#state tax department
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जीएसटी चोरी की शिकायतों में लापरवाही बरतने पर राज्य कर विभाग के तीन अधिकारी निलंबित
देहरादून:- जीएसटी चोरी की शिकायतों पर कार्रवाई करने में लापरवाही बरतने पर राज्य कर विभाग के तीन अधिकारियों को निलंबित किया गया। मुख्यमंत्री पुष्कर सिंह धामी की मंजूरी के बाद शासन ने निलंबन के आदेश जारी किए। तीनों अफसर विभाग में प्रवर्तन और सचल दल इकाई में तैनात थे।
सचिव वित्त दिलीप जावलकर ने तीनों अधिकारियों के खिलाफ कार्रवाई करते हुए संयुक्त आयुक्त प्रवर्तन वीपी सिंह, सहायक आयुक्त सचल दल इकाई…
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#Assistant Commissioner Mobile Team Unit Dr. Kuldeep Singh#Deputy Commissioner Enforcement Yashpal Singh#Dhami government#Doon Railway Station#GST theft#Joint Commissioner Enforcement VP Singh#news#state tax department#suspended#three officers#uttarakhand
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#religion and reason#tax the churches#church and state#fire department#911#thoughts and prayers#sunday sermon
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h.
#nothing to make you feel more pathetic than emailing your town's library#to say pretty please i'm an unincorporated resident and i know we can get cards for a cost determined by taxes#but i have no job and no property and pay no rent and i have no documents proving this absence#but can i just get a card anyway pretty please#can you pretty please pity me enough to give me what i want#(i checked my state's department of labor website; i can't just get documents confirming i'm unemployed)#well. maybe when i get a message back they'll have some other ideas of how to proceed#don't count chickens etc#fingers crossed they don't just point to the address on my driver's license and say pay taxes for THAT property#and i do have a library card for the local community college but their selection is uhhhh#dear diary
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Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #16
April 26-May 3 2024
President Biden announced $3 billion to help replace lead pipes in the drinking water system. Millions of Americans get their drinking water through lead pipes, which are toxic, no level of lead exposure is safe. This problem disproportionately affects people of color and low income communities. This first investment of a planned $15 billion will replace 1.7 million lead pipe lines. The Biden Administration plans to replace all lead pipes in the country by the end of the decade.
President Biden canceled the student debt of 317,000 former students of a fraudulent for-profit college system. The Art Institutes was a for-profit system of dozens of schools offering degrees in video-game design and other arts. After years of legal troubles around misleading students and falsifying data the last AI schools closed abruptly without warning in September last year. This adds to the $29 billion in debt for 1.7 borrowers who wee mislead and defrauded by their schools which the Biden Administration has done, and a total debt relief for 4.6 million borrowers so far under Biden.
President Biden expanded two California national monuments protecting thousands of acres of land. The two national monuments are the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument and the Berryessa Snow Mountain National Monument, which are being expanded by 120,000 acres. The new protections cover lands of cultural and religious importance to a number of California based native communities. This expansion was first proposed by then Senator Kamala Harris in 2018 as part of a wide ranging plan to expand and protect public land in California. This expansion is part of the Administration's goals to protect, conserve, and restore at least 30 percent of U.S. lands and waters by 2030.
The Department of Transportation announced new rules that will require car manufacturers to install automatic braking systems in new cars. Starting in 2029 all new cars will be required to have systems to detect pedestrians and automatically apply the breaks in an emergency. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration projects this new rule will save 360 lives every year and prevent at least 24,000 injuries annually.
The IRS announced plans to ramp up audits on the wealthiest Americans. The IRS plans on increasing its audit rate on taxpayers who make over $10 million a year. After decades of Republicans in Congress cutting IRS funding to protect wealthy tax cheats the Biden Administration passed $80 billion for tougher enforcement on the wealthy. The IRS has been able to collect just in one year $500 Million in undisputed but unpaid back taxes from wealthy households, and shows a rise of $31 billion from audits in the 2023 tax year. The IRS also announced its free direct file pilot program was a smashing success. The program allowed tax payers across 12 states to file directly for free with the IRS over the internet. The IRS announced that 140,000 tax payers were able to use it over their target of 100,000, they estimated it saved $5.6 million in tax prep fees, over 90% of users were happy with the webpage and reported it quicker and easier than companies like H&R Block. the IRS plans to bring direct file nationwide next year.
The Department of Interior announced plans for new off shore wind power. The two new sites, off the coast of Oregon and in the Gulf of Maine, would together generate 18 gigawatts of totally clean energy, enough to power 6 million homes.
The Biden Administration announced new rules to finally allow DACA recipients to be covered by Obamacare. Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is an Obama era policy that allows people brought to the United States as children without legal status to remain and to legally work. However for years DACA recipients have not been able to get health coverage through the Obamacare Health Care Marketplace. This rule change will bring health coverage to at least 100,000 uninsured people.
The Department of Health and Human Services finalized rules that require LGBTQ+ and Intersex minors in the foster care system be placed in supportive and affirming homes.
The Senate confirmed Georgia Alexakis to a life time federal judgeship in Illinois. This brings the total number of federal judges appointed by President Biden to 194. For the first time in history the majority of a President's nominees to the federal bench have not been white men.
#Thanks Biden#Joe Biden#student loans#loan forgiveness#lead poisoning#clean water#DACA#health care#LGBT rights#queer kids#taxes#tax the rich
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They put Tayy Dior’s name in quotes as if that was a fun little nickname her friends called her. It places emphasis on the fact that her name is ‘unofficial,’ and given that legal name changes in places like the US can be expensive, difficult & time consuming, the ‘unofficial’ nature of transgender peoples’ names is commonplace. Using deadnames of trans people in media reports is an endorsement of the difficult nature of this process.
It also highlights the absurdity of appealing to ‘official’ legal records of name and gender marker - which official records? even when you go through a legal name change process, it’s not a single application that changes it everywhere. At least in my experience in Canada, and I believe this is the case in other federated states, you have to separately change your photo ID(s), your birth certificate, your federal/national records, your tax records, your employment and tenant records, your bank records, your billing records, and so on. These are all separate applications/appointments. And legal name and gender marker are separate applications. I had to essentially obtain a set of permission slips from a provincial office that allowed me to change my name and gender marker on municipal, provincial, and federal records. There isn’t one single ‘official’ record that informs all other records of your ‘real’ name and gender marker, it is a collection of diffused departments & offices that do not communicate with one another and must be altered one at a time by the individual themselves. In many cases, states retain a record of your original name and gender marker even after applying for a change, meaning it is literally impossible to ever fully change your name and gender everywhere, administratively speaking.
So, which record is the ‘official’ record for trans people? Cis people treat ‘official’ records of legal names and gender markers as if they are uniform, centralised, and coherent in order to contrast the ‘unofficial’ nature of a trans person’s “preferred” name and pronouns, to highlight the fundamental fraudulence of our lives that go against the rational objective nature of the state, but there is in many states no single official record, for trans and non-trans people alike. That is because when cis people insist on calling trans people by their deadnames and ungender them, they are not actually referring to official records - as official records can conflict, and there is no agreement on which single record is the authoritative one - but are instead treating sex and name assignment at birth as if it is sacrosanct. This first ritual of naming, of gendering, and of recording the results of this ritual is the actual ‘official record’ they are referring to, a ritual that can never be altered or forsaken.
Tayy Dior’s name is not a nickname, it is not a quotation to insert into her “real” “official” deadname, it is not a preference. It is her name, and the media - even “trans inclusive” media - is making sure that it is, at best, the second thing they call her as they gleefully report on her violent murder
#even old new york was once new amsterdam#transmisogyny tw#transphobia tw#hate crime tw#transmisogynoir tw
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Copaganda does three main things.
First, it narrows our understanding of safety. Police get us to focus on crimes committed by the poorest, most vulnerable people in our society and not on bigger threats to our safety caused by people with wealth and power.
For example, wage theft by employers dwarfs all other property crime combined — from burglaries, to retail theft, to robberies — costing some $50 billion every year. Tax evasion steals about $1 trillion each year. There are hundreds of thousands of Clean Water Act violations each year, causing cancer, kidney failure, rotting teeth, and damage to the nervous system. Over 100,000 people in the United States die every year from air pollution, five times the number of all homicides.
But through the stories cops feed reporters, the public is encouraged to measure a city’s safety by whether it saw an annual increase or decrease of three homicides or fourteen robberies — rather than by how many people died from lack of access to health care, how many children suffered lead poisoning, how many families were rendered homeless by illegal eviction or foreclosure, or how many thousands of illegal assaults police committed.
The second function of copaganda is to manufacture crises or “crime surges.” For example, if you watch the news, you’ve probably been bombarded with stories about the rise of retail theft. Yet the actual data shows there has been no significant increase. Instead, corporate retailers, police, and PR firms fabricated talking points and fed them to the media. The same is true of what the FBI categorizes as “violent crime.” All told, major “index crimes” tracked by the FBI are at nearly forty-year lows.
The third and most pernicious function of copaganda is to manipulate our understanding of what solutions actually work to make us safer. A primary goal of copaganda is to convince the public to spend even more money on police and prisons. If safety is defined by street crime, and street crime is dangerously high, then funding the carceral state leaps out to many people as a natural solution.
The evidence shows otherwise.
— Alec Karakatsanis, “Police Departments Spend Vast Sums of Money Creating “Copaganda”” | Jacobin, July 2022
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The Love Lab presents:
Wash Day 🫧🚿
pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
summary: Miguel offers to wash your hair because wash days can be a lot, mischief ensues.
content warning: 18+ MDNI, lots of fluff and banter, talks of marriage/proposal, lovey dovey!miguel, head scratching + massaging, p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾, healthcare is expensive and so are babies), just the tip at one point, cussing, subby + service-like miguel (he does start to enter a daze that is similar to a sub drop, but it's not really that and the reader checks up on him immediately), needy!miguel, creative use of miguel's talons, kissing, hickys, a little hair pulling, manhandling, cunnilingus, fellatio, squirting, slight edging, praise kink, breeding kink towards the end, mentions of cum, overstimulation, a little aftercare, reader is a bit of a tease, miguel is a bit of a brat, more references to cats than I thought, no use of y/n
credit for the art/dividers: Me! (+ illustrator and canva)
a/n: This is my first fic that I am posting on here! 🤠 This one has been in the works for a while, but I am happy with the result. This story is written with a black reader in mind, but it's very inclusive minus the hair situation, so anyone can enjoy the story. There is one unrealistic part that NONE of my natural brethren would ever allow, I beg you to just go with it. 😭 I also used a little Spanish in here, to my Spanish-speakers, if anything is wrong, just let me know and I 'll change it right away!
I also imagined the shower to be one of those fancy walk-ins like this or this but big enough for two, because in my mind, Miguel is stacked in the money department as well.
word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)
To all my sub Mig lovers and fiends! Love ya! 🩵🪮
It was finally time for the day you’ve been putting off for about a week now, the taxing Wash Day.
Normally, you would drag this day out because you knew that once you started, you had to keep going until your hair was done and either ready for the bonnet or the hood dryer. Although today, you were lucky because you had a braid appointment the following morning, so that meant just a simple wash and a blow-dry. You were even luckier because your boyfriend, Miguel, was more than happy to wash your hair for you.
“I know how tired you get afterwards and I just want to help make the process easier,” is what you remember him telling you last night in your sleepy, whiny state.
Now, here you are the next day watching his eyebrows furrow in confusion, lips pouted in a crooked M as you guide him to the old faithful: the kitchen sink.
“Why are you giving me that face? You said you were gonna help,” you chuckle at his expression, watching as his eyes turn to your hair supplies littered across the counter.
“No, no! I still want to help. It’s just that,” he picks up your wide-tooth comb, running his fingers over the teeth, “I thought we were going to be in the shower.”
You look at him, a little dumbfounded at the statement. You didn’t mind washing your hair in the shower, you did it all the time, but what was the point of getting you both wet?
“I just thought it would be easier for you this way,” you reply, pulling the faucet from the sink and waving it around in an attempt to hype up the situation. “I’ll bend my head in the sink, and you’ll wash it that way. Or! You can hike me up on the counter and I can lay down with my head over the sink. That one’s a little less comfortable for me, but it gives you more than enough room to maneuver.”
“Hm,” he grunts, eyes going from you to the counter, then right back to you. “That’s fine and all, but what if my back starts to hurt from bending for too long.”
You just stare at him, unamused. If anyone would be in pain, it would be you.
“In the shower, we can stand together and I can see exactly what’s going on. Plus, you can wash my hair too,” he continues, pulling you flush against his chest, comb forgotten. He starts to rub your hips in a slow motion. “Let’s make it a date.”
“Ok, first of all, you’re not that old to where your back can just give out like that,” you quip, leaning back from his embrace to look him in the eyes. “Secondly, you expect me to believe that the Spiderman is unable to wash someone’s hair in this sink.”
“At 6’9? Absolutely.”
“Touché.”
Truthfully, Miguel was a bit turned on after spending the last 20 minutes watching you completely melt under his hands from scratching your scalp.
It was such a simple task but all of your sighs and whispers of “right there” and “harder” had him internally groaning.
When it was finished, you were up off the floor easily and blissfully unaware, while he was left with a few of your shedded curls covering his clothes and pre-cum threatening to seep into his underwear.
So yes, while technically the shower was the best option for him, he really wanted to ignite that same reaction from you again. It was addicting.
You reach up on your tippy toes and squish his face to give a quick peck to his lips. “Fine, fine! Quit your puppy dog eyes, we can go to the shower. Just let me pee first.”
Step 1 of Miguel’s master plan was already successfully underway.
He started to pick up your supplies, reading the ingredients out of curiosity. Today you were trying a new line of products that was making huge waves online. He remembers seeing how excited you were when the package came in. You had barrelled into the bedroom in a squealing frenzy, and had it not been for his spider senses listening out for you, he would have jumped from the way you threw the door open.
Even though it was another line of products that would fill up the bathroom cabinets, your giddiness rubbed off on him, so he was ready to see results.
“Baby, come on! I’m ready!”
Miguel quickly huddled up everything from the counter and made his way to the bathroom.
He walked in to see you standing next to the sink, birthday suit on and your hands reaching up to push your hair from your forehead.
Heaven-sent were the first words that came to mind. Here you were, standing in the steam of the bathroom just for his eyes. He couldn’t help but linger in the doorway, heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.
You turned to look back at him, mirth in your eyes, “Mig, come on, the water’s running.”
He didn’t even comprehend the sound of the water hitting the tiles, he was so zoned in on you.
“I’m coming, I was just…admiring you,” he replies, moving to prepare for the shower.
“There’s no way you’re eyeing me up right now. I look a little crazy,” you say, turning back towards the mirror.
“Querida, you could be rocking a spiked mohawk right now, and I would still have the same reaction. You’re beautiful no matter how your hair looks.”
You bit your lip, heart fluttering at his words. If you didn’t have to get ready for your hair appointment tomorrow, you’d stop everything then and there to love on your boyfriend.
For now, you settled on helping him out of his clothes, a smile growing on your face. You pulled his shirt up as far as you could reach, then let your hands roam over his chest, watching the goosebumps that followed behind. You kept your fingers walking down to the waistband of his pants, lightly scratching at his happy trail.
His stomach twitched in response to your touch, hands itching to pull you closer.
You placed your hands at his sides, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, slowly tugging at the bands. You stepped forward to get a better leverage, breasts pressing against his torso.
His breaths were coming out in short beats, not wanting to disrupt the spell that you put him under. He looked down at the closing space between you all’s bodies because if he looked up at your eyes, he’d stop everything and take you right there against the counter.
But the shower. He was supposed to make it to the shower. Which was in an area by itself. In the next room. With your hands roaming everywhere, he wasn’t even sure if he could even make it past the toilet.
His eyes fluttered closed as you slid your hands back up his thighs, a deep breath building in his lungs. Like this, he was really able to tune in on both the heat of your body against his and the lingering touch of your hands. Hyper-focused on you and you alone.
Then he heard a loud slap.
His eyes bucked back open, body rigid as the sting came back in waves on the side of his ass.
“Come on, we’ve got heads to scrub!” you said, voice as clear as ever.
He watched you twirl towards the shower, his mind muddled from your switch to playfulness. Had he read that all wrong?
He looked down and sighed at the sight of his dick, half-hard at what could have been.
All he could do was stagger out of the clothes that pooled at his ankles, grab the hair products, and waddle to the shower.
You were already halfway under the spray of the shower head, head leaning back, waiting for the water to completely soak through the layers of your hair.
Miguel came up next to you and detached the shower head, bringing it closer to your scalp, careful not to get water in your ears.
“So first, we have to use the scalp scrub shampoo,” you say, grabbing one of the taller bottles and unscrewing it. “Just take this in your hands first, lather it, and work it into my scalp.”
You pull his left hand forward and squeeze some of the liquid in his palm.
“Is this enough?” he asked, noticing the little amount you put in his hand.
“Yep! A little can go a long way, baby,” you say, turning around to him, trying to determine how you would reach the top of his head.
Oh, how Miguel was so well acquainted with that phrase. Especially after this cat-and-mouse game you’ve been playing with him all day.
You faced him as he placed his fingers on your scalp, beginning to move in circles, spreading the shampoo in several sections.
“You can add a little pressure. I can take it,” you mumble out, almost low enough for Miguel to miss it.
So he does. He starts to scratch at your scalp, remembering that this is an important step. For your hair of course, not his plan.
“Ugh, that feels so nice,” you sigh, trying not to sway under him. “I should have had you do this sooner.”
Miguel thought so too. Here you are, head leaned back, eyes closed, and completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. He kept scratching at your scalp, your head nodding along with the motions.
“Can you scratch over here, please?” you ask, pointing at the right side of your head, eyes squeezed tight to not let any soap fall in them. Even after all of your teasing, you were still so cute in this moment. When Miguel complied, you showed your gratitude by groaning out a quick thank you. With a long sigh, you placed your hands in front of his chest, fingers balled up in loose fists.
“Does it feel good?” Miguel knew the answer, but he had to play along. “You want me to move anywhere else?”
“Yeah, could you just-” you leaned your head over, mindlessly guiding Miguel’s hands. “Right there, baby.”
You brought your hands up to grip at his wrists, needing something to hold onto. Miguel felt insane.
To curb the feeling, he quickly leaned down and kissed your forehead. His head was overloaded with the sound of your voice and he had to keep himself composed.
You looked up at him, eyes big and wide at his affection. He kept making you feel warm doing such mundane things. You purse your lips, silently begging for more.
Miguel brought his soapy hands to the water to quickly rinse them off, then placed them on your cheeks and leaned down again to kiss your lips.
One. Two. Three pecks and you were giggling.
Four. Five. Six pecks and you were on your tiptoes, arms crossed behind his neck.
Seven. Eight. Nine pecks and you were turning your head, opening your mouth for more.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve kisses and you were in his arms, feet off the ground, biting at his bottom lip.
By the thirteenth kiss, you were pulling your head back, staring into his eyes, grabbing at his nape.
“We still have to wash the shampoo out,” you say, watching as his eyes linger on your lips.
“We can do that,” he mumbles, still holding you close.
“Are you gonna put me down?” you ask, tone a little cheeky.
He snaps his eyes up at yours, eyebrow raised. “Are you gonna finish what you started?” He started to move one of his palms down your back, taking a thigh to pull around his waist, and placing his mouth on your jaw.
“Nuh uh, O’Hara,” you chide, pushing against his chest and wiggling to get him to remove his embrace. The water smacks against the tiles as you jump down, one calf still in Miguel’s hand.
“O’Hara?” Miguel scoffed, playfully pulling at you again and tickling your side. “I’m not sure who that is, but maybe you forgot how to say baby, mi vida.”
You laughed at him, finally calling out his bluff, “No, because my baby said he would help me wash my hair, and right now he’s being bad and trying to distract me. So, until you finish, it’s O’Hara.” You folded your arms and tilted your head to the side, daring Miguel to counter your words.
He dropped your leg and muttered out a gruff “fine” with his lips downturned. Two could play at this game and if he wanted to distract you, he just had to turn up the heat.
He grabbed for the shower head and started to rinse the thick shampoo from your hair, carefully weaving through the locks.
“When do we detangle it?”
You started to smile again, happy at his verb usage. He really does listen to you when you talk about your hair.
“When we put on the conditioner, but you can start a little now while the water’s running on it. Need the brush?”
“No, I’ll just use my fingers for a little bit.”
You turned your face back to him, shocked that he remembered another technique.
“You’re gonna finger detangle, ba- I mean, O’Hara?”
“Yes I am, corazón. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a great boyfriend that knows what his girl needs.”
You squint your eyes, wary at his words. “Uh huh, I bet you do. If you know so much, what’s next?”
“We shampoo again. Rinse. Then it’s conditioner and detangling, just like you said.”
You hummed, internally ecstatic that he actually did know the answer. “Another point for you,” you say, turning back around as Miguel places the shower head back on the hook.
Miguel smirked. He listened to you, he really did, but he also made sure to watch over 20 videos about washing coily hair while you were sleeping. You didn’t have to know that though.
His high was short-lived when you bent over to grab the next shampoo. He grabbed at your hips, watching as the swell of your ass aligned against his front. He pushed his head back and breathed in deep. How unfair.
You leaned back up slowly, turning the bottle around trying to fish for any specific directions.
“This one is a hydrating shampoo. It says you can just put it on my hair and just work it through.”
Miguel repeated the same shampooing process, although this time with less scalp scratching and more scalp massaging. You were once again in bliss at his ministrations, like a cat who couldn’t stop purring.
“O’Hara, you really have a way with your hands. Super relaxing,” you say with snickers underlining your voice.
Miguel just reached for the shower head, ready to rinse for the second time. “This guy sounds like a real catch. Too bad he isn’t here.”
You just laugh at how sulky he sounded, ready to grab the conditioner.
“Well, is there a Mr. O’Hara here? I kind of need him for this last step.”
Miguel stopped in his tracks.
You really didn’t understand how much he wanted to make you his wife. In fact, he started planning the proposal to a T after a year of you all being together. He started to dream about a future with you after the first couple of dates, despite how often he had to tell himself to slow down. It was terrifying yet thrilling how much you left an impression on his life.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara.
Mr. O’Hara.
Mrs. O’Hara.
Miguel bent his head in your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist, face burning from his running thoughts.
“Y-you can’t use that against me. You know how I get,” he said petulantly, voice softened in the juncture of your neck, drowned out by the pouring water.
“And how do you get, baby?” you ask, reaching over to run your fingers through his damp hair. You tugged lightly at the root causing Miguel to hug you tighter and groan against your neck.
As hot as the water was, the heat of your body against his left him burning. The angle was weird so he couldn’t exactly rub up against you, but he could kiss along the surface of your shoulders.
He started to slowly press kisses down your neck, moaning as you tilted your head to give him more space. He stopped to linger at the top of your shoulder, taking in a small amount of skin. After he was happy at the mark he left, he opened his mouth a little wider, canines grazing against your skin.
You reach to pull his head back up, resting his jaw on your shoulder.
“Focus, Mr. O’Hara, it’s only one more step.” You say these words lowly right next to his ear, pressing your lips on his tragus then pushing his head up to kiss against his jaw.
When Miguel stood up fully, you could see the dazed look in his eyes. Staring closer, you noticed they were a little dewey.
You had to bring him back down to Earth. You couldn’t have him lost in this steam.
“Hey, baby look at me,” you even your tone and angle his face towards yours. “Are you alright? Do we need to sit down?”
You wait for his eyes to find yours, searching for discomfort.
“No, I'm fine. I’m ok, sorry,” he says, leaning into one of your hands, wrapping his hand around it for extra support.
“Positive? I know the water is really hot so if you need to step out and cool down, then that’s fine. I’ll help you settle down then come back and finish up by myself,” you say, adamant in your words.
“No! No, no. I’m really ok. I’m so cool and calm right now that it’s crazy,” he replies, frantic at the thought of leaving you in the shower. “Hand me the conditioner.”
You look at him again, tickled at the change in condition. All you could do was sigh, twist the cap off of the conditioner, and pull the inner lid off.
He dabbed two fingers on top of the cream, scooping a small amount off of the top. “A little goes a long way, right?”
“A little does go a long way.”
“Can you turn around, please?”
You comply, placing the conditioner in a corner.
“If you need it to lather a bit more, just add a little water,” you remind him.
He began to work the conditioner through, going from the root to the ends. The results were quick and he could see your curls begin to sprout. He started to thoroughly pull his fingers through, working out any leftover tangles. He got to a bigger knot and held the section of hair in one hand, and carefully combed through the knot with the other.
You were feeling peaceful until it dawned on you: you never gave him a comb or a brush to work with.
“Hold on, baby what are you using to take the knots out with? Do you have a comb?”
Miguel placed one of his hands in your face and pushed his talons out, like a cat showing its claws off when you press the center of its paw.
You panic, remembering that they can tear through people and metal, “Um. I don’t think using these bad boys on my hair is the right way to go.”
“Tranquila, mi amor, I got it. I’m using the dull side, see?”
He put a tuft of hair in front of your eyes and showed the process of him detangling while talon-less, then working out the final tough knot with the side of the talon, turning his hand sideways to avoid cutting your curls.
As a result, the section was completely detangled, allowing him to run his fingers straight through the thick strands, and the curls springing back up once he was finished. Plus, from what you could tell, there was no breakage.
Color you impressed because Miguel was pulling out all of the stops today.
“Alright, just. Be careful.”
“Always.”
“If you jack up my hair, Lyla will have to place Jess in charge permanently.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You stand, arms placed under your chest, waiting for Miguel to finish. Subconsciously listening to the pattern of his breaths and the sound of his talon going through your hair.
“Ok, that’s it. Do you want to wash my hair while this sits?”
Such a smart boyfriend.
“Yeah just let me go ahead and finish this shower while you get your hair wet.”
Miguel stepped back to get under the overhead shower head, letting the water fall on him like rain, watching you as you began to lather body wash on your net sponge.
You were scrubbing away at your skin getting into every crevice, peach fragrance filling the air.
He wanted to reach out and touch you, but look where that’s gotten him so far. Almost kicked out of the bathroom.
You were just as stubborn as he was, no, resolute.
He admired it, especially when you gracefully brought him down from clouds that were his own fantasies.
Focusing back on you, he stared openly as you folded your body in half to reach your ankles causing everything to be on display.
A normal person would put their foot on the ledge to reach below. You were definitely fucking with him.
He watched as you pulled the net sponge across your body, leaning up as the languid movements of your hands pulled the net side to side.
He was glad that the water drowned out his harsh breathing.
You finished off your shower, working the detached shower head over the soap, clearing up your skin.
You brought the shower head lower, making sure that there was no bubble left behind.
When you held your ass to help the water pass all the way down the back of your body, Miguel jumped to hold the base of his cock, softly groaning at the picture you were painting.
He lifted his face up and pushed his hair back, in hopes that the stream could help him clear his mind. But, the water was hot, all it did was make him lightheaded at the thought of you.
“Miguel? Come over here so I can wash you too.”
Miguel tottered over, looking down at your body, shining after all your thorough work. You were placing soap on a pair of exfoliating gloves you had bought for him, lathering them together once you were satisfied with the amount of soap.
You got to work on his body, starting at the shoulders and moving in circular motions.
Miguel stared in silence, hoping you would put an end to this charade. But you continue to be meticulous, covering every inch of his upper body. Lifting his arms when you wanted to. Moving him around when you wanted to.
In this moment, he felt like a ragdoll, letting you do whatever you pleased.
You squatted down to do his lower body, eyes laser focused, not missing a spot.
All Miguel could focus on was your face so close to his dick that was twitching in anticipation. You just ignored it and continued to rub the rest of him down. Miguel wanted to cry.
You were touching everywhere, slowing down on his inner thighs and ass causing his knees to shake.
You held him steady by gripping the back of his thighs and finally looked up at him, acknowledging his presence.
Your eyes traced him all the way down to the gift that was in front of you. You parted your lips and let your tongue brush against the tip, watching as spurts of pre-cum escaped. You couldn’t have that. You leaned forward a little more, taking the head in completely, and allowed yourself a few more licks and a suck before you let go with a pop, watching the thin trail of spit grow as you leaned back.
Miguel whined in frustration, a cloud of desire fading so quickly.
“Amor, why did you-”
You quickly jumped up and rested against him, arms wrapped around his waist and hands lightly groping his butt.
“I didn’t even wash your hair yet, silly,” you quip, chin nuzzling against his sternum. “Now, go rinse off and sit on the bench so I can reach your hair.”
Forget wanting to cry, Miguel might actually do it.
He was so, so hard.
After the soap was gone he trudged to the bench, glancing over at you washing the conditioner out of your hair.
“I could have washed it out for you,” he protests, half bothered by his situation and half annoyed that he let it blindside him from the main point of this shower.
“It’s ok, baby. You really helped me out a lot today and I’m thankful. I’m also making sure you don’t drop to the floor right now, so hold on for me,” you reply earnestly, chuckling at the look of frustration slapped across Miguel’s face.
You bring over the hydrating scrub, some conditioner, and the shower head, and stand in between his legs, ready to start.
Miguel looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, undeniably in love and unbelievably aroused.
You started to unscrew the scrub, making sure to part his hair down the middle.
“You’re using your products on me?” he asked, confused at your actions.
“Just the shampoo. I don’t think this conditioner will do you any good, but for the most part, the line is pretty inclusive. Ain’t that neat?”
“Mm-hm,” he responded, cheeks squished against your chest, arms wrapped around your thighs.
“Look forward, for me, baby,” you say, starting to spread the shampoo on his scalp.
He just hummed and groaned in the safety of your torso, while you scratched at his scalp and pulled the shampoo to his ends. He started to kiss and nibble at any skin he could get his mouth on. His grip was getting tighter and he felt a stutter in your breaths.
“Lean back so I can rinse this out.”
He placed his chin on your stomach again, eyes full of hearts.
“I’m almost finished, I just need to put your conditioner on.”
Miguel hummed once more as you placed the conditioner at his ends first, then scrunched his hair up, careful not to mess with his scalp. Mindful of his wavy, curly hair texture like he was for yours.
His wine eyes kept staring at you, as if you were the 8th wonder of the world. You felt heat in your face, an accumulation of the almost boiling water and Miguel’s full attention.
He was simply grinning, face wet and tinted from the water.
“You’re so cute,” you say, rinsing out the last of the product.
“Only with you,” he replies, still trying to make you look into his eyes. “Can you come closer?”
You set the shower head down and run your hands through his strands, “I feel like I’m already as close as it gets.”
“Not really,” he said, swiftly sitting you on his lap like you weighed nothing. “You could always be closer to me, cariño. I can think of many ways to make that happen.”
You finally allow yourself to indulge in his shenanigans. Leaning your forehead on his, you open your mouth to say, “Is that why you were so adamant about getting in the shower? To get as close to me as possible?”
He looked from your eyes to your mouth, “No?”
You bring your hands from his hair to his neck, “You know you can’t lie. In fact, you’re like, really bad at it.”
“Fine. It was partially because of that. How did you know?”
“Like I said, you can’t lie and neither can your face. You’ve been pouting ever since I let you scratch my head and especially when I wanted to wash my hair in the sink.”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Kind of,” you say, a laugh twinkling off your lips. “I can always tell when you want me.”
“Yeah? And what am I telling you right now?” He starts to move your hips, placing his erection right under you, grinding your lips against him.
You close your eyes, a flame beginning to blossom within you, “I guess that you need, fuck, you need me.” Your clit was throbbing against his length as he dragged your body back and forth.
“I do, bebé, I do,” Miguel was moaning loudly, melting at the feeling of your pussy finally warming him up. He moved his lips to yours, desperately trying to have more of you, gripping your hips even harder.
“Baby, s-slow down,” you say in the midst of his kisses, trying to put your feet on the bench next to him to gain some sort of stability. You knew he was pent up, but he was moving so frantically, you were scared he might slip off.
“Te necesito. Please, just-” Miguel cut himself off with a groan in your neck, grinding your slit along himself faster. He started to kiss down your chest, finally getting to your breasts, and gliding his tongue along the wet skin. He took a nipple into his mouth, allowing himself to suck.
The flame from before was starting to grow, “Miggy if you keep going, I’m gonna cum.” He was just starting and you already felt everything coming to an end.
How were you so close, yet he was the one who was riled up?
“Miguel, I’m-” you hold on harder to his neck, eyebrows furrowed.
“Uh huh. C’mon, give it to me,” he encouraged, staring at you, eyes cloudy.
You break above him, a scream crawling from your throat, hips stuttering in his hold, and liquid leaking onto the floor.
“Oh my god,” your mind was hazy, reveling from how quick you came, but mostly at how needy Miguel looked.
“Was it good?” he asked, hugging your body as he switched angles, dragging his body closer to the edge of the bench, letting your feet fall to the floor. His voice was whiny, desperate, wanton. “Was I good for you? Did you feel good?”
You brought your mouth to his temple, movements shaky and heart still thumping, “You were so good for me, baby. So good.”
He sighed, breath leaving his lungs as if what you told him was a matter of life and death.
“Then use me,” he leaned back, hands pressed against the seat. “Use me, however you please.”
You stared at him, a little stunned but fully immersed. When you brought your hand to his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was moving. You brought your mouth to his once more, a thumb on his chin pushing so that lips could part. You kissed him deep, making sure to direct his focus there while you placed your knees on the bench.
Sitting just above him, you guided your sex to his, allowing his tip to barely kiss you. You wanted him, yearned for him inside of you, but not yet.
You slid his tip past your slit, only edging it in partially, then rubbed your pussy up and down the head, allowing yourself to open up.
Miguel moaned into your mouth, hands curling into fists as he felt your walls close around the top of him. He started to move in tiny thrusts matching your rhythm.
“Nuh uh, baby, it’s just me right now, remember?” You break your kiss to reprimand him, bringing your hand from his chin to his stomach, and stopping all movement.
Miguel could only cry out and nod, upset at the loss of your body devouring his own, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, keep going. I’ll be still, cariño, please.”
“Good. There he is, my sweet baby,” you say, voice a prime example at how much Miguel begging for you was affecting you.
You start back, ass moving with a bit more force. You lean to press a long kiss against his neck, losing yourself in the sound of him barely inside of you, his groans a lovely melody filling up the room.
“You feel amazing, Miguel. So big, and you’re only giving me so little,” you pant in his ear, knees starting to hurt from how hard the tiles were.
“It’s all for you. Just for you,” he gasped, twitching when the sounds of your juices got even louder at your constant movement. “Mi amor, please, can I hold you?”
“Always, baby.”
Internally you chuckled, you never told him he couldn’t touch you, you just followed his plea to use him like a toy. He was so pussy drunk, he forgot the parameters he set for himself.
He wrapped his biceps around you, your arms folding behind your back in the process, but that didn’t stop you from riding out the high that was another orgasm.
“That’s right, keep going. Úsame, take what you need,” he requested. He was itching to dive deeper into you, not wanting your pleasure to end.
You threw your head back and whined high with Miguel’s name on your tongue, gushing out your release for a second time.
“Fuck.” Miguel was still holding onto you, legs taut in their position. He swerved your pussy across his length, listening at how wet you were.
You laid your head on the tile above Miguel, relieved with its slight coolness and trying to slow down your rapid heartbeat. Your hips kept bucking as an aftereffect.
You didn’t get that much of a cool down before Miguel was at it again, finally sliding his dick in until he bottomed out.
The two of you let out long moans in unison, a harmony that wasn’t unfamiliar to your apartment.
In this position, your face was back in front if Miguel’s, eyes watery from the sensation of him filling you up.
“You’re perfect, you feel perfect,” Miguel cradled you, trying to get as comfortable as he could, despite the impossible position he put himself in.
Lifting his hips off of the bench, he held himself up by his back pressed against the tiles.
Before you could even ask him if you all should move to the floor, he knocked the wind out of you, holding you up as he slammed into you.
“Miguel!” you shout, clamoring for anything to grab onto after the impact had you knocking forward.
“I got you, I promise. Won’t let you fall,” he heaved out, words spilling out as fast as his hips were snapping.
All you could do was mutter out words incoherently, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass reverberating off of the walls. Your eyes finally let go of the tears they were holding, overwhelmed by your state of being.
“What’s that, mi amor?” Miguel cooed at you, licking off one of your tears and kissing your cheek. “Can you feel me? Is it too much?”
“I, ngh, I,” you could barely get your words out, your brain turning into mush after each thrust. Miguel kept going, humming as he spread kisses around your face.
“You gotta answer me, baby. I need to know,” he whispered.
“I’m trying,” you respond, voice cracking from overuse. You were still peeved at his composure. “I thought you said, oh my god, you said you didn’t want to hurt your back.”
Miguel just pursed his lips, eyes clearing up for just a second, “I didn’t. And I’m not going to, super-healing, remember?”
“That’s-” your sentence was cut off by Miguel hiking you up and smacking you back down in time with one of his thrusts.
“Shit! Do that again,” you sob, thoughts coming to a stop.
“Yeah?” Miguel tried his best to keep his eyes on you, but you were squeezing so tight around him that his eyes kept rolling.
“Yes, Miggy. Right there, that spot. It’s so,” you were drooling at this point. “It’s so much.”
Miguel kept it up, glad to be hearing those words, proud of himself for igniting you.
You held your head down, body wound tight, “I think I’m gonna cum. I’m close.”
“Again?” Miguel asked, heart fluttering at you falling apart on his dick.
“Yes, baby. Don’t stop,” you say, voice wavering.
Right as you felt your body beginning to let go, Miguel halted and sat back on the bench.
“No, no, no. Why did you-” You were cut off by Miguel grabbing you and placing you on your shoulders, pussy in his face.
He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue in where his cock once was swirling in and out, sucking at your folds. He starts to hum as if you've fed him his last meal, causing your orgasm to come in waves.
“Oh!” you shout, thighs quivering around his head, one hand gathering a fist of hair and the other pawing at the wall. Miguel was lapping everything up, holding you so that you couldn’t even think of falling.
“Ok, ok,” you say, mewling as he kept you in place while your hips shook. “S’too much.” He finally let’s go, placing you back in his lap.
“Did I do good?” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly now that he catered to you. His face was a mess, evidence of you all down his neck.
You kissed his nose, giggling at his need for praise, “Yes, baby. You did amazing. Fantastic. Perfecto.”
He was practically vibrating with joy, kneading at your thighs.
“But Miggy, there’s still a problem,” you say, holding his face with both hands. “You still didn’t cum yet.”
You watched his face flit through several phases: ecstatic, worried, then hungry.
“Can I keep going?” he asks, hands starting to roam again.
You simply nod and try to prepare yourself for him moving you around again.
He sinks back in slowly, careful of your sensitive body. You try your best to move, hips working in circles, hands holding onto his thighs. You couldn't help but to squeeze onto him, despite how tired you were.
“You look so pretty,” Miguel mumbled.
“Bet I would look prettier if you finished. Inside.”
That fired him up even more. He started to help you to bounce up and down his length, teeth gritted. You held your head back, eyes scrunched at the feeling of him inside again.
Then he started to whimper, a telltale sign that he was close.
“Can you say it again, please?” he said, moving to stand with you in his arms.
“Say what?” you ask, exhausted yet in awe that he still had so much energy. “That I want you to cum inside? Fill me up?”
You could feel him twitch inside of you, mind hazy at the thought.
“Shockingly, no. My name. Porfa, mi vida. I need to hear it.” He was still holding you as he pounded away, eyes never leaving yours.
You’ve been saying his name the whole time, so surely that can’t be it. Then, it dawned on you.
“Let go, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, mouth right next to his.
And so he did. He bent over, hands gripping your sides as he snapped his hips frantically, groaning into your mouth as he kissed you hard. You could feel him seeping inside you, hot liquid filling you up.
You clutch at his shoulders, feeling your hold slipping from how wet his skin was from the shower and the heat. You cry out again, body sore from all of fun and sensitive from overstimulation.
Miguel finally let up for what felt like hours, standing up straight and pulling you off his dick. He hissed at the feeling, angling your body parallel to his so that everything could fall to the shower floor.
You lay your head on his shoulder tiredly, grateful that he was still carrying you.
“That’s going to mess up the drain. You should have just let it stay in me until it took,” you mumble into his shoulder, hearing his breath hitch at your words. “Or until I got to the toilet or something.”
He brought you both back to the bench, “You're on the pill so stop teasing me about that.”
“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t live out your breed-”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it, mi amor,” he says, pecking your lips to stop you from continuing. “Now let's clean you up. Again.”
He reaches for the shower head and checks the temperature. Humming, he aims the spray at your lower area.
You jump and yelp, “That’s so fucking cold!”
“Bébe, it’s literally warm. I just checked!”
No wonder he was about to die in the steam, “You know how hot I like my showers, and that’s ice cold right now.”
“Well I’m sorry it’s not burning, but we have to clean you up,” he said, trying to console you. “I’ll warm you up later.”
You look at him and there’s this playful look on his face. “No,” you say, just the thought of doing this again making you sleepy.
You eye his body up and down. “Maybe later.”
He just chuckled and finished up.
An hour later, the two of you are dry, blow dried, and comfortably laid out across the couch with baking competition shows queued up on the TV.
You look up at Miguel from your position on his chest, cheesing from ear to ear.
He feels you staring at him and looks down, eyes warm. “What?” he asks, watching your face light up.
“Nothing. I just love you,” you say, unable to look away.
He kisses you, heart keeping a steady beat, “I love you too.”
I hope you enjoyed reading! 🩵🩵
Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.
(And did anyone catch my Beyoncé Cécred refs?? I have no idea how brand names work with fics so I just stuck to nameless descriptions😭)
- Lauro 🧼
#love lab fics 🧫#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x reader#spider man 2099#miguel ohara#miguel 2099#miguel o'hara x black reader#miguel x black reader#sub miguel o'hara#sub miguel#x black reader#x black!reader#afab reader#x black fem reader#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#seriously though can I say brand names in fics?#i love miguel so much i could do a backflip#my friends are only mildly concered
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The Home-State Consequences of an Out-Of-State DUI
The Home-State Consequences of an Out-Of-State DUI
America is known for its wide-open roads and grand road-trip adventures, but what’s the deal with getting a DUI in a state other than your own?
First of all, the same general rules apply across the United States. The legal blood alcohol content level is 0.08 percent; nearly every state has “implied” or “express” consent laws which allow you to refuse (with penalties) a blood or breath test; and…
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#out of state by state#out of state department#out of state election#out of state income#out of state legislature#out of state of the union#out of state population#out of state quarters#out of state tax#out of state test
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Should Billionaires Exist?
Do billionaires have a right to exist?
America has driven more than 650 species to extinction. And it should do the same to billionaires.
Why? Because there are only five ways to become one, and they’re all bad for free-market capitalism:
1. Exploit a Monopoly.
Jamie Dimon is worth $2 billion today… but not because he succeeded in the “free market.” In 2008, the government bailed out his bank JPMorgan and other giant Wall Street banks, keeping them off the endangered species list.
This government “insurance policy” scored these struggling Mom-and-Pop megabanks an estimated $34 billion a year.
But doesn’t entrepreneur Jeff Bezos deserve his billions for building Amazon?
No, because he also built a monopoly that’s been charged by the federal government and 17 states for inflating prices, overcharging sellers, and stifling competition like a predator in the wild.
With better anti-monopoly enforcement, Bezos would be worth closer to his fair-market value.
2. Exploit Inside Information
Steven A. Cohen, worth roughly $20 billion headed a hedge fund charged by the Justice Department with insider trading “on a scale without known precedent.” Another innovator!
Taming insider trading would level the investing field between the C Suite and Main Street.
3. Buy Off Politicians
That’s a great way to become a billionaire! The Koch family and Koch Industries saved roughly $1 billion a year from the Trump tax cut they and allies spent $20 million lobbying for. What a return on investment!
If we had tougher lobbying laws, political corruption would go extinct.
4. Defraud Investors
Adam Neumann conned investors out of hundreds of millions for WeWork, an office-sharing startup. WeWork didn’t make a nickel of profit, but Neumann still funded his extravagant lifestyle, including a $60 million private jet. Not exactly “sharing.”
Elizabeth Holmes was convicted of fraud for her blood-testing company, Theranos. So was Sam Bankman-Fried of crypto-exchange FTX. Remember a supposed billionaire named Donald Trump? He was also found to have committed fraud.
Presumably, if we had tougher anti-fraud laws, more would be caught and there’d be fewer billionaires to preserve.
5. Get Money From Rich Relatives
About 60 percent of all wealth in America today is inherited.
That’s because loopholes in U.S. tax law —lobbied for by the wealthy — allow rich families to avoid taxes on assets they inherit. And the estate tax has been so defanged that fewer than 0.2 percent of estates have paid it in recent years.
Tax reform would disrupt the circle of life for the rich, stopping them from automatically becoming billionaires at their birth, or someone else’s death.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not arguing against big rewards for entrepreneurs and inventors. But do today’s entrepreneurs really need billions of dollars? Couldn’t they survive on a measly hundred million?
Because they’re now using those billions to erode American institutions. They spent fortunes bringing Supreme Court justices with them into the wild.They treated news organizations and social media platforms like prey, and they turned their relationships with politicians into patronage troughs.
This has created an America where fewer than ever can become millionaires (or even thousandaires) through hard work and actual innovation.
If capitalism were working properly, billionaires would have gone the way of the dodo.
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A valiant professor from the global studies department at UC Irvine arrested alongside her students. May 2024.
"We cannot have a genocidal foreign policy in a democracy...these police officers out here today: that's thousands of student scholarships, thousands of students could've been able to go to school and have books and have housing, but instead our chancellor who is a very cruel man, decided to send thousands of dollars worth of state funding paid for by tax payers into the trash..."
"Are you concerned about possibly jeopardizing your job?"
"What job do I have if the students don't have a future?"
#undeniable#neotai's song#master teacher#free palestine#free congo#free sudan#free us all#free gaza#valiant hearts
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Now we are cooking with gas in the Big Ideas department, guys. All the emails, spam posts, and tags do get people listening. Not to mention Max stock is plummeting(fyi stocks have dropped below 10 percent today). They expect to wear us down and well stop. Guess what, we won't!
This fight is not just about our show.
This is about the state of the entertainment industry being decimated by late stage capitalism until all that's left are shit Harry Potter reboots and exploitation porn reality shows. Art to these people is dead. Just tax write offs amd insider trading. If a show this successful is axed no show will be safe I guarantee you.
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Blue Or Pink?
James Wilson x Female Reader
Summary: House makes some observations about Doctor Y/N L/N. He is absolutely certain that she is pregnant with Wilson's child, but something seems amiss.
TW: Pregnancy, mentions of weight gain/breast size/nausea and vomiting/miscarriage, medical diagnosis.
House stood outside the Pediatric unit, watching Doctor L/N-Wilson through the window as she spoke with the parents of a patient. She had been married to Wilson for almost two years and things had been stable.
Normal.
Predictable.
But House began to notice small changes in Doctor L/N-Wilson. At first they seemed insignificant, but then the little nothings turned into big somethings.
First it was the tiredness, she'd whine about being exhausted before resting her head on Wilson's shoulder in the cafeteria. It was nothing special, just an overworked Pediatrician who gave everything to her patients.
Secondly, House noticed a change in how she responded to smells. She refused to kiss Wilson after he drank his morning coffee, the smell making her stomach churn. It could have been an anomaly, but then he changed his cologne. Wilson liked his cologne and had used the same one for as long as House had known him. A new cologne could have been gifted to him, but Wilson wouldn't have used a different scent without some other motivation. It seemed obvious to House that L/N's smell-associated nausea had caused the switch.
Thirdly, it was how emotional she had become. L/N had always been an emotional lightweight with a heart of gold, but House could see a difference in her. She didn't seek out comfort from Wilson on a routine basis, only when she had lost someone or experienced an emotionally taxing case. Then he noticed her coming and going from his best friend's office with red, watery eyes at least once a week. Her heightened emotional state could be due to the loss of some boring little rugrat who drew her a picture of a butterfly once, but it seemed more intense than that.
Fourth thing he noticed was the vomiting, she was very discreet about sneaking away to upchuk in the hospital bathroom, but not discreet enough to escape his watchful eye. She was constantly chewing mint gum or sucking on breath mints while carrying a toothbrush in the pocket of her lab coat.
Fifth thing was an increase in cup size and a sudden progressive weight gain. It wasn't anything excessive, but it was enough to have her clothing fit more snugly before she gave up and bought new clothes.
Sixth was the appointment. Wilson and L/N snuck away to an "early lunch" after talking to Cuddy. They were both Department heads and didn't need to speak to the Dean of Medicine before stepping out for an hour.
The anomalies were piling up into a rather perfect list of symptoms.
Chase made his way over to House, frowning as he stared through the glass, "What are you looking at?" Chase asked.
"Doctor L/N-Wilson," House stated.
His eyes followed her as she separated from the parents, walking over to the nursing station.
"Why?" Chase asked uncertainly.
"She has a parasite," House said, Chase's head snapped in his boss' direction.
"What? How do you know?" Chase questioned, turning to look at her again.
"I just know. It would take too long to explain," House said, turning and walking off.
...
Wilson and L/N sat on the couch in their apartment, her back was leaned against his side and her legs were stretched out across the couch cushions. Wilson's arm was wrapped around her as he flipped through the channels on the television. L/N stared down at her book, turning the page before closing her eyes and leaning her head on his shoulder.
"You alright?" He asked, looking down at her.
"Tired," She sighed.
"Do you want to go to bed?" Wilson questioned.
"No, I'll be okay. I like spending time with you," L/N said, eyes fluttering open.
Wilson smiled, pressing a kiss to her head as she returned to her book. He turned his head towards the television before someone knocked at the door.
L/N sat up, setting her book down on the cushion beside her.
"I'll get it," Wilson said, setting the remote down and making his way over to the door.
He opened the door, sighing when he saw House standing on his doorstep.
"Your wife has a parasite," House stated.
"Thank you so much for letting us know. We'll have her admitted for treatment in the morning," Wilson said sarcastically, "Goodnight, House," Wilson stated, moving to close the door.
House stuck his foot in the doorway, blocking the door from closing before pushing his way into their apartment.
"House, what are you doing here?" L/N asked.
"You have a parasite, Doctor L/N-Wilson," He said.
"No, I don't. Go home, House," She said, standing up from the couch and moving to step past him.
"It has arms and legs. It looks adorable in a onesie. Chromosomes of XX or XY with eyes like mommy and glorious hair like daddy. Lucky bugger will even get two Christmases when you two separate," House said.
"We're not separating," Wilson snapped.
"That's besides the point," House said, returning his attention to L/N, "Oh, and I stumbled across this," House said, holding up a document displaying a positive pregnancy blood test result.
"How did you-" She started, snatching the paper from his hand, "Did you break into my office? And my desk?" L/N questioned incredulously.
"I should be saying mazel tov. Congratulations on the little rugrat," House said.
L/N smacked him in the arm, "You're an ass," She snapped, folding up the paper.
"I thought you'd be screaming it from the rooftops," House said.
"Forgive me for being cautious," She huffed, sitting back down on the couch.
"You're almost four months along. Way past the danger zone for early miscarriage," House stated, eyes flickering over her.
House looked up at Wilson, he shook his head, silently pleading with his friend not to continue.
"You've lost a pregnancy before," House said.
"House-" "Three," L/N replied, looking up at him.
"House, get out," Wilson said.
"He was going to find out at some point, James. I'm surprised he didn't steal my medical records already," L/N said.
"Another hospital, too much work," House shrugged.
"Can you grab a copy of the sonogram?" She asked, Wilson nodded, making his way down the hallway before returning with a photograph.
He held it out to House, he took the photo and stared down at it, "The fetus has your nose," House said, "Mind if I keep this?" He asked.
"Sure," L/N nodded, leaning back against the couch.
"Why do you- You know what? Nevermind," Wilson sighed, sitting down beside L/N and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
"I'll see myself out. Congratulations on the kid," House said, making his way over to the door and out of their apartment.
...
House sat at his desk, staring down at the sonogram as his team discussed their most recent case. House tilted his head, thumb brushing over a darkened area on the scan.
"House?" Cameron questioned loudly.
He looked up to find Chase, Cameron and Foreman staring at him expectantly. House turned the sonogram photo and held it up for the team to see, "New case. Tell me what's wrong with this picture," He said.
Cameron huffed, "We need to solve our first case before moving on to something else. We should do a transesophageal echo to rule out a blood clot and to-" "Sure, but first, tell me what's wrong with this picture," House repeated.
Chase squinted, leaning in closer to view the sonogram, "Looks fine to me. Roughly four months along, I'd say," Chase shrugged, straightening back up.
"Wrong, thanks for playing. You two," House said, looking up at Foreman and Cameron.
Cameron shook her head before letting out a defeated sigh, she leaned in and scanned the sonogram silently.
"The fetus is undersized for gestational age. Can we go now?" Foreman asked.
"Nope. Try again," House said.
"There's a mass," Cameron said softly, taking the sonogram from House's hand.
"Yeah, it's called a baby," Chase muttered.
"No, there's a membrane around it," She said, stepping over to the x-ray view box and holding it up to the light.
House stood from his chair, staring at the sonogram over her shoulder. He took the photograph from her hand, "Do the echo," House said, grabbing his cane and heading towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Cameron asked.
"To locate a pregnant woman," House stated.
...
L/N made her way across the lobby towards the clinic, "Y/N," Wilson called. She turned to face him, "Did House page you?" Wilson asked.
"Yeah, did he page you too?" L/N questioned.
"This can't be anything good," Wilson muttered, hand resting on the small of her back as they entered the clinic.
They made their way over to the exam room House had paged them to.
L/N knocked before opening the door, she and her husband stepped into the exam room, "What do you need, House?" L/N asked.
"You. Hop up on the table," House instructed, pulling over the portable ultrasound machine.
"House, she already has an obstetrician," Wilson said.
"Well, your obstetrician is an idiot," House said, turning on the ultrasound machine.
"I'm going back to work," L/N sighed, stepping over to the door.
"I saw something in your sonogram," House stated.
L/N hesitated, "What was it?" She asked.
"I have an idea, but I need to get a look at the thing," House said, gesturing to the exam table.
L/N looked over at Wilson before reluctantly getting up on the table and laying back. Wilson moved over to her side as she pulled up her blouse.
House squeezed some gel onto her belly before moving the wand across her skin. The soft thump of their baby's heartbeat filled the room as House stared up at the screen.
"Your baby has a roommate... Sneaky little sucker that leaves its dishes in the sink and trashes the place so they lose the security deposit," House said, typing on the keyboard.
"What is it?" Wilson asked, holding onto her hand tightly.
House turned the screen towards them, "A cyst," He said.
"It's solid," Wilson said softly, stomach dropping as he saw the possibly cancerous mass growing in his wife's belly. The oncologist within him already formulating treatment plans and survival rates.
"Sometimes. This week it's solid, two weeks ago it was liquid," House said, holding up the previous sonogram.
"I have cancer?" L/N mumbled shakily, eyes glossing over with tears as she looked up at Wilson.
"Nope, think hairy with a nasty bite," House said.
"A dermoid cyst?" L/N questioned.
"Bingo," House said, "Your baby is small for gestational age, but your fundal height is bang on. Someone else is taking up space," House said.
"Your miscarriages hid the symptoms and the cyst is likely to create more problems as it continues to grow. I scheduled you for a laproscopic removal tomorrow evening and notified your idiotic OB," House continued, putting down the ultrasound wand.
He held up a tissue, allowing L/N to wipe the gel from her stomach. She pulled down her blouse and sat up on the exam table.
"I still want to test your blood for cancer markers, but the chances of a dermoid cyst being cancerous are slim to none," House said, standing from his stool and gathering supplies.
"Your hubby can do all the testing," House said.
He tied the tourniquet around her arm and drew a few vials of blood to test. Wilson stood close to her side, his hand resting against her back reassuringly as they processed the information.
"Did the cyst cause my miscarriages?" She asked softly.
House shrugged, "Probably... The ugly thing is taking up all the beachfront property and keeping it from possible long-term residents. Bad for business, especially if business involves pregnancy," House said.
L/N huffed a laugh, leaning into Wilson's chest as a tear rolled down her cheek. Wilson pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping his arm around her waist securely.
"The baby is going to be okay," Wilson assured, L/N nodded.
"I'll leave you two to do whatever married people do," House said, grabbing the vials of blood and his cane.
"House, wait," L/N said, pulling away from Wilson. She hopped off the table and stepped over to House.
He stiffened as she hugged him before slowly wrapping his arms around her, "Thank you," She said softly.
"You're welcome," House replied.
#gregory house#gregory house x reader#james wilson x you#james wilson x reader#james wilson imagine#james wilson#house md imagine#house imagine#house md#james wilson x female reader
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hi to the people who say “Biden will get it done behind the scenes” I give to you: the people behind the scenes
White House
Congress
State Department
General Federal Government, including foreign policy experts
the calls for a ceasefire are coming from inside the house y’all, if we don’t continue to make supporting genocide expensive/taxing/political suicide etc. there’s gonna continue to be genocide.
keep marching, keep boycotting, keep picketing, keep disrupting, keep calling your reps, keep writing op eds and most of all, keep caring.
Our movement is everywhere, and we owe Gaza our endurance ❤️🇵🇸✊🏽
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TurboTax is fucking liar.
But the good news i think the only thing my state can do is increase the payment due.
#amount due#turbo tax#read the fucking tax return kids#i missed an and now the state is after me.#also I did NOT get the FIRST notice so fuck the department of treasury.
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CONTENT WARNING: police, violence
Some Stop Cop City TikToks caught my attention
and got me interested in learning more about Cop City. I thought I would share some of the information I found.
from Police Foundations. These are not necessarily corporations that donated to Cop City, but they are to show that donating to police is something corporations regularly do.
Cop City is another name for the Atlanta Public Safety Training Center in Atlanta, Georgia.
Funded with $90,000,000 in taxes and donations.
Largest police training facility in the United States.
Located in the densest black populated area in Georgia.
Cop City is being built in one of Atlanta’s last forests.
Stop Cop City protester and environmentalist activist Manuel Esteban Paez Terán was shot “12 or 13” times by a police officer despite Terán not firing at the police. The cop did not face charges because the killing was “objectively reasonable under the circumstances of this case”.
Georgia Attorney General Chris Carr described Defend Atlanta Forest as “an anarchist, anti-police, and anti-business extremist organization” and 61 activists have been charged with domestic terrorism.
The Israel Defense Force (IDF) directly shares strategies with the Georgia International Law Enforcement Exchange (GILEE). “The Atlanta Police Department and Fulton County SWAT teams had conducted training exercises in an abandoned hotel to remove “Hamas terrorists’.”
Corporations like Dunkin Donuts parent corporation Inspire Brands, Coca-Cola, Chic-Fil-A, Bank of America, UPS, Norfolk Southern, and more help fund Cop City with multimillion-dollar donations. Coca-Cola, UPS, Chic-Fil-A, and more made statements during the murder of George Floyd with things like “…end the cycle of systemic racism”, “creating social impact, advancing diversity, equity, and inclusion”, and “building stronger communities.” Corporations often donate to police foundations.
Articles sourced:
https://prismreports.org/2023/11/14/stop-cop-city-gilee-palestinian-genocide/
https://www.forbes.com/sites/morgansimon/2023/03/14/cops-and-donuts-go-together-more-than-you-thought-the-corporations-funding-cop-city-in-atlanta/
I’m not a professional or even a hobbyist journalist, so if I have wrong information here, please let me know.
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Norfolk Southern is the rail company that’s behind the chemical spill and environmental disaster in East Palestine, Ohio. Its HQ is located in Atlanta.
Norfolk Southern’s 2022 ESG investment report says they awarded $328,000 in community grants in 2021, “such as money for a police department to purchase new life-saving or essential equipment.” That’s virtually certain to mean they donated to the Atlanta Police Foundation, the second richest police foundation in the country behind New York’s.
Police foundations are non-profits (so tax-deductible donations) who have the stated aim of “improving policing”. In actuality, they serve as a dark money slush funds, allowing corporations to fund police and gain a direct line to individual officers for when they want things done, while allowing police to do things that they otherwise couldn’t with private money, like buy heavily militarized gear or pay for propaganda content.
Most of the funding for the Atlanta Police Training Facility (aka Cop City) is coming from the Atlanta Police Foundation. The facility is intended to provide urban counterinsurgency training for police around the country and across the world, training them on how best to suppress protest movements like BLM in 2020.
That means Ohio’s people and animals are being poisoned to fund the extrajudicial killing of protestors and destruction of the environment in Atlanta, which will then be used to do those same things across the country.
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