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[officechairsmanufacturer]

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[viakgroup]

There are things that people who aren’t involved in buying and installing office furniture daily don’t necessarily think about. I’m sure he has at least a tip that hasn’t crossed his mind when thinking about new office furniture.

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[neemanseating]

Branded Workstation like Penta, Back-to-Back, Linear Single Side Seating manufacturer in Manesar, Gurugram

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[gumnut-logic]

Five pick ups and one drop off (Pick up 4)

Pick up 1 | Pick up 2 | Pick up 3 | Pick up 4

Scott is tired and a little pissed off, so watch for language. Again, kinda crack just for fun.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy needed to re-apply his deodorant.

He was beginning to get a bit whiffy. But that’s what happens went you cut halfway across the planet after pulling a dozen people out from under a building in Taiwan.

As it was, he’d had to leave Virgil to liaise with local services to make it in time.

Thunderbird One wasn’t known for her shower facilities, but he had foreseen that in the past and his office in New York was set up with all the amenities including a spare business suit or two.

But that was a good five hours ago. If there was one advantage of crossing the dateline, it was the preservation of sunlight. He had the great pleasure of living the same day over again. With less concrete dust.

But more numbers and more annoying people.

One thing about rescue sites, bar the occasional asshole, was that the people there were usually very, very happy to see Scott and his brothers.

Here in the board room he received the distinct impression that at least several of the members would be much happier with his absence so they could do exactly what they wanted.

Which was what had been happening and why he was here.

“Sir, why the higher expenditure? Their employees are not our responsibility.”

Scott grit his teeth and his blood pressure sung in his ears. “We are saving the company and its employees. I believe with the correct financial support, they can become a solid division of Tracy Industries. We are not in the business of destroying lives.”

“This is not a rescue site, Tracy, this is business!”

Scott straightened from where he had been bent over the conference table, glaring at Martin at the far end, and pulled himself up to his full height before turning to glare at Landers on his left. “Not the way we conduct it.” His tone turned acid. “Do you think caring makes us soft, Landers?”

“Yes, it does. You are destroying our profit margin.”

Scott could not give a fuck about this particular profit margin. They were absorbing a large manufacturing business with its heart in country USA. If they didn’t handle the situation carefully, a good hundred thousand employees looked to lose lifetime jobs. The impact on the people and society would be massive. Not to mention a foolish move as TI’s most important asset was its talent. And there was good talent out there. The business had been struggling, but only to out compete TI, which it could no longer.

Its product was excellent. Brains and Virgil had done an assessment and agreed that the teams had potential. All they needed to do was absorb them into TI and then manage them into a better working culture in order to support that talent.

But it was obvious certain members of the board did not see things the same way as the Tracy brothers. Yes, the profit margin would suffer, may even go into cost in the short term, but it was the long term Scott Tracy was interested in and not lining his pockets at the cost of other people’s lives.

Tracy Industries was big and stable enough to take a hit for the common good.

“Landers…” Scott really wished his head wasn’t hurting so much. “…just go.”

“What? Go where?”

“Out.” Scott waved an irritated hand at the door. “Get out!”

“You can’t-“

“GO!”

The whole room jumped.

Landers glared everything at Scott, swore under his breath, and made a scene of gathering his tablet and collection of paraphernalia off the table and stomping towards the exit.

The moment he left, murmured protests rumbled around the room.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Carly, his EA, talking into her headset. A moment later Jeremy, his personal security guard, stepped into the room and took up a position quite casually just inside the door.

Great.

Not the best politic move, Tracy. But Landers was a dick and he had had it coming for a long time.

Scott had just needed to be irritated enough to follow through.

He leant over the table again. “Do we have any further objections?”

Martin at the far end was noting furiously on his tablet. Yeah, more trouble would come from that direction.

Scott sighed. He really wasn’t at his best. He needed sleep. The Virgil at the back of his head was jumping up and down on his neurons demanding he stop growling at staff and come home.

There was a knock at the door and that same brother, still dressed in his IR uniform, stuck his head through. “Hey, excuse me, I need to borrow the President for a moment.”

The room was still rumbling and didn’t really respond. Scott strode over to his brother. “What is it?”

“Come out here for a sec.”

“I can’t leave right now.”

“Yes, you can.” A heavy lifting arm reached in and yanked him out into the hall.

“Virgil, what the hell?”

But his brother was busy staring at him, dark eyes assessing him as if he was capable of medically scanning him with the melanin in his eyeballs. “You’re coming with me.” And before Scott could react - a definite sign of exhaustion if there was one - Virgil lifted him in one quick move and threw him over his shoulder.

“Virgil, what the fuck?!” He struggled, but Virgil was known for his iron grip and even in Scott’s worst moments, he couldn’t hurt his brother.

“We are going home.”

“It’s an important meeting!” The view of the floor and his brother’s butt was infuriating.

“I know. Which is why we let you go initially. However, that was hours ago, and before you disassemble the board one by one, we are intervening.”

“We?”

“Hi, Scott.”

He cranked his head up just in time to see John walk past in a crisp turquoise-grey suit. “What? John? Virgil, put me down!”

“Nope.” They entered an elevator…going up, no doubt to the roof.

“Virgil, please. John will eviscerate them.”

“Yep.” They stepped out into sunlight.

“Aww, c’mon. They’re scared of him.”

“Yep.” A big green shadow loomed over them and Virgil stepped onto her elevator, giving Scott a fantastic view of checkerplate and nothing else. “It will do them good.”

“Virg-“

“Nope. Bed.”

“Please?”

His brother kicked the wall of the cockpit and folded down one of the stretchers. He rolled Scott gently off his shoulder, carefully catching his head and neck and let him sink into the soft medical support.

Every muscle cheered in gratitude.

“Virg…” God, he was tired.

His brother responded by brushing a hair out of his eyes, his gloved hand pushing Scott’s mess of hair back from his forehead. Kind eyes looked down at him. “You need rest, big brother.”

Sure fingers darted over his body, doing up safety straps and securing him in place, and for some reason Scott did not have the energy to protest.

He fell asleep halfway across the Pacific lulled to rest by the comforting roar of his brother’s ‘bird.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #nuttyfic #scott is pissed off #Virgil is determined #and John is scary

[lawsofchaos1]

MCU Promptlet: Tony takes a breather first AU

When Tony Stark finally sets foot on American soil after three months of captivity and torture, he requests two things: an American cheeseburger and a press conference.

Ms. Virginia "Pepper" Potts, the woman who has risen up to become the personal secretary to the head of the largest weapons manufacturer in the country and who will one day become the CEO of the largest technology empire the world has ever seen, takes one look at the three days of stubble on her boss' cheeks, the haunted gaze in his eyes, and the trembling in his always steady hands and says no.

Pepper does not call the press conference, but instead takes Tony home to his workshop where he can sleep, unwatched and among friends, for the first time in months. She takes him home to soothe Jarvis' fears (even though Jarvis' has uploaded himself to any tech within three meters of Tony since he was found, it's not the same as the sensors in the shop and Jarvis' steady stream of increasingly alarmed texts to Pepper's phone have made that clear).

She takes Tony home to be hugged by his robot-children and to let Rhodey mother-hen him the way he couldn't while in uniform, cajoling him to eat small portions of Rhodey's homemade spaghetti - Tony's ultimate secret comfort food - every few hours. The next morning, the three of them sit at the kitchen table, Jarvis ever-present, and Tony tells them of what he found out in Afghanistan. He tells them and they plan.

Tony doesn't have a press-conference, hands still shaking and fear hidden in his eyes, to shut down everything his company is known for on the way home from the airport. Instead, Rhodey and Pepper and Tony strategize.

Tony meets with the Joint Chiefs and the SecDef, not to mention the heads of the CIA, FBI, and NSA. Stark weapons in terrorist hands scares them the same as Tony. Tony tells them of his plans, for his company and for Iron Man. People tend to forget that Tony's company holds billions in military contracts, but only about twenty percent of that is for weapons.

The military knows there will always be other bomb makers, but the rest of what Tony provides? SI holds those thousands of contracts because there is literally no competition. With the military's continued and public support of SI, even without selling weapons, the company's stock never tanks, but instead surges with Tony's newfound determination and innovation.

With the military's support for Iron Man, Tony's PR surges with newfound respect, not just popularity. Pepper says no to a press conference, and that makes all the difference.

[Additional fun head canon below]

This Tony would be gently cajoled into therapy by Pepper.

And see, Tony was basically raised by the military. Howard used to bring him to meetings as a kid and Tony would escape his SI minders and go hang out with the friendly soldiers until his father remembered he had a kid. The soldiers paid him more attention and taught him more than Howard ever did.

And with how he was captured, it would make a lot of sense for Tony to be with a military therapist, and Rhodey quietly works some magic and Tony somehow ends up in group therapy sessions with other soldiers with PTSD.

The soldiers are at first a little wary of Tony Stark coming to group, but also a little in awe because most of them owe their lives or the lives of their brothers/sisters to Stark Tech of some kind.

But then they get to know Tony. And Tony .. doesn't really have friends.

He has Rhodey- who's amazing but can't be there a lot- and Pepper and Happy, but again, they work for him. So the soldiers decide unilaterally to adopt him.

Suddenly Tony is walking out of group and someone is shoving a baseball cap on his head so they can all go out to Chili's for dinner (and no, they don't let him pay).

Then he's being invited to backyard bbq's and birthday parties for two years olds. (A trust fund is an appropriate gift, right?)

And then one day Lisa (a former sergeant in the group) and Helen (Dave's wife) just .. show up at the Tower with coffee and pastries. They don't want anything, they just want to ... catch-up. Which is precisely when tony is hit by the clue by four that he might just have .. friends.

#lawsofchaos rambles #the avengers #marvel mcu #tony stark #team iron man #promptlet #fanfiction #iron man AU

[morningsofgold]

blue light dreams Velvette-centric with background staticmoth Rating: M Wordcount: 4,524 READ ON A03

Weekly status meetings between the Vees were volatile by nature. Sometimes they were mind-numbingly boring, with Vox going off on a tirade about his newest reality torture show or whatever the hell the radio demon had been up to, or with Valentino singing his own praises and showing off clips from the editing bay of his new favorite star debasing themselves for the sake of money and views.

Sometimes, meetings were considerably more entertaining, like when they brought in underperformers to beg for their lives while the Vees downed drinks from Vox’s private stash of booze. But most often, the trio bickered like children and argued over the budget and took potshots at each other, until they inevitably zoned out and started gossiping about the other overlords or scrolling on their phones.

But this week, Velvette was determined to keep the boys on track. This week, she knew what she wanted, and she intended to get it.

She arrived to the boardroom right on time, and found Vox leaning over a seated Valentino with his hand curled around Valentino’s shoulder. The two men were snickering around something between themselves, red smoke pluming in a heart from Valentino’s ever-lit cigarette. So they were “on” again this week. Fine by her; sometimes it was actually easier when Vox and Val could entertain themselves with each other instead of constantly going for each other’s throats. It usually meant that if she could convince one of them to do something, the other would follow.

“Velvette,” Vox said in that brassy, used-car salesman voice. “You’ve got hellfire in your eyes. Spend your morning dismembering interns or something?”

Velvette spread her hands on the gleaming wooden conference room table, pushing up on her tiptoes as though a few extra inches of height would convey her seriousness.

“Can we cut the chit-chat this time?” She asked, using her most professional voice. She would switch to shouting if she needed to, but it was better to go in with the velvet glove before breaking out the iron first. “I”m on a tight schedule and I’ve got a favor to ask you, Vox.”

“What else is new?” Valentino muttered with a smirk. Oh, he was in fine form today. Sometimes Valentino was tolerable, occasionally even fun to be around, but he was also spectacular at getting under Velvette’s skin when he felt like being a little shit. Which was often. “Little Miss Independent needs help cleaning up her own mess.”

Velvette tipped her chin up and spoke clearly, ignoring the anger bubbling under her skin.

“I need to run updates on Voxtek’s social media algorithm. It’s out of date, and it’s killing our engagement.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the algorithm,” Vox said, steepling his fingers as he sank down in his seat at the head of the table. An LED grin sparked to life on his face, and it could have fooled someone stupider, but Velvette knew when she was being bullshitted, and she knew when Vox was trying to placate her. “Everyone in Pentagram City is plugged into your platform, sweetheart.”

Velvette slammed her phone down onto the table, hard enough to make Valentino roll his eyes but not hard enough to crack the screen. Velvette, who often fell asleep with her phone in her hand and knew from experience exactly how much pressure it took to fracture one of Vox’s shoddily manufactured screens, tried to reign in her temper where her phone was concerned. The interns she reduced to tears were replaceable and so were the runway fashions she occasionally shredded if they fell below her expectations, but her phone was special. Not only did it host all her private dossiers on the other otherlords and plenty of photographic blackmail, it also held all her saved memes and most glamorous selfies.

“Don’t try to sweet-talk me. Do you know what the bounce rate and time-on-site metrics are looking like for the news outlets you own?” Velvette demanded, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “We’re not even close to meeting our KPIs! We’re blowing budget on Val’s porn studio but it’s sure as shit not reflected in ROI. I lost almost 2,000 followers from my personal account last month.”

Val was too busy fiddling with the olive in his martini to look up at Velvette, but not too busy to get in a jibe.

“The only word in that rant I understood was “followers”. It sounds like you’re pissed people are getting tired of looking at your face.” He idly flicked one of the bells hanging from the Fizzaroli bot loitering at this side. “Not our problem.”

Velvette wanted to tear her hair out, but she had just slicked it back into a perfect high pony, and he wasn’t about to sacrifice perfection for the sake of Valentino of all people. She had known him a long time, and if she had any family, he would probably be the closest thing to it, but sometimes he was so stupid.

“How have you gotten this far without even knowing what ROI means?” She demanded.

“I’m an artist,” Val shot back, pressing long fingers over his heart in faux-offense. He had always been a bad actor, even back when he was turning amateur tricks on camcorder for pocket money. “Not a marketer. That’s your job, Vel, and if it’s all getting to be too much for your delicate constitution, why don’t you just lay down and die and spare us the bitching?”

“An artist?” Velvette barked out a laugh, leaning towards Val across the table. She lowered her voice to its most cutting pitch. “You’re just a tacky pimp with a bloated ego, you ignorant, washed-up–”

“Say washed-up again,” Valentino said, eyes narrowing in ruby shards. He drew himself up to his full height and blew his noxious smoke into Velvette’s face. It smelled like strawberry lipgloss and cheap, sweaty latex and desperation. “Go ahead. Say it.”

“I think everyone’s getting a little heated,” Vox said, taking a long gulp from his ever-full coffee mug. “Let’s just sit down and talk this through.”

“If you would just let me patch the algorithm we wouldn’t have to fight about inane shit,” Velvette said, strapping her arms across her chest. She usually got her way by bulldozing everyone who tried to stop her, bloodshed and verbal evisceration included, but sometimes, pouting was more effective. Vox, as much as he liked to pretend that he indulged her antics only as a means to his own ends, was fond of her in his own strange way. He could sometimes be manipulated under the right conditions. Valentino could too, but he was currently staring daggers at her with smoke curling out of his nostrils, so she tried her hand with Vox instead. “Come on. I’ll be in and out in two shakes of an imp’s tail.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Vox said. “Last time I let you root around in the code the whole city went dark for four hours.”

“But that was an accident,” Velvette said, deepening her pout. “It won’t happen again! Just think of the kind of fuck-off money you could make if the alogo worked better! Voxtek ads and product placements at the top of everyone’s feeds, from here to Cannibal Town. You’d double your profit!”

“I’ll admit I don’t hate the sound of that,” Vox said, narrowing his eyes. “You promise you won’t get carried away if I give you access to the mainframe?”

“I promise,” Velvette said, batting her eyelashes for good measure.

Valentino scoffed from across the table, but Velvette ignored him. This was her area of expertise, and the best thing Valentino could do in this situation was shut up. Not that shutting up was one of his areas of expertise.

Vox held up two fingers, and a white-hot spark jumped from one to the other.

“Two hours, Velvette. That’s all I’m giving you. I’ll take socials down for two hours, and if you cant make the updates in that time, it's your head on the platter, got it? I can’t afford to lose any more revenue.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Velvette exclaimed, leaning in to press a black lipsticked kiss to Vox’s screen. He grimaced and wiped the smudge off with a nearby napkin, but he didn’t push Velvette away. Even though her affection swung as wildly as her mood and was usually just there to grease the wheels in getting her what she wanted, Velvette knew that Vox privately appreciated being appreciated. He also no doubt appreciated Valentino’s more…enthusiastic overtures of affection, but Vox and Velvette had never had that sort of relationship. Then again, they didn’t need to be fucking to understand each other perfectly, or to begrudgingly enjoy each other’s company.

“And I’m coming with you,” Vox said.

“I don’t need a chaperone, old man,” Velvette replied, bristling.

“First of all I’m not that old, and secondly, you absolutely do. What if you crash a site or send out some faulty broadcast that requires mass hypnosis to mop up? I’m not leaving you unsupervised.”

“Can I come too?” Valentino asked, blinking those big moth eyes in a way that roughly approximated innocence. “I want to watch Velvette flush her career down the toilet.”

“You can come if you reign in the attitude,” Vox said. “I don’t want any fighting in my control room.”

“Ugh,” Velvette said, scowling. “If you’re going to insist–”

“I am!” Vox sing-songed.

“Then fine. But I don’t want you two breathing down my neck and throwing off my rhythm either. Social media manipulation is a complicated process.”

“Of course, chiquita,” Valentino said in his stickiest sweet voice. “We would never meddle.” HIs smile sharpened, all teeth and malice. “Just don’t choke.”

Velvette wasted no time in goading Vox into making good on his promise, although he insisted she only make updates in the wee hours in the morning when most of the denizens of hell would be either asleep or so plastered and coked out at one of Pentagram City’s many bars that they probably wouldn’t notice a system outage.

So, that night at 3am, Velvette found herself waiting at the control room door for Vox to unlock it and let her in. He was late, as usual, probably caught up in putting out some fire, but Valentino arrived surprisingly on time. There was a sleepy squint behind his huge heart-shaped glasses. Despite being a night creature by nature and by trade, Valentino needed his beauty sleep, and he didn’t get out of bed for anything he didn’t think was going to either entertain him or make him money.

“Come to rain on my parade, pissant?” Velvette said, not bothering to look up from the editorial lingerie shoot she was color-correcting on her phone. Call her a micromanager, but there were some things she didn’t trust her employees to do right.

“I’m too tired to fight,” Valentino said with a yawn, bending from his considerable height so he could rest his chin on Velvette’s shoulder and spy on what she was doing. “Hey, is this that collaboration you did with that succubus influencer who hosts the pop-up orgies? Not bad, not bad…You don’t see many racks like that anymore. She interested in doing a little freelance camming on the side?”

“Not on your life,” Velvette muttered. She wanted to be meaner to him, but she was feeling the late hour as well, and she was more focused on the task at hand than verbally sparring with Valentino. “At least not until her modeling contract is up with me.”

“Suit yourself,” Valentino said, winding a claw through one of Velvette’s curls. “But there’s no harm in slipping her my number, right?”

“Okay you two,” Vox said, appearing around the corner. He looked slightly disheveled from the day, and was wearing his shirt sleeves bunched up around his elbows. Velvette doubted he had been to bed at all that night. “Let’s get this over with. Do you two remember the rules?”

“Yes, Vox,” Valentino and Velvette sighed in longsuffering unison.

“What are the rules?” Vox said, politely but with a menacing flash in his eyes.

“Don’t touch any screens,” Valentino said.

“And don’t push any buttons without your permission,” Velvette put in.

“And don’t broadcast your secret stash of Alastor footage to the whole city,” Valentino sniggered.

“Very funny,” Vox said flatly, his mouth glitching into a perturbed line. “Watch that mouth, Valentino.”

“But you usually love what I do with my mouth,” Valentino said with a wide grin.

“You two are disgusting,” Velvette said. “Just open the door, Vox.”

Vox produced a glowing access card from his breast pocket and slid it into the port on the door. A moment later, the light above their heads flashed green and the heavy metal door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Inside the control room, wall to wall screens filled the cramped space with an eerie blue glow. The control room hadn’t been designed with multiple people in mind, and there was only one chair in front of the custom display. This was where Vox sat when he spied on the citizens of Pentagram City, or when he overrode the many channels he controlled for an emergency broadcast. It was also where Velvette, with Vox’s express permission, patched up Voxtek’s bloated social media platform when it inevitably crashed, or made her algorithmic updates. Velvette would rather spend her time setting trends and controlling narratives, but sometimes, getting her hands dirty in the digital realm was necessary.

“Tell me again why you’re so obsessed with this?” Vox asked sidelong to Velvette, ushering her into the room. Valentino followed, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the low doorway.

“You just focus on working your magic and I’ll work mine,” Velvette said. She was smiling at him to put him at ease, but privately, the nerves were starting to set in. Calibrating the algorithm wasn’t easy on a good day, when she had unlimited time and wasn’t dealing with an audience, but she wasn’t about to let Vox and Val see her sweat. She was the social media overlord, after all. She hadn’t gotten this far by cracking under pressure.

“Say no more,” Vox said, and snapped his fingers. The largest screen in the room flashed from a screensaver to a secure login page, and Velvette tapped in her password with her manicured nails. Then she took a seat, breathed in deep through her nose, and pulled up the backend of the social media site where she spent most of her work (and leisure) hours.

“Hey,” Valentino said, lighting a new cigarette and squinting at the screen. Even with his glasses on, Velvette doubted he could make out the tiny script. “Think you can bump up the trailer for my newest fetish flick in the algo when you have a second? It keeps getting buried in chatter about the last extermination, and I spent way too much money on all that custom leather gear to have it flop.”

“While you’re at it, Velvette,” Vox put in, “Could you suppress all keywords related to that stupid hotel? I’m tired of hearing about it.”

“No free favors,” Velvette said, tapping away at the keys. She tried to block Val and Vox out, focusing instead on manipulating the complex series of digital commandments that made up the algorithm. She had constructed it herself, with input from the other Vees of course, and it had been designed to speak only in her language.

The algorithm was a complex beast, but it served Velvette’s ultimate end of making sure Voxtek media and products were always trending, that the gossip magazines were always buzzing about Valentino’s favorite show ponies, and, most importantly, that the messaging Velvette devised was absolutely inescapable.

There was no such thing as gospel truth in Hell, but if there was, it might have been written in Velvette’s tidy cursive. From breaking scandals to PR relationships and coverage of tragedies in the other rings, Velvette controlled it all.

Velvette grew increasingly irritated as the new commands she wrote for the website failed to graft onto the existing algorithm. It was part computer program, part living thing, and sometimes, it fought back. The large screen flickered dangerously as she tried to force the commands though, but Velvette kept pushing. She wouldn’t be bested. Not this time.

“Take a breath, pumpkin,” Vox said in a voice he no doubt thought was soothing. “You’ve still got an hour and a half. No need to rush.”

“Could you get off my dick, please?” Velvette responded.

“Whoa!” Valentino said. “No need to get testy. All that frowning is going to give you wrinkles.”

“It’s not listening to me,” Velvette said through grit teeth. “I don’t understand. It should listen to me.”

Vox and Val exchanged a look over Velvette’s shoulder, one they probably hoped she wouldn’t catch. It was a look of genuine concern.

“What’s eating you, Velvette?” Valentino asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, pulling up yet another window. It promptly crashed. Velvette groaned and smacked the display.

“Easy on the merchandise,” Vox said in warning, but then his voice softened slightly. “Seriously, what’s up with you?”

Velvette said nothing, just tried to force another command through again. And again. And again. Each time, she was met with an error message. When she tried and failed a fourth time, the tears started to sting at her eyes. She pushed away from the sea of screens in Vox’s swivel chair and smacked the escape key, shutting down the whole process and rerouting herself back to the password screen.

“No one is listening to me anymore,” she said, trying to keep the grief and fury out of her voice. She hated crying in front of anyone, especially Vox and Valentino, but they were perhaps the only two people in hell who could witness such a thing and live to tell the tale. Her fingers turned to claws at her side. “No matter what I do. My influence is slipping.”

“Babydoll!” Valentino exclaimed, and the worst part was, he sounded truly appalled to see her so upset. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into her clavicles. “That’s not true. Everybody loves you. Even better, everybody fears you. You’re the head bitch in charge!”

“My engagement is in the gutter,” she sniffed. “Nobody wants to look at me anymore. They’re bored of me, and they’d rather waste their clicks on whatever new shiny piece of ass is out there strutting around, calling themselves a crime boss and livestreaming their kills. Street criminals, Val; I’m losing to street criminals!”

“Velvette,” Vox said, drawing out her name in that syrupy way that had no doubt convinced hundreds of small-time entertainers to sell their souls away for a shot at a primetime TV slot. “It kills me to see you so down on yourself. So you’ve lost a couple thousand followers, so what? I say fuck em.”

“I’m…” Velvette’s lip wobbled dangerously, and she was sure that the waterworks would unleash with whatever she said next. “I’m going out of fashion.”

Valentino and Vox tutted while she furiously wiped tears off her face, and Vox produced a baby blue handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into her hands. The Vees might have hated each other some days, and the peace between them might be tenuous at best, worn away by infighting and power-grabs, but underneath it all, they looked out for each other. This was not the first time the boys had talked Velvette down from a complete spiral, which usually happened whenever the internet turned on her. Velvette might be tough as nails, and she knew how to hold her own in a fight, but when it came to the quivering adoration of the masses, she was an addict in need of her fix.

“What if I’m getting too old?” She moaned. “I’m still the youngest overlord, but I’m not as young as I used to be. Maybe I should cut my hair, or get a hellhound as a statement pet.”

“Why don’t you show some tits and ass?” Valentino said brightly, doing his best to be helpful. “Even just a bit of sideboob. I can set up a whole boudoir shoot for you; we’ll keep it classy.”

“No, that’s a last-ditch effort spotlight grab,” Velvette said. “If I bust that out, what have I got left? What’s the point of me if I can’t hold people’s attention? I might as well just retire to fucking Tahiti.”

“Nobody’s going to Tahiti,” Vox said. “We’d be bored out of our minds without you.”

“Yeah?” Velvette asked, daubing her eyes.

“Yeah,” Valentino responded, still rubbing that pressure point on her clavicle. It was surprisingly steadying, and Velvette found herself grateful for the touch. “And you know why? Because you’re goddamn good at your job. You earned your spot. You’re really gonna let some two-bit drug dealers with shaky phone footage take the crown from you?”

“No,” Velvette said, still feeling rotten on the inside.

“I think we’ve all had a long day,” Vox said, stepping into the role of defacto leader, which they all rotated through as necessary. “How about we sleep on this and try again tomorrow?”

“I can’t,” Velvette said, suddenly feeling exhausted to the bone. “I need to check up on the new content mill and make sure they’re still pumping out those phony articles, and then I should probably run through my to-do list for tomorrow because Satan knows my airhead PA can’t be trusted, and then–”

“Velvette,” Val said, as gentle as she had ever heard him. “Wanna sleep in the nest with me and Vox tonight?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to end up in your room tonight,” Vox muttered.

“Bold of you to think anyone believes you when you play hard to get,” Val responded breezily, then turned back to Velvette. “Does that sound nice?”

Velvette finished drying her tears, and looked over her shoulder to the looming computer. She probably had about an hour left on the clock per her arrangement with Vox, and maybe, if she tried harder, she could do something with that time. Or maybe, she would just fail again. Either option sounded exhausting.

“Yes,” She admitted. “That sounds nice.”

Valentino’s quarters took up considerable real estate in the Vee complex, with a large sunken living room for entertaining (read: sex parties) a big kitchen for cooking gourmet (read: mixing drinks and reheating delivery) and a massive master bedroom outfitted with dim rosy lighting and a stunning view of the city outside. Valentino’s bed, which Velvette had – at first disparagingly and then with affection – started referring to as his “nest” was a futon the size of a California King swathed in sheets and throw pillows, with a gauzy web strung above and around it. The resulting effect was cocoon-like, and the gauze curtains provided a sense of seclusion from the outside world.

Velvette hauled her pink pinstriped silk pajamas, her matching silk hair wrap, and her toothbrush down from her room, then primped for bed in Valentino’s bathroom while Vox and Val talked in low, unhurried tones outside.

She could pretend all she wanted to be disgusted by her concern for her, but deep down she was grateful that someone cared, and she did feel a little bit lighter after crying out her frustrations. At the end of the day, there was no one nastier and more self-serving than Vox and Valentino than Velvette herself, and there was a strange sense of camaraderie born from that. Sure, they stabbed each other in the back from time to time and they fought often, but who else could possibly understand Velvette’s black heart better than the two demons she had chosen to throw her lot in with?

Velvette emerged from the bathroom to find Vox and Val already in the bed, thankfully keeping the PDA to a minimum. Valentino gave her one of her showman’s grins and held an arm out to her, and moments later, she was nestled between them, her cheek pillowed on Valentino’s chest, one of Vox’s arms draped lightly over her waist.

Neither of them had ever made a pass at her, mostly because they were too busy breaking up and getting back together every ten seconds, and because they knew that Velvette would bite their fingers off if they ever tried. They were two of the most brutal overlords in hell, but sometimes, though she would never admit it, they were the only people Velvette felt safe with.

“Tomorrow,” Velvette said, her words muffled by Valentino’s chest. “Tomorrow I’ll try again. I’ll come up with something spectacular and awful. A gorgeous train wreck nobody can look away from.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be right back on top,” Vox said with a yawn. His display was already dimming.

Velvette mindlessly unlocked her phone and clicked on the search alert she had set up for her name, scowling at the results.

“No doomscrolling before bed,” Vox said, and tapped her screen with a glowing fingertip. The cellular display winked out.

“Hey!” Velvette snapped.

Valentino just pulled her in closer, burrowing down in the expensive sheets.

“If you’re going to sleep over, I don’t want you keeping me awake with all that blue light. And don’t kick me out of my own bed again.”

“No promises,” Velvette said, giving in to drowsiness despite her best efforts. She often ended up tangled in the blankets like a beached starfish, pushing Vox and Valentino to the edge of the bed, but they always forgave her.

“Do you really think people are still scared of me?” Velvette muttered. It was a thought she was almost afraid to voice aloud.

“So scared of you,” Valentino said, turning the lights down even lower. “And I’m sure whatever that twisted little mind comes up with next will be enough to scare the piss out of anyone stupid enough to think they stand a chance against you.”

“Thanks, Val,” Velvette said, so quiet she wasn’t sure he heard her. She didn’t like thanking people, as a general rule.

“Get some sleep, babydoll,” Valentino said. Velvette was aware his ability to soothe her after a spiral was the result of a long career of lying to and manipulating the people who answered to him, but sometimes, Velvette caught a flash of genuineness underneath the facade. And Vox, for all his bluster and bravado, had been known to shut down entire productions when she reached the end of her rope to make sure Velvette got what she needed. Velvette wasn’t grateful for either of them. The only person she was grateful to on any given day was herself. But she had to admit, in times like these, she didn’t hate having them around.

“Goodnight boys,” she said, letting her eyes slide shut. Vox sidled up beside her and switched on his hypnotic screensaver, the one that always knocked her out faster than two benzos and a glass of white wine.

Moments later, Velvette was asleep.

#what if the worst people you ever met were secretly soft for each other I ask #vox and val are the only ones allowed to see Velvette cry #even social media overlords get burned out sometimes #hazbin hotel #staticmoth #velvette #the vees #hazbin hotel fic #spilled ink

[mariacallous]

The US Department of Justice had long been expected to file an antitrust lawsuit against Apple. But when the suit arrived Thursday, it came with surprising ferocity.

In a press conference, attorney general Merrick Garland noted that Apple controlled more than 70 percent of the country’s smartphone market, saying the company used that outsize power to control developers and consumers and squeeze more revenue out of them.

The suit and messaging from the DOJ and 15 states and the District of Columbia joining it take aim at Apple’s most prized asset—the iPhone—and position the case as a fight for the future of technology. The suit argues that Apple rose to its current power thanks in part to the 1998 antitrust case against Microsoft, and that another milestone antitrust correction is needed to allow future innovation to continue.

Like the Microsoft case, the suit against Apple is “really dynamic and forward looking,” says John Newman, a law professor at the University of Miami. “It's not necessarily about Apple seeing direct competitors,” he says. “It's more about them trying to grab the territory you would need if you were going to even try to compete against Apple.”

Antitrust action in the tech industry has been a focus of the Biden administration’s agenda, which has seen suits brought against both Amazon and Google by the DOJ and the Federal Trade Commission. “This case demonstrates why we must reinvigorate competition policy and establish clear rules of the road for Big Tech platforms,” Democratic senator Amy Klobuchar told WIRED in a statement.

Rebecca Hall Allensworth, a law professor at Vanderbilt University, says that though the government almost always faces an uphill battle in antitrust cases, the Apple case appears relatively solid. “It's a lot stronger than the FTC Amazon monopolization lawsuit from last year,” she says. “And yet, it's very hard to win antitrust cases.”

In a statement, Apple spokesperson Fred Sainz said that the lawsuit “threatens who we are and the principles that set Apple products apart in fiercely competitive markets,” including the way its products work “seamlessly” together and “protect people’s privacy and security.”

Apple has long argued that keeping its mobile operating system, app store, and other services closed offers greater security and safety for customers. But Newman says that the DOJ complaint indicates that Apple doesn't enforce these policies consistently as would make sense if the goal was to protect users.

“Instead [Apple] heavily targets the types of app developers that pose the biggest competitive threat to Apple,” Newman says. The DOJ alleges that restrictions Apple places on iMessage, Apple Wallet, and other products and features create barriers that deter or even penalize people who may switch to cheaper options.

History Repeating

The antitrust case against Microsoft in the late 1990s accused the company of illegally forcing PC manufacturers and others to favor its web browser Internet Explorer. It is widely credited with causing the company to be slow to embrace the web, falling behind a wave of startups including Google and Amazon that grew into giants by making web services useful and lucrative.

When asked about the threat the new antitrust lawsuit might pose to Apple’s business, a DOJ official noted that “there are actually examples where companies, after having been charged and had to change business practices because they violated the antitrust laws in the long run, end up being more valuable than they were before.” Microsoft, thanks to its success in cloud services and more recently AI, is now the most valuable company in the world.

The Department of Justice said Thursday that any potential remedy was on the table for Apple—implying that even breaking up the company is a possibility. But Allensworth says it is unlikely the government would pursue that outcome. The proposed remedies could more likely force Apple to change its "technological and contractual restrictions on app development, and on interoperability with other phones,” she says. “That is something that could be very meaningful, if that remedy were fully realized and overseen in a good way. But it still leaves Apple basically in control of the ecosystem,” Allensworth says.

Paul Swanson, antitrust partner at the law firm Holland & Hart, sees potential difficulties ahead for the suit. “They're alleging that Apple is excluding competition in the smartphone market by making their products stickier, by making it very attractive to stay within their ecosystem. And the way that Apple does that, according to the DOJ, is that it doesn't cooperate nicely with other companies,” he says. But Swanson says antitrust laws don’t generally require companies to work with others. “A business doesn't violate antitrust laws by terminating or refusing to work with another business.”

This is not the first antitrust case against Apple. In 2020, Epic Games filed a lawsuit against the company, accusing it of anticompetitive behavior, after being kicked off the App Store for offering a version of the Fortnite game that circumvented the Apple’s steep 30 percent fees for in-app purchases. Epic lost the case in the lower courts, and in January the Supreme Court declined to hear the appeal—and Apple announced it would levy a new app store fee on developers.

Newman notes that the government seems to have kept a close eye on that case in constructing the suit launched Thursday. The case was filed in the Third Circuit Court in New Jersey, rather than the Ninth Circuit Court, which includes California. He predicts it will ultimately end up before the Supreme Court. “I think this one's probably going all the way,” Newman says.

[ridenwithbiden]

Here's Another Putin Puppet. Good Job #OHIO Voters

"MUNICH (AP) - A Republican opponent of new U.S. funding for Ukraine argued at an international security conference Sunday that the package stuck in Congress wouldn't “fundamentally change the reality” on the ground and that Russia has an incentive to negotiate peace.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, U.S. Vice President Kamala Harris and others have advocated passage of the $60 billion in aid at the Munich Security Conference, which coincided with Ukraine withdrawing troops from the eastern city of Avdiivka after months of intense combat.

But Sen. JD Vance, an Ohio Republican and ally of Donald Trump, said “the problem in Ukraine … is that there’s no clear end point" and that the U.S. doesn't make enough weapons to support wars in eastern Europe, the Middle East and “potentially a contingency in East Asia."

House Speaker Mike Johnson insists he won’t be “rushed” into approving the $95.3 billion foreign aid package from the Senate that includes the help for Ukraine, despite overwhelming support from most Democrats and almost half the Republicans.

If the package goes through, "that is not going to fundamentally change the reality on the battlefield,” Vance argued, pointing to limited American manufacturing capacity.

“Can we send the level of weaponry we’ve sent for the last 18 months?" he asked. "We simply cannot. No matter how many checks the U.S. Congress writes, we are limited there.”

“I think what’s reasonable to accomplish is some negotiated peace,” he said, arguing that Russia, Ukraine, Europe and the U.S. all have an incentive to come to the table now and that the two-year-old war will at some point end in a negotiated peace.

Ricarda Lang, a co-leader of one of Germany's governing parties, the Greens, responded that Russian President Vladimir Putin has shown repeatedly “that he has no interest in peace at the moment.”

Halting weapons supplies to Ukraine now would mean that "either you are prolonging the war or you give up Ukraine and Putin wins,” she said.

If Putin wins, "he, but also other forces like China, are going to learn that it’s possible to just change borders and that NATO is not going to hold it against us," Lang added. That would lead to “a world with less security, and … a world with less freedom for the EU but also for the U.S.”

Vance was part of a large group of U.S. lawmakers who attended the Munich conference. Several of his Senate colleagues met Zelenskyy on Saturday, but Vance did not join them.

Senate Foreign Relations Committee Chairman Ben Cardin, a Maryland Democrat, posted on social network X after the meeting that Zelenskyy came to the conference “laser focused with a strong message for America: Ukraine needs your support & we’ll use it well.”

Republican senators have been deeply divided on Ukraine."

#Putin's Puppets #Ohio #US Senator

[todaysdocument]

Nullification Crisis -

Protest of the Legislature of South Carolina against the system of protecting duties adopted by the federal government

Record Group 46: Records of the U.S. SenateSeries: Anson McCook Collection of Presidential SignaturesFile Unit: Petitions and Memorials Relating to Various Subjects Which Were Presented, Read, or Tabled in the Senate in the 20th Congress

December 19th 1828. The Senate and the House of Representatives of South Carolina now met and sitting in General Assembly... through the Honorable William Smith, and the Honorable Robert Y Hayne, their representatives in the Senate of the United States, do, in the name and on behalf of the good people of the said Commonwealth solemnly protest against the system of protecting duties lately adopted by the Federal Government, for the following reasons: Because the good of this Commonwealth believe that the powers of Congress were delegated to it in trust for the accomplishment of certain specified objects which limit and control them, and that every exercise of them for any other purposes is a violation of the Constitution as unwarrantable as the undisguised assumption of substantive independent powers not granted or expressly withheld. Because the power to lay duties on imports is, and in its very nature can be, only a means of effecting the objects specified by the Constitution, since no free Government and least of all a Government of enumerated powers can of right impose any tax (any more than a penalty,) which is not at once justified by public necessity and clearly within the scope and purview of the social compact, and since the right of conferring appropriations of the public money to such legitimate and constitutional objects is as essential to the people as their unquestionable privilege to be taxed only by their own consent. Because they believe that the Tariff Law, passed by Congress at its last session, and all other Acts of which the principal object is the protection of manufacturers, or any other branch of domestic industry - if they be considered as the exercise of a supposed power in pleasure, and to apply the money raised to objects not specified in the constitution - is a violation of these fundamental principles, a breach of a well defined trust, and perversion of the high powers vested in the Federal Government for Federal purposes only. Because such Acts considered in the light of a regulation of Commerce are equally liable to objection - since although the power to regulate commerce may, like other powers, be exercised so as to protect domestic manufacturers, yet it is clearly distinguished from a power to do so co nomine both in the nature of the thing and in the common acceptation of the terms, and because the confounding of them would lead to the most extravagant results, since the encouragement of domestic industry implies an absolute control over all the interests, resources, and pursuits of a people, and is inconsistent with the idea of any other than simple consolidated Government. Because from the contemporaneous exposition of the Constitution in the numbers of the Federalist, (which is cited only because the Supreme Court has recognized its authority,) it is clear that the power to regulate commerce was considered by the Convention as only incidentally connected with the encouragement of agriculture and manufacturers; And because the power of laying imposts and duties on imports, was not understood to justify in any case a prohibition of foreign commodities, except as a means of extending commerce by coercing foreign nations to a fair reciprocity in their intercourse with us, or for some other bona fide commercial purpose. Because whilst the power to protect manufacturers is no where expressly granted to Congress, nor can be considered as necessary and proper to carry into effect any specified power, it seems to be expressly reserved to the States by the tenth section of the first Article of the Constitution. Because even admitting Congress to have a constitutional right to protect manufacturers by the imposition of duties or by regulating of commerce, designed principally for that purpose, yet a Tariff of which the operation is grossly unequal and oppressive, is such an abuse of power, as is incompatible with the principles of a free government and the great ends of civil society, justice, and equality of rights and protections.

#archivesgov #December 19 #1828 #south carolina #nullification #19th century

[beefromanoff]

Going Under Ch. 17

summary: the team flies back to NYC for the press conference, and. Gianna finds out some surprising good news

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: elastic heart (piano version) - sia

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: FINALLY finished this one, it's a lengthy one but also had a lot of the information I've been wanting to get out forever! let me know what you think! this sets the scene for the next stage of the story and where it will be held. super excited xoxo

chapter list

_________________________________________________

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky’s voice cut through Gianna’s stupor, snapping her back to attention. 

They were seated side by side in a Quinjet, something Gianna didn’t even know existed until a few hours ago. It was remarkably quiet, with a gentle hum the only indication that there was any mechanical reason they were in the air at all. Pepper and Tony sat a few feet away, with Tony in a heated phone conversation with some manufacturer about the availability of more vibranium and Pepper triple-checking her notes for the upcoming press conference. Gianna and Bucky sat on a bench towards the back of the plane. 

“Hey team, we touch down at the tower in 15, get your game face on.” Tony called before returning to his phone call.

Taking a deep breath, Gianna turned to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Yeah. I’m good. Just a little nervous. You know, you think you’re good at doing press, but it’s one thing to be chatting away about who I’m rumored to be dating or my new song…and another thing entirely to be asked questions about an attack…on my life. Usually I feel like I’m acting, like I’m playing a character. This time, I don’t have anything to hide behind.”

Bucky paused for a moment, before giving a reassuring smile. “You can hide behind me.”

Chuckling, Gianna leaned back. “I might take you up on that if I get a question I don’t want to answer.” 

After the jet had landed on Tony’s private helipad, nearly 50 stories in the air, Pepper had ushered Gianna into an elevator. As the doors slid shut, she caught Bucky’s eye and tried not to look too terrified that they were being separated. Gianna trusted Pepper and knew there wasn’t a place in the world more secure than Avengers Tower, except maybe the compound, but there was a time she felt safe on stage too. She’d only been released from the medical wing this morning, which was a pleasant surprise when she woke up, but she’d been whisked off to the briefing before she even got to ask where she was being released to. 

They’d had a surprising array of pastries and fruit set out next to the set of folders Pepper had prepared for them to review in preparation. Unfortunately, they only had a pot of black coffee (Tony’s favorite) for her to choose from. In true knight-in-shining-armor fashion, however, Bucky had been seated at the far end of the conference room table, two styrofoam coffee cups in front of him. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Gianna had called. 

“You just saw me last night.” Bucky deflected, holding a latte out for her. 

“I was talking to the coffee.” 

After that pleasant surprise, it had turned to strictly business. Pepper’s somber expression told Gianna that whatever was inside the folder wasn’t exactly going to give her the warm fuzzies. As they worked through the intel Tony’s team had acquired on the people Bucky tracked down, those responsible for the attack, Gianna felt her stomach turn. 

They’d tracked the leader back to a small city called Astapor, basically a hybrid between Las Vegas and Hell. The center of illegal weapons dealing, human trafficking, drug smuggling, you name it. There was a whole underworld of incredibly wealthy people demanding incredibly twisted things. Astapor was the place they’d go to get it. 

As it turned out, one of the twisted things that someone was after…was her. 

The details had gone fuzzy after Gianna heard the words leave Pepper’s mouth. Tony sat uncharacteristically quietly, hands clasped in front of his mouth and eyes fixed on the table. Bucky had stood up and faced the wall, his torment visible on his face. The only reason he hadn’t left the room is because he refused to leave Gianna alone to face the horrific details of the attack.

“The person behind all of this was former SHIELD and CIA agent Sharon Carter.” Pepper had explained. 

“She was…a friend to some of us. When the Sokovia Accords conflict occured, Sharon helped break Steve, Bucky, and a few others out of containment. Turns out, she was fired, and faced charges of obstructing justice. She blamed us for the loss of her reputation, her career. So she took the intel she’d gathered and fled to Madripoor. There’s a strong policy against extradition, no one would dare try and find someone there. Well…” Pepper paused, glancing at Bucky. 

“She knew she’d be safe from potential prosecution. So she went to work trying to set herself up financially. Over the past few years, she sold off all the internal information she had, but she ran out of money. When she found out through the surge of information online that Bucky was working with you, Gianna, she made a plan. She knew that if she could somehow…kidnap you, the biggest name in entertainment right now, there would be no dollar amount she couldn’t extract from her buyers. She used her inside information on Steve to set the trap, she knew about his relationship with Bucky. If there was anything that could draw Bucky away from his duty, it was a threat to Steve. She knew that and she exploited it. The plan was to disarm your protection, retrieve you under the shield of chaos, and be in Madripoor before anyone knew where to begin looking. She worked with a team of private contractors, all currently in United States custody. She didn’t have a buyer lined up yet. All loose ends have been tied up.”

There was silence in the room, Gianna couldn’t tell how long it went on. Her ears were ringing, her heart pounding. Her mind struggled to fathom the unspeakable horrors that came so close to becoming her reality. 

“Ms. Cruz?” Pepper gently called. “Do you have any questions?”

Gianna opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words, she turned around and hurled into the wastebasket Bucky was holding. 

Thank God for super soldier reflexes.

Gianna shook her head, forcing memories of that morning out of her head. “Where are we going?” She tried to force her voice to stay steady, knowing it needed to sound clear and confident in a few short hours. 

“I have some people I think you’ll be happy to see.” Pepper smiled gently. The elevator doors slid open to reveal Kate and Tom sitting in yet another conference room. Instead of a light breakfast spread, this time the table was covered by Kate’s arsenal of beauty supplies. As they stepped out of the elevator, both heads snapped up. 

“GIANNA, oh honey, oh it’s so good to see you again!” Kate engulfed her in a rib-crushing hug, her familiar perfume immediately putting Gianna at ease. “Oh, you poor thing, look at you.” Kate’s hands grazed over her face, brows knitting together in concern. 

“You should have seen the other guy.” Gianna said sheepishly. 

The group chuckled, seemingly relieved that she still sounded like herself. After they’d exchanged hugs and Kate had checked for the fifth time that Gianna was still in one piece, they got to work. Pepper had brought half a dozen outfit options, courtesy of her personal buyer, each perfectly tailored to Gianna’s measurements. 

The next hour and a half flew by as Kate filled her in on various rumors circulating in the celebrity makeup artist world, her favorite thing to discuss. Based on the fact that neither Tom nor Kate pressed Gianna for a single detail on the attack, she guessed they’d already been briefed and warned not to upset her. 

While she felt a much needed sense of normalcy sitting in the chair, Kate’s hands dancing across her face, Gianna was only half listening to what she said. Her mind was full of thoughts, but the most prominent one…I wish Bucky were here. 

____________________________________________

Gianna sat nervously in the green room, her newly manicured hands folded in her lap. Kate didn’t miss a single detail. Bucky sat beside her, his metal arm crammed into a black collared shirt that Tony had insisted he wear. After what seemed like an excessively long glam process, due in part to the amount of concealer required to cover all her bruises, Bucky had rejoined them. 

“You sure clean up nice.” She’d said, gulping hard and forcing her eyes to look at his, not the fabric stretched across his muscular chest. 

“I’d say the same, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you any other way.” God, he was such a charmer. 

“You kids ready for this?” Tony said, striding into the green room, the chatter of the reporters following him through the open door. 

Taking a deep breath, Gianna met Bucky’s eyes. He gave a tight-lipped smile as he reached out to grasp her hand. 

“You say the word and we’ll be gone.” 

Smiling, she took his hand and stood to her feet, not letting it go until they reached the podium. 

Per Pepper’s executive decision, the press conference was held in a spacious room at Stark Industries, this one equally as sleek and elegant as every other room Gianna had been in since she entered the Tower for the first time. The room was filled with reporters, cameras, and a palpable tension in the air as everyone awaited the statements regarding the recent bombing incident at Gianna's concert.

Taking her place at the front of the room, Gianna rested her hands on the edges of the podium. There had been a flurry of activity the second they crossed the threshold, but this was no different than usual. Even Bucky was beginning to get desensitized to the flashes and frequent shutter noises. 

Pepper gave a brief address to the gatherer press, giving an official statement on behalf of The Avengers, seeing as they employed Gianna’s security. They’d agreed in the prior meetings that she’d handle the details and that Gianna’s appearance was mainly to assure the public that there was no need to panic or worry. As Pepper emphatically thanked Bucky for his heroics, he simply nodded as the room erupted into applause. Cameras flashed, this time pointed directly at him. Gianna felt his discomfort but was thankful he was receiving the public recognition he deserved. 

Pepper concluded her remarks and turned the microphone over to Gianna, though she continued to moderate. Reporters raised their hands, and one by one, they were called upon to ask their questions. Delivering perfectly rehearsed and media-trained answers, Gianna slipped back into her public persona quickly, albeit a little more reserved given the circumstances. 

“What will this mean for the second leg of the tour, the international dates?” One reporter called from the second row. 

Pausing, Gianna realized she didn’t actually know the answer to that question. She hadn’t even seen Tom since the incident, prior to that morning, and hadn’t had the energy to check her phone, knowing it would be full of texts and calls from people who only pretended to be her friend. The sad truth was, every person who truly cared about her had seen her within the past 2 hours. 

Stepping forward, Tom spoke into the microphone, an apprehensive look on his face as though he were saying something he didn’t want to say. “Gianna’s team is working as quickly as possible to figure out the logistics that will allow her to return to -” 

“Actually,” Tony’s voice called from behind Gianna. Turning, she saw him stepping toward the podium so she shifted to the side to allow him to take center stage. “There’s been a change of plans. As of -” He glanced at Pepper who confirmed a detail on her phone before winking at him. “About ten minutes ago, a new holding company has acquired Ms. Cruz’s record label. One who, believe it or not, doesn’t believe in taking advantage of unrepresented minors and enforcing a contract less than a week following an attempted kidnapping.”

Confused, Gianna glanced up at Bucky, expecting him to meet her eyes with the same questioning look. Instead, she found his gaze locked on Tony, not looking surprised in the slightest. Looking almost…satisfied. 

“Okay, fine, you guessed it. Stark Capital Group, founded and funded by yours truly, is officially in the music business. Don’t ask me my first order of business, you already know it’ll be to make Destiny’s Child a reunion offer they can’t refuse.” 

The room erupted with even more flashes and questions being yelled at the front of the room. Tom looked as bewildered as Gianna felt, whereas Pepper and Bucky both looked pleased. 

“Mr. Stark, what does this acquisition mean for Ms. Cruz and the tour?” 

“What it means is that she’s a kid who just almost got turned into pop star puree. Anyone who thinks her top priority right now should be putting on a concert can see me after this conference for a complimentary lobotomy.” 

“So what exactly-”

“What Mr. Stark means is that we as a company decided to intervene because we didn’t feel like the necessary precautions were being taken with Ms. Cruz.” Pepper intervened, ever so diplomatic, as she elbowed Tony out of the way. “All ticket holders will be fully refunded, as well as given a voucher for any rescheduled dates we may decide to pursue in the future. For now, our top priority is ensuring that Ms. Cruz has the time and resources to recover both mentally and physically. That’s all the time we have for today, thank you all for attending and thank you once again for your support.” 

The flashes took up once again, all trying to get one final shot as the crew traipsed out of the room. Tony was in rare form, blowing kisses to the camera while Pepper ushered him out. Bucky’s left hand took it’s place on Gianna’s lower back, guiding her toward the door. She reveled in the feeling of the cool metal through her shirt, something thankfully familiar in the midst of all this confusion. 

As the door to the private conference room closed and they were alone once again, Gianna couldn’t contain herself any longer. 

“Can someone please let me in on whatever’s happening here?”

Pepper smiled kindly. “Of course. Bucky told us the situation with your label and how you didn’t have much room to negotiate for yourself. As soon as Tony heard they were trying to get you back on tour, he asked me how quickly we could buy the company.”

Dumbfounded, Gianna looked from Pepper to Bucky, who stood in front of the door. He shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t going to change as much as you think. We’ve already sent word to fire the man responsible for exploiting you like this, I’ll get him replaced with someone much more qualified. Consider your contract reopen for negotiations.” 

Mind spinning, Gianna struggled to figure out what to ask first. 

“So…what do I do now?”

Tony spoke up again. “Whatever the hell you want, kid.” 

“For now, let’s get you back to the compound. We went ahead and prepared a room for you so you can settle in while you figure out next steps. It’s the safest place for you to lie low and recover. I’m sure Bucky can be talked into giving you the full tour when we land.” Pepper’s smile always seemed to extend to her eyes when she spoke, something that made her feel even warmer. 

As they left the room to make sure the Quinjet was ready for departure, Gianna swiveled her chair to face Bucky.

“How many times do you plan on saving me this week?” She crossed her arms in mock confrontation. 

“As many times as you need saving.” A smirk played across his lips.

“I hope you know I do want the full tour. Every inch of the grounds. Maybe twice, considering I did hit my head pretty hard. Oh, and I wanna see your room. If it doesn’t have that poster of me you said was on your wall, I’m going to rethink everything.” 

Chuckling, Bucky held the door open to lead her to the helipad. “Whatever you say.”

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #avengers #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #bucky fluff #winter soldier fluff #sebastian stan

[fixfoxnox]

I'm in LOVE with your Jackson and Gaz stories idk how to articulate how much I'm obsessed

I'm in love with writing Jackson/Gaz its my favorite thing ever. Please accept:

Shovel Talk - Jackson/Gaz, Price

Jackson peered at his phone again, looking at the number of the conference room he was supposed to be looking for. He thought it was a little odd that Gaz wanted to see him in a conference room of all places, but he wasn't going to question his boyfriend. Not when there was a tempting emoji of an eggplant and water droplets that had followed minutes after his first message.

He continued down the hallways of the unfamiliar base, stopping once he'd finally found the room number that he'd been sent. He tucked his phone into his pocket, taking a moment to straighten out his clothes and try to slick down his hair. He gave a puff of his breath in his hand, smelling it and giving a small satisfied nod at the knowledge that the mint he'd put in his mouth ten minutes earlier had done its job.

With that all checked out and a growing feeling of excitement in his veins, he reached forward, pressing into the conference room. "Sorry, I'm late Gaz, I had trouble finding the," he stopped in his tracks.

Sitting at the table, papers spread out in front of him, was one Captain John Price. Gaz's Captain. Roach's Captain. The man they both looked up to. The man who looked after them like they were his children.

He looked up at Jackson carefully, giving him a short, manufactured smile and motioning to the seat across from him, "Sergeant Jackson. Please take a seat."

"Captain Price," Jackson responded, trying to keep his voice steady, "Sorry, I must have the wrong room! I was looking for-"

"Gaz?" Price questioned with a tilt of his head. "No, you have the right room." He motioned to the chair again and, after a few moments, when Jackson didn't move he gave a stern, "Sit." The word was bitten out between clenched teeth that were pressed into a false smile. Jackson's body moved on instinct, his mind screaming danger.

He moved to the chair, sitting in it carefully, watching Price for a moment. Finally, he worked up the courage to say, "Uh, sir, I really should go, Gaz is expecting-"

"Gaz isn't expecting you." Price tilted his head down, "I had Laswell send that text to you from Gaz's number. He doesn't even know a text was sent."

Jackson felt himself freeze. This was not good. Not in the slightest. "Why," he cleared his throat, his words having gone high pitched, "why would you do that sir?"

"So that I could finally get a chance to speak with you," Price leaned forward slightly, "You've been avoiding me quite well."

Jackson winced, his heart ratcheting up in speed. It was true, he'd been avoiding Price like the plague. Why? Because the man was terrifying.

"Now," Price leaned back in his seat, picking up a file from the table and opening it, "Why don't we get started."

Jackson squinted at the man, his eyes barely able to make out the words written on that Manila folder, "Is that my file?"

"Yes," Price didn't look up, "I wanted to see exactly who you are. Your records seem good." Jackson shifted in his seat, growing more uncomfortable by the second, "The only issue I can see in your past is that it seems you've already held a relationship with one of my Sergeants." Price dropped the folder to the table, "Why did your relationship with Sergeant Sanderson end?"

Jackson leaned forward quickly, "Sir you should know that Roach and I-"

Price cut him off with a raised hand, "I don't care. What I care about, is that you're dating my Sergeant." Jackson swallowed hard, shrinking into his seat at the piercing glare that Price sent his way. "Sergeant Garrick is an adult, he can decide who he dates. However, this is my base and he is my Sergeant. So we're going to establish some ground rules, alright?"

"Sir-"

"It isn't your turn to speak, Sergeant Jackson." Jackson snapped his mouth closed, nodding rapidly as he shrunk into his seat. "Good. Here are the rules. You can do whatever you want when you are off base with Gaz, but in this base there is to be no groping, grabbing, or extensive kissing. Pecks on the cheek or mouth and hand holding is the extent of what I want to see. Nod if you understand."

Jackson nodded rapidly, trying to keep his breathing steady as Price continued to give him a harsh glare. "Good, I'm glad you seem to follow instructions. Both on and off base I expect to see you treating my Sergeant how he deserves to be treated. I expect him to feel like the center of your universe. Nod." Jackson nodded. "If I see tears or hear cries, they should not be because of you. Nod." Jackson did as he was told.

Price tilted forward then, his hands slipping against the pile of papers in front of him as he stood from the table, "If I find out that any of these rules have been broken. If I find out that my Sergeant has been hurt in any way," in a flash he pulled a knife from the stack of papers, twirling it in his fingers, "It will not be pleasant for you. Nod." Jackson pushed himself as far back into his chair as he could, nodding his head rapidly as he watched Price twirl the knife in his hands. "Now then, it's your turn to speak." Jackson opened his mouth, but he was cut off, "You get three words and two of them should be "I agree." For your own sake."

"But-"

"Thats one word. Two more Sergeant."

Jackson stared at him with wide eyes before giving a hesitant nod, "I agree."

"Very good," Price stabbed the knife into the table before plopping back down into his seat with a more genuine grin. "You're free to go now Sergeant. I look forward to getting to know you better over the course of your relationship with Gaz." Jackson blinked at him, watching frozen for several moments as the man picked up one of the several pieces of paper in front of him and started looking it over. After a moment, Price looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, "Leave."

The words sent Jackson scrambling from his seat and rushing out of the room, trying hard not to let his heat beat out of his chest as he collapsed against the wall outside of the conference room. He stood there for several moments, trying to work out in his mind if what just happened was real or not.

"Paul?" Jackson turned, his wide eyes meeting the adorably confused eyes of Gaz. "What are you doing here?"

Jackson took a deep breath before giving him a small smile, "I came to see you! Maybe take you to lunch? Got a little lost though."

"Oh!" A smile lit up Gaz's face. He came forward several steps to press a kiss to Jackson's cheek, "That sounds amazing. Let me just drop these papers off to Price, then we can go, yeah?"

Jackson nodded, trying not to show too much fear on his face as Gaz opened the door to the conference room and practically bounded over to Price, "Got those papers for you Captain. Gonna take a bit of a break, Jackson's here. He's taking me to lunch."

"Oh," Price turned to watch him in the doorway, a smile on his face, "How nice. You two have fun."

"We will!" Gaz responded with a grin. He started toward Jackson, his back turned from Price. This meant that he missed the way that Price lifted his finger and ran it across his neck, mimicking slashing a throat. Meant for Jackson's eyes only. "Babe?" Gaz asked curiously, "You're a little pale, everything okay?"

"Yup," Jackson responded, his voice high as he brought his attention from Price to Gaz, "perfectly fine. Just a little hungry."

"Well," Gaz wrapped his arm in his and started pulling him from the room, "lets go then, I'm starving!"

Jackson let himself be pulled along by his boyfriend, his mind flooded with continued fear as Price's threats rang in his mind. He let out a shakey breath as he and Gaz stepped from the building. He didn't know a lot, but there was one thing he did:

Captain John Price was one terrifying man.

#you asked luke #captain price #captain john price #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #paul jackson #gaz x jackson #gaz/jackson #something in the orange

[viakgroup]

#Conference Table manufacturer #furniture manufacturer #Modular office furniture #Modular Office Furniture in Noida #office furniture #Office Furniture in India

[greatcanadian-eh-hole]

AUTOSTRADDLE’S FAVORITE LESBIAN, BISEXUAL AND QUEER TV COUPLES OF 2022

Lucy Tara and Kate Whistler, NCIS: Hawai’i

Nic: If you told me in the year of Beyoncé 2022, I would have a couple from an NCIS property on a queer “best of” list, I probably would have laughed in your face. When I heard tell of* (*read: saw my Twitter timeline exploding) about “Kacy”, I apprehensively binged the entire first season. It was cool to see real time spent on out queer character on a CBS show, but until the finale, I probably would have written it off as just “cool.” But in the lead up to season 2, when even the cast had gotten aboard the good ship Kacy, I started to wonder if this would be different. And oh, it has been.

Season 2 is still airing at the moment, and so far we’ve gotten to see Kate and Lucy navigate a new relationship while working together, learn each other’s quirks, literally and figuratively lean on each other for support, and in episode 207, communicate openly and honestly about what forced time apart might do to their relationship. I might eat my words, but after that conversation on the beach, I have a good feeling about these two going forward. I love a procedural (*waves from season 9 of my Criminal Minds first-time binge) and it’s been the biggest surprise of my year to see a queer couple treated this well on a long-standing network franchise. Plus! They’re so stinkin’ cute together, y’all!

Natalie: Back when queer television representation was in its infancy, Hollywood — or at least the side of it that cared about LGBT people — liked to funnel its gay characters into respectable careers. The gay character would be police officers, veterans, first responders…something that immediately conferred respect. It was a well-intentioned effort to ingratiate queer characters (and by extension, queer people) to a straight audience. How could anyone hate this gay character when they saved a kid from a burning building or solved the murder of a beloved community member? How could anyone hate gay people when they too could be heroes?

Today we recognize that all those depictions also fed — and continue to feed — into a mythology about police and the military. They help perpetuate this idea of cops and service members as inherently good and trustworthy and sincere in their pursuit of justice. They are copaganda…NCIS: Hawai’i is copaganda…and I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that. It’s easy to forget sometimes — I am, admittedly, perpetually charmed by Kate Whistler — but let’s be honest about the space they occupy.

That said, I still think Kate and Lucy are a couple worth embracing. With each episode, the chemistry between Yasmine Al-Bustami and Tori Anderson’s characters grow and they fit together perfectly. Their relationship isn’t without angst or tension — particularly once Kate’s girlfriend comes for a visit — and both characters come to the table with their own baggage but even those moments feel authentic. You never get the sense that the show is manufacturing drama for the sake of drama. The comforting, the open communication, the sharing of space, both at home and at work…it feels like a very adult relationship in a way that we hardly ever get to see. I’ve been relishing it.

And listen…I’ll admit, there’s something about this couple existing, in this franchise, on this network (which still ranks last among broadcast networks for LGBT characters) that I just find astounding. During the first season, I kept waiting for the moment that Kacy would take a backseat to a newfound relationship for Jane or Jesse’s marriage, but that moment never came. NCIS: Hawai’i is continuing the series’ tradition of centering one romantic relationship…and this time, that relationship is between two women. I never would’ve imagined. What’s more? When you combine screentime with the show’s ratings, I’m not sure there’s a lesbian pairing on television that’s watched by more people that NCIS: Hawai’i’s Kacy. That, in itself, feels like a reason to keep your eyes on this pairing.

#kacy #ncis: hawai'i #autostraddle

[alexmercer786]

Coworking Office Space -The growing trend of managed office spaces in Bangalore

In the past, only enterprise proprietors who can pay massive rents work from the conventional workplaces. Most small enterprise proprietors work from home as they could’t manage to pay for to pay large rents. Even even though they need to have the separation between training office space in Bangalore enterprise and private existence, there has been no right answer that comes at inexpensive rents. Coworking office space has been introduced up to address this hassle and it has even caused the revolution within the running fashion of enterprise proprietors.

Many realtors and property proprietors have realized the commercial enterprise capacity in the coworking industry ensuing inside the leasing of millions of sq.Toes’s of land in India for the coworking offices. Moreover, there may be a large upward push inside the wide variety of humans operating from those because of the kids of India moving in the direction of entrepreneurship.

There is a big increase in demand for those shared places of work because of the following factors:

1.Coworking Culture:

Coworking spaces have a completely unique way of life which differentiates them from the ordinary business office spaces in Bangalore. Especially for startups, this is a useful environment as they could get more innovative thoughts by means of interacting with numerous kinds of enterprise people.

Any enterprise owner can collaborate to thrive of their very own business. These act as a platform to learn exceptional matters from specific elderly specialists. Moreover, with many like-minded enterprise owners running around, you could improve your productivity. This tradition caused the evolution of the working style inside the current world.

Moreover, this sort of favorable running surroundings of the shared areas has even impacted the big manufacturers to remember switching their business operations from conventional to these workspaces.

2.Quality Working Furniture:

As a enterprise proprietor, you want to invest in arranging all of the fixtures operations consisting of tables, chairs, desks, and many others required in your enterprise when you lease a traditional workplace space. But whilst you be part of these workspaces, all the fixtures necessities are taken care of by means of the gap carriers.

This way you need no longer have enough money one of these fees saving your cash. Moreover, all the exact agencies offer top fine furniture for your commercial enterprise without any additional charge for the use of them.

3.Additional Facilities and Services: Many correct co-working spaces offer unique facilities which include meeting rooms, conference rooms, etc. You need to pay for these while you hire a traditional area as according to the condo agreements despite the fact that you use them very not often. But in shared spaces, you could e book one every time you want and cancel them as in keeping with your desires with the pay for use foundation saving your cash.

4. Affordable Memberships: The memberships of the co working spaces are pretty low cost relying for your needs. For example, a devoted personal cabin will certainly cost you higher than the new desk however the expenses are cheaper whilst in comparison with prices you want to incur for rents, application bills, and so forth which you want to have enough money within the case of conventional areas.

Conclusion:

Joining in a coworking space is the quality desire to your business operations at less costly prices. The subculture, centers, and versatility offered by means of those cause them to easy to hire for a brief time period basis. Moreover, each member can get get entry to to important facilities which includes the parking areas, food courts, and many others furnished for the individuals at no additional charges.

#coworking #office space #bangalore #corporate office #collabcubicles #office #coworking space #business

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: Blade Runner Starring Donald Duck Chapter 4 - Voight-Kampff (DuckTales x Blade Runner)

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | chapter 4 | CHAPTER 5 | MORE COMING SOON...

READ NOW ON AO3!

The McDuck Corporation was easily recognizable from the air. It was the only place around that had any fire left, figuratively and literally. Columns of fire shot out from the pillars below, as much a part of 5Y manufacturing as the countless number of hapless souls working their lives away underneath. At the center of it all was a great dark pyramid, standing tall and true with a dollar sign etched into it bordered by orange light. If the fire stacks and winding pathways below were the veins of McDuck Corp, here was the heart. I set the spinner down on a platform near the pyramid’s summit, watching the breeze kick up stray particles on the pad.

McDuck’s office was a short elevator ride away. It was a huge place with hardly enough furniture to fill it properly. Columns with geometric ridges dotted the space all around.  It looked as if it was split into four separate rooms based on the layouts in each of its corners. Overlooking it all was a massive window letting the golden light cast everything in a rich hue.

 I saw a barn owl preening itself on a perch on the opposite side of the office, which intrigued me. They were supposed to be extinct. It jumped up and flew over to another perch across the span of a conference table under the window.

“Magnificent creature…” said Feth.

“Do you like our owl?” said a female voice, the owl’s head turning toward its source.

Me and Feth followed its gaze and shadowed in dim orange...she approached, dressed in black faux leather, walking to me with all the air of a dame who knew what her purpose was in life. A luxury that McDuck could no doubt afford.

“It’s artificial?” I asked. Of course, it was, but basic human decency dictated you ask anyway.

“Of course it is.”

“Must be expensive,” said Feth.

“Very. I’m Daisy.” She held out her hand.

I shook it. “Duckard. This is Feth.”

She nodded to him and Feth waved. She looked back at me. “It seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public.”

“Replicants are like any ol’ machine,” I said, “they’re either a benefit or a hazard. If they’re a benefit, it’s not my problem.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and leaned against the table. “Sure.”

“Have you ever retired a human by mistake?”

I had to pause to recollect all the dusty memories. “No,” I answered.

“But in your position, that’s a risk?”

It was, but the Voight-Kampff had been so highly tested that the older model replicants could be picked out like a cherry on a white tablecloth. 5Ys, on the other hand…

Before I could answer, another voice came upon us. “Is this ta be an empathy test? Capillary dilation of th’ so-called blush response? Fluctuation of the pupil? Involuntary dilation of the iris?”

Someone had clearly done their homework. “We call it Voight-Kampff for short,” I said to the older Scottish drake walking toward us, his intricately carved cane clunking on the floor every other step.

“Mr. Duckard?” said Daisy, “Dr. Eldon McDuck.”

The head honcho himself, dressed in a finely tailored black suit. Almost nobody could get an audience with the richest duck in our world, but here we were. 

I held my hand out, and got that cane pointed at me instead. “Demonstrate it. I want tae see it work,” said McDuck.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s the subject?”

“I want tae see it work on a duck. I want tae see a negative before I provide you with a positive.”

“What’s that going to prove?” I asked.

He sniffed. “Indulge me, lad.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What, test it on you?”

“Try her,” he said, turning his head to Daisy.

I gave her a glance. She was pretty, unassuming. I shrugged. “It’s too bright in here.”

McDuck pressed a button on his cane. Nearly all the light was wiped from the window as a shade lowered dramatically over the opening. You know you’re rich when you can turn the searing sun on and off at your will.

Daisy sat down across from me, while McDuck retreated to the other side of the space. I unpacked the box and set it on the table. It was just like riding a bicycle, getting this old puppy running again. Her pupil shrunk in the frame, green iris piercing and mysterious.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Daisy asked, already reaching into her bust.

“It won’t affect the test,” I replied. Satisfied, I sat down as she was lighting up a Lucky Strike. “All right, I’m gonna ask a series of questions. Just relax and answer them as simply as you can.” I turned to Feth, who had plopped himself in a chair next to me. “Watch and learn.”

I retrieved a sheet of paper and began. “It’s your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet.”

“I wouldn’t accept it,” she said. “I’d also report the person who gave it to me to the police.”

The gauge moved halfway to one end, the dial moving just as powerfully. The lowest intensity questions were always a revealing point to start on. I continued, “You've got a little boy. He shows you his butterfly collection plus the killing jar.”

“I’d take him to the doctor.”

Again, the gauges swung to one side but not as enthusiastically. “You're watching TV. Suddenly, you realize there's a wasp crawling on your arm.”

“I’d kill it.”

Same thing. Quick response too. “You're reading a magazine. You come across a full-page nude photo of a girl.”

“Is this testing whether I’m a replicant, or a lesbian, Mr. Duckard?” she asked. I couldn’t tell if she was offended or just genuinely curious.

“Just answer the question, toots. You show it to your husband. He likes it enough to hang it on his bedroom wall. The girl’s on a bearskin rug.”

“I wouldn’t let him.”

“Why not?”

“I should be enough for him.”

Fascinating. They don’t usually answer that way.

This continued on through hundreds of questions, hundreds of varied responses, each more telling than the last. At last, I had run out of questions to ask, except for one, at the bottom of the last page. “You're watching a stage play.  It shows a banquet in progress. The guests are enjoying raw oysters.”

Daisy grimaced slightly. The needles moved accordingly. I continued. “The entree is boiled dog stuffed with rice.” The needles moved again, but less so. She didn’t say a word.

I was exhausted, both of questions and with this charade. I switched off the box and leaned back.

Eldon McDuck was walking over again. I didn’t know what to tell him. As if he read my mind, he turned to Daisy and said, “Would ye step out for a few moments, lass?”

She nodded, putting out her cigarette, and rose from her seat. We waited for her to make the journey well out of earshot.

McDuck was looking at me knowingly. What was going on? I met his eyes. “You wanna tell him, Feth?”

Feth gulped. “Um...she’s a replicant, isn’t she?”

McDuck cracked a slight smile. “I’m impressed, lad. How many questions does it usually take to spot ‘em?”

“I-I don’t get it, McDuck,” I said.

He rested his chin on his fist. “How many?”

“20 or 30, cross-referenced.”

His hands fell authoritatively to his sides. “It took more than a hundred for Daisy, didn’t it?” His eyes gleamed behind his Pince-Nez glasses.

“She doesn’t know?” I hissed.

McDuck looked toward the window. “She’s beginning to suspect, I think.”

“Suspect?” I balked. “How can it not know what it is?”

“Commerce, Duckard. That’s our goal here at McDuck Corporation. ‘More human than human’ is our motto. Daisy’s an experiment, nothing more.” He shuffled closer to me as I looked off past him, faint rays streaming in past the shade to illuminate the scientific mind of a generation. “We began to recognize in them some strange obsessions. After all, they are emotionally inexperienced, with only a few years tae store up the experiences which you and I take for granted. If we gift them the past, we create a cushion or pillow for their emotions, and consequently, we can control them better.”

“Memories,” I said, looking up to him. “You're talking about memories.” 

McDuck tipped his hat to me.

I looked back to where Daisy had gone. Implanting memories...heaven only knew where they obtained memories from, and how they were extracted. It was an experiment, all right, one that had me thinking of an old movie with a guy with bolts in his head. 

My stomach knotted up and my shoulders became heavy. This was the 5Y in action, and the fact that I was gonna have to retire four of ‘em had fully sunk in.

#ducktales #donald duck #fanfiction #disney ducks #duckverse #blade runner #fethry duck #scrooge mcduck #daisy duck #noir #crossover

[mariacallous]

As Yugoslavia threatened to descend into bloodshed in 1991, its neighbours flew in to offer help. “This is the hour of Europe,” declared Jacques Poos, the Luxembourgish foreign minister dispatched to Belgrade by the European institutions in Brussels to stop all-out war from erupting. It was not. Savage fighting ensued, ultimately brought to an end mostly by America, proving Mr Poos wrong. Three decades on, the hour of Europe has come again. On February 1st, at a summit of the EU’s 27 national leaders in Brussels, politicians will emerge bleary-eyed from into-the-night talks to announce—if all goes well—a package of €50bn ($55bn) in support of Ukraine. Amid the self-congratulation and soaring press-conference guff about standing shoulder-to-shoulder with an embattled neighbour, it will be considered impolite to note the package is to be spread out over four years and amounts to around 0.08% of the GDP of the union in that period.

As in the time of the hapless Mr Poos, a gap exists between how Europe describes the situation and the means it is putting up to tackle it. Listen to politicians and things sound dire enough. French officials describe Europe as needing to shift to a “war economy”, fully mobilised to thwart the Kremlin’s imperial ambitions. Central Europeans say Russian victory in Ukraine would lead to further wars of conquest, and justifiably worry they might be next. Such anxious tones will be familiar to veterans of other crises that have befallen the continent, whether it be covid-19, an imploding euro or the prospect of climate change. To face up to those challenges, finding money was no object. Taboos were broken to fight the pandemic, including a €750bn jointly borrowed recovery fund. Keeping up the green transition will cost over €1trn a year. And a decade ago the European Central Bank promised to do “whatever it takes” to save the single currency. When it comes to Ukraine, Europeans are content to commit a sum of money that represents a mere rounding error in their national accounts.

Is the prospect of a revanchist Russia not worse than a pandemic, even? It is not that the EU has done nothing for Ukraine: refugees have been welcomed, sanctions imposed, and Ukraine offered the prospect of joining the club. Contrast that with America, which started off by providing lots of military kit but has for now ended shipments as its own $61bn assistance package is caught in partisan gridlock. Nor is the €50bn to be agreed next week the only help EU members are proffering. Some countries, notably Germany, are still sending lots of military and financial aid bilaterally. Non-EU Europeans, whether from Britain or Norway, have pledged large amounts of weapons and cash too.

But the multi-year package has all but replaced fresh offers of short-term aid: this is what Ukraine will have to make do with for the moment, according to diplomats from EU countries. Europe’s purse-strings have been kept tight by three factors. One is that some politicians, notably in western Europe, may have silently been fine with Ukraine getting a trickle of money—enough for it not to lose but not to win too comprehensively either, lest that humiliate Russia. That may have been the case in the war’s early stages, but feels out of date now. Still, keeping the authorities in Kyiv on a short leash has its advantages, for example if Ukraine one day needs to be pushed towards the negotiating table.

The second is that assistance to Ukraine often comes not in the form of cash, but of military equipment. There is not much left in national armouries to send east, so shells and cannons need to be made instead. Some countries, notably France, want to ensure the weapons are manufactured in Europe (ie France, often). The aim is not for local firms to profit, though that doesn’t hurt, but for arms-making capacity to be built up as part of plans for Europe to bolster its “strategic autonomy”. Alas combining the aim of helping Ukraine with that of industrial policy has not worked well. Last spring the EU promised that it would send 1m shells to Ukraine within a year; yet by late December only 300,000 had been delivered, and few think the target realistic. Meanwhile, North Korea alone (GDP: 1/500th of the EU) has managed to send Russia over 1m shells, say South Korean spooks. Russia is closer to becoming a “war economy”, pushing defence spending to over 6% of GDP.

The third reason for Europe’s stinginess is that Ukraine has been caught in the EU’s internal wrangling. The mooted €50bn has been sourced through the bloc’s institutions in Brussels, whose annual budget is itself tiny, at just 1% or so of the 27 members’ GDP. Because the aid to Ukraine is tied to a review of overall EU spending, it has taken seven months to unblock the amount. Changes to the union budget need to be agreed unanimously, which gave undue leverage to Viktor Orban, Hungary’s prime minister and chum to the Kremlin. An expert blackmailer, he blocked the €50bn deal at a summit in December, forcing his fellow leaders back to Brussels. He may do so again, though he now has a new source of blackmail: after Turkey’s parliament signed off on Sweden’s accession to NATO on January 23rd, Hungary is the only hold-out.

Show me the money

Amid the haggling and the summiteering, some simple facts seem to have been overlooked. Europe is a rich place. It would be far worse off if Ukraine lost the war. Proper funding would help Ukraine, which faces a budget shortfall just this year of over $40bn. A far more generous offer would be in Europe’s interest. Kaja Kallas, the Estonian prime minister, has suggested Ukraine’s allies should pony up 0.25% of their GDP per year. That is about one-third of what countries are meant to spend on development aid, and one-eighth of NATO defence-spending targets. Such an allowance, roughly triple what is on offer now, would allow the government in Kyiv to plan for victory, and for Russian defeat. Either Europeans are spewing nonsense about how tied their fates are to Ukraine’s, or they are being short-sighted. Either way, they are not putting their money where their mouths are.