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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 months

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Chris Britt. Florida Politics

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

February 20, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

Both global and national affairs appeared to shift over the holiday weekend. Events of the past week or so highlighted the global stakes of not stopping the aggression of Russia’s president Vladimir Putin. In turn, those global stakes highlighted that Trump’s MAGA Republicans are strengthening Putin’s hand.

Since October, MAGA Republicans have managed to delay a national security supplemental bill that would provide additional aid to Ukraine. Although a bipartisan majority of Congress supports the measure, House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) recessed the House on Thursday without taking it up, just days after former president Trump attacked the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and suggested he would urge Russia to “do whatever the hell they want” to U.S. allies if they didn’t meet a guideline of spending 2% of their gross domestic product on their own military forces.

On Friday, February 16, Russian authorities murdered opposition leader Alexei Navalny in prison, where he was being held on trumped-up charges, and on Saturday, Russian forces advanced into the front-line city of Avdiivka.

The Munich Security Conference, the world’s largest gathering on international security policy, met this year in the midst of these events, from Friday, February 16, to Sunday, February 18. At Saturday’s lunch, Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen of Denmark made a surprise announcement. Denmark, she said, will donate all its artillery to Ukraine. She suggested other countries, too, could do more than they already have.

According to Jack Detsch and Robbie Gramer of Foreign Policy, Frederiksen’s announcement “left attendees grappling with some existential questions: Are they prepared not just to help Ukraine but also to defend Europe from a possible Russian attack on a NATO country? Are democracies capable of standing up against the threat of territory-grabbing dictatorships like Russian President Vladimir Putin’s?”

Sweden today announced it will donate about $682 million in equipment and cash to Ukraine, its 15th aid package to Ukraine since the 2022 Russian invasion. The European Union today announced it is committing 83 million euros, or about $89 million, in humanitarian aid for those in Ukraine and Moldova affected by the war. Three weeks ago it approved $54 billion in military aid.

There is increasing pressure, as well, to transfer Russia’s frozen assets to Ukraine. On Saturday, February 17, the U.S. Justice Department, which is in charge of a task force called “KleptoCapture,” transferred $500,000 in forfeited Russian funds to Estonia for fixing Ukraine’s electrical transmission and distribution systems. Biden promised more sanctions against Russia on Friday and has again called for House Republicans to pass the national security supplemental bill.

Indeed, the real elephant in the room is the fact that MAGA Republicans in the House are refusing to commit more U.S. aid. The Institute for the Study of War, a nonprofit research organization, assessed on Sunday that “delays in Western security assistance to Ukraine are likely helping Russia launch…offensive operations along several sectors of the frontline in order to place pressure on Ukrainian forces along multiple axes.”

MAGA Republicans are refusing that aid although it is popular both in Congress and among Americans at large. A Pew study released Friday, before news of Navalny’s murder broke, showed that 74% of Americans believe the war in Ukraine is important to U.S. interests; 59% say it’s important to them personally.

House speaker Johnson condemned Putin as “a vicious dictator” over the weekend and said he was “likely directly responsible” for Navalny’s death. But on Monday he posted to Twitter a photograph of him standing alongside Trump, apparently at Trump’s West Palm Beach golf club, flashing a smile and a thumbs-up sign. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) has vowed to try to throw Johnson out of the speaker’s chair if he even brings Ukraine funding to the floor. Trump himself referred to Navalny’s murder on Sunday simply by calling it a “sudden death” before launching into an attack on the United States.

On Sunday, former representative Liz Cheney (R-WY) came out and said it: the Republican Party has a “Putin wing.” She said: “The issue of this election cycle is making sure the Putin wing of the Republican Party does not take over the West Wing of the White House.” Conservative pundit Bill Kristol agreed, in italics: “The likely nominee of one of our two major political parties is pro–Vladimir Putin. This is an astonishing fact. It is an appalling fact. It has to be a central fact of the 2024 campaign.”

Russian authorities have cracked down on those expressing sorrow for the death of opposition leader Alexei Navalny and are refusing to hand over his body to his mother and lawyer, who flew to the penal colony north of the Arctic Circle to reclaim it, saying they need to keep the body for “chemical analysis.”

Meanwhile, a Russian who defected to Ukraine last year has been killed in Spain, and Russian authorities have arrested for “treason” a dual Russia-U.S. citizen who lives in Los Angeles as she traveled in Russia after having participated in pro-Ukraine rallies.

Putin is facing an election next month, and he may have intended the murder of Navalny to frighten other opponents and intimidate Russian voters. But it is possible it had the opposite effect.

Yesterday, Navalny’s widow, Yulia Navalnaya, stepped into his place, saying: “Putin didn’t only kill Alexei Navalny as a person. He wanted to kill our hope, our freedom, our future. But the most important thing we can do for Alexei and for ourselves is to go on fighting. I will continue Alexei Navalny’s work. Continue to fight for our country. I call on you to stand alongside me. To share not only the grief and unending pain that has enveloped us and won't let go. I also ask you to share the fury and hate for those who dared to kill our future. I speak to you in the words of Alexei, in which I believe truly: There is no shame in doing little. There is shame in doing nothing. In allowing them to scare you…. By killing Alexei, Putin has killed half of me. Half of my heart and my soul. But I have another half and it tells me that I don’t have the right to give in.”

Today she urged the European Union not to recognize the results of Russia’s March election, saying that “a president who assassinated his main political opponent cannot be legitimate by definition.”

In the U.S., there has not been any apparent move from House Republicans to come back into session to approve the national security package. Indeed, Trump appears to be strengthening his hand over the mechanics of the Republican Party, with the state parties he salted with loyalists lining up behind him, supporters in Congress killing legislation at his demand, and lawmakers who are interested in actually making laws exiting Congress out of fear or frustration.

But the apparent support of MAGA Republicans for Putin is unlikely to play well in the U.S. Today, Republican candidate for president Nikki Haley, former governor of South Carolina, tricked the Fox News Channel into covering live what she said was a major speech, likely leading producers to think she was withdrawing. Rather than doing so, she came out swinging with an attack on Trump.

Aaron Rupar of Public Notice recorded her comments, spoken with the backdrop of the past week in everyone’s mind. Americans “deserve a real choice,” she said, “not a Soviet-style election where there's only one candidate and he gets 99 percent of the vote.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #The Putin Party #The Putin Caucus #MAGA Republicans #Aid for Ukraine #War in Ukraine #NATO

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beardedmrbean · 2 years

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Fired CNN producer John Griffin accused of molesting a child during "sexual training" is seeking to resolve his federal criminal case with a plea deal before the end of the year, court documents indicate.

Griffin's attorney has requested a two-month stay on the federal charges so they could discuss a plea arrangement, according to documents filed in the case this week. Federal prosecutors have agreed to the stay, Griffin's attorney David Kirby wrote in the court filings.

Griffin, a former Connecticut resident who lived in Stamford and Norwalk, is accused by federal authorities of trying to lure women and their daughters to his Vermont ski home for “sexual training.” In one case, a Nevada woman flew to Boston where Griffin picked them up and brought them to his Vermont house, court documents said.

The adoptive mother was arrested and sentenced to eight to 20 years in prison in Nevada in connection with the incident. The child and her guardian, who are living in Connecticut, claim in a lawsuit filed in January against Griffin that the girl was forced to commit sex acts while she was at the Vermont home. The child was 9 when the incidents allegedly occurred in July 2020, court documents in the lawsuit said.

The attorney for the child is now contending his client was the victim of sex trafficking, according to court documents filed last week.

Kirby said in court documents filed in June that Griffin had been offered a plea deal but talks would be stalled during the summer months. In a motion filed Tuesday, Kirby contends he will not file any motions in the next two months so talks can continue to resolve the case with a plea agreement.

Kirby wants a judge to stop the clock on speedy trial proceedings until Nov. 20 to allow the plea negotiations to proceed, the motion stated.

"The defendant is presently in custody, serving time that will be counted toward whatever sentence he will receive," Kirby wrote in the document. "The running of the speedy-trial clock is putting undue pressure on the parties to resolve the matter, making it difficult to achieve a thoughtful resolution."

The lawsuit has been on hold until the criminal proceedings are finished. Griffin was required to sell the Vermont ski house and give his half of the proceeds — $1 million — to the federal court so he will have the funds to pay any fines or restitution as part of his sentence, court documents show.

Griffin, a former CNN producer for Chris Cuomo and others, was charged by federal authorities last December with three counts of using a facility of interstate commerce to attempt to entice minors to engage in unlawful sexual activity.

The 10-page indictment issued by a Grand Jury alleges that Griffin frequently used Kik, a messaging application, and Google Hangouts to lure women with young daughters to meet him at the Vermont ski house he had bought with his wife to provide “sexual training” on how to be “submissive” to men. Griffin boasted in web chats that he had trained girls as young as 7 years old, federal authorities said.

His wife, who filed for divorce weeks after he was taken into custody, was not implicated in the scheme, officials said.

#nunyas news

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eco-tourismexperiences · 2 months

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Unlock Financial Freedom: Essential Personal Finance Tips for a Prosperous Future

Welcome to a world where financial freedom is within reach, and wealth-building is a reality. Are you ready to take control of your finances, build a solid foundation for the future, and achieve your financial goals? If so, you're in the right place! Join me as we explore a wealth of personal finance tips that will empower you to make smart financial decisions, grow your wealth, and create a life of abundance and prosperity.

1. Budgeting Basics: Take Charge of Your Finances

Budgeting is the cornerstone of financial success, providing a roadmap for managing your money and achieving your financial goals. Start by tracking your income and expenses, identifying areas where you can cut back, and setting realistic spending limits for each category. By creating a budget that aligns with your priorities and values, you can take control of your finances and make informed decisions about how to allocate your money.

2. Emergency Fund: Prepare for the Unexpected

Building an emergency fund is essential for financial security, providing a safety net to protect you against unexpected expenses or income disruptions. Aim to save at least three to six months' worth of living expenses in a high-yield savings account or money market fund. Having an emergency fund in place will give you peace of mind knowing that you're prepared for whatever life throws your way.

3. Debt Management: Tackle Debt Wisely

Debt can be a major obstacle to financial freedom, but with a strategic approach, you can take control of your debt and work towards becoming debt-free. Start by prioritizing high-interest debt and creating a repayment plan that fits your budget. Consider consolidating debt with a balance transfer or personal loan to lower your interest rates and streamline your payments. With dedication and discipline, you can pay off your debt and pave the way for a brighter financial future.

4. Invest for the Future: Grow Your Wealth

Investing is a powerful wealth-building tool that can help you achieve your long-term financial goals, such as retirement, homeownership, or financial independence. Start by educating yourself about different investment options, such as stocks, bonds, mutual funds, and real estate. Consider working with a financial advisor to develop a personalized investment strategy based on your risk tolerance, time horizon, and financial goals. With careful planning and patience, you can grow your wealth and secure your financial future.

5. Financial Education: Continuously Learn and Grow

Financial education is key to achieving financial success and building wealth over the long term. Take the time to educate yourself about personal finance topics, such as budgeting, saving, investing, and retirement planning. Read books, listen to podcasts, attend workshops, and seek out reputable sources of financial information to expand your knowledge and make informed decisions about your money. Remember, the more you know, the better equipped you'll be to navigate the complexities of the financial world.

Conclusion: Take Control of Your Financial Destiny

In conclusion, personal finance tips are essential tools for taking control of your financial destiny, building wealth, and achieving your financial goals. By implementing budgeting basics, building an emergency fund, tackling debt wisely, investing for the future, and continuously educating yourself about personal finance topics, you can pave the way for a life of abundance, prosperity, and financial freedom. So why wait? Start implementing these personal finance tips today and unlock the door to a brighter financial future.

"The goal isn't more money. The goal is living life on your terms." – Chris Brogan

"Visit our website to connect with like-minded individuals who share your passion for Workout."

#Personal finance tips

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crimechannels · 8 months

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By • Olalekan Fagbade Proceeds of kidnapping being used to finance terrorism – ONSA Retired Rear Adm. Yaminu Musa, the Coordinator, National Counter-Terrorism Centre in the Office of the National Security Adviser (NCTC-ONSA), says proceeds of kidnapping is being used to partly finance terrorism. Musa said this on Wednesday in Abuja during the `Anti-Kidnap Multi-Agency Fusion Cell Media and Communication workshop’, organised by ONSA in collaboration with the British High Commission. “Kidnapping for ransom is also identified as one of the means of funding terrorism. “Thus, carnage unleashed by kidnappers in affiliation with terrorist groups all over the world leading to loss and disruption of lives and properties, is a major concern. “Hence the need for collective efforts in advancing measures to check the threat. “Evidently, the menace requires concerted and sustained efforts by every citizen, government at all levels, international community and the media which of course is the Fourth Estate of the Realm. “You will agree with me that proceeds of kidnap for ransom enterprise have continued to serve as a platform for financing terrorism not only in Nigeria but across the Sahel,” he said. Musa said the workshop was pertinent to the overall success of the government’s effort to curtail the menace of kidnapping. He added that the media would help to build the kind of relationship the NCTC-ONSA desired on the efforts of security agencies in the protection of lives and properties in the country. According to him, the agenda setting role of the media cannot be over emphasised in the fight against terrorism and other associated crimes like kidnapping. “In an increasingly interconnected world, where information spreads at an unprecedented pace, the media has the power to either amplify or mitigate the impact of security-related news events. “The consequences of inaccurate or sensationalist reporting can be detrimental to public trust, exacerbate fear and anxiety, and even hinder counterterrorism efforts,” he said. The coordinator said it was vital that the government and the media work together to establish a framework of synergy and standardisation for reporting on security-related matters. He said that such collaboration would not only enhance the accuracy and quality of news reporting but also contribute to national security. The Programme Manager, National Crime Agency UK, Mr Chris Grimson, said the workshop was a fall out of a number of agreements between Nigeria and the UK to create a multi-agency kidnap fusion cell. Grimson said the purpose of the workshop was to identify and explore what was needed to create the fusion cell or whatever it turns out to be. One of the facilitators of the workshop, retired Rear Adm. Leye Jaiyeola, said “the fusion cell workshop was designed to come up with a joint decision model to allow for an effective multi-agency use and conflict resolution Jaiyeola said the workshop was meant to set up principles that would provide participants with an agreed framework to support decision making, and develop appropriate legislation for effective management and resolution of kidnapping issues. He said that kidnapping had become a major threat in Nigeria, hence the need to develop an agreed national kidnap fusion and coordination mechanism. “Our focus is to make sure that we maintain a strategic national kidnap operation posture, get all the agencies involved in doing it, so that we will be able to put our feet at the right spot and come up with a set of principles so that the commanders will be able to deliver. “We have looked at coming up with standard operating procedure, looked at developing the doctrine itself and this session of workshop is the session that involves relating with the public so that they will build trust and confidence in the security. “Before now that is missing. As to what the security agencies are doing and in some instances,

it is assumed that the security agencies are not doing anything, which in most instances is informed by lack of knowledge of what the security agencies are doing. “So the essence of this phase of training is for us to develop what we call a clear and effective information sharing strategy and an effective information sharing platform,” he said. The News Agency of Nigeria (NAN) reports that the workshop has participants drawn from the media, military, security agencies, ministries, departments and agencies. (NAN) #ProceedfromkidnappingbeingusedtofinanceTerrorismsaysONSA

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variouslife · 1 year

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Chris’s story from California

On May 1st, I gave a 2 weeks’ notice that I would withdraw from the Bangladesh plant. The Bangladesh factory, which was my first project, will be closed after 5 yeas of history. I had mixed feelings but was not sad. With the opening of the garment factory in Bangladesh, our company has grown significantly and is currently one of the top three clothing brands in the United States. Following in the footsteps of my father, who was considered a big player in the clothing industry, I also launched a fast fashion brand, and now I am continuing my successor classes following in my father's footsteps. The secret to my success was aggressive marketing. I was able to receive a lot of funding through my father's network. In addition, it was possible to make great profits by using the cheap labour force of Bangladesh. Perhaps it is not an exaggeration to say that I am the first person to start offshoring in Bangladesh.

"Mr. Welsh, the Bangladesh plant manager is calling."

"Can you let him know that I'm out and that he should call me back in an hour? I had bad sleep and gotta get some coffee now"

"Would you like to get the same thing? I will go get it for you."

"I need fresh air. And I need to call my wife too. So I will be back in 1 hour."

I know what the Bangladesh plant manager will say. He is probably shocked to hear that the factory will be closed. I'm sure that he will complain… I'm not in the mood to listen to such complaints right now because there is a more important issue than that. On my way to buy coffee, I called my wife.

"Hey, it is me. How is Josh doing now?"

"He has calmed down a lot. He ate a little while ago and fell asleep."

"Did you tell him about the hospital?"

"Yes.., but he stubbornly refuses to go to the hospital."

"You have to convince him somehow. Josh has to grow into a man who will inherit my business and this whole group. I can't let him live with being labelled a drug addict. If he does, it will affect the image of our company."

"…. Ok… I'll talk about it.. just give Josh a little more time"

"…I don't understand. What is wrong with him … I'll tell Dr. Harold anyway, so we should send him to the hospital and he needs to start treatment for drug addiction quickly.."

After the phone call with my wife, I started getting more headaches. I did everything for my only child, but he shakes his life with the cheapest and shittiest drugs… it was so insignificant.

"Welcome back Mr.Welsh. The Bangladesh plant manager is waiting for your call."

"He really bothers me. Call Dr. Harold first and ask if he is free this evening. Make an appointment for dinner. Place as usual. And tell me that it's urgent."

"Copy that."

“And connect me to the factory manager.”

(RING…)

"Hello, Mr. Welsh. Hope you are doing well. I was told that our factory will shut down soon. We have more than 1000 people working and everyone takes care of their family. We can't survive without this job. Please reconsider this issue."

"… Well… I did everything based on the contract. If you want to complain, sue us. But be prepared with good lawyers."

"No, no, no! Mr. Welsh. I'm sorry if it sounds like a complaint. I didn't mean it. I do apologize. I just hope that you consider our workers a little more. That's it"

“Do you know that I've been running the factory for the past five years? You don’t think I didn't consider employees? Factory evacuation will go ahead as scheduled. I have nothing more to hear from you, so I'm hanging up."

His calls made my headaches even worse. I should've not answered the phone… I’m sometimes too nice.. whatever, I need to focus on Josh and the next project for now.

youtube

#ceo mindset #fast fashion #offshoring #Youtube

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mariacallous · 1 year

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Editor's Note: This report is based on an article originally published by the Milken Institute Review on October 31, 2022.

Bank account overdraft fees have not always been with us. Overdraft privileges as a paid service became common in the 1990s, when it was introduced by banks as a convenience for account holders who ran out of funds with checks outstanding and would rather have them honored than returned. What began as a modest add-on service to select customers quickly morphed into a profit center for banks (and credit unions), with estimates of total fees paid ranging up to $30 billion a year.

Now, $30 billion is real money even for a banking system as large as America’s: The biggest banks were making over $1 billion a year on overdraft fees, while overdraft income grew to an astonishing 20% or more of earnings for smaller ones. Overdraft fees, effectively interest on loans, are extremely high cost given the small amount of money loaned via an overdraft, the short term of the loan, and the minimal chance of default. As a result, overdraft fees result in nearly pure profit for the bank (or credit union). No wonder one bank CEO named his yacht “Overdraft.”

Every overdraft by definition turns money from someone who has run out of it to revenue for a bank (or credit union). The good news is this reverse Robin Hood is slowing down. After decades of racking up major profits off overdrafts, many banks, including most of the largest banks, have announced sweeping changes that will sharply reduce costs for their customers—by my calculations, the combined savings already announced add up to about $5 billion a year,[1] changes so large that even President Biden noticed and tried to take some credit. But in reality, this turnabout came without new legislation or regulation.

Why? Congress and regulators did put pressure on banks to change their ways. Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-MD) prodded the Comptroller of the Currency, the agency that regulates national banks about overdrafts. Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) confronted JP Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon, pointedly asking why his institution earns seven times as much in overdraft revenue as comparably sized Citibank. Rep. Caroline Maloney (D-NY) repeatedly introduced legislation that would force sweeping changes to overdraft policy, although it never came close to enactment. Meanwhile, the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau published research highlighting the overdraft bonanza’s magnitude and who’s paying for it. New financial technology (fintech) firms began offering and marketing products providing consumers banking accounts without overdraft and sometimes with different forms of less expensive small dollar credit. But these entrants are tiny compared to the U.S. banking system.

It’s hard to say whether banks feared new regulation, new legislation, bad publicity, competition, or had bigger fish to fry with their overseers. Whatever the reason, the dam burst. The largest banks are planning to cut overdrafts by about half from 2019 levels. This is not the end of the story, though: some banks’ changes are more meaningful than others. Here, I offer a closer look at what’s happening, in particular how it affects lower-income households, and suggest ways Congress and financial regulators could and still should intervene.

Understanding Overdrafts

One key take-home is that 80% of overdraft fees come from just 9% of account holders. Heavy overdrafters are highly profitable customers, often producing more income for banks than more affluent customers who may use other paid bank services but always maintain positive balances. Oliver Wyman consultants estimated that heavy overdrafters on average generated $720 a year in profit for their basic bank accounts while non-overdrafters yielded a measly $57.

To compare banks of widely disparate size, I analyzed overdraft revenue per consumer account excluding retirement accounts. The numbers are striking. Some banks generate overdraft income at a rate more than seven times those of others, which seems unlikely to reflect differences in the care taken by account holders to remain liquid. The explanation is typically buried in the fine print that hardly anyone reads or back-office practices by banks that only regulators know about (if they bother to look). For example, some banks post debits before credits, triggering overdraft fees, while some allow overdrafts at ATMs rather than simply denying withdrawals exceeding account balances.

Bankers Healing Themselves

The good news, of course, is that all the giant banks and many smaller ones have pulled back on overdraft fees. Consumers’ savings from this subset of 14 banks—which includes the eleven large banks included in the above graph plus three others that have announced changes (USAA, Ally Bank, and Frost Bank)—should be about $5 billion a year (see endnote 1 for information on calculations in this section). This estimate, incidentally, is more inclusive than the Consumer Finance Protection Board’s estimate of the savings from banks eliminating non-sufficient funds fees, which the agency estimated will save consumers $1 billion annually. It also includes institutions that have made announcements since an earlier estimate by the Pew Charitable Trusts, which found potential savings of $2 billion a year based on changes from only the five largest banks.

A breakdown by individual bank explains the large differences in the impact of the changes. Note that Citibank, Capital One, and Ally collected relatively little in overdraft fees before the announced changes. So it isn’t all that surprising that they chose to finish the job, flat-out eliminating overdraft fees. Bank of America similarly stands out in that even though it was making over $1 billion a year in overdraft fees prior to changes, they have so many accounts that on a per account basis they were on the smaller end. Their decision to decrease the fee per transgression from $35 to $10 coupled with other changes will eliminate around 90% of their overdraft revenue.

At the other end of the spectrum Regions Bank and USAA appear to have done the least among big banks, with projected revenue declines on the order of 20 to 25%. This is even more concerning given that Regions had among the highest overdraft revenue per account in 2019 and was just fined $191 million by regulators for illegal, surprise overdrafts.

The details of how banks are reducing overdrafts sheds light on the factors that drove the overdraft bonanza in the first place. Here, I break it down into four “buckets.”

Reducing fees per incident

Overdrafts had generally been priced at about $35 each, with institutions setting a maximum number of daily overdrafts (often between four and eight) as they covered cascading shortfalls for a stiff price. Charging penalty fees for overdrafts may have been designed at one point to reduce their frequency but given the illiquidity of many of their customers at the moment they temporarily run out of money, it became an easy way for banks to turn small fish (small-balance accounts) into big bucks (small balance accounts that generate big profits). Given the high cost and lack of time to cover account shortfalls by other means, the relative standard practices across the industry, a lack of alternative products, and consumers’ frequent lack of awareness that they were even overdrafting, overdraft fees didn’t seem to move customers to leave their bank to find a better deal.

Many banks also charged a non-sufficient funds fee (NSF) for some accounts, refusing payment when an account was overdrawn rather than covering the gap with an expensive automatic overdraft loan. NSF fees tended to be around the same size as overdraft fees. Most of the largest financial institutions have now eliminated NSF fees entirely, while others have chopped them. Some banks have also reduced the maximum number of overdraft fees charged per day, limiting a consumer’s total exposure in cases in which a cascade of small checks bounce because the account holder miscalculated. These changes are straightforward and reduce costs borne by consumers.

Changing timing

Overdrafting is more about running out of time than out of money—people are often minutes or hours away from having the money necessary to cover the overage. Some customers have positive balances when they make a purchase, but because of the time delay in clearing a deposit, the balance turns negative when the purchase clears. This results in a “positive when made, negative when settled” scenario that—no surprise—enrages consumers.

This timing problem is exacerbated by America’s antiquated payments clearing system, which runs on decades-old technology. For one, payments are often credited and debited in batches rather than individually when they occur.

A batch system is analogous to a washing machine in which all the clothes go in together regardless of when they were soiled and come out clean at the same time. The person doing the laundry then decides when to fold and return the clean clothes, much the way a bank has some discretion on which order to post the various debits and credits that come through the payment cycle. And the debits have a habit of being folded and shelved before the credits.

Some banks have now created grace periods in which consumers who cover an overdraft within a day or two are not charged a fee (PNC, Wells Fargo). In addition, many banks have put electronic deposits of wages on the fast track, crediting direct deposits up to two days earlier (Capital One, Regions).

Direct deposits do not clear instantly. Typically, a direct deposit paycheck written on an employer’s account on Tuesday does not become available to the worker until Friday. But banks with direct deposit relationships often know the amount of money their customer will receive and, if they choose, are able to safely provide access to those funds earlier. And some banks have eliminated overdraft fees incurred if a charge was made when the account still had funds but settled negative (JPMC).

PNC, which was among the first banks to change overdraft fees, has been able to collect some data from their changes which they term Low Cash Mode. Some 63% of PNC customers who end the day with a negative balance are able to fix the problem and avoid an overdraft. The average time to “cure” is only 13 hours, evidence that the majority of their customers’ problems are very short-term mismatches between payments and deposits. From PNC’s experience, 75% of their reduction fee income was the result of extra time and the change on the limit on total overdrafts. The remaining 25% came from the elimination of NSF fees.[2]

This helps explain the popularity of early wage access and other faster payment options spreading through the banking and fintech systems. It also makes clear the incredibly high cost of our nation’s slow payment system that weighs heavily on families living paycheck to paycheck. The failure of the Federal Reserve to speed up transaction clearing has taken billions out of the pockets of working families and stuffed it in the bottom line of banks, credit unions, check cashers, and payday lenders.

Small dollar liquidity credits

In economic terms, an overdraft is a form of small-dollar credit. Charging a fixed price (a fee) instead of interest does not change that basic fact. But the courts and the regulators have deemed overdrafts to be fees instead of loans, thereby short-circuiting legal requirements like Truth in Lending that requires disclosures, including the annual percentage interest rate (APR). APRs for overdrafts may or may not be a useful concept. But they would appear astronomical in cases of small overdrafts: One story in the Dallas Morning News reported a $100 fee for covering an overdraft of two cents.

Most banks that have become more consumer-friendly have increased the amount a consumer can go negative without incurring a fee. Many have raised their limits from $5 to $50 (US Bank, Huntington, TD, and JPMC) while some have gone as high as $100 (Truist and Frost Bank).

Another common remediation has been to automatically convert negative balances into installment loans rather than charging a penalty fee. These loans typically still have a fixed charge for the amount borrowed. U.S. Bank offered a similar product (Simple Loan) some time ago for which the banks now charge $6 per $100 borrowed. The loans typically last a few months and are paid back in even, amortizing (i.e., self-liquidating) payments. Institutions typically make repayment automatic but say they will not take such payment from the account if it triggers yet another overdraft.

Changing from a fee-per-transaction when a customer’s balance is negative into a loan where costs are based on amount borrowed rather than the number of transactions is a win for consumers. It is a more honest and transparent product for the lender as well, as the costs/risks of default are related to the total amount borrowed, not the number of transactions.

Consider, too, that separating the cost of automatic installment credit from the time horizon of the loan is simpler for consumers to understand than an interest schedule. Fees on the order of 5% of amount borrowed are substantially lower than most alternatives available to heavy overdrafters for small-dollar credit.

Forgiving temporary negative balances is different than converting the negative balance to a loan. And it’s worth noting that savings to consumers from changes to overdraft fees will be somewhat offset by the costs of small dollar lending. So a full accounting of total savings from overdraft fee changes should include the corresponding costs associated with small dollar credit products that are being rolled out as alternatives to overdraft fees.

Consumer empowerment

Giving consumers advance knowledge of low balances as well as flexibility to stop or delay an automatic payment that puts them in the red would empower consumers to decide whether paying an overdraft was the better alternative. And to their credit, many banks have developed sophisticated systems to alert consumers of low balances in time to stop payments (PNC, TD). Some of these systems, for example, alert to customers when their balances reach a threshold (as in “$50 left in your account”), while others indicate an automatic payment is coming that would force an overdraft.

Consumers can then use this information to decide how to manage their finances and potentially avoid an overdraft. Note, however, that the decision may be more complicated than it first appears. Cancelling an automatic payment may itself result in fees from, say, a credit card company or a car lender. Banks making changes to their policies cannot be responsible for how a third party will respond to overdue payments.

While consumer empowerment sounds good, it may not have much impact. PNC estimates that only about 1% of payments were cancelled or delayed by customers receiving low-balance warnings (see endnote 2). This may be evidence that customers want these payments to move forward regardless of overdraft consequences. Or that they know they will have enough money to cover the payment, given that PNC now allows extra time to cure an overdraft.

Consider, too, that information without the ability to fix a problem is of limited use. The problem people living on the financial edge face with overdrafts is more a combination of temporal mismatches of money and the high cost of small dollar credit than it is about knowing that they are near the edge. Data from the Financial Diaries Project indicates that people living paycheck to paycheck may be more likely to budget and be aware of their finances than those who are comfortably upper middle class. The lack of a real-time payment system further complicates the value of information: when you do not know the precise moment your paycheck will be credited to your bank account or when a payment will be debited, it is impossible to budget or plan in a way to avoid fees.

What’s Government’s Job Here?

The banks who have tempered the “gotcha” aspect of low-balance banking without orders from lawmakers or regulators should be commended. It is not easy for a company to change in a way that reduces its immediate profits but improves the lives of its customers.

Doing the right thing is wonderful, but the reality is that not every bank will or even can. The more a bank depends on overdraft revenue the less likely it is to give it up without a push. Even today, a handful of banks and credit unions operate on business models that require a lot of overdraft revenue for their viability.

First National Bank of Texas, to take one example, has made more than 100%of its profits from overdraft fees in each of the last seven years—and that’s as long as overdraft data have been separately reported. For two other banks, Woodforest and Gate City, that has been true for six of the last seven years. Armed Forces Bank, a private bank exclusively serving current and past military, has made more than 75% of its profit on overdraft fees for each of the last seven years (and over 100%for three of the seven). Academy Bank made more than 100% of its profit in overdraft fees for four straight years from 2017-2020.[3]

I group Armed Forces and Academy Bank together because they are owned by the same holding company, Dickenson Financial Company. The Federal Reserve regulates the holding company, while the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency (OCC) regulates their banks, which are nationally chartered.

Regulators have been asleep at the switch in allowing these banks to operate with what are clearly unsound business models, as they have been losing money every year on all aspects of banking other than overdrafts. And there may well be more overdraft addicts, as banks under $1 billion in assets and all credit unions are exempt from publicly disclosing their overdraft revenue.

The explosive growth and popularity of overdrafts as a profit center reveals deeper structural problems with America’s basic banking system. Slow payments, limited options for small dollar liquidity and fees designed to be punitive rather than linked to actual costs are core reasons why overdrafts became so widely used. The biggest losers are the working poor who can least afford to lose. Consider, too, that low-balance woes also drive people out of the banking system entirely, greatly adding to how expensive it is to be poor.

The solutions are relatively straightforward. I think any financial institution that relies on overdraft fees for the bulk of it profits for multiple consecutive years should be given failing regulatory grades—a position the Washington Post has echoed. Credit unions should publicly disclose overdraft revenue, just as banks do.

Wait, there’s more. America’s payment system needs to move in real time. The Federal Reserve, for example, has the legal authority to require the first $5,000 of every check deposited be available immediately. If the Fed won’t (and trust me it won’t), Congress must. As we’ve seen, a series of tricks allow some banks and credit unions to increase overdraft revenue in part by taking advantage of the slow payment system. Two of these can be ended through joint regulation: posting debits before credits and reordering payment flows from largest to smallest.

Finally, all financial institutions should be required to offer a no-overdraft, low-cost, basic bank account. These accounts have proven popular when properly marketed—Citibank reports that one in five new customers is opening one[4]—and it can be done in a way that is profitable for the financial institution. Interestingly, the bank lobby also likes these types of accounts: The American Bankers Association calls it a best practice for all banks to offer this type of account.

Overdraft fees may be on a downward arc, but they remain a serious drain on millions of Americans living on the financial edge. We know that the financial system works well for the affluent. But we need to redesign the system to discourage practices that have turned the poor and near-poor into a profit center.

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internationalrealestatenews · 2 months

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achaoticeternal · 4 years

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A Dance. A Chase. A Purpose.

RANSOM DRYSDALE X READER masterlist // taglist

request from anon: 35. "sit your ass back down and talk to me" with Ransom Thrombey pretty please??😍

Summary: Ransom never has been one to chase a gall, but you’ve always been different. Word Count: 3.4k A/N: This is a reader and Ransom at a very formal gala. The Thrombey’s and Drysdale’s are “high class” people, they attend these kinds of things but I haven’t seen anyone write something like this! I hope you guys really enjoy it! This is also a lot of dialogue... whoops Warnings: Light swearing, people flirting with the reader, Ransom being an asshole but not a complete asshole

ANOTHER REAL QUICK NOTE: I WROTE ABOUT RANSOM IN A MAROON VELVET SUITE BEFORE THE GOLDEN GLOBES HAPPENED AND CHRIS JUST HAPPENED TO WEAR THAT EXACT OUTFIT TO THE GOLDEN GLOBES AND ALL I’M SAYING IS THAT THE UNIVERSE CAME THROUGH

His blue eyes continuously stalked you throughout the hours you attended the Gala. It wasn’t his scene and yet he adored the thought of ruining your perfect evening just with his presence.

“Who put Ransom on the guest list?” You hissed at one of the event coordinators, “Don’t you remember what he did at the art show I hosted last year?”

“I’m terribly sorry Miss, but he’s the plus one for Mr. Thrombey,” the hesitant man replied, looking awfully terrified.

You took multiple deep breathes to soothe yourself and stop yourself from becoming flustered. Ransom has this awful hold on you that everyone could not, and you could absolutely not stand. He knew just how to stir you, be that good or bad, and absolutely ruin what should be paradise. He truly was the devil in a maroon velvet suit that was perfectly tailored to him.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry for flashing, thank you for all your assistance tonight,” You smiled kindly to the man before scurrying off to find something to occupy yourself before Ransom had a chance.

Tonight, all you wanted to do was raise funds to assist the homeless shelters in major U.S cities and inspire a few billionaires and millionaires to hand over a hefty check. But you had to play a little game to get money from the elite class. You made your way all around the ballroom in the designer gown; it was black and floor-length, layer upon layer of fine black lace. Across the skirt was intricate gold stars sewn into the material as an illusion collar and mesh sleeves complimented your top. Your appearance mixed with your charm could allure both men and women into acquiring whatever you desired. You knew that inevitably somehow you would run into Ransom since Harlan was a huge donor to your foundation.

“Oh, (Y/N),” It seemed you’d be seeing him sooner than you thought as Mr. Thrombey waved you over. Gracefully, you turned to see him and other authors you’d invited enjoying their wine and making various comments about the younger people attending the gala. Harlan motioned at an empty seat, “my dear.”

“Alright, but I can’t stay long. Apparently, I’m the only one left with their head screw on right this evening,” You smiled as the older group chuckled.

“You’ve always been a prize, (Y/N). Standing out in school, in your community, and now your foundation. Your grandparents would be proud,” Margret, a theatre critic, complimented you.

Her words were almost reassuring. Your grandparents had left their company and their estate to you, their only granddaughter. The rest of the family received their fair cut of shares and money, but your grandparents believed that you had the best potential in ruining their media empire.

But you felt all joy leave your body as a large pair of hands rested themselves upon your shoulder, squeezing them just tight enough to create a numbing sensation, “Yes, and she also always was quite the star in high school and even university. Our professor often gawked at how well-knowledged she is, and even her charm.”

You rested your right hand on top of Ransom’s, peeling it off and letting it drop to his side, “Well, Ransom, it’s wonderful for you to join us at the Charity Gala tonight. I hope everything is just as proper and tasteful to your liking.”

“Well, it’s a nice little set-up you have, but I’ve always been a man to enjoy a good party with plenty to drink and-”

“Hugh,” Mr. Thrombey warned his grandson.

Ransom gave her grandfather a childish glare before sighing, “But it’s still just so lovely, (Y/N).”

“This has just been so grand,” You stood and brushed out any wrinkles in the skirt of your dress, “but I must go meet with the city’s mayor to talk about the proceeds from this evening before they reach a politician's hands. Please feel free to check out our silent auction tables, there are some wonderful prizes to be won. And once we announce the winners, we will have a large auction while dinner is served in the banquet hall at 8.”

With pep in your step, you quickly made your own way to the banquet hall to make sure everything was going swimmingly.

- - -

“Yes, and up there on the platform, the seats will go the mayor’s wife, the mayor, the governor, myself, the senator, his wife, and then his son,” you pointed down the long table. Then you turned to look out over a sea of tables, chairs, and name cards, “And the menu is set for this evening?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything is under control, tidy, and might I say, luxurious, thanks to you,” your proceeds manager, Pierce, complimented you.

“You’re too kind,” you slapped his arm lightly, “now, guests my enter around 7:30 or whenever the staff finishes setting our the glasses and rolls.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” you heard your name called by a silver tongue serpent who managed to sneak into the banquet hall early. As he sauntered over to you, Pierce noticed how to seemed to deflate slightly in the man’s presence.

“Miss, I’m so sorry, I’ll go tell security too-”

“It’s fine, Pierce. Hugh is an... acquaintance that I’ve known for years.”

“That’s a strange way of putting childhood enemy,” Ransom teased as he took a sip out of his champagne glass, “or childhood crush depends on how you view it.”

“Yes, yes, how could I forget. Pierce,” you gave him a look to dismiss him as you turned to look pointedly at Ransom, “what are you doing here now? The schedule is clear and I don’t understand why you can’t just fo-”

“You know schedules and timetables aren’t my forte, honey,” he cut you off, which he knew made your blood boil, “but I wanted to address a little rumor I heard? Apparently, at the banquet auction- you are going to be a prize.”

“I’m not a prize, I’m a respected woman,” you sneered, “and my marketing and social managers decided it would help the cause if we auctioned off a dance with one of the most powerful and eligible bachelorette's in New York.”

“Well then,” His eyes scanned across your face but going lower. You snapped your fingers in front of his face to snap him out of whatever the hell he was trying to do, “I guess I’ll be able to show you what a fantastic dancer I am tonight when I win.”

“In your dreams, Ransom,” You said with a smile as you heard the doors open and a crowd begin the flutter in, “Now please if you would so kindly take your seat able table 6.”

- - -

“Thank you so much for attending tonight’s charity gala,” You smiled warmly as you spoke into the microphone. Much applause followed, “This evening’s event couldn’t have happened without help from so many people within the community and all of you here tonight. I have a lot of people to thank tonight, but first I would like to thank the wonderful orchestra for providing such wonderful music.”

You gestured to the group seated on the right side of the banquet hall as they took their bows. You allowed for the chatter to calm before continuing your speech to thank the hotel and its’ management, the catering, your parents and siblings, your personal assistant, “and lastly I have three very important men and their families in attendance tonight. The Mayor of New York City, The Governor, and even Senator Holstead.” Each of the men stood, waved to the crowd, and were applauded, “And now, I would like to invite the Senator’s eldest son, MR. Wyatt Holstead to join me in announcing the winner’s for tonight’s silent auction and then we will proceed to bidding on specialty items.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. (Y/L/N). Isn’t she just fantastic?” Wyatt smiled at the audience as he made his way up to you with his own mic. He stood next to you and took your hand, “It is an absolute honor to be assisting you tonight and a help you raise funds to solve homelessness in this beautiful city, once and for all. But being in your striking beauty might be the cherry on top.”

You giggled as he raised your hand to his lips and kiss your knuckles softly. However, you could feel the tension across to the room as you made eye contact with Ransom, who was clapping with a less than excited look upon his face, “Why thank you. Now, Wyatt will be drawing and announcing the names of the winners while I present you will the item of auction. So- let’s begin.”

You forgot about Ransom and his predatory gaze as you awarded baskets and various items to strangers and friends that won them. The flashes of cameras and shaking of hands stirred your brain until Wyatt ended the silent auction.

“Congratulations to the winners! Checks can be dropped off this evening or mailed to the donation center within the next three days. But now, we move onto our live auction where we have some stellar items and events up for sale tonight!”

“You’re right, Wyatt. This first item up to bid tonight is a trip to the beaches of Italy on an all-expenses-paid vacation! Let’s start the bidding at $500, shall we?”

Immediately, hands and ladies’ fans flew up in the air. It was amazing how fast items were going and how quickly the evening was flying by.

“Going twice... Sold! The fountain pen collection goes to Mrs. Margret Dunwoody!” Wyatt called. There was applause as she grabbed her prize, “And now, for the final auction before any real partying or dancing begins, we have a real treat. One lucky person will be able to share the first dance and be treated to breakfast with our own, Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! Now, this is quite the prize so let’s start the bidding at... two thousand?”

The hands’ of New York’s finest bachelors and bachelorettes shot up high.

‘$2,500″

“$3,500″

“$4,000!”

“$5,000!”

“$25,000,” One loud voice called from the center of the room. Ransom had stood, a smirk plastered to his face as his blue eyes met your own.

“$30,0-” Another man tried to yell out.

“$50,000,” Ransom called on top of him, “Anyone else?”

“Well then,” Wyatt said, looking to you and winking, “$60,000.”

“$75,000,” Ransom called back with ease.

“$85,000,” Wyatt retorted.

You began to become nervous. It would be awkward to watch Ransom’s and Wyatt’s little showdown, but you were the prize which made the experience only that much unsettling, “Boys, boys, you’re both pretty.”

“Going once...” You looked at Ransom only to be pondering something, “Going twice...” you started to pray that anyone else would bid, Wyatt was still in college and you didn’t need your record destroyed by a horny boy...

“$150,000!”

The banquet hall went completely silent, no one said a thing. You could here pen drop in the room with how deafening it was.

“Sold to Mr. Ransom Drysdale!” The Mayor called out from his seat, sensing the tension, “Now if Mr. Drysdale will make his way up to the platform to escort his prize to the dance floor.”

Ransom held a bit of swagger in his stride as he approached you. The shock was still evident in your stature as you tried to smile. People applauded and the band began to play again.

“My dear,” Ransom held his hand out for you, making sure to make this look a publicly decent as he could. You took his hand and he leads you down the stairs of the platform. Once you were on his level, he placed a hand upon your lower back and guided you towards the dance floor.

The band began to play a slow number that had the slightest touch of an upbeat. Ransom was surprisingly a great dance partner and easily guided you around the floor which captured the eyes of all in the banquet hall.

“You know, you’re not half bad at dancing,” you attempted to compliment him.

“I guess private school pays off a bit, but I’d still prefer dancing under your sheets,” he said in a sultry tone into your ear.

“Dammit, Ransom. I’m trying to enjoy my evening because you’ll be there to ruin my morning,” he spun you twice before pulling you into his chest again, “why did you even place a bid? You hate donating to charity, unless by force, and you know I can’t stand you.”

“Well, you know I love getting under your skin and I think the other bidder doesn’t have the same experience as I do,” He beamed, “in any category.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“But you can’t help but love me,” his lips dragged across your cheek.

The music faded out and a DJ began playing today’s hits. With all the formalities taken care of, this was no longer was your scene, “Well, good night, Ransom. I’ll see you in the morning and you can tell me about whatever girl you hooked up with, in the morning.”

With that, you escaped up to your suite in the hotel, hoping not to interact with anyone for the rest of the evening.

- - -

It was a few hours later now and you were still wide awake, relaxing in the living area of your suite as Brooklyn Nine-Nine played on the television. You had already showered and your hair was almost finished air drying, but you still wore the hotel robe. It was peaceful and allowed you to digest the events from the evening. But a knock on the door alerted you of an unexpected guest.

“Who is it?”

“Room service, ma’am,” You opened the door to reveal a young man with a cart, “Gifts from the hotel managers and a special man who wanted to thank you for this evening.”

“Oh well, thank you, just cart it in wherever you like,” You nodded and let him through. He quickly took care of his job before exiting, “good night.”

You grabbed the first card on the cart, a little formal thank you note from the hotel for a smooth event and the wonderful publicity. There was a second one with no name, but you figured it was one of the politicians you invited this evening.

You looked like the night sky, but you shined brighter than any star.

Shaking your head, you let out a small giggle at the little note like you were a school girl again. Even if there was a bump or two in the evening, it all still went practically perfect. But a second knock came from the door.

“If it’s another cart, I’m afraid I’m out of room in here,” You teased, only to open the door to reveal Ransom.

“Well, were the flowers not enough? I didn’t know my prize would still be so hard to please, even after I swept her off her feet on the dance floor.” Here he was, smirk and all. Instead of his usual behavior of prowling a dance floor for a girl to satisfy him for the night, he was here, satisfying his need to tease you.

“Ransom, I-uh... Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” You pulled the robe close to your body like it could shield you from anything he could say or do to you.

“Well, my date left me on the floor-”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s late, and I’m not a prize to be won, and you-”

“(Y/N),” He looked you in the eyes with his own blue ones that could make any woman melt and suddenly you understood why he came upstairs, “Can I come in, please?”

“I- maybe not tonight...”

“Please”

You took a deep breath before opening the door to allow him in, “Okay, but I do plan to go to bed before long.”

He walked in and immediately got a beer out of the hotel fridge before taking a seat on the couch. You grabbed yourself a bottle of water before joining him on the couch.

“So, were you trying to get away from your grandfather? or an ex?”

“No, I figured it was time we talk. And I mean actually talk. Not argue or bicker like we do in front of everyone else.”

“I don’t remember a time where we didn’t, so...”

“Maybe because you never give me the chance to talk-”

“Well, maybe that’s because every time I’ve tried to open up to you or trust you, you just cut me off...”

“Maybe that’s because you keep trying to meddle in my life like my family does!”

“I’m not doing this tonight! Not after everything I accomplished, I’ll see you in the morning,” you pushed yourself off the couch and attempted to make your way into the bedroom.

“No, (Y/N), I-” He let out a sigh and shook his head, “sit your ass back down and talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Ransom!”

“There is everything to talk about”

IT hit you like a brick. He wanted to talk it out because after all this time he still wanted you. He wanted back sneaking into each other’s dorms. Pretending to hate each other, but sneaking kisses behind friends and family. You were the only person to ever deny him from what he needed. You were the girl to leave him on the floor. The same way you had left him on the floor homecoming your junior year, semi-formal your senior year of college, and various club outings. And now tonight in front of the public. You had always been the only girl to leave him alone and the only girl to walk out on him first. And after all this time, he still chased after you, because you were consistent.

“Dammit, (Y/N). Why do you act like this? We have history, but you insist on acting like it never happened or that it was all bad.”

“Ransom, you know why we both called it all off...”

“Because you were inheriting a large media network? You could risk doing ONE thing that your mother didn’t approve of. I know why, but I’ll never understand-”

“Because you made me reckless and I couldn’t let my life slip through my fingers while I lived a perfectly pleasurable life off of daddy’s money. I need purpose and you never gave me one.”

“But you gave me purpose. And tonight, you looked like a night sky, shining bright with a thousand stars and reminded me of those nights where we laid under the starry sky and you let me spoil you. You helped me deal with the abomination that is my family, you were helping me learn to be a better person.” He took your hands into his own large ones and rested his forehead against yours, “I was going to propose and we were going to find a purpose together.”

“Fuck, Ransom,” The tears slid down your cheeks, but he caught them with his thumbs, “Why do we have to do this now? I was just starting to truly move on. Why can’t you let the idea of us go?”

“Because it’s the only good idea I’ve ever had. Please, (Y/N), I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. In all the time that Ransom and you had spent together - teasing each other or flirting or otherwise - he had never said that he loved you. You never even heard him tell his parents he loved them. He truly wanted you.

“I- We... We can try again. But it’ll be slow and it will take time to heal what we burned, but if you’re willing than I am too.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours.

- - -

The next afternoon, images of you and Ransom having brunch and holding hands while wandering around New York were splattered across media and magazine sites alike. People and reporters asked about the charity event the night before, what this relationship meant for your company, and even asking if you both were finally coming public with your relationship after months of hiding it.

A young reporter caught Ransom and asked it you satisfied his desires, targeting Ransom’s playboy bachelor status.

“I think you should be asking (Y/N) how much she raised for the homeless and those living off in a single evening instead of objectifying her. She’s the most powerful and influential woman in the nation and desrves more respect than that. Go report her record-breaking funding to your Editor, instead of a dumbass’s opinion on if she makes a good shag or not, sweetie.”

Once you made it into his car and made your way to Boston, you turned to him, “Thank you, for everything you said.”

“Of course, it was all honest and true. But I was never gonna tell them how wonderful you feel beneath me.”

“Ransom-”

“Oh c’mon, you love me”

#mattie writes #ransom thrombrey #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #chris evans #cevans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x y/n #knives out

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mego42 · 3 years

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Did you see the article that since 2018 NBC/Universal donated 58k+ towards the Texas abortion bill? All while promoting (faux) women empowerment on their network. Hopefully this isn't a weird thing to send haha.

hey anon! i am assuming you mean the newsweek or business insider articles (although maybe not business insider bc i don't think they mention nbc), yes? if so, saying NBC supported SB8 is a p loose and inaccurate regurgitation of:

what both articles and the data sources they're citing are saying which is that NBC has contributed to sponsors of the bill at some point since 2018 (a very different thing than sponsoring this particular bill introduced and passed in 2021)

the actual verification i've been able to do based on the sources the articles provided for their data and the independent research in just did to verify (while i'm sure Judd Legum and UltraViolet could show their work if pressed, UltraViolet's learn more link was broken and Judd credits the Texas Ethics Committee broadly with his source but doesn't break down specifics and I spent an hour on that site and was unable to verify any of it)

what I was able to confirm via independent research is:

the Comcast PAC (comcast being NBC's parent company, a PAC basically being a specific fund for political contributions) spends a lot of money on both sides of the aisle (source a, source b)

their contribution breakdown is p even across the board with a sliiiiiiiight lean towards red (either 4% or 2% depending on which source you're looking at), which makes sense considering they're, you know, a major corporation and voting red is good for their bottom line

after doing a bunch of digging on followthemoney.org, all i was able to confirm is that NBC contributed $1,000 and $1,500 respectively to two of the sponsors for SB8, a Briscoe Cain and a Chris Paddie. while $1,000 is not something i personally would sneeze at, in terms of campaign contributions, that's like, hey thanks for the $5 i will be sure not to spend it all in one place, and not something i would personally cancel a whole network over but ymmv

that said, i respect judd a lot and i'm sure he has math to get to $52K, unfortunately, he did not show his work and as we live in the misinformation age, i'm not not going to back it until i see it and also i have to get back to work now so i'm calling it a day on trying to recreate it

so, yeah, idk what you were hoping to get from me anon. i think trying to present those articles and that set of facts like NBC backed SB8 is a wildly disingenuous way to present the actual facts at hand and is actively contributing to propagating the misinformation hellscape we currently inhabit. i appreciate where you're coming from and i'm not saying that was your intent, but now more than ever it's incredibly important to not regurgitate everything you read on the intent without a baseline level of critical thinking and verification.

beyond that, i hate SB8 with every ounce of hatred i have in me, i hope the people that pushed it through burn in hell and i can't actually think about what's ahead for the US now that it's on the books bc i blackout a little from the fear and rage of it all. i hate that anyone is continuing to give campaign $$ to the republican party, i would much rather we fiscally suffocate them out of power. but a major corporation making p well spread about donations on either side of the aisle isn't going to rouse me to like, loudly condemn or even call them hypocritical for promoting the content agenda they're promoting. maybe i'm just old and tired, but imo expecting ideological purity from, like, literally anyone, but especially major global communication corporations is less productive than devoting your life to hunting for bigfoot. i'm not telling you what to care about, obvs, but on the spectrum of fights to pick, i don't particularly think this one is worth my time or energy, ymmv.

my advice? take whatever energy it is that's driving you into my inbox with this and get involved in local politics, that's where change starts.

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lastsonlost · 4 years

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Why do I feel like I'm being held hostage more than I feel like I'm being helped?

The party of limited government and fiscal prudence is suddenly in favor of a big bailout and stimulus package for the economy — now, immediately, no time to debate! But when Barack Obama was president and the economy was in free fall, when the unemployment rate was surging towards 10% (instead of today's 3.5%, though it's expected to rise rapidly), Republicans were in no hurry to pass a stimulus package.

They dragged their feet, the Tea Party protested in the streets, and the GOP worried oh-so-piously about the size of the federal budget deficit. Now that a Republican is president (and an election’s coming up), Republicans want a broad and rapid bailout of the economy. Just give us over $1 trillion, and trust President Donald Trump (whose companies went bankrupt six times) to do the right thing!

Lots of Americans are already hurting. They should be helped, and yes, the economy is at a precipice and needs a stimulus package. But the priority should be helping Americans — not helping the GOP win an election. And given the massive amount of money involved, we should take a little extra time to do it right. My concern is not with payments to ordinary Americans, or to help local small businesses, but with the corporate bailout package. The Democrats must condition their cooperation with any corporate bailout package (and/or corporate tax cuts) upon the inclusion of some common-sense fixes.

Here are a few:

►Protecting Obamacare. Trump and the Republicans are (yet again) trying to get the Supreme Court to declare the Affordable Care Act unconstitutional (though it now insures 21 million Americans and protects everyone's access to coverage, including the tens of millions with preexisting medical conditions). If the court strikes it down in late 2020 or early 2021, while coronavirus might still be raging through the country, our health care system could be reduced to chaos.

Sen. Elizabeth Warren: Any Coronavirus bailout must put workers first

To prevent this disaster scenario, as part of the bailout package, the Trump administration should withdraw its support for the lawsuit and commit to fixing and defending the law. If Republicans are serious about a bipartisan response to coronavirus, this is an obvious place to start.

►Election protection. Many Americans are concerned that Trump (who asked a foreign power to investigate one of his political rivals, and applauded Wikileaks’ violation of his political opponents’ privacy) might use coronavirus as an excuse to interfere with the November elections. Any bailout package must mandate a robust vote-by-mail program in place before the November election (Sens. Ron Wyden and Amy Klobuchar have already introduced this) and protection against foreign interference (a bipartisan Marco Rubio-Chris Van Hollen bill is stalled in the Senate). Congress should also require monthly reports on election protection efforts.

►Help for workers, not shareholders or CEOs. Any corporate bailouts must be judged on the merits, with minimal crony capitalism and political interference. Give the Trump administration as little discretion as possible — no American should be forced to grovel and flatter Trump to get what they’re legally entitled to. Any corporation receiving a bailout should be required to wipe out all shareholder equity, zero out all CEO deferred compensation packages, and replace its top five corporate officers as well as its entire board of directors.

Why? Reputable experts have been warning about the economic and business risks of pandemics for years. If business leaders didn’t prepare their organizations, they own the consequences. This needs to hurt in order to make sure investors and executives learn a lesson. Also, if the government injects any equity into a corporation, government ownership should be non-voting (otherwise, imagine Trump ordering a major employer to close factories in blue states, to move jobs to red states).

►Increase funds for the IRS and provide new resources focused on auditing the rich. Republicans have systematically under-funded the IRS. Outside estimates suggest that with stepped-up enforcement, the government could collect an extra $100 billion a year in taxes (mainly from the wealthy). The next several years will likely be difficult for ordinary Americans. They‘re entitled to know that everyone (including the rich) will pay what they owe.

Bipartisan priorities: 3 ways to increase economic growth, make American society more equitable

►Limit Trump’s ability to govern by emergency order and "acting" appointments. Congress refused to allocate funds for Trump’s border wall, but he went ahead anyway using money from military programs — and the Supreme Court let him do it. Trump has also used the Federal Vacancies Act in a way that makes a mockery of congressional oversight and the Senate's constitutional "advice and consent" responsibility to confirm nominees (for instance, the current Acting Director of National Intelligence is also our Ambassador to Germany). Congress should include in this package whatever amendments are necessary to prevent these end-runs.

►Bake in strong rules and oversight. Any bailout package must include these to prevent it from being used as a slush fund to bolster political fortunes.

Democrats likely won’t get everything they ask for. But this time around, Republicans are desperate to bail out their election chances. The Democrats should use that desperation to get some common-sense reforms passed.

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

Text

The circumstances surrounding Breonna Taylor’s killing by police in Louisville, Kentucky, are by now well known. When plainclothes officers executed a no-knock warrant at the medical technician’s apartment in March, her boyfriend fired at the police, thinking they were intruders, and three officers returned fire, killing Taylor.

These facts were enough to help spark the ongoing wave of protests for racial justice, but earlier this month, lawyers for the Taylor family made troubling new claims about the context of the police raid.

The lawyers allege that the raid that killed Taylor was part of a broader effort to evict residents who were impeding the city’s Vision Russell redevelopment initiative. When they broke down Taylor’s door, the Louisville police were seeking to apprehend an associate of Jamarcus Glover, a former boyfriend of Taylor’s who lived on Elliott Avenue at the center of the city’s neighborhood “renewal” project. Glover, who faces drug charges, was not in Taylor’s apartment at the time of the raid, and it is unclear whether he was there with any frequency at all.

The Taylor family’s lawyers accuse the city of targeting Glover—who was arrested in April—so it could repossess the home he rented. Indeed, in June, the city and a land bank purchased the house for $1.

Employees with the city’s department of economic development vehemently denied a “grand secret” between police action and the redevelopment initiative, but acknowledged wanting to return the block “to productive use” by tearing down some properties. They added that the plan for the city-purchased properties on Elliott Avenue will most likely be to create permanent affordable housing by turning the houses over to a community land trust.

Whatever the truth in this case, academic research and historical scholarship show that policing can be particularly intense during the process of gentrification. This research suggests that the continued use of police to pursue economic development will most likely result in more needless stops, arrests, and deaths like Breonna Taylor’s. Recent protests have demanded that police no longer be used as the first response to social problems like mental health crises and drug addiction. That demand might also extend to excluding police from urban “renewal.”

We need non-police responses to housing policy that create affordable housing and keep long-term residents in their homes. Cities should move funding away from police and toward housing, community development, and poverty alleviation—the kinds of efforts that can prevent crime.

In a statistical analysis of New York City from 2009 to 2015, I analyzed policing trends in neighborhoods whose low-income residents and lack of recent housing construction made them natural targets for gentrification. I found that, of this group, neighborhoods that experienced increased real estate reinvestment were more likely to see intensified misdemeanor policing than those that did not. As property values increased in those neighborhoods, so did order-maintenance arrests for offenses like loitering and disorderly conduct, as well as proactive arrests for offenses like drug possession and driving while intoxicated. This indicates that development-directed policing can happen in neighborhoods experiencing more mundane types of redevelopment, and not just in high-profile renewal zones.

The connection between real estate development and policing would not have come as a surprise to long-term residents of New York City’s Lower East Side or Times Square neighborhoods in the 1970s and 1980s. Those communities witnessed high-profile urban renewal projects, which brought intense law enforcement with them.

In 1984, the NYPD made more than 1,300 arrests—mostly for drug possession—in just 18 days on the Lower East Side. They called the military-style enforcement action Operation Pressure Point. The neighborhood’s gentrification was encouraged by the police and city media; a New York Times article in 1985 described Operation Pressure Point as a harbinger of “rising” fortunes during which “art galleries [were] replacing shooting galleries.”

Uptown, Times Square was also undergoing intense policing. As the city was rezoning the area and offering tax incentives to large chains to locate there, they were also making aggressive arrests for prostitution, vagrancy, loitering, and other petty crimes that characterized the area. With an Olive Garden and a Disney Store now having replaced pornogaphy theaters and gay bars, it seems the redvelopment agenda was effective.

Of course, gentrification is not just this kind of movement of capital back into disinvested areas—it is also the movement of middle class people, often white, into those places. In my study, I found that rising numbers of middle class residents in a neighborhood were correlated with increased reports of non-emergency disorder crimes to the police, as might be expected in light of the recent and highly publicized spate of people calling the police on Black, Latinx, and Native people for spurious reasons. Yet, surprisingly, in my data those increased calls, and the presence of middle class and white people in general, was not consistently or statistically significantly related to increased arrests in gentrifying neighborhoods.

In another analysis of New York City, however, Ayobami Laniyonu used a simultaneous measure of gentrification’s investment and demographic changes and found that, overall, an in-movement of middle class people and an increase in rents led to more stops citywide.

In two studies, Elaine Sharp found that cities with larger shares of professionals living in them made more order-maintenance arrests; Adam Goldstein and I found that cities relying on housing market growth in the lead-up to the Great Recession in 2008 spent more on police.

As these national studies show, intensified policing during gentrification is not just a phenomenon in big coastal cities. In Wichita, Kansas, elected officials have been trying for about 50 years to remake the downtown-adjacent “skid row” neighborhood into a business-friendly, middle class area rebranded as “Old Town.” Chase Billingham found that police, local business owners, and Witchita’s parks and recreation department aligned to try to “clean up” a park in the area by moving out the homeless men, social services providers, and sex workers who have historically characterized the area. Though efforts to upscale the area have proved elusive, intense policing remains.

This collaboration across city agencies and business owners to displace poor people has also been noted by Chris Herring in San Francisco. He found that much of the policing effort to clear areas of homeless people was spurred by residents’ and business owners’ complaints. Trying to satisfy these politically powerful groups, officers sometimes told people sleeping out in the city’s rapidly gentrifying Mission District to move to more industrial areas.

City leaders often trumpet their use of police to “clean up” neighborhoods and accelerate economic growth. Former New York City Mayor Ed Koch bragged about the effectiveness of the NYPD’s sweeping arrests at “reclaiming” Union Square Park. He said of the area, “First the thugs took over, then the muggers took over, then the drug people took over, and now we are driving them out.”

Baltimore’s police commissioner also emphasized the centrality of police in urban redevelopment when he said in 1998 that police “have a huge impact on property values, [and] the commercial viability of the community.” Denver’s current mayor said in 2007 that crime statistics can affect home values. Minneapolis’s police chief said his officers should take pride in the city’s rising home prices. And the Topeka, Kansas, police department touted its ability to raise property values and grow the city’s tax base when they solicited public donations to a 2013 stolen property tracking initiative.

Police departments in many cities have adopted property value growth as a formal performance metric, Mark Moore and Anthony Braga found. Police are orienting their success to that of the real estate market as city leaders encourage them to add “protecting economic growth” to their growing portfolio of responsibilities.

This new role for police comes at the cost of displacement and increases contact between police and vulnerable communities. Long-term residents in gentrifying neighborhoods have noted the ramp-up in policing that often accompanies reinvestment and gentrifiers. In his 2006 book, Lance Freeman quotes a Harlem resident who says, “If you sit on the benches the police will come along and point to the no loitering sign and say you can’t stay here. [This is] because of new people moving in and putting pressure on the police to make things orderly.”

Researchers studying Chicago, San Francisco, New Orleans, Vancouver, and Washington, D.C. have all cited long-term residents who say police make more stops and arrests during gentrification, with homeless people and sex workers experiencing especially harsh police contact. Manissa Maharawal found that the 2014-15 wave of Black Lives Matter protests in San Francisco were motivated in part by opposition to this policing of gentrification.

Gentrification is hardly the only force restructuring American cities. Neighborhoods are more likely to experience durable poverty, white flight, or persistent segregation than reinvestment and new middle-class neighbors. Each of these metropolitan contexts will influence policing in a different way. What the academic research summarized here reveals is that gentrification seems to coincide with a particular intensification in policing.

Sadly, Breonna Taylor is only the latest example of a Black or Latinx person killed by police against the backdrop of gentrification. Eric Garner was killed by an NYPD officer near recently renovated apartment buildings on Victory Boulevard in Staten Island. Saheed Vassell was killed by the NYPD just seconds after they confronted him in a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood in Brooklyn. Alex Nieto, a lifelong resident of San Francisco’s Bernal Heights neighborhood, was shot there by four officers after two white people called 911. These deaths are reminders that the struggles for affordable housing and against hyper-policing are intertwined.

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nickysurfer28 · 4 years

Text

Summary: continued from chapter 1, Dr.Nicky Ransom still searching for her cousin Denise Ames. But she’s gotten herself into something.....

Warning: 18+ only

Chapter 2

You stare at Chris, mouth agape for a fraction of a moment before you compose yourself.

“Fine.” , Nicky answered. “How exactly are going to do that?”

Chris reaches the bottom of the staircase and approaches you. Standing together like this, you realize how much taller he is than you.

“First, let’s sit down.” Chris spoke warmly.

He leads you to what looks like an old fashioned parlor. You see a pitcher of water with some glasses on a nearby table.

Chris noticed you staring. “Would you like some water?”

I...Would. Nicky answered awkwardly. “Some water would be nice.”

“Of course.” Chris answered warmly with a smile.

Chris pours you a glass from the pitcher and hands it you.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Chris gestures to a plush, stately couch.

Nicky thought to herself “I’ll ... Sit prim and proper.”

“Oh, um. Thank you.” Nicky awkwardly answered.

Carefully, you lower yourself onto the couch, making sure to keep your back straight.

Chris’s mouth quirks up in amusement. “Very proper, doctor.”

As you sit, you catch a glimpse of a painting across the room.

“What a beautiful painting. That’s “The Nightmare,” right? Nicky spoke curiously.

You look at the image portraying a demon feeding on an innocent woman’s dreams.

Chris sits down opposite you,poised as ever. He answered, “You have a good eye, doctor.”

“Thanks.”,Nicky answered confidently. Sighing, you fix him with a serious look.

“Look, I have to ask. How do you know Denise?”

Chris hums, crossing his arms over his chest and inclining his head to the paintings on the wall.

“I’m a proud patron of the arts, as you can see. I’m on the board for Dreamseeker’s Foundation. I approved Denise’s art grant.”

“Oh.” Nicky shockingly answered. That’s the arts organization that gave Denise funding for her artwork. Nicky thought to herself. Without the grants they provide to aspiring artists, Denise’s gallery opening would never have happened.

“You look surprised.”Chris answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me when we first met?”,Nicky spoke with shock.

“No offense meant, doctor, but you looked like you wanted to skin me alive when we first met.” Chris answered with a smirk. “That, and I was far more concerned with the news of Denise’s well-being.”

He locks eyes with you, his blue eyes bright and piercing even at this distance.

“I may act blasé, but I really do mean it when I say that I’m worried for her, Nicky.” Chris answered concern in his voice.

“That’s... Fair. Nicky answered.

“I certainly think so.” Chris answered warmly.

“Anyway, back to business.” Nicky answered. “How exactly are you going to help me find Denise?”.

But he holds up a hand with an apologetic smile.”Before I can help you, I think it would be best to understand what happened.” “Tell me about the night you supposedly saw me with Denise. You said it was during her art show, yes?”.

“Yeah. But even before that, she was acting odd. Off.”,Nicky spoke with sadness and concern. “She was ignoring all her friends for some guy she was dating, and none of us ever saw him.”

“Then, at the gallery, I saw... well, you.” .”You pulled her into an alley and... you did something to her. Then you left, and she acted like...like she was drugged.”

Nicky close her eyes, remembering that night.

*One Week Earlier*

You’re at Denise’s art gallery, perusing her paintings. Her art is bright and evocative, each canvas more beautiful than the last.

Nicky thought to herself “She’s so talented.”

A glimpse of Denise across the room interrupts your musings. Just as soon as you catch sight of her, though ,she heads to the back door, followed closely by unfamiliar figure.

Nicky thought ,”Who is that?”, I should... all out to Denise. “Denise!” She doesn’t seem to hear you. You consider calling out again when her date looks back at you with a wicked grin on his face. ???,”Hah..”,spoke. His brilliant blue eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something about his expression that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Soon, Denise re-emerges fro. The back door, her eyes unfocused and glazed over as she makes her way to you. “Nicky! I’m so glad you could make it! Denise is swarmed by admirers soon enough, and you can’t help but feel worried.

Nicky thought “I’m sure I’m just letting my worries get the best of me.”

*Present Day*

“And that’s what happened.” Nicky answered after telling the story.

You study Chris’s face. His eyes are dark, his expression serious as he regards you.

“I see.” Chris answered. His voice is practically a whisper.

“Chris....What’s wrong?. Nicky answered with concern. “You’re suddenly a lot more serious than you were.”

“I’ll ask again: do you have a twin? Nicky asked again.

He shakes his head, as if in disbelief. “Twin or not, someone is clearly impersonating me.”

In one fluid motion, he stands up.

“I think I have an idea of what to do next. There would have been some members from The Dreamseekers Foundation at that gallery. I can pull some strings, see who was registered under that guest list.” He give you a small, polite smile.

“It’s late. Let’s reconvene tomorrow, doctor. From there, we can formulate a plan.”

Nicky answered confused. “Huh? But... I just got here.”

“I know, and I greatly appreciate it, but I think that might be as far as we’ll go tonight.”Chris answered politely.

Nicky thought “why do I feel like he’s rushing me out of here?

“One more thing.” He fixes your with a serious look. “I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, but I truly do want to help. I want to work with you, despite your suspicions against me. But it’s a two way street,doctor. I need you cooperate. Are you willing to work together with me Nicky?”

You watch him as he speaks, a small frown on your face.

He’s right. If this is going to work, I need to drop some of this. What should I do? Fight back. He can’t tell me want to do.

“Whatever. I don’t owe you anything,Chris. As far as I’m concerned,you’re guilty until proven innocent.” Nicky answered fighting back.

He sighs and shakes his head,resigned. “Well, I tired. Here.”

He holds out his hand to help you up.

I’ll.... Take his hand. You take his hand, and he pulls you to your feet as though you weigh nothing, and you gasp. He much closer than you realized. The two of you are practically chest to chest as you look at one another. Why is my heart beating so fast?

“Well, it was a pleasure,doctor. I’ll get in contact with you tomorrow, and we can think of the next steps.” Chris answered warmly.

Chris escorts you down the hallway that leads back to the foyer. As he walks ahead of you, your eye catch an open book that had been pulled out of its case. You only catch one word as you pass. “Incubus.” You think back to the painting in the parlor, to the demon looming over the sleeping woman. “What’s this guy’s deal?”

When you return to the foyer, Chris stops and smiles courteously at you. “Try to get home safe. You don’t know what’s out there.”

Nicky thought shockingly “what’s that supposed to mean?”

....sure.

“Thank you, doctor.” He smiles and, with one last nod, closes the door.

Nicky thinking to herself, “okay , he was absolutely acting suspicious.”

You go back to your car in a daze. Something isn’t right here. So, you get in your car and drive behind a nearby tree, with the house in view. “I told him he’s guilty until proven innocent, and he’s acting suspicious.”

A half-hour goes by. You’re just about to call it quits when....

Chris slips into an SUV with darkly-tinted windows and drives off.

“Where are you going?”

You follow him through the city...onto the highway...and finally, to the outskirts of a forest in the Sierra Nevada foothills. “What the hell is he doing all the way out here?”

He parks and disappears into the woods. What should I do? Follow him at a distance. Well, Nicky, let’s get this over with before we think better of it.

You switch on your flashlight and follow him into the trees.

I mean, there can’t possibly be a non-creepy reason to be out in the woods late at night, can there? Ugh, this is exactly how horror movies start...

Your foot catches on an exposed root.

“Ah!” Nicky yelled out.

You fight to stay upright, but it’s no use. You tumble down the hill- right into a patch of thorny brambles.

“Ow!”Nicky yelled again.

“Dr. Ransom, fancy seeing you here.” Chris answered.

Chris is leaning against a nearby tree with an eyebrow raised. you struggle against the brambles, but only seem to get yourself more entangled. My shirt’s stuck on the thorns!

Seeing your struggle, he pushes off the tree with a concerned frown.

“Are you all right? Do you need help? Chris answered with concern.

“I’m fine.” Nicky shrugged.

“Please, Nicky, let me help you. You could injure yourself. Chris spoke with concern.

Dammit, I really do need his help....

“I’m good, thanks. Nicky spoke stubbornly.

You yank yourself free of the thorns, tearing part of your tank top in the process.

“Oh terrific.”

You try to stand, and wince.

“Are you all right? Chris answered with concern.

“I think I might have sprained my ankle.” Nicky answered.

“Want me to take a look? I’m no doctor, but I do know some basic first aid.” Chris spoke warmly. Do I want Chris to take a look at my ankle?

“Please.” Nicky answered helplessly.

Chris eases your shoe off. His warm, strong fingers probe tenderly at your throbbing ankle. His gentle touch leaves an odd tingle of pleasure in its wake. Oh my God, Nicky , stop enjoying this!

“Well, I don’t think it’s sprained, but you’re going to want to get some ice on it as soon as you can.”Chris spoke warmly.

“Noted.” Nicky warmly answered back.

Chris gingerly puts your shoe back on.

“Thanks.” Nicky answered kindly.

“Anytime.”Chris answered with a smile. “And now, Nicky, I’d like to know why you followed me out here. I thought we had a plan. I told you I’d contact you as soon as I was able to find more information.”

“I warned you that I still don’t trust you.Nicky answered.

“I know, but I didn’t think you’d resort to following me.” Chris answered with concern.

He has a point. Maybe I should ... be honest with him.

“I still have my doubts about you.” Nicky answered with guilt.

“And you make a habit of stalking everyone you have doubts about? Chris answered.

“Just the ones who might be connected to my cousin’s disappearance.” Nicky answered.

Chris sighs. “I know you’re worried about Denise, Nicky. I understand that. But if we’re going to be working together to bring her home, there needs to be a degree of trust between us. Part of that trust includes not stalking me.”

He has a point, but...

“What are you doing out here, anyway? Nicky questioning him.

“I happen to own this property, Dr. Ransom, and am well within my rights to be here whenever I so choose. Does that satisfy you? Chris answered with a stern voice.

“Yes..... I mean, legally it makes sense. Nicky answered awkwardly.

“Thank you.” Chris answered warmly.

“But you have to admit, this is weird, Mr. Evans. Nicky answered.

“Nicky, I don’t know what to tell you. This is my property, and I wasn’t yet in the mood for turning in for the night. And no: before you ask, I don’t have the deed on me to prove it. I’m afraid I left it in my other pants.” Chris answered.

Your gaze flickers, unbidden, to his pants.

“Seriously.” Chris answered with a brow raised.

“Hey....get your head out of the gutter! Nicky answered blushing.

“It’s not mine we should be worrying about ?” Chris answered with a smile.

A chilly breeze whistles through the trees. You shiver, your teeth chattering.

“Here.” He shrugs off his jacket and holds it out to you.

“Put this on, please.”

You do with a small flush. The jacket protects you from the cold air, and your shivering comes to a stop.

“Better.” Chris answered warmly.

“Y-yeah.” Nicky awkwardly answers. I should tell him I don’t need his help.

“I don’t need to be coddled. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure. For now, just keep it.”He adjusts the jacket over your shoulders with a small smile.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I did come out here for a purpose.”

“That purpose being?. Nicky questioning.

“None of your business.”Chris snapped back.

“What.” Nicky shocked and taken back.

He leans close, his bright blue eyes piercing and teasing. You feel your breath catch in your throat.

“Remember, Nicky, you’re the one who followed me and trespassed on my property.” Chris answered with a smirk.

Then, he stand up, poised and regal as ever. “I may be a while, if you can walk on that ankle, I’d recommend heading back to your car.”

“Wait... you’re just going to leave me?” Nicky answered in shock with her jaw dropped.

“Well, I certainly can’t take you with me. You’re injured, after all. Just stay put. I’ll get back to help you as soon as I can.” And with that , he leaves you.

If I leave, I’ll never find out what Chris is trying to hide. And I know he’s hiding something. And if I stay here...

A howl rings out from somewhere nearby.

Nope! I am not getting eaten by coyotes tonight!

You rise gingerly on your injured ankle.

it hurts, but it’s not as bad as I expected. All right, Chris Evans. Time to see whatever it is you don’t want me to know about!

You follow the path Chris took through the trees- albeit more carefully this time.

The trees eventually give way to small clearing and what looks like a mine.

Chris’s footprints lead right inside.

You pick your way into the mine, being mindful of sharp edges, when you hear noises up ahead.

Please don’t be a bear, please doesn’t be a bear, please don’t be a bear....

Chris stand be fore a broken wall, a look of utter defeat on his face.

“No...No!” He lets out a howl of frustration, slamming his palms against the wall.

“How could this have happened?”.

Why is he so upset? Following him was... a bad idea. What was I thinking? I need to leave. Now.

There’s a hollow clatter as Chris’s foot strikes something on the ground.

The object rolls toward you in the darkness.

Leave, Nicky. Just leave...

But curiosity gets the better of you. You aim the beam of your flashlight down as the object rolls to a halt at your feet. A skull..

“Oh my God! Nicky shrieked.

Tags: @denisemarieangelina @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @ohmy-captain @patzammit @thatgirly81 @katiew1973 @kelbabyblue @southerngracela @littlefiercequeen @wintrcaptn @shellbilee @shreyaaaaaaaaaaaa @chris-butt @brilliantkey @bellaireland1981 @star-spangled-beard-burn @lovinevans @luvinchris @thinkxlovexloud @shadowcatsworld @pine-fresh-kirk @nbarnes @nomadevans82 @captain-rogers-beard @worksby-d @captainchrisstan @captaincrazyexlover @dreamxlovexdo @comebackandhauntme21 @americasass91 @thatsxamericasxass @norcula @jms358 @branflakes82 @amazon-x @mizcaptainphoenix @denissjmaddox @imma-new-soul @kirstie-evans-writes @trottae17 @tropicalcap @gothamlovr91 @twittytelly @waywardodysseys @chrisrogerscap @kellyn1604 @ab-baybay @artisticrogers1972 @daliaevans @theycallmebecca

If I missed any tags again tumblr wouldn’t let me add more. So check it out and pass along. Thanks.

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eskalations · 4 years

Link

Riza gave him a small smile at the earnest question. "I wasn't lying when I told you I felt like we were kindred spirits. Like me, you have the eyes of a killer. I noticed it when you first sat at the bar earlier. I figured you and I would make a rather good pair." (AU where Riza became one of Madame Christmas's girls)

FFN Link

(Day 2 "little pistol" by mother mother (x) - Royai Week 2020)

A/N:

Here's my attempt at the day 2 prompt for Royai Week 2020. If you want the full effect, make sure to listen to the song "Little Pistol" by Mother Mother. The song reminds me of "House of the Rising Sun," so I wanted to give it a similar vibe to that. Let's just say, this fanfiction took on a life of it's own after awhile. I started out thinking it was going to lead one place and then we veered way off track...that being said, I hope you can still enjoy it! Thank you for reading!

Under the skin, against the skull

They put a little chip so that they know it all

I think I might be scared

Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid

And how it gets in the way

The way she looked at him was not the way a sister would look at her brother.

He was sure that – over the rim of his glass – the young woman could sense him peering at her. Much like her own hungry gaze, his held nothing of innocence either. The smooth whiskey-colored set of her eyes matched the shade of the drink he was presently nursing – the burn she delivered far more potent than the one from the liquor sliding down his throat.

"Roy boy."

The gruff voice of Madame Christmas brought him back to the present, her dark eyes – so much like his own – glaring at him in reprimand. Under the hardened gaze of the bar owner, the young man felt more like a boy of twelve than a man of twenty-four. He turned back towards the bar on his stool, placing his glass down on the counter.

His attempt at appearing casual did not fool his surrogate mother. "Stop ogling your new sister, boy. She's one of the best girls I've recruited in years."

"Really?" Roy remarked, surprised at the praise. Madame Christmas was not one to throw around compliments. Leaning forward with his elbows on the countertop, the young man couldn't hide his curiosity. "What makes her so special?"

"For one, she's a better shot than any soldier I've ever seen."

Thinking this was a jab at his own poor shooting record, Roy pouted petulantly. "Hey, I passed!"

"No no no," Chris Mustang insisted, pulling out a rag to begin wiping down the counter. "I'm being serious. That girl right there is lethal."

Roy looked back over his shoulder to where the pretty blonde stood, serving a group of soldiers who seemed to be chomping at the bit to know more about her. She smiled coyly at them – lips moving in what he imagined to be a flirty retort. Whatever she said, had the young men choking with laughter, one even falling backwards out of his chair. At such a response, the young girl giggled attractively before turning to serve another group of men.

"She doesn't look very scary to me." Roy said, turning back to the dark-haired woman at the bar. "She looks tame as a kitten."

"Tell that to the man she maimed."

Roy's drink stopped halfway between his mouth and the bar top. "Oh?"

The elder Mustang chuckled, disposing of her rag before reaching into the pocket of her fur coat to pull out a cigarette. After lighting it and taking a long drag, she cast one more protective look around the room at where her girls were working, before leaning closer to her nephew, the smoke on her breath assaulting his senses.

"She came to us while you were off in Ishval. Her father was an alchemist, and according to her, a pretty good one." Roy's eyes twinkled at this. One of his greatest desires was to become a State Alchemist. All he needed was a competitive edge. "Don't give me such a hopeful look – he's dead. He's been dead since she was sixteen years old."

"So how did she end up here?" Roy attempted to mask his disappointment with curiosity. It wasn't very hard since this girl had certainly piqued his interest. "Was her father a State Alchemist?"

The Madame chuckled darkly. "Oh no, my boy. He hated the military more than anything on this planet. She says he called them the scum of the Earth."

This wasn't a widely accepted opinion. Most alchemists worshiped the ground any military official walked on, knowing that their participation in the program meant extra funds for research in the future. It was hard to conduct independent alchemy research without the backing of the State Military.

Chris caught on to his line of thinking, taking another long drag from her cigarette before releasing a sad sigh. "He refused to become a part of the State Alchemist program. He left behind a hefty amount of debt when he passed. Her home was repossessed about a year ago and she somehow found her way here."

"There has to be more to the story than that."

The Madame had a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Let's just say I'm doing a favor for a friend. He's one of my best paying customers, so I couldn't let his little granddaughter end up shivering in an alleyway somewhere."

"She has a grandfather?" Roy was surprised by this, most of his sisters were orphaned. Mollie was the only one he knew of that still had any family left living. Girls like Vanessa and Alice had come to the Madame as little more than children, willing to earn their keep by becoming bar maids. The new girl looked little more than a teenager herself. "Why on earth would he choose this life for her over one he could provide her with? Doesn't he know what your girls do?"

"He knows, but he doesn't have any kind of relationship with her. I don't think he cares much what she's doing as long as she's being fed." Chris shrugged, her eyes cutting over dangerously at a pair of rowdy young soldiers who seemed to have had a bit too much to drink. "Besides, he knows that while she's under my roof, no harm will come to her."

"That's horrible." The young Captain muttered under his breath, glancing to the side where the girl was chatting with his eldest sister, Vanessa. "What grandfather would ever force their grandchild into the life of a – "

"You don't understand, Roy," The dark-haired woman reasoned with him, sliding the cigarette from between her lips and looking both ways. Once she was satisfied that no one was paying any heed to their conversation, she continued. "She will be able to do far more in this position than she would have in any other job she could have gotten. She had a good education, but not good enough to build a life on without a husband. Her skills will be put to good use here; her grandfather knew that. It was the reason he sent me to go and retrieve her."

"Because of her shooting skills?"

"That and her sweet features." Chris's eyes drifted to the young girl, her eyebrows raising as she prompted Roy to turn and see what she was looking at. "Would you ever think that the little darling had grown up hunting in order to eat? That her eye is better than most men who have trained for years – simply because she had to adapt so that she could survive? Probably not."

Roy's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull at this revelation. He turned his head to gaze at the girl in question once more. As she chatted with Vanessa, he noticed how the bones of her collar jutted out a bit more than normal. She was blessed with gentle curves and certainly didn't look as though she was being underfed – however, it seemed that the scars of her past were still evident in the way her skin drew taut over her body.

"She's not one of my sleepers." His foster mother assured him, watching as his gaze softened with misplaced sympathy. "She simply goes, performs a little, slips them a sleeping pill, then leaves. That's all she really needs to do to get information out of them."

"And the guy she maimed?"

Chris smirked, eyes sparking with pride. "He didn't take very well to the sleeping pill and tried to force himself on her. Lucky for her, she always carries a pistol; not so lucky for him, she's a good shot. He escaped with a minor wound to the leg and was charged with assault."

The Captain shook his head in disbelief, still having trouble believing that the pretty blonde in front of him could prove to be that lethal.

"Why don't you go introduce yourself to her?" Chris urged, fully aware of the way his eyes seemed to follow the young girl as she walked through the door to the back room. "She's a lovely young lady. In the year that she has been here, she has proven herself valuable time and time again. I know she's been eager to meet you with all the stories your sisters like to tell."

Roy blushed at the thought of his sisters gathered around the dinner table, telling the new girl all the embarrassing things he had done in his youth.

"I don't even know her name."

"It's Elizabeth." The Madame smiled knowingly, watching as his lips mouthed the name, trying to figure out if it truly fit her pretty, young visage. "It's not her real one, but she said she wished to leave that one at the door. Since she's the youngest girl we're housing right now, your sisters have taken to calling her 'little pistol'."

Roy grinned wryly. "How creative – let me guess, because she carries a pistol?"

"Not just because of that," Chris clarified, grabbing a few glasses before walking away towards a new set of customers sat at the counter. "It's more because of the personality she's packing with it. She's a girl with real grit. Go and chat her up, Roy boy – I know you want to."

Pointedly ignoring the suggestive look on his foster mother's face, the young man tipped back his glass before standing. The room spun for just a moment before it righted again. After his time in Ishval, his alcohol tolerance had grown immensely. He certainly wasn't an alcoholic like the majority of the men he knew who couldn't handle the horrors of war – however, he was a bit more dependent on the bottle right now than he liked to admit.

As he crossed the bar, he was stopped by several soldiers who clapped him jovially on the back. The clock hadn't even struck midnight yet so – to them – the party still had a long way to go. His sisters gave him knowing looks as he passed, having already said their 'hello's' to him when he walked through the door earlier. Yes, he had said hello to everyone – except the mysterious blonde girl who still had not yet come back to the room.

When he entered the back room, only a single lamp was on, casting long shadows across the expanse of the wall. The room was off limits to patrons, unless invited back by one of the girls. The room, which was more accurately described as a 'hall', held the stairway that led up to the residential part of the bar. The second floor contained a long row of rooms, almost like that of a hotel, allowing each girl to have their own space and conduct their work in private.

Roy also had a room on the second floor – however, he had been staying with a friend since his arrival back in Central. The nightmares he had were still far too violent and he didn't feel comfortable exposing that side of himself to his family just yet.

He was trying to decide whether he wanted to walk up the steps or not, when a feminine figure began making her way down them. His appearance caused her to pause a moment in surprise, before she continued her way down the stairs, a small smile lighting up her features.

"Hello, you must be Roy."

He could barely form a coherent thought, his eyes glued to the new coat of ruby red lipstick she must have just applied. His brain was fuzzy from the alcohol, but he knew one thing for sure. Even if he hadn't been in a womanless drought for the past year, this new bar maid would have driven him crazy.

She finished her descent down the stairs before walking closer to him. The single lamp in the hall illuminated her features, giving him a moment to catalogue the fine lines of her face. Her nose was sharp and her brows were arched – however, there was a gentle quality to the way her features harmonized. Those large, whiskey-colored eyes that had stopped him in his tracks earlier, were framed with a heavy set of dark lashes. She was both alluring and charming.

A deadly combo.

It certainly didn't help that she was also wearing a criminally tiny, black dress that showed off an ample amount of her cleavage. Roy thanked his lucky stars that he had chosen to wear civvies instead of his constricting military blues or else he might have passed out from the heat being generated within the room.

"Well," She spoke again, breaking him from his thoughts. There was a sly smirk on those ruby red lips of her's now. "Am I right? Are you the illustrious Captain Mustang that I've been hearing so much about?"

Roy chuckled nervously at the playful question, his palms sweating as she drew nearer. She was so close now, that he could almost count the tiny dusting of freckles that lay delicately over the bridge of her nose. He had to clear his throat before speaking – fearful that if he didn't, his words would come out as nothing more than a meek squeak.

"Just Roy's fine." He answered modestly, when he was finally able to find his voice again. "Madame Christmas told me that the girls have shared with you all my faults, so I don't think there's any room for anything but familiarity between us, at this point."

"Is that so?" Her smile was one of amusement, her eyes sparkling mischievously in the dim light. "Well then, if we are past the point of introductions, then I assume you must already know my name as well?"

Still high off the liquor, Roy was able to answer her banter quickly. "Do you prefer Elizabeth, or do you prefer 'little pistol'?"

"Neither, actually."

Her words stumped him, throwing a wrench in his slowly building confidence.

"I would rather you call me Riza."

She said it quietly, so quietly that he wasn't even sure he had heard her correctly. There was a small amount of uncertainty in her tone as her voice shook, so unlike the confident vixen whom had come to meet him just a few minutes earlier.

"Why?" He couldn't help but ask, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Because that's my name."

This surprised Roy even further. The Madame had told him that Elizabeth was not her true name, the girl choosing to leave her old name behind in favor of a new life. Why on earth would she be telling him to use it?

"Your sisters speak fondly of you, Roy." Her voice was low – aware that, just a room away, there was a whole crowd of people. "I've never heard such high praises spoken about a young man before."

The man couldn't fight the guilty clench of his heart – the ache spreading through his chest and momentarily leaving him speechless. Would his sisters have spoken so highly of him if they knew how many people he had killed in Ishval? Would they still have admired him and welcomed him with open arms if they knew the truth behind the campaign?

Those were answers he was too scared to find out.

"I know about Ishval." Riza said, quietly. The words had Roy's eyes opening in shock. "The soldiers who have been coming in have been drinking themselves sick. Once they get passed a certain part of inebriation, they share all the things that they did out in that desert – almost like they are confessing to a high priest. I'm assuming by the look on your face that you are guilty of much the same."

Roy's mouth couldn't form coherent words – shocked that the young blonde had been able to read him so effectively. Maybe this is what Madame Christmas had meant about the real reason for her nickname. Her senses were as acute as a sniper's.

Finally finding his voice, the soldier sputtered. "How did – How did you – ?"

"I have a confession to make too, Roy." Riza's eyes gazed into his beseechingly, as if searching for an answer to something that she had yet to ask. "Can I trust you?"

"I just met you." Roy answered, confused by the direction in which this conversation had gone. One moment, they were playfully teasing each other – the next, they were delving into the dark pasts of the other. What was going on? Was he really that drunk?

"Weren't you the one who said there was no reason for anything but familiarity between us?" She asked, her voice low against the constant hum of conversation floating through the bar door. "Besides, I have a feeling we're kindred spirits – you and I."

"Why's that?" He asked earnestly, giving up on any attempt to try and piece things together from their conversation. There was no making sense of it. He must be really drunk.

"Come with me."

Roy knew he should have been cautious around this unfamiliar girl – who, in the past, had literally maimed someone – but he couldn't find it in himself to be anxious. In the small moment when she had told him her name, he found that he inevitably began to trust her too. Maybe it was the look in her eyes – so honest, so genuine – or maybe it was the slight quiver in her voice as she asked whether she could trust him.

Or maybe it was just the booze.

Regardless, he allowed her to drag him up the long familiar staircase and down to a single door that he assumed to be her room. Before he could say anything, she had unlocked the door and thrown him in, closing it tightly behind her. This left Roy standing at the center of the room in utter confusion.

"You know," He said, lowly – trying to hide his disdain for being manhandled behind a well-practiced mask of nonchalance. "If you wanted to get me in your bed, all you had to do was ask."

When she turned towards him, he was shocked silent. In the pale moonlight that drifted in between her curtains, he could see the telltale sign of tears making their way down her smooth cheeks.

"I need to tell you something." Her voice was gravelly, the tears falling at a faster pace now. "I couldn't tell any of the girls because they wouldn't understand – but with all they have told me about you, I was hoping that you would."

Roy felt like he was getting whiplash from the continuous change in tone of their conversation.

After his initial shock wore off, he was finally able to find his voice once more. "What is this about?"

"Ishval."

The man could feel his expression darken, the mere mention of the land bringing forth memories that he would have rather left behind in the sand. "What about it?"

"Have you ever killed anyone, Roy?"

At the question, he went quiet. She had started to shake with her tears, hands clutched in front of her as if almost in prayer. Those warm brown eyes never left his, staring into his very soul as if they were extracting every experience he had ever had during his time in the military.

"Of course," He answered truthfully, though his tone held no pride. The least he could do was be honest with her. "I was a tactician who specialized in knives. I killed more people than I think I could even count."

This was why Roy had been staying with Maes Hughes ever since returning from war. To hear such a cruel reality was sure to mess with his sisters' sensibilities. There was no way anyone could look at him the same after finding out about the monster he really was.

Instead of running away in fear– or kicking him out of her room in disgust at the sheer brutality of his actions – Riza breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her hands coming up to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks. Her reaction was so out of the norm, that Roy truly began to think that he must be having some kind of alcohol-induced fever dream.

"I killed someone."

At her admission, Roy felt his knees give out from under him. With all the grace of a newborn calf, he sat back on the edge of her bed, trying his best to make sense of what she had just told him.

"What?" He finally heard himself ask, barely able to come up with coherent speech. He was suddenly a lot more sober than he had been just moments before. "With your gun?"

"No," Riza shook her head, directing her gaze to the floor. She was leaning against the door now, her shoulders hunched forward in shame. "I did it with poison."

"Who?" Roy asked, wondering if it was another one of her clients that had taken things too far. Maybe she had accidently given him too many sleeping pills and had to cover up her tracks? Maybe there was a nice and neat little answer for this that didn't exactly spell out murder?

"My father."

Well, alright – that wasn't the answer he was expecting.

Seeing the shock wash over his features, Riza pushed off the back of the door and walked over to where he sat on the bed. She perched next to him, leaving a careful distance between them just in case he now thought differently of her.

"I was sixteen and I was tired of being abused by his hand." She shared with him, her quiet voice quivering with the pain of an old wound being torn back open. "His alchemy stole away whatever was left of him that was still human and turned him into a monster. I'll save you the sob story – but trust me when I say that if I hadn't killed him, it would have been me that was rotting away underground, six-feet-under."

Roy could imagine that what she said was true, given the conviction behind her tone. Had this been what his aunt had meant when she called her lethal? No, it couldn't be. He had a feeling that what she had just told him, no other soul on earth knew about. Which left only one question…

"Why are you telling me this?"

Her attempt was good, but he could tell that there was more to her reasoning than just that. At his dubious look, she huffed a frustrated sigh.

"Fine – It wasn't just that." She admitted, turning towards him fully, her now swollen eyes staring directly into his. "Like I said, your sisters have always spoken highly of you. Though I know I could trust any of them with my life, I needed someone to understand what it feels like to carry this burden."

"Then why not speak about it with one of your military clients?" He asked, genuinely curious as to why she had chosen him of all people. Leaning back on the bed, he studied her closely. "Why did it have to be me?"

"Because I trust you to not turn me in to the MP's."

"Oh really?" He chuckled at her reasoning, the smile returning to his face for the first time since earlier that night. "Why's that?"

"Because, like you said earlier, I know all of your faults. We wouldn't want those to get out – now would we?"

"You've got me there." He conceded, before his face morphed into an expression of utmost seriousness. "Lucky for you, I happen to be a very trustworthy person."

"I figured you might be."

"And I have it on good authority that you only react violently when provoked." He continued, the maimed man from earlier coming to mind. He shuddered at the thought. "So if you say that your father gave you good reason to act the way you did – then I believe you. You certainly have better reasons for your actions than I do."

He could see she wanted to ask why he felt that way, so he hurriedly changed the subject.

"So, Riza?" Roy tested the name out on his lips, thinking that it suited her much better than the other name she had chosen to go by.

"Yes?"

"That's your name?"

"Yes."

"Is it short for anything?" He asked curiously – having never heard it before. Certainly, not in Central, at least.

"Thereza. It was my mother's name."

"It's very pretty."

"Thank you."

They sat in silence for a moment, considering one another. Roy couldn't deny that – much like Riza – he had felt a pull between them ever since their eyes had met earlier in the night. He didn't believe in fate, he had no reason to really – but he couldn't help but think that the conversation that had taken place on this night, was one that was always meant to take place. The coming together of two unhappy killers seemed to replace the beauty and the beast as a tale as old as time in their case.

The electricity that continued to snap in the air between them had reached a fever pitch and though Roy had certainly sobered up a lot since walking up the stairs, the warm rush of alcohol still sat heavy in his veins. He mentally berated himself for thinking such hot-blooded thoughts when the girl next to him had just confessed what seemed to be her biggest secret. How could he be so selfish?

But if there was one thing he had learned tonight – it was that Riza was full of surprises.

Before he could act on any of the impulses that he was so desperately trying to push down, he suddenly had a very warm – very curvy – body straddled across his thighs. Roy barely had time to think before her cherry red lips were on his, her tongue invading and demanding entrance as if she owned him.

Hell, maybe she did.

He allowed her to kiss him senseless for a few moments before pulling back to catch his breath. As he took the time to fill his lungs, Riza was already leaving tiny love bites on the pale skin of his neck, right over the collar of his button down.

"Riza?" He managed to stutter out as she continued her assault on his neck. Damn, she was good. "I don't want to do this with how emotional you are right now – it wouldn't be right."

"Roy?" She murmured against the sensitive skin of his collarbone, causing a visible shiver to run up his back. "Why do you think I told you my name earlier?"

"Because you trusted me?"

"That," She bit down harshly on his skin, drawing a rather un-masculine whimper from his lips. She soothed the mark with her tongue before continuing. "And because I wanted you to use it. I was hoping tonight would end up this way."

"Why?"

"Because for one night, I want to be Riza again." She whispered, her warm breath caressing his ear as she drifted up to tease the lobe. "I don't want to be Elizabeth, who poisoned her father and ran off to a bar to work on gathering intel. I just wanted to be me. Don't you ever get the urge to just be Roy and not Captain Mustang?"

As her lips played with the skin of his ear, his hands drifted up to find a place on her slender waist. He couldn't help but feel like she was right – he did often wish to become Roy Mustang again, if only for a short while. Though he knew he couldn't ever fully erase what he had done in the past – it was nice to think that under the influence of alcohol and in the company of a young girl, that he could just be a run-of-the-mill young man again.

Sensing his acceptance in the way he now allowed his lips to drift to her own neck, Riza had to smile. Pulling his face back to her own, she engaged him in a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

"Do you want to know?" She asked, her lips touching his as the words escaped her in a sigh. Roy was barely paying attention at this point, leaving his own set of love bites against her perfectly pale skin. She smacked him lightly on the shoulder to get an answer.

"What?" He grunted, annoyed at the interruption. That was until she grabbed one of his muscular hands and guided it up the edge of her dress.

"Do you want to know where I keep my 'little pistol'?

With those words, he was sold. No coherent thoughts were had for the rest of the night. If he had noticed that she never allowed him to see the wide expanse of her back, he was too polite to ask.

After all, that was another secret for another day.

Up on my side, where it is felt

I pack a little pistol on my pistol belt

I think it might be fear

Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid

#royaiweek20 #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #royai fic #royai fanfiction #royai fanfic #fma fic #fma fanfiction #fma fanfic #au #alternate universe #my fanfiction

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chicagocityofclans · 3 years

Photo

Clarisse “Clara” Fields → Margot Robbie → Black Bear Shifter

→ Basic Information

Age: 229

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: September 3rd

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Religion: Christian

→ Her Personality Clara has for a long time played things close to her chest. She has built walls between her true feelings and those that she portrays in an effort to control her reaction and the reactions of others. Clara finds safety and comfort in control, and is deeply disturbed when it’s taken away from her. The rigidity in the way she communicates has contributed to the somewhat ice queen facade she portrays. She has strict rules for herself and the pack and expects them to be followed. She is difficult to persuade and may hold out just to prove a point.

Clara, in addition to controlling her reactions, also enjoys controlling the way her environment looks. She is always put together, and her homes and the hotel are always immaculate. Her cleaning helps control the anxiety she feels and having beautiful environments put her at ease. Clara is very protective of her pack and has dedicated herself and her life to helping it and its members be as successful and comfortable as possible. Clara often provides support for new members when they come to the city, even helping them find jobs at the hotel or in one of the real estate companies owned by the clan. She is generous and is comfortable in sharing her wealth. She is gracious and always willing to listen, and has a long standing passion for humanitarianism. Clara often goes on environmental charity trips and has dedicated a branch of the pack towards funding them.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: CEO/Owner of Fields Hotels, Head of Clan Heavy, and Council Member

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Matchmaking and Humanitarianism

Two Dislikes: Her personal space being intruded and People who shirk responsibility

Two Fears: Germs and Losing/Ruining her family’s legacy

Two Hobbies: Equestrianism and Hunting

Three Positive Traits: Neat, Protective, and Dignified

Three Negative Traits: Unbending, Controlling, Anxious

→ Her Connections Parent Names:

Garland Fields (Father): Clara loved her father more than anyone. She idolized him and was constantly at his side. She had her sights on leadership from a young age, and tried to soak up everything she could from her father. Clara took on more and more responsibility as she grew up, taking over the Fields Hotel and running it successfully at the turn of the century. It was at this point that Clara began to see some concerning signs in her father: aggression, random sporadic shifts, waking up covered in blood. Clara paid the human shifters $1,000 over that year to keep her father’s antics quiet. She could see he had hypershift and couldn’t bear to let his reputation be blemished. They went out hunting and Clara killed her father, using the excuse of dementia to cover his and her tracks. She still feels guilty over this at times and will direct her guilt into anger towards Asa.

Annabelle Fields (Mother): Annabelle died before Asa and Clara turned 50. They found part of her body in the woods about 5 miles from their house. It was obvious that hunters of some kind got to her. It deeply affected each member of the Field’s family.

Sibling Names:

Asa Fields (Twin Brother): Clara and Asa have always tended to butt heads, and it's only gotten worse since he has returned from being gone. Clara feels like he’s intruding on the system she’s built and dedicated her whole life towards. She also has a lot of resentment of him not returning home when Garland died. She was entirely alone grieving her father and has felt on her own since then. A part of her is happy he is back and wants to readily trust them like she did when they were kids. Both are damaged, and at the moment Clara is treating Asa as if he were a problem member in her pack.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

None

Platonic Connections:

Taye Black (Pack Member): Taye is one of the people Clara trusts most. He’s able to handle whatever needs handling and she has come to trust his calls in situations that she isn’t there for.

Bryce Holt (Best Friend): Bryce and Clara did not start out friends. She heavily blamed Clara for the exchange that Bryce’s father requested, and loudly shouted that whenever she could. Clara finally sat down and they began talking things out. Clara offered a fraction of her own experiences, and Bryce was willing to finally open up. Their bond grew after that, and Clara considers Bryce her best friend.

Patrick Perry (Pack Member): Patrick is one of Clara’s pack that she finds particularly exhausting. She has frequently seen him talking with the Mist family and believes that he is the one who has given them so much information on the supernatural.

Anna Johansen (Pack Member): Clara has only met a dozen or so panda shifters in her time. Typically they came to be matched and then returned to their homes, so Clara is delighted to have Anna with them. She is hoping to have her take interest in the real estate side of the business, and is glad that Riley is assisting with that.

Michael Johansen (New Pack Member/Interest): Clara has found herself enjoying Michael’s company. She’d met him briefly a few times before he asked to move his pack to the city. She was happy to have a whole new crop of heavies in, but was surprised when she found herself becoming close to the former alpha.

Ezra Schultz (Good Friend): Ezra is the longest remaining pack member in Chicago, having been with the Fields since they were originally founded in New Orleans. She has seen some of the signs for dementia in Ezra and is dreading the day she will have to take care of him. She has always found him to have a “true north” conscience and never knows where he will side in board meetings.

Hollis Sony (Good Friend): Hollis and Clara are close. She has repeatedly backed Clara when tough decisions had to be made and has always been a good sounding board for issues when Clara wasn’t sure what the best path was.

Nathan Cleirigh (Psychiatrist): They rarely get to the root of any of her issues, sticking generally to her compulsions and depression and grief over her father. They have never gone deeper, despite the fact that Clara knows that they should. It embarasses her too much to talk about her other relationships and opinion of herself.

Chris Bialar (Fellow Alpha): Chris and Clara have gotten closer over the recent years when they realized how much they have in common in regards to their packs. They are both facing dwindling numbers with an inability to replace them.

Nick Hamelin (Fellow Alpha): Clara used to think Nick hated her, as she was the constant center of his jabs, but when she confronted him he set her straight. They stay out of each other’s way, generally, and both care greatly about their packs. Clara does actively avoid getting on his bad side, as she knows what the repercussions may be.

Ellis Watts (Fellow Alpha): Clara and Ellis get along fine. They aren’t particularly close, but she respects how he runs his pack and the leadership that he and his higher ups show.

Percy McCormick III (Fellow Alpha): Clara has known Percy since they were children. He has always been a show man and is great at being a person that people think they should follow, but he isn’t a leader. However, no one has pushed against him in the pack, and she would never undermine another leader.

Isaac Baker (Fellow Alpha): Isaac and Clara have very different styles in meetings and they tend to clash. Isaac is short, arupt, and disregards the traditions put in place that have kept everything running smoothly in the first place. That being said she respects his willingness to stand up for his principles even if he is standing alone.

Scorpius Getta (Business Associate): Scorpius bailed the Heavies out, for a steep price that Clara and her pack are still paying off today. However, he has always treated her and the deal with the utmost professionalism and respect, which Clara returns.

Dan Prior (Old Acquaintance): Clara knew Dan from when he was human. His parents were often in talks with her own, and she thinks they even considered the change before he “disappeared”. They still talk when she goes down.

Maxine Vanes (Liaison): Max is on Clara’s speed dial for whenever the rats cross the line with her hotel. She is often able to deal with it well enough where Clara doesn’t have to talk to Nick.

Talia Cleirigh (Former Business Associate): Talia used to put her and Asa to bed and stop the nightmares that they frequently had over their mother. She used her on and off until she made her deal with Getta. That was too private of information to allow someone to see. She still has temporary insomnia, but uses that time to check on the hotel and get other work done.

Hostile Connections:

Sam Thompson (Board Member): Clara has known Sam her whole life. They grew up together, almost like siblings. However, he has always been a challenging force throughout her leadership and recently she’s lost much of her trust in him. He holds the same resentment towards Clara that his father held for Garland. That they were cheated out of a position. It at one point caused Clara great anxiety and sleepless nights, wondering when he was going to challenge her. She finally decided to stop waiting around and began training to fight in her human physical form. She has continued to wait for an attack, especially after she had to kill Sam’s wife four years ago. For all that Clara dislikes Sam, she is incredibly impressed that he held on for his kids, and believes he is genuinely a good father, and even leader at times.

Eliza Meyers (Board Member): Eliza gets the short end of the stick, mostly due to her age. She is young and parrots whatever Sam says, which has led to Clara ignoring her opinion for almost the entirety of her being on the council. She has decided to let her take the lead in this new project of creating the indoor hunting ground.

Pets:

None - Clara has difficulty with animals being indoors, though this is an issue she is working on.

→ History

→ The Present

#Margot Robbie #Clara Fields #Clarisse Fields #Female #Clan Heavy #Taken

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feminarrie · 5 years

Text

basic instincts [c.e]

a/n: this is my first real public venture into A/B/O dynamics. thank you again to @pastelshawns for lending me this concept! also thank you to chris evans for having uhh the best thighs!

18+ below the cut!

Two months she’s been away from him. A total of ninety-three days since she met him at the airport when he quite literally bumped into her as he rushed to catch his flight after his gate had changed. When she felt the electricity surge through her when his palms had pressed to her bicep and fingers curled to keep her steady. A furrow of his brow that melted when he locked eyes with her; his eyes flashing a golden honey with confusion, understanding, and then pain. If she thinks about the day for too long—which she does, routinely—she can still feel the ghost of his lips along her knuckles as he urged her to let him know when she lands. The scrunch of his nose when he looks back as he boards, the shadow of sadness fading with the light of hope of their bright future.

Even as his omega, she thinks he’s been more generous than need be. This is her second trip to see Chris in a span of three months and again, he had funded it fully. He’s spoiled her with a seat in first class and worked his schedule around so that it’s him that picks her up from the airport.

Turkish blue eyes scan the crowd for her, but he scents her before he sees her. A low rumble in his chest that can only be likened to a purr emits from his chest when he sees her. She’s swimming in a sweatshirt that he had bought for her during her last visit. He had kept it nearby, his scent weaving itself into the cotton and fleece blend. When she’s wrapped up in his arms, he tucks his nose into her shoulder and all he can smell is her. It’s overwhelming and comforting all at once. Captivating, sweet, and warm and Chris is happy he’s been able to take the next three days off to do nothing more than nose at her mark and let her command all of his senses.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” Chris murmurs into her neck before turning his head to press a lingering kiss to her shoulder. She hums at the pillowy kisses at the sliver of exposed skin, eyes glittering with flecks of gold that only Chris can conjure up. Her fingers search out his hand, cupping it in her much smaller hand so that she can run a thumb over his knuckles. Her thumb undulates across them, the pad of it gliding easily over soft skin. Briefly does she contemplate asking to use whatever expensive hand cream he must use. The thought flitters away with ease, replaced with the idea of curling up next to her alpha and existing solely in that pocket of safety and comfort for the next week.

. . . . . .

For the first three days, they both exist in that pocket. In being newly mated, the two of them hardly know each other. She knows that he’s relinquished his title as the current Captain America and gets a little pouty when he’s hungry. Chris knows that she is a blanket hog and that Dodger much preferred her snuggles over his when he had invited her to his home the first time. They spent the vast majority of those days filling in the gaps, giving and taking as much information as they feel comfortable, while holed up in Chris’ apartment.

Day four is when she wakes up with a subtle ache in her lower tummy and the lack of warmth that is usually provided by Chris’ sleeping form. She is quick to recognize that she is in the early stages of her heat and for a moment, she’s grateful that Chris is filming for the next sixteen or so hours. It gives her the chance to rid herself of the slowly warming coil in her tummy without the embarrassment she would feel for keening at the simple, innocent touches her alpha spoils her with. Even though she knows it’s natural, instinctual, she and Chris have hardly been that type of intimate. Physical touches only turning sinful when Chris traps her bottom lip between his teeth and presses a palm to the mark on her neck.

She ignores the dull ache between her thighs until she’s in the shower. The remnants of Chris’ time in the spacious glass shower consume all of her senses in the few seconds it takes for the water to heat up. His scent is still thick despite the fact that he’s been gone nearly six hours already. It’s heady and woody—all sandalwood and smoke—when the steam further amplifies it. Her eyes drift shut as she inhales deeply and the ache within her becomes far more noticeable.

She cums once, twice, three times in the shower before the water runs cold. Her fingers and toes are pruned, but she feels satiated and content in the post glow of her orgasms. Enough so that fatigue sets in her bones and leaves her with just enough energy to pull a black, baggy shirt over her head and some pretty baby blue boyshorts over the swell of her ass. She thinks there no sense in doing much more than that when she has every plan to take a short nap before cooking dinner for Chris to come home to after a long day of filming.

Her feet only leave the floor when she’s crawling onto the California king mattress where she plops herself right in the middle. She reaches for Chris’ pillow without hesitation, pulling it to her chest with one hand while the other pushes the comforter toward her legs. Sinking into the warmth of the comforter is easy with the bed still unmade; it lulls her to sleep in no time at all. The smell of her alpha just under her nose as she cradles the downy pillow to her chest.

She swears she only meant to sleep for an hour or two. Yet, she wakes hours later with the press of Chris’ lips at her forehead, cheeks, and then her Cupid’s bow when she blinks up at him. He’s half sitting up, most of his weight is held up by his forearm as he rolls to his left side. It allows him enough mobility to reach his right hand up to stroke at her cheek with his thumb, large palm cupping her jaw. She returns his kind gestures with a warm smile and long tired blinks before she presses a kiss to the heel of his palm.

“You’re back.” Her voice is soft and slow as molasses as she blinks up at him. Chris nods with a quiet laugh as to not pop the quiet of the dark room. Her face is washed in the golden rays of the setting sun, catching the flecks and swirls of gold in her eyes that never really seem to go away when she’s with him. The distinct sound of sheets rustling render Chris’ attempts useless, but he doesn’t mind when she leans forward to press their lips together. Even chapped, he’s content to know that he’ll be privileged to her kisses in this life and the many thereafter—mated and destined to find one another until the end of time. “I’ve missed you.” He says, pressing another chaste to her lips. The admission warms her and tugs at the corners of her lips in a tired smile. She repeats the sentiment with a soft sigh that is timed perfectly with a low growling in her stomach.

“S’late and you’re hungry, bug. You want to order in?” He asks and drops the hand at her cheek to place it at her hip beneath the comforter. He croons when he realizes she’s in nothing more than a shirt and underwear. The fatigue that has darkened the skin beneath his eyes and her pliancy does more to soften him than arouse him. Her rubs the skin just above the waistband, tilting his head slightly in question. She hums her affirmation and content, nodding her head ever so slightly.

They decide on some Korean place just ten minutes away that Chris discovered his first week of filming. He leaves her to wake up some more, pulling a baseball cap over lengthy brown hair and kissing her half a dozen times before he steps out the door. Chris isn’t time for too long, but long enough that she’s able to shuffle out into the living room and queue up something for something to watch. She settles on reruns of Criminal Minds, knowing it’ll hold their attention if they choose, but at a volume that allows it to fade into background noise.

It starts out as background noise as they eat, Chris talking about his day between mouthfuls of food. She prompts him with more questions about his day which warms something in Chris’ chest, spreads to his fingers and toes in waves of heat and electricity. It hums within him as he asks about her day though she answers with how mundane it had been. She also conveniently omits the fact that her heat is just around the corner because it simply doesn’t seem pertinent to their conversation.

(Really, she thinks mentioning how she’d been so wound up that she got off to his scent alone doesn’t exactly fit the picture of domesticity they exist in currently).

Eventually, the conversation dies down and with it, her energy wanes until Chris is beckoning her to lay her head down in his lap. An offer that she accepts willingly, shuffling down the couch to rest her head on his left thigh. His leg hair tickles her cheek as she pushes the fabric of his grey jogger shorts up so that she may feel the warmth of his body without barriers. His arm comes down to rest on a sliver of skin between her boyshorts and shirt, once again stroking at the expanse of warm skin. It lulls her into a safe, happy space that has her eyelids feeling heavy as she watches the television.

It’s the picture of honeymoon phase bliss and innocence until it’s not.

She’s never felt the ache quite this deep or robust. It feels red hot and more animalistic than anything she has ever felt before. If her thoughts weren’t so preoccupied with the way Chris’ thighs feel beneath her cheek, she would’ve made the connection between her impending heat and the presence of her alpha. Instead, she’s turning her head before she even thinks to stop herself and presses a lingering kiss just above his knee. Then another just above that and a trail of them before her lips ghost over the fraying hem of his shorts.

“Omega.”

She stills in her movements, but not out of fear or embarrassment. The deep, rumbly tone is something she has never heard from Chris. It’s authoritative and questioning all at once, and has her insides scrambling in anticipation. Eagerly does she look up at him beneath her lashes when she lifts her head. A mistake on her part, really. Chris’ lips are parted and his eyes a deep golden yellow. His nostrils flaring as he gets the first trace of her arousal. She smells of the earth after rain and something sweet that he can’t quite place, but it’s uniquely her—his omega.

He doesn’t stop her when she nips along the top of his thigh, peppering his pale skin with tints of red and pink. He simply tucks his lower lip between his teeth and grips her hip, thumb pressing into her Adonis belt. A low growl of her name stops the worrying of his lower lip for just a moment, but does little to stop her from kissing at his inner thigh once she’s shifted to gain better access. Her left hand reaches across to rub at his other thigh, squeezing when she sucks and bites a mark into the smooth skin of the innermost part of his thigh. The flat of her tongue soothes over it before she does the same just diagonal of the previous mark that has begun to blossom with pretty shades of red and tinges of purple. It earns her a deep, warning growl from somewhere in Chris’ chest and she halts her movements. Something about the noise above her has her backing down into submission.

“M’sorry, alpha.” The title rolls off her tongue with ease and it only serves to make Chris that much more aroused. He is painfully hard and straining even in the looser fabric of his shorts. Something that she is obviously aware of, tongue swiping over her bottom lip when she glances down between them. “Don’t apologize. Come here.” He says, patting his lap with one hand and she all, but scrambles to fit herself in his lap; fits her knee between his thighs and straddles his right one. It’s undoubtedly to relieve some of the pressure that is building in her core, but Chris doesn’t say a word about it. He only pushes up the hem of her shirt so that his hands can rest on the warm, bare skin of her hips.

“I want you so bad, sweetheart. I really do, but m’tired.” He watches as her look down, lips quivering around an apology. “I just don’t feel it’d be right for me to do that to you, hm? You’re close to your heat and deserve all that I can give, don’t you think?” Chris continues and feels the way her body heats up with his words. From the way her body feels as though it’s buzzing above him, he thinks she had no plans to tell him of her impending heat. Yet, it was obvious the moment her lips met the spot just above his knee. In fact, she was damn near nuzzling at him and that was his first hint that she was likely approaching her heat. “I just want to take care of you, little omega.”

She ruts against his thigh at his words, a low whine and apology following soon after. It’s then that Chris realizes how wet she really is. She has already soaked through her boyshorts and feels slick against his thigh. His eyes fall shut, his nose scrunching as if he is in pain. Which is not so far from the truth because fuck, he really wishes that he had enough energy in him to give her exactly what she wants—what they both want. But, a long day of action sequences on set has generated an unmistakeable ache in his muscles.

Chris feels terrible, he really does. It’s that unsatisfied desire and guilt that have him tilting his head at her in thought. Her own eyes, clouded with desperation and lust, scan his face as he thinks. An eyebrow quirks at him when he leans forward to press a kiss at the corner of her lips and comes away with a mischievous glint in his eye that glitters in the light of the television. She doesn’t have to question what he is thinking about for long because his grip on her hips tighten, moving her forward and then back again.

“Oh.” She whispers when Chris does it again, her clit pressed to his thigh. His hands never leave her hips even when she begins to ride his thigh on her own, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. Nails dig into his back despite the layer of fabric between them as if she’s attempting to ground herself in the moment. Her eyes are closed as she fucks herself on Chris’ thighs, her hip muscles straining just slightly as she shifts to balance herself better.

“Look so pretty for me, little omega.” Chris praises her as she glides across his thigh. She moans, soft and breathy, in response. He thinks it’s quite possibly the most beautiful and sensual sounds he’s ever heard, if he’s honest. Her next words, however, are by far the filthiest. “Want your knot, alpha. Need it.” She mewls, hips stuttering as she nears the edge. He can feel the way her body winds up tight—muscles taut, jaw clenched—and smell how close she is. A predatory, animalistic growl rips from Chris’ chest as the strings holding her together begin to snap.

“Gonna fill you up with it tomorrow, sweetheart. Promise.” It’s the sweet, but sinful admission that is her undoing. Her head falls forward, forehead pressed against his shoulder as her orgasm runs through her; makes her shiver and quake above him as he squeezes at her hips, helping her ride through her high. He presses kisses into her temple and along her cheekbones all while listening to the way her heart works to calm itself. Though, he notices the telltale sound of a skipped beat when he pulls back to press a kiss to her lips. Smiles up at her with a sated, content look that holds something just a little bit more. Though, Chris thinks he’ll wait to tell her that, that “little bit more” is the beginnings of love that have started to take root in his chest.

#my writing #chris evans x reader #alpha!chris evans #alpha!ce #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans oneshot #chris evans drabble #chris evans blurb

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