah! [Y/N]!” Lord Diavolo cheered happily when they came over to greet their table. It was the only reason he would be in here ‘out of season’. He hated seeing them at work. “You look so cute!”

“Thank you Lord Diavolo.” [Y/N] replied with their coquettish smile as they took his drink order. “And for you sir?”

“Just water.” Lucifer replied in a gruff tone. To which [Y/N] just kept smiling and went to get their drinks. “I’ll be back.”

He caught [Y/N] just as they were coming back out of the service bar and got their attention. “Why do you insist on continuing to work here?”

“Because it’s my job?”

“You know what I mean. You could work anywhere. Or, nowhere. You know I would take care of you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a kept woman.” Lucifer sighed. He knew that. “Besides, it’s not so bad. I make a lot of tips. I met a lot of interesting people. It’s pretty interesting, and there are worse jobs.”

“There are jobs with more clothes.” [Y/N] chuckled.

“I have to get my tables taken care of, but I’ll be back by and we can sit together on my break.” She snuck in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before anyone saw. Lest someone see and think that was a bunny service anyone could get. “Now, I have to work and you need to get back to your table. No loitering on the floor when bunnies are at work.”

“I know, I know…” He remembered that from his training and went back to his table. Not happy, but also not willing to argue.

Mammon

Mammon grumbled in his VIP seat. Shoulders tucked into the soft purple leather, with his arms crossed, as he stared across the room in anger.

He used to love coming here. The lights. The people. The vibe. It was one of the reasons he pushed for his brothers to help out when they were in trouble. That and his crippling tab debt he couldn’t pay off. But now it wasn’t the same.

“Is everything alright Mr. Mammon?” A cute, and sweet, bunny waitress asked when they came over to check on him as he hadn’t touched his drink.

“I want a different bunny.”

She seemed shocked. “Oh. Is there something I did? Am I not meeting your service expectations?”

“No. I want that one.” He pointed across the room at [Y/N] who was giggling with another table.

“I’m sorry sir. [Y/N]-bun is busy with that other group of customers. If you’d like I could.”

“No I want that one!” He insisted again, sitting upright. “Isn’t VIP supposed to mean I get whatever I want? I want that bunny. Send her over!”

The poor girl seemed taken aback and shuffled off. Heading over to [Y/N] and whispering in her ear, before she looked over at him. She didn’t seem happy, which made him gulp, but then pulled on a smile before she waved to her guests and came over. “Being in VIP means you get whatever you want?”

“Isn’t that what it’s supposed to mean….” He pouted and crossed his arms as, he could tell, he was not going to get what he wanted.

“No. It doesn’t. It means you get special treatment. Which in your case special treatment you don’t pay for as the owner is eternally grateful.” Ooo, that one stung a little bit as she reminded him of his cash flow problems. “But it doesn’t mean you get to berate my co-workers or act like an ass. Miranda is practically crying in the bathroom.”

“It’s not my fault those dumb dumbs didn’t sit me in your section like I asked!”

“It’s a big club Mammon. They can’t accommodate everyone’s request, even if we are dating. My section is pretty busy and you would be waiting for hours.”

“I would have waited for you!”

The demon huffed and slumped back into his seat. Morosely drinking his carrot juice cocktail. [Y/N] sighed.

“I know you’re the Avatar of Greed honey, but you can’t always get what you want.” He grumbled into his drink. “If you can be patient and nice to the other servers, I’ll come over after this table is done and we can hangout while the girls do their jobs. VIP entitles you to 2 bunnies.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get any ideas.” He clicked his teeth. “Now, I’m gonna have Miranda come back over here; if she’s even willing. You will apologize, and leave her a big tip. Understood?” He nodded. “Good. And, try to be happy Mammon. You’re bringing down the whole vibe with that pout.” He flinched a little when [Y/N] cutely tapped his nose, but still blushed. He supposed he could be patient.

Levi

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Levi! Calm down! I can only get this thing on so fast!” [Y/N] whined from inside their walk-in closet as they tried to put their new outfit on.

The club was doing a promotional Fantasy Follies night. Where in, aside from just dressing up like bunnies, the girls would be themed to look like other bunny themed characters the fantasy genre. You know, bunny princess, bunny queen, bunny fairy.

As the most popular bunny on call at the moment, [Y/N] had the honor of dressing up like bunny Alice from Alice in Wonderland. One of the more notable, and elaborate, costumes done up for the event.

“You know you could just come down to the club and see it. I’m not really supposed to be wearing this until the event.”

“I hate people.” Levi answered. As if they needed reminding. “Besides, I won’t post any spoilers. I wouldn’t do that. But I need to see it before anyone else does. So please, please, please hurry up!”

“Ok, ok!” [Y/N] stepped out in a huff. Their hand on their hip just about the brocade skirt. “Satisfied!?”

Levi just sat on his beanbag chair in complete silence. To the point that [Y/N] thought he hated it and maybe it was all wrong. “KAWAII!!”

He jumped up and started taking pictures. “You look so cute! What is this skirt made out of?! Look at the stitching! It’s so intricate!”

“Don’t touch it or you’ll smudge.” [Y/N] told him. Giggling a little now that their panic was over.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’ll be good.” Levi said as he took one last picture. “I wish I could be there….”

“You know you could be?” There was always an open spot for Levi at one of her tables.

“No. I’d rather stay here.” Which was no surprise.

He sunk back into his beanbag chair and was already scrolling through is pictures. [Y/N] chuckled. “I’ll bring you back some carrot cake.” She told him, before kissing the top of his head and leaving for work. He seemed to busy with his pictures to notice but was happy with the cake when she got home.

Satan

*he chose to stay home and read a book*

Asmo

It was a typical night at the club for [Y/N]’s shift. The customers were consistent and happy. Everyone was working together to make sure things were covered. The floor show was doing well. Everything was on track for the night.

Suddenly, [Y/N] heard some loud shouting & cat calls behind her and she turned around. Cat calls weren’t uncommon in a bunny bar, but the ruckus was a bit more flamboyant than usual. Curious, [Y/N] sat her customer’s drinks down and went over to investigate the large group that had gathered around the dance floor.

“Asmo!”

The demon of lust turned around and beamed with a wave. “Hi [Y/N]~!”

“What are you doing?!” She asked as she pushed through the throng closer to him.

“I came to see you at your job. And, have a little fun.” He wiggled his butt like a little cottontail to thunderous applause.

[Y/N] grit her teeth. “We talked about this. You can’t wear our uniform in here.”

“No. Technically you said I couldn’t wear the men’s uniform in here.” He corrected. “This is the girls uniform. Look! We match!”

[Y/N] grabbed Asmo’s hand and dragged him off to the back; his fan’s complaining behind him. “Asmo, this is my job. This isn’t a game. This is where I come to make money and I need to be professional. I can’t do that when you come in here like it’s some big joke and cause a scene like this. You’re going to get me fired.”

Asmo’s beautiful face fell. “Oh…I didn’t think about that….” It was clear in his expression that he hadn’t. Only focused on himself and his good time, spending it with [Y/N]. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause problems. I’m sure it’s hard for the girls to have someone as beautiful as me steal the spotlight. Not you, obviously. But some of them.” She chose to ignore that. “I’ll go home and change, and come back as a regular customer. Would that help?”

“I think it would be best if you just went home for the night, and came back tomorrow.”

Asmo moaned in disappointment but didn’t fight. He was pretty good at taking his lumps when he got them. “Do you think my outfit is cute by the way?” He asked quickly before he left.

[Y/N] sighed, but with a smile. “Yes. It’s very cute.”

“I knew it!” He beamed, before trotting off in his high heels back home.

Beel & Belphie

[Y/N] loved working at the bar. In her opinion it was the best place to work in all of the Devildom.

The owner and management prided itself on having the best drinks, the best bunnies, and the best customers. People at the club were usually very civilized, polite, and courteous. But, every now & then, someone would slip through the cracks in the system. Fine, at first, until they got a few drinks in them.

“Come over here baby! Come sit on my lap!”

“That’s not really a bunny service we’re offering at the moment.” [Y/N] replied, through smiled, gritted teeth, as they tried to clean the booth of all the bottles & glasses in the area. He didn’t know it yet, but he was cut off. They were all just trying to run out the clock, instead of cause a scene by asking him to leave. “Can I get you anything else? Some water before you tab out?”

“Bullshit! Bring me another one of those carrot things.”

“Unfortunately, sir, the bar is closing.” She replied. “Would you like me to get you that water & your check now?”

“Yeah I guess…” Oh thank God. “What are you doing after work?” Oh jeez…..

“Going home to soak my feet.” She replied. ‘Gross’ stuff, like breaking character, usually got them out of their fantasy and moved on.

Not the case with this one. “Home hn? Well, I’ll join you.” The customer stood up. Through great effort and force of will to stay upright. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to call you a cab.” [Y/N] replied. Starting to feel like this was going to be an issue. “You can go wherever you would like.”

“Hey! I paid for you!” The man drunkenly reached out and grabbed her arm. Causing her tray and the glasses to fall. “I gave you a lot of money and you didn’t give me the service I want! So either pay-up, or I’m calling your boss! I know the owner!”

“Let go of me!” [Y/N] shouted. Trying to pull away from the customer, but it was hard with their drunk strength. He kept jerking at her until [Y/N] eventually lost her footing and fell back on the couch. The man towering over her.

But not for long.

Suddenly the man, with a horrible grin and glint in his eye, was lifted off his feet and into the air. He let go of [Y/N] and started flailing. Only to look over his shoulder and have his blood run cold as he locked eyes with orange burning flames. “You need to leave.”

Beel, who was usually very friendly and gentle, sounded very serious as he held the man up with one hand. He kept him there for a minute, prone, like when you held a cat by the scruff, before he dropped him. Scared and drunk, the man fell completely to the ground before he picked himself up and started yelling again. “Who do you think you are?!”

“Your worst nightmare.” Belphie slide out from behind his larger twin like an ominous shadow. “You should listen to my brother.” He then added, as it looked like the man was going to argue again. “He’s a much nicer person than I am. He’s giving you a chance. If it were up to me you wouldn’t have that disgusting hand that touched our [Y/N]. And you certainly wouldn’t have any of your other inferior parts to do what your repellent gnat size brain was just thinking about doing with her.”

Though Belphie was smaller, the man seemed to get the gist of the threat and ran away. Sprinting for the door as he likely pissed his pants. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to walk you home.” Beel answered as he offered his hand, the one holding your attacker aloft a moment ago, out to gently help you from your seat.

“You should have kicked that guy in the balls.” Belphie told you. Dabbing one of the cloth napkins in some water to literally clean the area where the man had touched you.

“It’s frowned upon to attack the customers.”

“You should have stabbed him.” He muttered. Seeming to ignore the fact that that was a clean escalation from the original threat of ball kicking.

The manager came up to see what was the matter after it was all done, and you explained what happened. The customer was banned. You never saw him again.

You hope that it was just because of the ban, but you could never be sure. Belphie didn’t seem to want to comment on it further when asked, and Beel just always shoved whatever food he had in his mouth to avoid talking.

[terrence-silver]

Old man Terry slipping lactation pills in beloved's drinks and food and relishing in the way her body changes and her breasts become heavier, fuller, sore, bigger. I think he would do it as a means to control beloved and to obviously drink from it daily, believing it has benefits or something. When she lactates for the first time and is so confused, he feigns concern and gives her pills that he makes her believe it's for her health but it's to keep her producing milk. His good little calf.

---

Of course it has benefits; mother's milk is the fountain of youth. Didn't you hear?

If Cleopatra could bathe in it, Terry Silver can drink it.

If it's good for a newborn, it's even better for an aging, power hungry Billionaire hellbent on quite literally latching unto and sucking dry whatever controlled and highly vetted source of health, longevity and strength he can like a vampire, and what a more fitting place for it to stem from than his very own beloved? Milk. It does a body good. A famous commercial from the 80's and 90's might come to Terry's mind as the idea occurs to him and of course the maintenance of a physique like his well into his sixth decade being alive doesn't come cheap (cheap, and not in the material sense, because Terry's more than willing to dish out cash) in fact, utilizing basic logic, it would be more and more complicated with each passing year; constant training, dedication, therapy, steam baths, devotion to the sport, very specific dietary choices. Yesterday, it was vegan screws and salads, but he so happens to find beloved's milk infinitely more appetizing, inviting and decadent to the degree he can and would induce their lactation through specific pills. Crushed in meals, crushed in beverages, crushed in a fine wine as they toast together over an intimate, romantic fine dinner for two. How very unassuming --- but he's here with an agenda. Terry Silver not only seeks rejuvenation because youth is the only thing money cant buy according to his own words, but he wants to consume in the general sense of the word. Consume beloved until they flow through his bloodstream, his organism, infused with his very bones; the things he breaks stone slabs with with such ease. The things he fights with. When he's in the midst of combat, it's like beloved's right there, alive and infused inside of his knuckles. You are what you eat, after all.

And of course, being Californian upper crust, he'd hear and see things.

He'd hear and see things for decades --- no doubt having participated too.

Celebrities eating their baby's placenta, Gwyneth Paltrow's beauty regimen that includes bee stings, Sandra Bullock's Hemorrhoid Eye Cream, Cate Blanchett's Foreskin Facials and Demi Moore's Leech Therapy. Hollywood's right next door. It would make Terry Silver's propensity for the strange and unusual almost seem commonplace; him drinking beloved's breast milk? Just another Wednesday in The Valley.

But, he cares. Of course he cares with every fiber of his being and his big, black heart. He tracks every change, every reaction, every sore and every bit of swelling surrounding beloved's body, perfectionist, control freak that he is. Their every complaint. Every bit of fluctuating transformation. Every bit of pain. Hell, he'd even bring in (a bribed off) doctor or ten to regularly check on beloved and quell any fears they might have by assuring them this is totally normal. It happens when someone's young and fertile; it is simply their concern he isn't truly surprised by because everything is going according to his plan and if he feigns anything, it's mostly innocence. But, Terry's far from innocent. This is him desiring to be one with beloved in every sense, consuming them, dominating them, wishing to take whatever he can from their youth and in equal measure, no doubt in mind it's a fetish too because the exchange simply turns him on. He is a dirty old man and he deliberately plays into it and just how very dirty and debauched he can be and that all by itself serves as a gleeful kink precisely because it's total filth. Total filth that totally amuses him. Perhaps even more so that he can expertly get beloved to actually allow him to drink from their breasts of their own volition to alleviate their pressure and pain they're feeling and have them thank him no less once it actually helps, perhaps utilizing a few well-learned massage moves of his as a gateway to everything that comes later. Oh, Terry the kindhearted saint, truly! What's best, beloved consented to everything of their own free will. Well, with some conditioning, white lies (in Terry's opinion) and slightly omitted details involved in the process, of course.

But, the ends justify the means.

Sooner or later, he'll sell the story to them in its entirety and have them agree to it regardless.

His good, perfect little calf indeed.

Not entirely out of the question he wont bottle samples and save them up behind a locked glass veneer in a specially refrigerated portion of his private wine cellar only he can drink from.

[plum-pitt]

Holy shit. I just realized i’ve never even yapped about my headcanons for the rise guys. This is a criminal offense on my part! Must be rectified immediately!!

Disclaimer: Don’t think there’s a lot of hot takes here, but feel free to disagree and talk about your own interpretations if you’d like!! Headcanon is fun and i love discussing it. it’s all fictional and since the text doesn’t give us much concrete shit on these topics we’re all free to make our own, equally valid readings of it. :3

Leo- Transmasc He/Him, gay as fuck who here could’ve guessed, ADHD haver, definitely smokes weed. Fluent in spanish from watching telenovellas as a child. Wants to be a flirty whore/aff so fucking bad but whenever he sees someone he’s legitimately attracted to any charisma he might’ve had gets thrown out the window and into a woodchipper in favor of helpless stuttering. His portalling mishaps early in the series have led him to silly sidequests all over the world that he just,,,, doesn’t really talk about. This won’t come up until they’ll end up in some random ass place and find out just how well travelled and connected he actually is. He’s also got a job at Hueso’s for fun and extra cash to fund his addiction to pot and ordering stupid shit he doesn’t need online. He’s a server, wears rollerskates to “move faster” on the job, just ends up running into shit more often than not. Great with the kids tho, performs little sleight of hand magic tricks and tells jokes to make them happy, never had a fussy kid he couldn’t calm down in a snap. Calls himself Hueso’s nephew and nepotism hire, ignoring the fact that he’s actually a decently competent and well liked employee outside of the several skating related accidents. Shell was cracked badly in the invasion, when they sealed it up, he asked Mikey to paint the healed cracks gold, mimicking the japanese practice of Kintsugi.

Mikey- Definitely queer but not into labels ;3 He/Him is what he defaults to, but any pronouns work for them. Semi fluent in italian, don’t ask me why, just feels right, let chef boy speak italian dammit. One of those mfs on instagram who insists on posting pictures of the food he makes, except his actually looks good and not painfully mediocre so they get a pass. Has been tagging walls in hard to reach spots all over the city for years at this point, after Raph confronted her abt it, fearing that he’d get caught someday, he told him that he’d stop. Yeah, that was a lie he kept doing it, just sneakier now. Makes money off of art commissions, still broke as hell tho cuz he spends it all on bougie ass ingredients and art supplies. Post canon definitely delved more into mystics and spirituality, trains with draxum but also took up meditation in his free time. Fucks with weed and the occasional psychedelic when working on art, says it helps get the creative juices flowing. Considering asking donnie to forge some documents for him so he can attend college online and earn a psych degree. His speech patterns flip on a dime between vague, wise fortune cookie therapist man and typical gen-z slang so abruptly it gives anyone not already familiar with him total whiplash.

Donnie- NonBinary They/He Bisexual but i can’t decide if they’re the kind that can’t stop pulling or can’t pull to save his life. Fluent in several languages, ASL, French, Russian, Japanese. Actually one of their few acedemic endeavors that he doesn’t typically show off and gloat about, makes it all the scarier when his siblings hear him muttering vaguely threatening sounding shit in russian when shit doesn’t go their way. Has tried most substances for “research purposes”, ultimately decided he doesn’t like the feeling of their big ol brain being hindered under the influence, this has a few exceptions tho, mainly when it’s with Leo. Has John Bishops IP address and threatens to drop it on 4chan to “see what happens” every time he tries messing with their family or stopping him from “borrowing” material resources from the US government. Almost considered bs-ing his way into college before they used a cloaking broach to shadow april at school for like 2 days. It was there they learned that the education system fucking sucks and he probably knows more than most professors about his topics of interest anyway. Does freelance work for cash, as far as their brothers know they’re not building and selling anything dangerous (which is code for probably arming both sides in a far away military conflict with deathrays). Spends his free time cyber bullying children on roblox and twitter, and caring for their greenhouse of plants that all have names. (yes he grows weed. his GeniusGrown™️ zaza is known far and wide for its consistently excellent quality. and no, Leo does not get a family discount. Mikey does tho.)

Raph- Someone please send the big man some help😭 he/him(?) Definitely queer in some way shape or form but refuses to confront any identity crisis because he’s just so busy keeping his dumb ass siblings outta shit. Tried weed once and will never touch a substance again, makes his anxiety spike real bad when he doesn’t feel in full control of himself. Runs around with Cassandra and sometimes Jr to do vigilante justice on the side of he and his siblings’ usual patrols. Living garbage disposal and i mean that quite literally. He has and will eat anything, rocks, toys, silverware, sometimes on accident, sometimes on a dare, and sometimes just because he wants to. He grew up gnawing on the legs of furniture, rusty sewer pipes, really any nonliving thing that he could fit his choppers around (unlike donnie who just bit any living creature within a 5 mile radius of his location). Since the invasion made Leo step up as leader Raph has been able to step back a little bit and not have everything in a chokehold, he has a mini crisis about his place in the family and his sense of identity without being a leader. Tries to hide how much it’s affecting him but ofc, living with mikey, this does not last and his ass FINALLY gets chucked (very lovingly) into therapy. Loves to knit, definitely in some kind of old lady facebook group centered around it (he has so much nursing home gossip floating around in his brain hehe)

Alright that’s all for the teetlez. lmk if yall wanna hear about my thoughts on the rest of the main cast, or some of the side cast! Can’t promise i’ll have this much to say on all of em but i’ve definitely got thoughts lol. I might even make a post diving into different character dynamics. idk tho, my fingies are tired typing all that shit😭

Anyway i hope u enjoyed my ramblings, have a lovely day :3

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Saturday Lovely Fandom. We’ve reached the S3 finale. I can’t believe it. I thought it would take forever to get to this point tbh. But here we are ha I mean the extended hiatus helped me get here since we've got non season time to fill lol Why I started these. Anyways LOTS of goodies in this one. After last couple of desert eps it is most welcome. We all know why this one is so damn good and iconic. So let’s not delay off we go.

3x14 Threshold

We start the ep out strong. Watching Lucy getting settled into her persona Nova Lin. It’s a great cold open. Harpers V.O paired with all these shots of Lucy. The V.O. is of her meet with Nyla before she went under. Going over her character and her current situation with Nova. Nyla saying her backstory will be fully papered. They won’t be a need to question where she’s been and why.

Having her camp at the grossest and most sketchy hotel in the city. This adds to her financial desperation she needs to sell. That she’s deep in student loan debt and recently released from prison. Needing a cash flow infusion ASAP. Harper asks Lucy what the number one rule is for UC? Lucy tells her no case is worth her life. She will always have the option and opportunity to pull the plug if needed.

If things go sideways to defend herself or run away. Then with some hesitance in her voice she says ’There is no shame in running away…’ her voice betraying the words she is saying. That no quit becoming very prevalent. Lucy very much does not like this option. Harper reminding her of what her objective is. That she must ignore misdemeanors around her unless it advances the case.

Harper also adding policy, procedure and the law are her objectives. She can use deadly force to defend herself and others. But it’s best to talk her way out of a sticky situation. Also letting her know that it’s possible nothing ever happens from this. That Salonga may never make contact. That she just got a paid vacation to the Hep C motel. That waiting around is tough, but even when she is bored and nothing is happening she can’t ever let her guard down.

I do love these shots of Lucy. She goes from adorable blanket burrito, to bored, to bad ass keeping up on her training, back to adorable Lucy. These were such a good set of flashes of her time waiting. Harper reminding her that if it ends up happening she will need to do everything right. One wrong word or look and she’ll be dead. How our cold open ends. Heavy but in the best way.

Lucy arrives back at her room and sees her safety tape has shifted. Someone is in her room. Looks like they’ve watched her long enough to know she’s legit. She enters the room and 3 men are there. Clearly Salonga’s men waiting in the wings. The main heavy is his brother Dahrio. Lucy tries to play it off like she doesn’t need them. That whatever their reason for being in her room is that it's a hard pass.

Smart of her to pretend like she doesn’t want to be involved again. That it isn’t worth the risk to her. Tells them she doesn’t want to be apart of the leaky operation. It got her arrested before so she’s good. They let her know the leak has been plugged. One of them spilling the beans it was Sato that was killed. Eesh ..Lucy keeps up the avoidance game saying she doesn’t want to know that…or them.

Dahrio says she most definitely wants to know them. Looking around the room noting the financial state she’s in. Knowing Nova needs the money after her arrest. Their backstory working beautifully for her. They’ve been watching her making sure she wasn’t a rat for the cops. Cooking for them will at least get her paid. Lucy doesn't budge much with her answer. They don’t give her much choice in the matter after that. Saying she’s going for a ride with them for business.

Lucy asks where? A tinge of nervousness in her voice. Dahrio doesn’t disclose where or what. They just point a gun at her and make her leave her own. Lucy being the smart human she is asks to grab a coat. It's in the closet where she has hidden her secondary piece. She pulls off hiding her second gun. Unfortunately her phone is taken. Her only contact to Harper is confiscated. Lucy tries to talk her way into keeping it. Sadly it doesn’t work. It’s turned off and left behind in the room. Leaving Lucy’s only contact to her life behind….

She is driving them to the undisclosed location. Letting them know how not ok this is. Dahrio telling her to relax. They’re only picking up what they need for the cook. Lucy knows that really means stealing it. She wants no part of this. Even tries to say she has a contact who can get them right stuff. It’ll just take a few days… They turn her down saying they don’t have that kind of time. Lucy is smart and speeds and makes a car swerve when she sees a shop. Begging for them to pull her over.

She has no idea it’s Tim and Jackson. Only that she knows it’s a fellow officer who can help. Once they're pulled over she see's it's Tim/Jackson. Her anxiety shooting through the roof for their safety. The worry is written all over Tim's face when they pull behind them. The way he says her name. *heart clutch* The instant worry in that sexy jawline is prevalent. Jackson asks what they’re gonna do? Tim says treat it like any other stop. But they’re not gonna run anyone in that car. Except we all know this isn’t going to be like any other stop.....

Some beautiful things about this scene other than the glorious touching and flirting (It’s shameless really and I LOVE it) First we get to watch how damn good Lucy Chen is under pressure. It’s flawless really. She assess's the situation really quickly. Then deescalates the gun happy psycho to her right. He wants to pop Tim and Jackson in broad daylight. Lucy tells them before they start shooting cops let her try something first. That she's never gotten a ticket with flirting. Lucy commands this moment. Has absolute control.

This is incredible to watch. Because both of their lives are at stake in this moment. Tim has no idea what he’s walking into. Only that it’s Lucy and he’s being as alert as possible. That's how put together she is. Tim doesn't even realize they want to hurt him. I talk a lot about how Tim has grown and he has. I’m so proud of him. I want to also commend Lucy and the growth she’s made as well.

To watch her go from an unconfident indecisive person to the calm bad ass in this scene is phenomenal. How making a decision under pressure used to send her into a tailspin of epic proportions. To this moment now. Lucy is calm through out the entire interaction. Communicates to Tim everything she needs while the two dopes in the car are none the wiser. Hell they're even a little impressed. Just so proud of our girl and how far she has come. Not only as a kick ass cop but as a person. Wonderful to watch her beautiful growth.

The second beautiful thing about this scene is the glorious silent communication going on here. It’s their go to. A default function between them. The one thing no one else can touch let alone understand but them. This beautiful bond they’ve built to this point saves them both. Lucy is communicating everything she needs through looks, touch and her double speak. Tim is understanding everything she’s throwing his way.

No confusion or him trying to catch up to her. It’s immediately understood what is going on and he rolls with it. Doesn’t miss a damn beat in this interaction. He is out of his mind with worry though. The jaw clenches he’s doing alone scream that. But don’t tell me he wasn’t enjoying this flirting of Lucy’s. Just like Lucy’s confession in 3x09 his replies here have a kernel of truth attached to them. The way she touches his hand and he looks down. Catching her play. I can not. This scene will always make me squee.

It’s that glorious smirk of his that is so telling to me. Like yeah if they gave into their attraction not a doubt in his mind they would have "Fun." Tim is totally ok rolling with flirting to keep her cover. He just has no idea him flirting back is saving his life. Just a natural reflex if you ask me. They flirt so much as is it's really second nature to them. So effortless and smooth.

I do love how he studies her every move in this scene. The way his eye flick to her hand on his. How he’s communicating right back with his own replies non verbally. If you needed further proof of the amazing chemistry Eric/Melissa have it’s right here. Soak it up and enjoy people. We could not be luckier they are our couple.

You can tell how much it’s killing Tim to leave her with these men. They can't drag this out any longer. So he tells her he's going to let her off with a warning. Look at the way he refuses to break eye contact her as he starts to leave. It's so intense and full of worry. The way he glares into that car afterwards. Phew lord. If looks could kill they’d all be dead. That wasn't gif'd but hot damn he wasn't happy about this situation. Lucy gloats to Dahrio after saying 'See Cops are easy. Just have to know how to play them.'

Tim immediately calls Nyla afterwards. Reporting exactly what they saw and who she was with. Harper deciphers Lucy’s code for Tim. Saying she was telling him she was with Salonga’s brother, the supplies clearly the ingredients for the cook. They have to let them rob their ingredients without interfering until it's done.

Tim finds out Harper has lost Lucy after the robbery at the warehouse. The airship arrived too late to track her. They even switched cars and left the other one behind. Nyla has to calm Tim down. (well she tries) He is in full panic mode with her missing. Harper attempts to calm him down with some logic. Letting him know if it's too much she'll pull the plug. Tim doesn't buy that logic for one moment. He knows Lucy too damn well.

Telling Harper even if she is in over her head she won’t quit. It’s not a gear she has and he knows it. Nyla tries to quell his panic again saying she will take her temperature at their check in. Tim telling her to call him right after. Not in a bit RIGHT after. Man is beyond worried and won’t let his anxiety rest till she calls him. I love him staying up till midnight just to hear about her check in. Not like he's going to sleep with all the worry/anxiety anyways. What either of them don’t know is her phone is gone…

We get us some more worried Tim and I’m here for it. Plus he’s in plain clothes. Please sir can I have some more? Mm mm. He is in full freak out mode now. Lucy missed her check in. No amount of logic is going to help. Not even Nyla can slow his roll now. He’s so very worried she’s dead and if not she’s cooking which isn’t good either. Meaning if they don’t get to her before it hits the streets she is in trouble. Breaking the law trouble.

Which Tim knows she won’t let happen. Which worries him further. Because Lucy is going to try to stop it herself then. Or die trying... You can see the worry and panic has now spread to Nyla too. Look at her face. Harper doesn't scare easily. Both of them are worried about Lucy. Even though she is a BAMF, that will only get her so far without resources or backup. Tim’s biggest UC fear for her. To be alone in a fight like this. Death breathing down her neck and having to battle her way out without him.

Lucy is trying to elongate the process of cooking. Buy herself some extra time for them to find her. Dahrio isn’t having it. Tells her to have product done by sunrise or she’s dead. Unfortunately that means she has to deliver. She’s in an absolute panic the next morning. She watches her product get loaded. Trying to find another way out. She reaches for her gun then sees a phone left out.

She grabs the phone but is interrupted by Dahrio. He complains the batch isn’t big enough. Lucy sasses him and says the lab he provided her with wasn’t big enough. He gets aggressive and asks why she’s telling him this now? Lucy continues to be mouthy. Telling him she didn’t feel like having this conversation. Then he hits her and I wanna straight kill him for it. Tells her he’s done with her. She back tracks and apologizes.

Says been a long night. That she’ll make him more if he needs it. He tells her fine but it’ll just be her and his right hand here. The rest needs to hit the street. Lucy says it should all go out together. He questions why? Before she can answer they hear gun shots. One of his men stumbles in and dies. Lucy grabs his phone uses Face ID to get to open. She gets ahold of Harper and lets her know her location. Tells her La Fiera is there before her men arrive.

Lucy holds her own really well with La Fiera. Telling her she has skills she will need. La Fiera is bemused by Lucy’s confidence. Asking her if she wants to work with her? Lucy replies it’s clearly her best option…She isn’t sold yet until Dahrio tells her Lucy is capable to make the rest.

La Fiera then looks at Lucy closer saying she recognizes her. Lucy tries to play it off. Saying she’s a nobody. They hear cavalry arrive and Lucy dispatches of her guard quickly. Such a bad ass god I love it. Tim is apart of the rescue effort. Love him saying ‘ I thought you said she needed to be rescued?’ LOL Trying to pretend he isn't worried.

When they arrive Lucy has her gun pointed at La Fiera. Her man incapacitated. Fantastic. She doesn't need rescuing but them showing up made it easier haha Lucy asks know they got to her so quickly? Not that she is complaining at all. Tim adds in when she didn’t check in they contacted the chief. 400 cops spent the night looking for her. Amazing.

We end our episode at Angela's wedding. Lucy comes up to Grey and Harper at their table. They both compliment how pretty she looks. Grey tells her triumph suits her. She thanks them both for believing in her. Harper tells her worst part is coming. The adrenaline crash. That Monday morning she’s back to patrol. Transients and noise complaints. Lucy says she kind of missed it. We then see her eyes pan to Tim. We all know he is part of what of she really missed. Let's be honest.

What cracks me up is how she bee-lines to Tim the minute she see's him. Abruptly leaving Grey and Harper in the dust. He takes top priority. Their reactions are the best part. Harper isn't in the least shocked about her shooting over to him. She's even a little amused. Grey seems a little confused then realizes where she is headed. These are the moments where EVERYONE knew before they did haha Straight bailing on her boss and mentor the minute she spots her person. She is in search of the tall drink of water that is her former T.O.

Can’t say I blame her look at that man. He is oozing sex in that black tux my god. He can wear the hell out of a suit and even more so out of deliciously fitted black tux. *fans self* Imma need a cold shower just looking at him. Love to climb him like a damn tree. Swing around up there. Sinfully handsome in black. *ahem* Anyways… They lock eyes and make their way over to one another. That raw magnetism they have for each other activated. Always drawing them to one another. Crowds be damned.

We then see the most blatant and obvious elevator gaze from Tim. I love that this flirtatious look was all Eric’s idea. Makes me so happy. Oh captain my captain. Doesn’t even bother hiding his attraction. Subtle as a hammer. The man is checking her out completely. Takes his time drinking her in. Has no shame in the game. This is a family event sir LOL Also your boss is mere feet away from you all. You’re literally having eye sex with Lucy in front of everyone Timothy. Everything from their looks to their dialogue is just dripping with innuendo and I'm here for it. Just look at them above.

You know part of his attraction is how damn impressed he is with her. Lucy being everything he always knew she could be is everything to him. Also we all know how attractive he finds her being a strong kick ass woman. It's a turn on for him he won't dare admit to. Lucy breaks his gaze and the flirting begins. Telling him nice suit. Nova would approve. Tim saying Nova was a little thirsty HA Yes she was but Tim you are looking mighty parched yourself right now.

Tim doesn’t miss a beat in his praise her of. (how far we've come with this kind of thing) Commending her for not only her first op, but taking down two major traffickers in the process. The sheer reverence in his tone. Goodness. The amount of heart eyes he is throwing her way while he says this. Phew lord. Once again you two are not alone Timothy. The amount of UST in this moment is unreal. They are both projecting it so much right now. The loaded looks and smiles I'll never be over it.

The ‘Not bad’ encompassing so much. Lucy takes it in stride for the most part. Also throwing massive heart eyes in reply. Telling him 'Thank you.' with a minor blush on her cheeks. Lucy is flushed by his compliment and walks away before she implodes with glee. Tim is clearly not done with her yet. Or this flirt of theirs. I love him being the one to go for it. Which we all know he does later on as well in s5.

He almost doesn’t say something then musters up the courage. You watch him take a beat first. Contemplating if he should. Tim represses himself for a moment then fights against it. He’s slick af asking her to save him a dance. Making sure to make eye contact with her. Then walks away leaving her giddy and stunned. Her smile when he asks is EVERYTHING. She’s not expecting it but is delighted about it. 🎵Started from bottom now we here 🎵 haha

Tim must’ve been riding high off this wedding, her accomplishments and that dress. Kinda like how I was when he was in plain clothes last ep. Made me compliment Nolan for god sakes LOL It’s making Tim bold af. Asking for her to save him a dance with that smoldering look. oh my. Setting up that electric hug in 4x01 with some flirty foreplay beforehand. Sweet lord. She’s so cute in her smile when she walks away. Melissa's expression is perfection. She's in shock at first then excited about the prospect. Fully accepting his flirty energy before rejoining the crowd. Gah SO GOOD. Quite the tease to end the season for them. Good precursor to S4.

Side notes-non chenford

Sad they don’t get to really have their wedding due to La Fiera.

Also VERY sad this is Jackson’s last ep. Will not be fun writing his departure.

Still can’t believe we’re done with s3. What a trip. Shall head into s4 next week. I love that season so very much. Thank you to all who support these reviews means the world to me. Every like, reblog, and comment bring me so much joy. Shall see you all in 4x01 :)

[quills-of-freedom]

Short Story ~

First kiss with Reiner Braun 💋

Female Bodied Reader X Reiner Braun

You're just about halfway through cadets and the tension between you and Reiner has been thick for a while now. Caught in a downpour, his true gentleman self certainly shines through and you just can't seem to resist his authentic charm...

Tag list info here 🐙

Themes: Fluff. Soft.

Warnings: None.

It’s into year two of the cadets. Reiner finally has you all to himself as you browse the market stalls in the quaint town of the Trost District.

But a summer shower quickly dampens his already low spirits, knowing these feelings for you are strictly forbidden…

As the sky began to darken over Trost, Reiner glanced up at the gathering clouds and wondered if he should call it a day. He was reluctant to; it wasn’t very often he got to have you all to himself.

His golden eyes glanced at you as you pondered over the stall you were standing at – the vendor excited to show the wares. His eyes then fell to the pavement under his feet. You looked gorgeous as usual. The white dress hugged your curves and it flowed right down to just above the ankles. He’d noticed the glances you'd gotten from men, of course he did. He also noticed the second looks he had gotten.

Eyes filled with envy.

Those men thought you were a couple and Reiner secretly loved it. What he wouldn’t give for that to be true.

“Reiner?” Your soft voice called out, snapping his attention.

“What do you think of these gloves for Mikasa? They’d definitely help with her training.”

Sweet y/n.

Whenever you had spare money, you would spend it on your friends. Mikasa had been getting blisters from her pairing blade hilts. They’d joked she takes out her frustration towards Eren’s behaviour out on her grip; pretending they were his neck.

“Uh, yeah. I think they’ll come in handy, sure.” He replied half dazed.

“Everything okay?” you ask as you hand the salesperson the cash. “You seem a bit out of it.”

He instantly pulled up his usual facade. “Me? I’m fine. Looks like it’s going to rain though. We should head back.”

“Okay.” You smile slightly, taking the paper bag with the leather gloves inside. You both began to walk down the street back towards the barracks.

He silently kicked himself.

He wanted to take each step as slowly as possible, trying to wring out as much alone time as he could.

When did it get so bad?

If you didn’t have your swarm of friends around her constantly, and Bertolt didn’t act as his shadow, maybe he wouldn’t be so desperate to be alone with you in the first place.

Why did he even want that though?

He wasn’t dense. He knew he had a soft spot for you and despite his best friend’s warnings, he ignored his advice to stay away. It got worse and worse like an neglected cavity in a tooth. The longer he left it, the deeper you bore into him. He wondered if the pain of a toothache would be better than this constant yearning to be near you.

When did he become so pathetic? When did he become so… weak?

Reiner Braun was the strongest male in the 104th with the highest grades. Dedicated. Focused. Yet this H/C’d girl walking beside him with her sparkling e/c eyes could easily bring him to his knees.

He’d gone through the implications in his head over and over. His friends from back home wouldn’t approve. It’s not like they didn’t like you… In fact he was surprised how well you got along with them.

It was because they didn’t join cadets to fool around with beautiful women.

They were there to return home. Home… He wondered what his family would think of her. That was when he shook his head.

No.

There wasn’t any use in going down that trail.

“Oh no…” You wince as fat rain drops began to fall from the swollen clouds.

It was a summer day so you didn’t think to bring a jacket. In fact, none of your friends earlier had been wearing one.

Within seconds the heavy drops were crashing down all around you both, people ran for cover and merchants began to hurriedly set up a canopy over their goods.

Reiner grabbed your wrist and began to run.

With his free hand, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Summer shower.” He explained. “It won’t last long, but it’ll be a soaker.”

Women around you let out a squeal as a loud rumble of thunder echoed out over the town. Puddles were already forming as Reiner hurriedly led you down the clearing street. As you ran, water splashed around your ankles as the water was already collecting on the road.

“What are you doing?!” you called out over the loud crashing of water. “You’ll catch your death!” By the time you uttered the last word of your sentence, he whipped around and lay his large shirt over your head before returning to pull you along.

Not long after, you’d reached the stables where the transport horses were kept. It was deserted, being the cadets weekend off and were carting the soldiers to their home towns for the next couple of days.

“Dont want that pretty dress to be ruined, do we?” he joked, yet his face stayed serious.

“Reiner…” you whispered in awe, inaudible due to the crashing rain.

Reiner pushed open the large wooden door of the hay storage barn, before ushering you inside.

“Are you crazy?” you laughed once they were tucked in away from the downpour.

Beads of rain rolled down his bare flesh, trailing down his pronounced pectorals and solid abs.

Reiner shrugged. “Didn’t want you getting cold and wet.”

Your eyes softened gorgeously as he turned to rub his hand over his hair, getting excess droplets off him.

His back muscles flexed with every small movement before he turned back around, Goosebumps raising on his skin and his nipples hardening from the chill.

The barn was filled with the relaxing sounds of the heavy pattering of rain on the wooden roof above your heads. This was the side of Reiner you’d been waiting to see.

You knew he had it in him, underneath the crude jokes and the flirting attempts. He was a gentleman through and through. He just liked to hide it for whatever reasons you didn’t know.

His shirt was warm and his scent rolled off it into your nose.

You hadn’t realised how much you actually enjoyed his smell until now. It sent waves of comfort over you, like the smell alone was his big strong arms wrapping around your body, ensuring your safety and comfort.

Yes.

You’d decided.

You had been pondering on your feelings towards your classmate for a little while now and wanted to be sure. The torment of professionalism as well as distractions from training had been hanging over your head.

But there was just something about him that you were pulled to.

He jumped a little when you placed your soft hand gently on his forearm. The skin across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes instantly heated up, turning a hue of pink.

You were so close to him and he got what he always yearned for – for your skin to be touching his.

The next thing he knew you were reaching up and planting a tender kiss on his cheek.

The breath caught in his throat and that pinkness burned more brightly. Every muscle in his body tensed and his eyes enlarged slightly. But what really sent his chest thudding, was when you pulled the kiss away.

You kept your face close to his, now bearing the same pink hue. Your gorgeous eyes glistened, long lashes framing them beautifully. You smiled adorably, pulling at his shirt that was now draped across your shoulders.

“Thank you…”

You spoke softly, your hair a little messed up from the shirt, but it just made you look even more beautiful.

“For what…?” he replied in a haze.

“Being you…”

Those last words penetrated straight through his macho exterior and felt like they pierced into his heart, injecting some sort of warm fluid that quickly spread across his entire chest.

He didn’t even think.

It was like he went on auto pilot and his instincts just took over.

Placing the side of his index finger under your chin, he tilted your head up slightly and closed the gap between you, gently pressing his lips against yours.

His heart smashed against his solid barrel chest as you return the kiss, your lips softer than he had ever imagined them to be.

You run your hands up his shoulders and hung them, opening youe mouth a little wider as you kissed, giving him full permission to explore your mouth.

He did so without hesitation.

Sliding his tongue passed your sweet lips, he entwined it with yours.

It felt like fireworks and explosion were going off around him and he thought he could see stars behind his closed eyelids.

Having you kissing him and getting to be this close and intimate with you was the best feeling he’d ever had.

The adrenaline was richer and sweeter than any fight he’d been in or any training exercise.

It just felt perfect.

It began to get heated pretty quickly as your pace quickened slightly, deep exhales leaving his nose and his brow became furrowed and desperate.

You truly did make him feel weak.

He handles you gently. Although he knows you're strong, you also felt delicate, like his big lumbering body could break you at any moment.

Your fingers run through his hair and you press up against him, his arms wrapping around your form in a sweet embrace.

Although he thought he was the luckiest man alive to be able to kiss you, his body quickly began needing more.

He battled with it, keeping it under control and letting you now take the lead of the kiss.

You gently pull his pouty bottom lip with your teeth, making it that much harder for him to not throw you down and lift up that dress.

Instead, he settled for a pleased grunt, his brows creasing deeper as he became hungrier.

You slowly pulled away.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to hide the dumb grin that spread across his face as he caresses your hair with his right hand.

“What’s with that goofy grin?” you joked quietly; her sweet breath warm on his face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He replied, his grin stretching further.

Smiling, you lower your head almost shyly at that titbit of information.

You then fix your eyes on his. “Really?”

“Of course…” he looked genuinely surprised. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh stop.” You laugh.

He took your hand and placed it on his bare chest over his rapid heartbeat. His honey eyes not removing their gaze from yours. “I swear.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“Well, you have awful taste.” Was what you settled for.

But having Reiner Braun, of whom didn’t really catch your eye at first, now you'd gotten to know him, was extremely attractive; his chest bare and holding you close like this set a burning desire deep within you.

One that you would have to keep under control.

…For now.

You gently place your hand on his jawline before replacing your mouth onto his.

He let out a small unintentional exhale from his nose, more than happy to slide his warm tongue back inside of your mouth.

Your hands gently caressed his broad shoulders, pace quickening and teeth grazing his lip.

You didn’t want to let things get too heated too quickly, but battling your urges seemed like an uphill battle. He’d grown on you a hell of a lot over the last year and a half and having him hold you like this felt amazing.

As Reiner kissed you, he pushed away the little voice inside of his head that was telling him this was all a big mistake and he had just complicated things massively.

He didn’t care.

His feelings for you had always surpassed the doubts that swirled around in his mind. And now, knowing you had some reciprocating feelings it was incomprehensible that he would now turn his back on you.

He grazed his hand lightly up your arm as he slowly and almost gracefully devoured the inside of your mouth. Your skin was the softest thing he’d ever touched like some fine silk from a faraway land. He almost felt like he was ruining you, just by having his unworthy hands upon your flesh.

You pull away once again and he sealed the kiss with another gently peck.

“This is crazy…” you sigh, taking a step back. “We’re training to be soldiers.”

“I know how you feel, believe me.” He muttered, a frown tugging at his mouth. “But I think life’s a little too short to be putting good things on the back burner.”

You pondered on that for a moment.

He began to feel desperate. Now that he had your affections within his grasp, he wasn’t about to let them slip through his fingers.

“I mean…” he took a step forward and took your hand into his large pair. “I know I joke around a lot but you…”

He paused for a moment, choosing his words.

“I didn’t kiss you with the intention of just having you then leaving. …I want us to be together. Properly. Hell, if we weren’t in Cadets, I would be asking you to marry me right now.”

That blushing hue returned to his face as he shyly looked away, not used to spilling out his feelings like this.

But the humiliation and discomfort would be worth it if he managed to gain you as his own.

Again… When did I get so weak?

You do a better job than he at hiding the grin that was threatening to spread across your face.

Instead, your face matched his reddening tone.

“Are you saying… You love me, Reiner Braun?” you spoke softly.

He pushed away every instinct that told him to run and hide.

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am.” He replied steadily.

Now it was your turn to ignore her instincts to run.

“R-Reiner. It’s not that I don’t care for you too, I do. But… Ah, it’s complicated.” You grimaced. “I don’t know when.. uh… I’ll be ready to…” your face was almost glowing at this point.

“Hey hey…” he soothed. “Its okay. I love you. I don’t care about waiting.” His face returned to the familiar serious soldier expression you were so used to seeing during training. “Even if you’d wanna wait until after marriage. I don’t mind.”

You squirm uncomfortably. “Its not that. Maybe we can talk about it… Another time?”

It perplexed him but he didn’t mind. “Of course.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“So…?” He melted back into that cheeky smirk.

The classic Reiner grin. Mischievous and cunning.

“You wanna give this a shot?”

You had noticed the rain had slowed to a stop, the clouds had moved on and the sun was shining once again.

You'd known Reiner now for almost two years. Spent every single day pretty much in his presence. You'd worked together, laughed together and well… Now this.

You reminded herself how strong that urge was to kiss him only minutes ago. Why you initiated closeness in the first place. Your mind fluttered through the pages of your recent memories and how he had been making you feel these days, and how your eyes have been lingering upon him a little longer than you'd have liked.

You let out a sigh before smirking back at him. “Sure. But don’t get comfortable now. Just because you have me doesn’t mean you can start slacking your charm.”

You playfully pushed his cheeks together with your index and thumb, resulting in a chuckle rumble from his broad chest.

“I swear it.” He grinned, kissing her.

“Come on. We’d better head back.” You smile, handing him back his shirt.

[coachamakaadindu]

How to use Facebook Marketing to your Advantage

How to use Facebook Marketing to your Advantage

It is important that all online content is linked back to your Facebook. Ifyou write a blog, make sure that new posts appear on Facebook. You can evenlink your Twitter account to your Facebook page and have all tweets show upthere as well. Another option, besides a Facebook page, is to create a Facebook group. Creating a group on Facebook will make other people more likely to start acommunity…

[inherstars]

Rest | The Last of Us (3,407 words)

This takes place the first winter after Joel an Ellie return to Jackson. The two versions of Joel need to be written differently, and I had the TV version in mind when penning this one, but I actually think it works for both. Joel gets sick, and Ellie takes it upon herself to care for him.

His voice wavered with amusement. Maybe exasperation.  Where Ellie was concerned, it was usually both.

“You have to--you can’t skip the rest.”

“The what?”

“The rest.  Look--you see this thing here?” He reached out, tap-tapping a fingertip to the sheet music before her.  Ellie frowned at it.  “Yeah, that’s not just there to look pretty, it means something.  All the notes mean something.”

She was getting aggravated.  Joel estimated she had another five minutes left in her before she declared the lesson done for the day.

“Well what does that note mean?”

“It means rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

He draped both arms atop his guitar and put his forehead down on them. Christ, this fucking kid.  Ellie’s head hung back, taking her turn with exasperation.

“Whaaaat?”

“Okay.”  He sat up again, fixing the grip on his own guitar.  “Look--no, don’t look at me, look at the notes and listen while I’m playing.  I’m going to slow it down, but follow along.”  He tapped the measure on the paper. “You ready?”

Her head bobbed in a single nod. “Ready.”

“Okay.”  At a slightly-less-than-annotated pace he strummed through the chords, the coarse timbre of his voice moving calmly through the lyrics as he went.  “...I keep a close watch on this heart of mine--rest--I keep my eyes wide open all the time--rest, rest--do you see?”

“Ohhh.  There’s more than one.”

“Right.  You need to learn them and watch out for them, at least until you start to pick up the natural rhythm of how the song flows.  Usually after the first go-through it will stick in your head where you’re meant to pause, and for how long.”

She reached out, picking up the folded booklet and scanning ahead.  She reread the notation, the rests, the lyrics.

“Holy shit, is this song about you or what?”

Joel took it from her with a sigh.  “Wow, you made it three whole minutes longer than I thought you would.”

“What? No--wait, hey!  Give it back!”  He held it easily out of her reach, pivoting his arm away when she tried to stand and grab for it instead.  “How am I supposed to practice without sheet music?”

“You’ve got like three books in your room, you can practice with those.”  He closed the music, tossing it behind him on the bed.  “Besides which, you need to work on your chord progressions some more.  Focus on that for now.”

Ellie sulked at him with an exaggerated pout, by which he was moved not an inch.  He bumped her with his elbow.

“Git.”

She stood, swinging her own guitar around by its strap, letting it rest at an angle across her back.

“Stupid Johnny Cash.”  Her voice dropped a mocking octave. “Steady like a train, sharp like a razor.”

Joel shook his head, looking back and forth between his picking and his silent fingering on the frets.

“Should’ve never let you watch that movie.”

She made it to the doorway and turned in place as she backed out, batting her eyes at him.

“Love youuuuuu.”

“Git,” he said again, head bowing further, but the crooked curl of a smirk betrayed him.

Ellie was halfway down the hall to her own room before she heard the distinctive sound of Joel’s sneeze.

“Bless you,” she called out, and paused to listen for a response.  Nothing.

Then, faintly, “M-hm.”

He was so weird.

In good faith Ellie practiced for awhile, grimacing through the slow but unavoidable pinch and pain of developing the stupid calluses Joel kept going on and on about.  After a half hour she could no longer feel two of her fingers, so she supposed that was a good start.

All throughout, and in-between the occasional inept chord change, she heard bursts of his crackling cough from the other room.  When she finally unslung the guitar and returned it to its case, she realized it had been a background noise for most of the day.

“Hey Joel--” she called out, standing, then startled as he appeared abruptly in the doorway. “Jesus!”

“Hey,” he interrupted, snagging in a rough sniffle.  “Tommy’s on the horn, bunch of the hogs got out. I’m gonna run over and give him a hand, but I don’t know how long I’ll be.  You OK fixing yourself dinner, if I’m not back in time?”

“Oh shit,” she said excitedly. “Can I come?”

“No.” Unflappable. “You got homework.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.  Do your homework.  Maybe clean this up while you’re at it,” as he backed a way he made a vague gesture around the perfectly… well, mostly acceptable state of her room.  “Already looks like a sty.”

Ellie followed him only as far as her own threshold, frowning as he picked up his buckskin coat and shrugged into it.

“How do you know I have homework?”

“It’s like you forget I already did this with one smartass kid before you ever came around.”  He barely got his arm into a sleeve before he had it pressed to his face, shoulders hunching with another shotgun sneeze.  He sighed.  Sniffled.  Muttered a barely audible, “Shit.”

Ellie came forward a bit more, zeroed on him. “Hey, what’s with--”

“Homework.”  He snagged a scarf and was already halfway out the door.  “And eat something other than pickles for dinner.”

She stood frowning, even after the shudder of the shutting door had quieted, then turned reluctantly back to her room.

“Fuck you, pickles are awesome.”

*******

Ellie polished off homework in record time, and even managed a dinner of something that contained, but was not exclusively comprised of, pickles.  She was a woman of her word, if nothing else.  Halfway through packing both their lunches for the next day, the front door finally blew open with blustering drama, and Joel made his return.

Or something vaguely in the shape of Joel.

The overall size and dimensions were right, the buckskin coat was the same, though both it and his hair were heavily mantled in snow.  He was nothing but mud and slush from the knees down, hands evidently so frozen that all he could do was stand there and paw ineffectively at his gloves, trying to get them off.

Ellie took in the exhausted, punch-drunk slump of his shoulders with sympathy and amusement.  Good thing she didn’t join him after all.

“You look like you smell awesome.”

“Fucking hate hogs.”

“But you love bacon,” she countered.

“After tonight, I only like it for the sense of revenge.”  After watching multiple unsuccessful attempts to remove his gloves, Ellie finally came to his assistance.  She didn’t even want to touch them, gunked as they were with mud, ice, and probably pig shit, but it was either that or watch him stand there all night, swaying like a Mortal Kombat character.  Just as she got the second one off he planted a bare hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her from him as he raised his other arm to his face.  

“Ellie, stand clear--”

“Huh?”

He buckled into his elbow with another sneeze, this time lingering his arm in place afterwards, long after he should have simply relaxed and moved on.  By the time it dropped away, he found Ellie ogling him with arch worry.  He sighed, apologetic, and the hand still at her shoulder squeezed once before letting go.  “Sorry.”

But she just stood there, still holding his gloves, having unexpectedly run dry of all sarcasm.  She didn’t like this.

“Are you sick?”

“Nah, I’m…”  Well, yeah.  But also, no.  “The weather’s just kicking the shit out of me.  I’m fine. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re saying fine way too much for it to actually be fine.”

Joel had just enough strength for another sigh.  He took the gloves from her, doing an awkward flamingo balance from one foot to the other to climb out of his boots.  The feeling of ice-cold, mud-soaked denim on his bare skin made him grimace. “You finish your homework?”

No no no.  She wasn’t being put off.  Not like this.  “Joel.”

He flicked a mild look to the kitchen. “That pickle jar looks a lot emptier than I remember.”

“Joel.”

“Hey.”  He reached out, cupping the subtle angle of her jaw, framing her entire face in the warm, rough cushion of his palm.  Calluses, burred knuckles, wind-chapped skin and a touch so gentle she could cry.  “It’s fine.  I’m just beat.  Gonna leave all this shit outside, I’ll worry about it in the morning, then I’m gonna shower and hit the sack.”  Her eyes were searching him still, burrowing into him the same as when he’d sworn that his story about the hospital in Salt Lake was true.  That was the look of reckoning, and it chilled him worse than any winter storm.  “Homework’s good?  Got enough to eat?”

Her gaze softened and dropped, the same as when she’d chosen -- willingly or otherwise -- to believe his last lie.

“Yeah.”

His hand fell away, and he gave her a small, punctuating nod.

“Alright, good.  You lock up for me?”

“Okay.”  

Joel finally got free from both boots, his coat, depositing everything carelessly on the snowy mat outside.  He squeezed her shoulder again as he soldiered tiredly to his room.  “Night, kiddo.  Love you.”

Only her eyes tracked him.

“Love you too.”

*******

She didn’t know why she thought sleeping would help.  Useless idea.  Total mistake.

Ellie even put it off for as long as she could, hoping that if she fucked around and wasted enough time doing other dumb, meaningless, time-consuming shit that eventually her brain or body would concede that, okay, sleep did sound pretty appealing.

Nope.  No part of her was having it.

It didn’t help that, despite his best efforts, Joel couldn’t just lay there and suffer in silence.  With clockwork regularity the silence and stillness broke with his wracking cough, the occasional bedframe squeak revealing the restrained force of it.  By midnight he just gave up trying to sleep altogether.

Ellie lay awake, listening, and saw his dark silhouette lean into her room just enough to gently close her door, trying to preserve her own presumed sleep.

Five minutes later she fumbled a hoodie over her pajamas and padded out after him.

He spotted her just as he heaped limply onto the sofa, and immediately sighed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, El.  Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”  She yanked the hoodie’s zipper up with satisfaction. “I’ve been up the whole time.”

Joel loosened a slow breath, regarding her… then the empty living room… then back to her.

“On account of me?”

She didn’t want to lie, but also didn’t want to burden him with any additional guilt.

“One way or another. Kinda.”

He grunted, disappointed in himself, and his own once-again-stellar parenting. “...you oughta be in bed.”

She roughened her voice in an approximation of his own, mimicking a slightly surly swagger to the couch before flouncing down beside him. “So oughta you.”

Joel side-eyed her.  She tucked her chin down, eyes upturned, lips pressed in a thin but irrepressible smile.

“...fuckin’ hard-headed, stubborn, pain-in-my ass--”

“Yeahyeahyeah, I’m a total superstar, I know.”  Ellie reached for his arm, lifting it well over her head, then curled it around her shoulders.  Joel let her manipulate him without complaint, only turning his head away and uncurling his fingers to shield her from a single, congested cough.  When he turned back, she plastered her hand over his forehead like she’d been waiting for the chance.

“What is this,” he asked.

“This is what it feels like when somebody cares about you.”  She met his eyes.  “Dumbass.”

“Hm.”

Her palm was heavy and cool, the pressure of it on his brow oddly comforting.  Judging by the way she frowned, and searched him, and nervously licked her teeth, she didn’t like what it told her.  Joel sighed and reached up, taking her hand down in his own.

“Come on.  Enough of this.  You need to get back to bed.  Get some actual sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll… I don’t know, try to lie down for a couple more hours before work.”

“Before work?  Are you kidding me?” “Shit’s gotta get done, Ellie--”

“Yeah,  by somebody else, Joel!”

“More hands makes--”

“Fuck that dirty-south, cowboy, Marlborough-martyr bullshit for two minutes, would you?”

He leaned way back, rolling the whites of his eyes at her.  “Dirty south?”  When she thumped her palm against his shoulder he feigned an injured, “Ow!”

Inwardly he struggled not to laugh. Holy Christ was she angry.  Despite his perfect deadpan, there was still a tiny warble of amusement in his voice as he demanded, “What’s got into you?”

Oh, she’d been waiting for that.  She’d knocked at the door and he’d opened it all the way.

“Rest,” she accused, emphatic.  “You can’t skip the rest.”

Joel rubbed sorely where she’d thumped him, relaxing from his recoiled lean.

“Don’t know why you’re so mean to me.  Probably too many pickles.”

Ellie stuttered with a sniggering laugh, shoving him with both hands.  Gently, this time. “Asshole.”

“Hm.”

“I mean it.”

“Alright, you mean it.  I’ll tell Tommy in the morning, I need a day.”  He checked her with a look and leaned away again. “Maybe two.”

“Good.”  She pushed up from the couch, hands jammed into her hoodie pockets as she marched off.  

“Now where are you going?”

“To get you a blanket.  And I don’t know… soup, or something.  On account of you being so bad at looking after yourself.”

He watched her go, itching a knuckle under his nose.  “Think you can manage tea?”

Ellie cheered immediately, already detouring for the kitchen.  “Oh yeah, good idea.”

“Alright, then.”  He let his head rest back, smirking faintly. “Hope I don’t regret this.”

*******

Ellie stared, fascinated, the TV battering them softly in blue and white light.

“None of this makes sense.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much the entire theme of the 1980s.”  Joel set his tea aside and picked up the cardboard VHS sleeve beside him, garishly patterned with the box art from season one of Full House.  “You had to be there.”

“I’m kinda glad I wasn’t.”

She’d managed to brew him a decent mug of tea, heavy-handed on the honey, just how he liked it.  He’d been hesitant to waste a bowl of perfectly good soup on his already anemic appetite, but Ellie brooked no argument and brought it to him anyway.  They’d decided what to watch by reaching blindly into the box of old VHS cassettes, and now she was nestled close against his ribs, head rested back on his shoulder, marveling at the grainy, laugh-tracked evidence of a world gone before she was ever conceived.

Every now and then Joel looked down at the crown of her head, grateful, always returning to the TV before the little fragments of thankfulness could become too much for him.

Despite the contentment, the cold remained a persistent thorn in his side.  Every time Ellie felt his chest expand abruptly against her she sat forward slightly, giving him room to half-twist away with a cough or sneeze muffled to the inside of his far arm.

He’d let the breath back out of his lungs, bleary, and face the TV with a few blinks to clear his eyes.  Ellie would retake her place, squirming to close the gaps between her back and his ribs.

“You OK?”

“I’m a’right, kiddo.”

“OK.”

Every time, deliberate, with a sincerity that tattooed her like ink, ever deeper and indelible, into his skin.

Every ache and pain and exerted muscle from the past few days was catching up with him now, his sinuses blocked miserably shut.  After a particularly strenuous coughing fit he turned back around to find Ellie’s eyes more focused and ferreting and worried.  He needed to work a little harder to put her back at ease.

“Here, look,” he croaked, redirecting her to the TV.  “See this guy?”

“Mr. Goofy Fucking Hawaiian Shirts?”

“Yeah.  He used to date Alanis Morisette.”

“No way!”

“Yeah.” He chuffed, head shaking.  “Wild, right?”

“She’s so angry!  I love her.”

“Yeah, well. She’s angry about a lot of stuff you hopefully won’t have to worry about for quite awhile.”

“I guess. She still wrote good songs.”

“That she did.”

“Hey, speaking of, what does it mean to go down on somebody?”

Joel paled, making a long, desperately uncomfortable noise in his throat.  Ellie let him suffer for a good five seconds before donkeying with laughter.

“Relax,” she cackled, ear-to-ear grinning.  “I’m fucking with you.”

He flattened a hand at his chest.  “Jesus. How is this helping me feel better?”

“Oh my God. That was amazing. I almost wish I’d saved that one until I could actually see your face.”

“You know you can go back to your own room any time, right?.”

“And miss this?  Hell no.”

Joel quieted, checking her again in the dimness, watching the play of light on her face, her lingering grin.  He smiled faintly to himself before his eyes relaxed back to the TV.

“Yeah, it’s pretty alright.”

“Yeah it is.”

He didn’t remember drifting off, but at some point his mind disconnected from the brightly-colored spectacle glowing in the dark before him, the rising and falling tide of canned laughter.  Eventually Ellie’s hand spread lightly open at his chest, jostling him just enough to stir him awake.  His head picked up, eyes cracked open to see her cast in luminous blue.  Her face, serious but calm.  She curled the backs of her fingers to his forehead.

“You’re still really warm.  How come we don’t have a thermometer?”

“Someone’s gotta have one.” He blinked groggily.  “We’ll ask tomorrow. I’m sure I’m running a temperature… suppose it doesn’t matter how much.”

She started to peel the blanket from him, and he stopped her.

“Joel,” Ellie chastened.  He stilled her hand with a touch.

“No, it’s alright.”

“You need to lie down.”

“I know, I will. I’m gonna sleep out here.  I wake up coughing if I try to lay too flat.”

She wasn’t entirely pleased with this answer, but it was enough of a concession that she was willing to negotiate.

“Okay, I’ll help.”

He technically didn’t need the assistance, but clearly it was important to her to be a part of his recovery.  She lifted and transferred his legs to the couch by the ankles, assembling exactly the right pillows behind him so he could recline without hurting his neck.  His eyes followed her, lips softly smirking, as she pulled the blankets back over him and tucked them in at the edges.  When there was nothing left for her to fuss at she stood back, hands jammed into her hoodie pockets.

“You want me to turn the TV off?”

Joel’s head lolled to observe the glowing blue square, a single white NO INPUT blinking in the top corner.

“No, leave it.  It’s comforting.”

She looked at the screen.  Looked at him.

“You’re super fucking weird.”

Joel’s hands lifted, rotated outward from the wrist, and dropped limply back to his chest.  Look, what can you do?

“Get some sleep,” he urged.

“OK.  But you’re not going to work tomorrow.  We have like… I don’t know, forty more seasons of this stupid show to go through. Somehow.  Hopefully that hideous baby gets cuter.”

“She really doesn’t.  You know there was actually two of them playing the same kid?”

“What?”  She broke into a helpless grin.  “That’s… awful.  Imagine giving birth to a horrible-looking gremlin baby, and you’re like, oh well, at least there’s just the one.  And then: OH NO.”

Joel erupted with sniggering laughter, hiding his face against the inside of his arm as it devolved into another coughing fit.

“Fuck me,” he crackled. “Get out of here, please. Go to bed.”

“OK.”  Ellie leaned in and bent over him, kissing his forehead.  “Feel better.”

“Working on it.”

She started to turn, but Joel caught her wrist.  Ellie looked back, expectant, but he just lay there a moment, holding her hand, his thumb caressing into the crease of her palm.

“Thank you.”

She softened, awkward, fingers curling around his thumb in a single, meaningful squeeze.

“Of course.”

“I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too.”  She held onto his hand until both their arms were extended, then let him go with an impish smile. “I ate like six pickles.”

“Jesus Christ, girl.”

She receded into the dark, giggling, leaving him in the backwash of blue light.

“Good night.”

[gatheringbones]

[“Many landlords were part-timers: machinists or preachers or police officers who came to own property almost by accident (through inheritance, say) and saw real estate as a side gig. But the last forty years had witnessed the professionalization of property management. Since 1970, the number of people primarily employed as property managers had more than quadrupled. As more landlords began buying more property and thinking of themselves primarily as landlords (instead of people who happened to own the unit downstairs), professional associations proliferated, and with them support services, accreditations, training materials, and financial instruments. According to the Library of Congress, only three books offering apartment-management advice were published between 1951 and 1975. Between 1976 and 2014, the number rose to 215. Even if most landlords in a given city did not consider themselves “professionals,” housing had become a business.

The evening’s speaker was Ken Shields, from the Self Storage Brokers of America. After selling his insurance company, Shields had begun looking for a way to get into real estate. He started out with rooming houses, which meant he started out renting mainly to poor single men. “Very nice cash flow. But I no longer have them.” The room chuckled. “I made some good money, and I mean, I love to get money, but I’m still just as happy not running around and dealing with some of these dregs of society who live in rooming houses.”Sherrena, who owned a couple of rooming houses, laughed along with the room. Then Shields found self-storage. “It’s got the residual incomes of an apartment building, but,” he lowered his voice, squinted, “you don’t have the people. You just got their stuff!…This is the sweetest spot in the whole American economy. A receptacle for an enormous cascade of money.”

The landlords loved Ken Shields, even if he did live in Illinois. When he finished his speech, the room broke into applause. The RING president, a mustached man with a full pouch for a stomach, stood up clapping. When there wasn’t a speaker, he often organized round robins. One such evening, a woman from Lead and Asbestos Information Center, Inc., had started off by announcing, “There is money to be made on lead,” to a room of landlords who more often lost money trying to abate it. One landlord asked whether he would have to report the presence of asbestos to the city or the tenants if he tested for it. “No, you don’t,” the woman had said.

The conversation moved on and someone else had asked about garnishing wages. A lawyer informed the room that a landlord was allowed to garnish a tenant’s bank account and up to 20 percent of his or her income, but the last $1,000 was exempt. And welfare recipients were off-limits.

“How about intercepting their tax refund?” Sherrena had asked.

The lawyer looked a bit stunned. “Noooo, only the government can do that.”

Sherrena already knew that. She had looked into it before. Her question wasn’t a question; it was a message to Eric, Mark, Kathy, and everyone else in the room that she would do almost anything to get the rent. Many white landlords knew money could be made in the inner city, where property was cheap, but the thought of collecting payments on the North Side, let alone passing out eviction notices, made them nervous. Sherrena wanted them to know that she could help.”]

matthew desmond, from evicted: poverty and profit in the american city, 2016

[zvaigzdelasas]

“How did we lose to China in Indonesia!?”

This is the question being worriedly debated in government offices and executive suites throughout Japan. [...]

Japan’s project plan called for a five year construction period, including a full one year trial operation period. If construction were to start in 2018 the line would be ready to take passengers in 2023. Total cost would be some Rupiah 64 trillion (JPY 534.6 billion, or $4.5 billion).   The Japanese government operating through JICA (the Japanese International Cooperation Agency) would finance 75% of the cost with a 0.1% long term yen loan (terms and conditions in conformity with international convention for concessionary financing). The remaining 25% would have to be raised by the Indonesian government and private enterprises.   Importantly, Japan’s concessionary loan would--in accordance with international conventions for official government lending--require an Indonesian government guarantee.   Then, in October 2014, as the Japanese agencies and companies prepared for the project, something happened in Indonesia:  the swearing in as president of Joko Widoko.  Campaigning for office Joko had called for greater infrastructure investment, and it was taken for granted that he was a supporter of the Java high speed rail project. However, Joko had campaigned as a “man of the people” whose priority would be improving welfare for Indonesia’s common and rural people over the more affluent people in the big cities.[...]

on March 26, Joko visited Beijing and met Chinese president Xi Jinping.  Xi publicly announced support for the Indonesian high speed project and the two governments signed a memorandum specifying China’s interest in the Jakarta-Bandung line. Well before the Joko-Xi meeting China had entered competition for the project. China’s proposal was for a total project cost of Rupiah 74 trillion (JPY 618.2 billion, $5.2 billion). The cost was higher than Japan’s, but China committed to financing the entire amount at an interest rate of 2%.  Moreover, the project would be completed in three years--meaning taking passengers in 2018 [lol]. [...]

That China was awarded the project and Japan rejected seems to owe mainly to China’s willingness to accept the financial risk of the project (i.e., to forego an Indonesian government guarantee and also, thereby, possibly to finesse international ODA norms) and of Japan’s inability or unwillingness to do so.   The Toyo Keizei piece makes the point that such projects’ risks are not small. Taiwan is an example. Taiwan’s high-speed rail line enjoys relatively heavy business passenger traffic, which allows relatively expensive ticket prices. But the high prices seem to have discouraged non-business passengers, such that ridership numbers have fallen short of forecasts and revenues have proven insufficient to cover debt service requirements.   Compared with Taiwan, Indonesia is a very poor country. Given that business traffic will be relatively limited, ticket prices will have to be set low to be affordable for average citizens (and to avoid political backlash). Generating sufficient cash flow for debt service looks like a formidable challenge. That China is willing to take the risk speaks volumes about how China views infrastructure aid in the Asian region.  According to press reports China sweetened its offer in other ways as well, including committing to establish a joint venture with Indonesian firms to produce rolling stock for high-speed rail, electric rail, light rail systems, not only for Indonesia, but also for export to other Asian countries; to transfer related technology [!!]; and also to renovate and rebuild train stations.

2015