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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months

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The reverse-centaur apocalypse is upon us

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

In thinking about the relationship between tech and labor, one of the most useful conceptual frameworks is "centaurs" vs "reverse-centaurs":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

A centaur is someone whose work is supercharged by automation: you are a human head atop the tireless body of a machine that lets you get more done than you could ever do on your own.

A reverse-centaur is someone who is harnessed to the machine, reduced to a mere peripheral for a cruelly tireless robotic overlord that directs you to do the work that it can't, at a robotic pace, until your body and mind are smashed.

Bosses love being centaurs. While workplace monitoring is as old as Taylorism – the "scientific management" of the previous century that saw labcoated frauds dictating the fine movements of working people in a kabuki of "efficiency" – the lockdowns saw an explosion of bossware, the digital tools that let bosses monitor employees to a degree and at a scale that far outstrips the capacity of any unassisted human being.

Armed with bossware, your boss becomes a centaur, able to monitor you down to your keystrokes, the movements of your eyes, even the ambient sound around you. It was this technology that transformed "work from home" into "live at work." But bossware doesn't just let your boss spy on you – it lets your boss control you. \

It turns you into a reverse-centaur.

"Data At Work" is a research project from Cracked Labs that dives deep into the use of surveillance and control technology in a variety of workplaces – including workers' own cars and homes:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work

It consists of a series of papers that take deep dives into different vendors' bossware products, exploring how they are advertised, how they are used, and (crucially) how they make workers feel. There are also sections on how these interact with EU labor laws (the project is underwritten by the Austrian Arbeiterkammer), with the occasional aside about how weak US labor laws are.

The latest report in the series comes from Wolfie Christl, digging into Microsoft's "Dynamics 365," a suite of mobile apps designed to exert control over "field workers" – repair technicians, security guards, cleaners, and home help for ill, elderly and disabled people:

https://crackedlabs.org/dl/CrackedLabs_Christl_MobileWork.pdf

It's…not good. Microsoft advises its customers to use its products to track workers' location every "60 to 300 seconds." Workers are given tasks broken down into subtasks, each with its own expected time to completion. Workers are expected to use the app every time they arrive at a site, begin or complete a task or subtask, or start or end a break.

For bosses, all of this turns into a dashboard that shows how each worker is performing from instant to instant, whether they are meeting time targets, and whether they are spending more time on a task than the client's billing rate will pay for. Each work order has a clock showing elapsed seconds since it was issued.

For workers, the system generates new schedules with new work orders all day long, refreshing your work schedule as frequently as twice per hour. Bosses can flag workers as available for jobs that fall outside their territories and/or working hours, and the system will assign workers to jobs that require them to work in their off hours and travel long distances to do so.

Each task and subtask has a target time based on "AI" predictions. These are classic examples of Goodhart's Law: "any metric eventually becomes a target." The average time that workers take becomes the maximum time that a worker is allowed to take. Some jobs are easy, and can be completed in less time than assigned. When this happens, the average time to do a job shrinks, and the time allotted for normal (or difficult) jobs contracts.

Bosses get stack-ranks of workers showing which workers closed the most tickets, worked the fastest, spent the least time idle between jobs, and, of course, whether the client gave them five stars. Workers know it, creating an impossible bind: to do the job well, in a friendly fashion, the worker has to take time to talk with the client, understand their needs, and do the job. Anything less will generate unfavorable reports from clients. But doing this will blow through time quotas, which produces bad reports from the bossware. Heads you lose, tails the boss wins.

Predictably, Microsoft has shoveled "AI" into every corner of this product. Bosses don't just get charts showing them which workers are "underperforming" – they also get summaries of all the narrative aspects of the workers' reports (e.g. "My client was in severe pain so I took extra time to make her comfortable before leaving"), filled with the usual hallucinations and other botshit.

No boss could exert this kind of fine-grained, soul-destroying control over any workforce, much less a workforce that is out in the field all day, without Microsoft's automation tools. Armed with Dynamics 365, a boss becomes a true centaur, capable of superhuman feats of labor abuse.

And when workers are subjected to Dynamics 365, they become true reverse-centaurs, driven by "digital whips" to work at a pace that outstrips the long-term capacity of their minds and bodies to bear it. The enthnographic parts of the report veer between chilling and heartbreaking.

Microsoft strenuously objects to this characterization, insisting that their tool (which they advise bosses to use to check on workers' location every 60-300 seconds) is not a "surveillance" tool, it's a "coordination" tool. They say that all the AI in the tool is "Responsible AI," which is doubtless a great comfort to workers.

In Microsoft's (mild) defense, they are not unique. Other reports in the series show how retail workers and hotel housekeepers are subjected to "despot on demand" services provided by Oracle:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/retail-hospitality

Call centers, are even worse. After all, most of this stuff started with call centers:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/callcenter

I've written about Arise, a predatory "work from home" company that targets Black women to pay the company to work for it (they also have to pay if they quit!). Of course, they can be fired at will:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

There's also a report about Celonis, a giant German company no one has ever heard of, which gathers a truly nightmarish quantity of information about white-collar workers' activities, subjecting them to AI phrenology to judge their "emotional quality" as well as other metrics:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/processmining-algomanage

As Celonis shows, this stuff is coming for all of us. I've dubbed this process "the shitty technology adoption curve": the terrible things we do to prisoners, asylum seekers and people in mental institutions today gets repackaged tomorrow for students, parolees, Uber drivers and blue-collar workers. Then it works its way up the privilege gradient, until we're all being turned into reverse-centaurs under the "digital whip" of a centaur boss:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

In mediating between asshole bosses and the workers they destroy, these bossware technologies do more than automate: they also insulate. Thanks to bossware, your boss doesn't have to look you in the eye (or come within range of your fists) to check in on you every 60 seconds and tell you that you've taken 11 seconds too long on a task. I recently learned a useful term for this: an "accountability sink," as described by Dan Davies in his new book, The Unaccountability Machine, which is high on my (very long) list of books to read:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #bossware #surveillance #microsoft #gig work #reverse centaurs #labor #Wolfie Christl #cracked labs #data at work #AlgorithmWatch #Arbeiterkammer #austria #call centers #retail #dystopianism #torment nexus #shitty technology adoption curve

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octuscle · 1 year

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I need to take a work trip to Germany, Leipzig to be precise. Should be a nice change from my NYC life.

I guess, your suitcase won't make it to Frankfurt... Then I guess I have to organize a replacement. Damn Airlines!

The only thing I can offer you so spontaneously is an old army backpack from GDR stocks, covered with graffiti tags, stickers and patches. Pretty heavy... And maybe not necessarily suitable for your classic suit… So, take your rucksckand head to the airport train station. Your train to Leipzig will depart in 20 minutes.

Shit, Frankfurt airport is bigger then expected. When you arrive, you thaught, that you missed your train. But luckily, the train is delayed by 15 minutes. Enough time, to relaxe. And for a smoke. You search the side pockets of the backpack. No cigarettes. But tobacco, cigarette paper. And weed. Shit, that could have ended badly at customs...

Ahh, smoking this feels great. I really needed to decompress a bit after this whole travel shitshow. Don't take offense, but a middelaged man in a conservative suit and a classic haircut smoking weed with an army backpack on the platform of the airport station looks a bit special... You have to admit that, too, when you see your reflection in the window panes of the high-speed train rushing in.

No one had told you that you had better have made a seat reservation. The train is packed. Getting a seat is out of the question. With a little luck, you will still get a seat in the dining car. You order a beer (what else in Germany) and check the contents of your backpack. On top of it lies a hat. It looks funny, you put it on. Otherwise, the backpack is not necessarily neatly packed. Everything is stuffed in more like this. There's a MacBook... You open it. And of course you know the password. Feels perfectly normal to open it. As normal as your pierced earlobes feel.

It is a low-coding platform open to any Big Data AI application. You scroll through the application. Sure, the prototype of an app for digitizing queues in doctors' offices. You open the library of useer stories and start developing the app further. A few hours ago, you had no idea about software development.

It's 9:00 p.m. when you look out the window. Gotha train station. Wherever that may be. You are looking at your reflection. Let's see what the others think of the fact that you have let the beard grow out...

The train is half empty by now. You have not even noticed how it has emptied. It's still a good hour to Leipzig. You close the computer. That's it for today. You order another beer and the vegan curry. Actually, you're also in desperate need of a joint. But of course you can't smoke anywhere on this train.

But you take tobacco, weed, cigarette paper and your cigarette case, which you inherited from your grandfather. And while you're waiting for the food, you roll a few joints on reserve. It will be after 11:00 p.m. by the time you arrive at your shared apartment. But you assume that you will sit together until 01:00 or 02:00. Your roommates are all rather night owls....

You don't notice that you're wearing high-laced DocMarten's boots instead of welted penny loafers as you step off the train. You also don't notice that your hair has grown considerably longer and falls tousled under your hat into your forehead... You pause for a moment as you see the tattoos on the back of your hand as you light up a joint to tide you over until the bus leaves. And after asking the bus driver for a ticket to Connewitz, you wonder if you actually just spoke German with quite an American accent.

The elevator in your house is of course defective again. Old building from 1873, last renovated in 1980 or so. That was long before the fall of the Wall in the GDR. But the rent is cheap. And the atmosphere is energetic and creative. When you met Kevin, Lukas and Emma at university five years ago, you were immediately on the same wavelength. Even though you didn't speak a word of German back then. You would never have thought that a semester as an exchange student would turn into a lasting collaboration. The fact that you found an apartment together where you could work on your startup at the same time was a real stroke of luck.

Upstairs in the apartment, Kevin already opens the door for you. As if he had been waiting for you.

„Sieht heute gut aus”, you say with your strange American accent.

Kevin hugs you and answers „Dude, it's good to have you back! We have missed you! Tell me, do you have new tattoos? Looks hot! And did you bring weed from Amsterdam? Our dealer is on vacation... Shitty situation!“

“Of course, i’d never leave you without”, I say, opening up the cigarette case and offering you one of the hand-rolled contents.

Kevin grins. „What do you say we smoke the first one not at the kitchen table but on your bed? I missed you, stud!“

“I’m so tired after this trip, so the bed sounds just right.”

There is nothing left of your suit right now. Yes, you are still from NYC. But you weren't a lawyer then. You studied computer science. And that was a long time ago. Now you are a Leipziger by heart

You both lie on the bed. You take a deep drag. And blow the smoke into Kevin’s mouth with a deep French kiss. The bulge in your skinny jeans looks painful. “Oh man, Kevin, I need some relief!” you growl.

It doesn't take long and we both have the tank tops off. You discover Kevins new nipple piercings. And can't stop playing with them. And Kevins bulge starts to hurt too.

“Man, let me provide some relief”, he says. And open your jeans. Your boner jumps out of your boxers like a jack-in-the-box.

Those new piercings… You just can’t help yourself… You’ve gotta feel them in my mouth! “Are they sensitive? Does it still hurt?” Kevin starts breathing more heavily. “What are you waiting for you prude Yank! They've been waiting for you for two weeks now!” You take a deep drag and blow the smoke over Kevins chest, which you caress with your tongue. Kevin moans “Fuck! You're doing so well! Sure it hurts. It's supposed to. You make me so fucking horny with your tongue! I love your tunnels on the earlobes!. I can not stop playing with them with my tongue.”

Dude, your dick is producing precum like a broken faucet. Kevin starts to massage it into your dick! You take one last drag from the joint, push the butt into the ashtray and blow the smoke over Kevins boner.

While Kevin rubs your hard dick, You begin licking his uncut cock. Damn man, these uncut European cocks will never not surprise you! Oh man, you love how it feels on your tongue.

Kevin doesn't stop breathing heavily, but still has to grin. “Fuck, admit it, you certainly didn't just talk about user interfaces with Milan and Sem in Amsterdam. You did practice your tongue game. Fuck, you know how to bring someone to ecstasy with the tip of your tongue!”

Oh man, Kevins precum just takes so good. You can’t get enough of it. Kevin reads your thoughts. “I want to lick your precum too. Let's make a 69! I need to suck your powerful circumcised cock.”

Yes, please!, you think in ecstasy. You just love how his balls feel in my mouth. And Kevin has fun to. You must have been sweating like a dog on the trip. Your balls are salty, your cock is deliciously cheesy. “Fuck, I can not tell you how I missed you.” Kevin moans.

He always feels so good, just keep going please, you think. His cock is so hard. His precum is spectacular. It’s like you’re in sync — in and out, in and out, in and out. “Fuck, your balls are so huge”, Kevin grunts. “I didn't jerk off all the time you ve been away. My balls are bursting”.

You both are perfectly synchron. Like one organism. “Please cum at the exact moment that I also cum. I want to make this old house shake.”, you think.You can’t wait to make you explode. Kevins moans “I can't take it much longer. Fuck, you are a master with your tongue. Fuck... Oh yeah... Yes! Fuuuuuuuck!”

Oh god! That was heavy. You both really try. But that was too much. Boy, what a load you both shot! Kevins cum is so thick! So potent! You ’ve got my whole mouth full, not able to swallow everything at once. You both exchange a deep French kiss. The cum runs from the corners of your mouths down our cheeks and necks. Kevin licks the cum traces from your skin. And you his. One last kiss, you pull up our pants again. And go to the kitchen with a joint. Lukas and Emma grin. The whole house could listen to you having sex.

“Incredible, as always, Kevin” You tell him, as you pass him the joint. And as if nothing had happened, you ask Emma if she has any new user stories for your app.

#male tf #reality change #inked man #tank top #male transformation

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rideboomcabs · 7 months

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RideBoom Taxi Driver Making Money RideBoom Driver App

What is RideBoom Driver App? RideBoom is a unique ride-share app where a driver can make money without driving a car or bike. Each ride boom driver will get a unique driver code on sign up and he needs to share this code with customers. To know more about these lifelong incentives contact ride boom today. राइड बूम एक अनोखा राइड-शेयर ऐप है जहां एक ड्राइवर बिना कार या बाइक चलाए पैसे कमा सकता है। प्रत्येक राइड बूम ड्राइवर को साइन अप करने पर एक अद्वितीय ड्राइवर कोड मिलेगा और उसे यह कोड ग्राहकों के साथ साझा करना होगा। इस जीवन भर के प्रोत्साहन के बारे में अधिक जानने के लिए ��ज ही राइड बूम से संपर्क करें. What is the driver code and the benefit of driver code? Driver code is the key for extra earning and secures your future. Through RideBoom you become connected to millions of customers who can book your services with the touch of a button on their smartphone. Due to the vast network of clients, you will be in great demand around the clock. The most important and rewarding feature of RideBoom is our unique referral Scheme. To get the full benefits you need to recommend to your new and existing Customers and Drivers to download RideBoom App and enter your Driver Code in the ‘preferred driver’ section of the RideBoom rider app at the time of registration. You can forward your driver code by text, email, what’s an app or any other communication method to as many riders as you like. But you can’t do this with RideBoom owned riders. As they do so you will instantly become the preferred driver for these customers and drivers and they become permanently attached to you in our system. When your attached Customers use RideBoom anywhere in the world, you will earn incentives even when you not drive you will earn. This allows you to work locally while earning globally! So, as you drive, and even if you take a holiday or decide to hang up the boots, your attached customers and drivers will continue to generate income for you in the long term. NO MORE EMPTY MILES Your days of driving mile after mile in search of customers are now over. By using RideBoom, customers locate you easily and book your services. You save time, fuel, and cost, and get bookings instantly. MORE BUSINESS RideBoom helps you to connect with thousands of customers. At all times you are connected to many potential passengers who can book your services. More customers mean more income. RideBoom helps you to multiply your earnings. You earn while relaxing as well Be smart like how many riders you pick up every day if they start download app with your driver code you going to have many regular permanent riders. RideBoom – Your Destination to Financial Independence How many times have you wanted to quit your 9 to 5 job in pursuit of financial independence? Well, it is time you have it by signing up to RideBoom as a driver and secure your future by having Driver Incentives. What is RideBoom, anyway, and why join it? RideBoom is a peer-to-peer taxi/delivery/ride-sharing company. This might lead you into thinking that it is much like other rideshare apps. Here’s the thing: In some respects, it is for sure just like another app, but since it has been launched later, RideBoom has some dazzling features that the former lacks. Even, we have managed to eliminate some of the glitches that have been haunting others. So, summing up everything in a sentence, RideBoom is less of a gimmick and more of a personal business opportunity for drivers like you. Let us see how. Secure Future We talked about this at the start. It can be thought that owning your own business cannot secure your business in a better way as there are no pensions and no incentives for the latter life. That might be true for some, but as we’ve created a pure system of incentives, we offer you an opportunity to save more for the latter endeavors. This is particularly what makes us stand out and help people like you grow. How does that happen? Our system allows you to be your own boss, manage your business like a pro, and be self-reliant. When you start doing that, you start earning more, and in the long run, you save more. Due to the freedom we’ve allowed, our drivers are reaping undeniable fruits. And once you join them, you’d be a part of our community and you’d, too, see your life being transformed from the ground up. Driver Incentives So many P2P ride-sharing companies out there advertise themselves on the basis of their driver incentives. Because this may help them achieve greater exposure. However, in the long run, what happens is that all of those claims turn out to be nothing, but a time trap. Your incentives are delayed, and sometimes you’re asked to fulfill certain impossible tasks to receive them. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5uOTx7GjJRA #rideboom #rideboomapp #book cabs online #book biketaxi #booktaxionline #cabservice #cabsnearme #cabsinindia #rideshare #bike ride #taxi #besttaxiservice #taxi service #rideboomtaxiapp #delhirideboom #rideboomindia

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nyanpasuuna · 4 months

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inspired by some tags i just wrote on a poll reblog:

anyone else feel conflicted about the direction tech, software, and the internet are heading?

like, appreciating recent conveniences but not wanting the "old" ways to die in favor of them?

i use the tumblr mobile app for 99.5% of things on this site (only opening browser tumblr if i need to see more in-depth stats or attach a file from a proper computer), my blog doesn't have a custom theme, i use algorithmic dash, i prefer the mobile app for especially the quickness and snappiness of reblogging and downloading full-res images compared to browser, and i just in general prefer to do my mindless scrolling on a mobile device, leaving the proper computer setup for productivity/gaming/watching stuff/listening to stuff/etc

but at the same time i will wholeheartedly defend blog customization and the algorithm-less experience as core aspects of what makes this place what it is, even if i don't participate in them myself at least as of now, and i strongly disagree with everything nowadays being forced into a secluded app when it could've just been a website

do you feel this is hypocritical, an attempt to have a cake and eat it too? do you feel this is "i disagree with what you're saying but i'll fight for your right to say it"-core?

or, the analogy i used for this elsewhere last night: like being a (yes i know this metaphor has been disproven but) frog in slowly boiling water, noticing the warmness and enjoying aspects of it, but still having a way out if you just jump out

where in this analogy the slowly boiling water is the direction of the internet, the warmness is the conveniences like not needing to menudive and know what a folder is to download an image, and the jumping-out is just you switching habits from the "new" to the "old"

what i'm scared of here is three possible outcomes:

the water is allowed to reach the boiling point and you are, quite literally, cooked (this is the timeline where user freedom and common knowledge of tech skills take a huge hit in favor of corporate profit)

the frog jumps out of the boiling water and into a container of liquid nitrogen, i.e. the enshittification is stopped but the pendulum swings so far back that we lose what to many is core functionality for purely ideological reasons (i call this the cohost timeline)

a lid is put on the boiling pot prematurely, taking away the frog's ability to leave before outcome 1 is achieved, causing it to sense something is up, leading to the frog protesting against the situation it's been placed in, with unpredictable results (the reddit API changes timeline, a very possible near-future event for tumblr as well)

and that's before you get into the whole thing about how things look

i'm probably one of the least bothered people i know when it comes to the look of modern redesigns, i think a lot of them look quite cool actually, but that is HEAVILY contrasted by my preference for the displaying of accurate statistics and precise information, needing search functions to do EXACTLY what i tell them to, etc.

because 9 times out of 10 those redesigns always take a little slice of user agency and precision with them, and that's not what i want at all

so i'm basically left here with the only people who Get Me on this topic being those people who theme the shit out of their linux installs for aesthetics, because they get how this stuff is supposed to be: personalized. customizable. tailor-made by you for you.

people should be allowed to choose their level on this stuff freely

someone wants to build their own gaming PC from individual parts while another just wants to plug in a console that works out of the box

someone wants to get a specific type of car and mod it a specific way for a specific motorsport while another is content just getting from point A to point B with public transport

so please, defend this diversity of options and experiences on the software side as well, everything should NOT be an app

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hischiersjohnston · 6 months

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people i would like to get to know better game!!

tagged by: @toffoliravioli thank u <33

last song i listened to: heaven is a place on earth by belinda carlisle. i've got my daily playlist playing in the car when i drive, so it's a mix of all the songs i vibe with.

currently watching: more like re-watching... but 9-1-1 and abbott elementary! as for shows im still not done watching for the first time, bridgerton

spicy/sweet/savory: craving sweet rn ngl to ya, since i just had savoury.

relationship status: single and been single. its funny cause some days im like 'oh id like to be in a relationship'. and then i try out a dating app and im like... yeah pass. or i get hit on by weird and racist customers at work. i'm not actively looking for anything and i'm okay with that; if it happens, it happens.

current obsession(s): other than hockey, i've lowkey been on a binge-reading of batman/batfam/superbat fanfics lately. i swear i just checked one out because of a tiktok reel and then... i fell down a rabbit-hole

who I want to know better: y'all aren't obligated to do this but!! @draisaitleons / @swtsours / @crent-trimm / @wmnylander / @tangerisms / @useragarfield / @kwinhyuse / @kmercer

#tag game <3

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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 1 year

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Pursuit of Happiness

1: Meet the Littlemans

Pairing: Chris Evans x Kat Littleman (OFC)

Summary: New England political daughter Kat Littleman is constantly showing up for her mother’s campaigns, playing the part of the perfect daughter in the perfect, American family. When her paths cross with Chris Evans while he canvases DC to build out ASP, she’s forced to face some truths about herself, her family, and her future.

Word Count: ~7k

Warnings: Chris is a bit of a horndog. Lots of swearing, alcohol, sex talk, politically charged topics, chaotic families

Note: Despite spending a lot of my formative years in and around DC, I know absolutely nothing about politics or how things work on The Hill. This also runs the risk of dipping into some political topics (hopefully not heavily, but certainly some commentary and references). If that could trigger you, please avoid this.

Series Masterlist

1: Meet the Littlemans

“It’s navy blue with a hot pink luggage strap around it.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the agent’s voice was distant as she sorted through the lost luggage around her, “it isn’t here. I’ll add you to our list. Can I get a name and phone number?” She didn’t even bother to force a smile at Kat as she returned to her computer and started to click buttons, presumably opening up the never-ending list of people whose luggage had been lost by United Airlines.

Kat rattled off her name and number, muttered a quick “thanks” to the agent who had already turned to the next customer, and wrestled with her tote bag over her puffy winter jacket. She shuffled through the hubbub of Dulles baggage claim and made her way to the sliding doors and the waiting arrivals pick-up.

The doors wooshed open and the blustery November air hit her straight in the face, sending her hair flying around her and sticking in her chapstick. Kat stopped abruptly to rummage through her bag and find her beanie, yanking it firmly on her head, and returning to scanning the waiting cars for her father’s huge SUV.

After pacing the sidewalk to the end of the waiting cars, Kat finally reached for her phone in the back of her jeans pocket and groaned when she realized she hadn’t even powered it back on. Being the rule-follower she was, if the flight crew asked that you turn off devices, she dutifully turned all of her devices off and sowed them for the flight. In the chaos at baggage claim, she’d forgotten to turn it back on.

As the screen lit up in her hands, she saw the missed calls and then texts from her father. Or rather… her father’s assistant, Ted. Why a former NFL tight end turned garden fanatic even had an assistant was unfathomable to Kat, but nonetheless she put the phone to her ear and listened to Ted’s voicemail.

“Hi Kathrine, it’s Ted. Ted Brown, Tim’s–err– your father’s assistant that is. I’m calling to let you know that your father tried to pick you up when your flight was scheduled to arrive, but once he learned it was delayed, he came back to the townhouse. He sends his apologies and looks forward to seeing you tomorrow at the gala.”

Clicking over to the texts and finding herself unsurprised to have four texts from Ted, all with the same general message and one with a link to the Uber app (thanks, Ted), and even one from her father that read: Sorry KitKat, Giants/Cowboys game was kicking off!

“For fuck sake, Dad…” she muttered before shoving her phone back in her pocket; Kat then turned to the taxi stand and was grateful there were several waiting. She poured herself into one, gave the driver her hotel address, and sank back into the seat to start doing the math:

It was currently 8:37p. By the time she got to the hotel, checked in, and to her room, it would be at least 9:15p– after a 12-hour travel day that should’ve only been 4 thanks to snow just about everywhere she was exhausted and would likely pass out after shoveling in a granola bar and water bottle from the mini bar. She had to be at a brunch with her mother at 10a Ambar, then was expected to pop over to the townhouse and visit with her father before going back to the hotel to get ready for the gala at 7p. That left her about four hours to find a black tie gown– not to mention something to wear to brunch, clean underwear, and makeup– to replace the one that was lost in the bowels of Dulles International Airport.

She fired off a quick “finally made it, talk tomorrow” text and watched the snowflakes hit the window of the cab and the lights of downtown rush by as the car took the slick streets way too quickly. But, Kat was too tired to care. She’d arrived at the airport with plenty of time for her preflight ritual: a cup of overpriced coffee and 40 minutes to read a smutty novel. She’d watched the big red “delayed” letters flash up on the departure screen once, then twice. After the fourth time, the gate agents stopped giving excuses over the intercom and just started to apologize.

Her flight finally boarded only to sit taxing for another 45 minutes before taking off for the less than two-hour flight. The 7:15p landing had then become an extra hour between waiting for the luggage carousel, discovering her bag was not coming and then hunting down the missing luggage desk.

Tim deciding to bail on pick-up and have his assistant call for him– that was the most consistent part of her day. Tim Littleman was, first of all, the opposite of his name. He was 6’4 but claimed to be 6’6, and had filled out since his professional days when Kat was a kid, but he was still fit and trim for a man in his late 50s. Tim also loved his kids but he loved football just a little bit more, even after being out of the game for years, it wasn’t a surprise– although always a disappointment– when he picked a football game over a drive to the airport with his youngest child.

Kat paid and tipped the driver and tumbled out of the car and into the infamous Watergate Hotel– her mother’s favorite spot to put Kat up for the night when she visited. Mallory always insisted it was to make life easier for Kat; as a 31-year-old, she’d obviously want her privacy from her parents when she was visiting! Over the years, Kat had stopped rolling her eyes or even bickering with her mother and had instead accepted a free stay in a balcony suite overlooking the Potomac River.

As expected, she passed out almost immediately and woke up with a start to her alarm sounding at 7:45a. The morning passed in a blur, sprinting to the nearest Zara for a quick brunch outfit to meet with Mallory and several of Mallory’s WASPy DC friends, then back to the hotel to shower and change, then back out again for brunch where her mother barely interacted with her and then headed back to her office while Kat went to the townhouse for coffee with Tim to discuss the prospects in his greenhouse garden back in Connecticut, and then back out shopping again. With only an hour to spare, she’d found a dress and pumps for the black-tie gala– an event to raise money for some important cause her mother only vaguely mentioned in her email requesting Kat’s attendance.

She was actually quite pleased with the last-minute find feeling confident when she’d examined herself in the mirror, and it fit all of Mallory’s qualifications which were: black tie appropriate, black or navy, and tasteful.

Kat used the polished metal reflection of the elevator doors to check herself one more time, smoothing down the black fabric and tossing her hair over her shoulder. The sound of the event met her ears before the doors slid open: laughter, clinking glasses, and quiet music. When she stepped out onto the plush carpet, she saw several familiar faces immediately and offered small waves and smiles while she studied the sea of people for one of her parents.

“Kathrine,” a perfectly manicured claw wrapped around Kat’s bicep signaled Mallory before she pulled her daughter around and closer to the nearest wall, “what are you wearing?”

“Hi, Mom, you look nice,” Kat deadpanned, bracing herself for impact as she took in her mother. Mallory was dressed in a perfectly tailored champagne number that was likely her typical Ralph Lauren. Her hair was pulled back in a tight French twist and she looked every bit the upper-crust Connecticut woman she was.

“This is highly inappropriate,” Mallory reached up and started to play with Kat’s hair, pulling it over her shoulders.

“I have no idea how to respond to that,” Kat bit back her urge to tell her mother that her dress looked like a wedding gown.

“Kathrine, this is just… it is far too sexy for this event.”

“This is the best I could do on short notice.”

“Short notice! You’ve known for months,” Mallory hissed at her daughter, dropping her voice so the women standing near them wouldn’t hear.

“Mom,” Kat huffed, “I told you at brunch that United lost my bag. I had to go out and get this today.”

“Right, right,” she waved at her daughter, still reaching out to maneuver her hair. “Well there is nothing we can do now,” she sighed and finally gave up before pushing her shoulders back.

Behind her was a ballroom full of political powerhouses– senators, congresspersons, aids, donors, and all the other powerful DC folks who liked to gather in rooms together and remind each other how important they are. Mallory had been working her way up the political world for years, starting on the Board of Education in Kat’s hometown (not that Mallory Littleman would’ve ever sent her children to public school, even in their wealthy town) and now just after her second election as a state senator. Hence, Kat’s summons to attend as part of the senator’s loving family. Kat hated these events… but showed up anyway.

Mallory huffed and dropped her hands to her hips, squaring her jaw at her daughter. “Don’t bring up your job.” This was a common command; never ever talk about work. Kat nodded dutifully.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t mention your… that you… the…”

Kat cut her off and failed to contain her eye roll this time, “I won’t let anyone know that we’re not the perfect family.”

“Thank you,” she said curtly, still eyeing her daughter’s dress.

“Did that hurt,” Kat laughed, looking at the tight expression on her mother’s face after displaying gratitude for her daughter.

“Do not sass me, Kathrine. Tonight is a big deal. I need it to go well.”

Kat sighed, “yes ma’am,” and neglected to bring up the fact that Mallory said that for every political event to which she dragged her daughter.

Mallory ignored her, “you know who I need you to talk to?”

Kat nodded, “I was briefed by your aids. Which, by the way, I would’ve preferred to do with you than your 19-year-old college interns.”

“I mean they are hired to take things off my plate.”

“Where’s dad, Senator Littleman?”

“Kathrine,” Mallory’s tone was warning as she turned back to Kat, “please behave.”

“Promise, Senator, now I’m going to find Dad,” Kat pushed past her mother and started to move through the room, listening for her father’s loud laughter. Despite his faults, he was the far easier parent to be around. He was easy to talk to and could entertain a crowd: the perfect way to disappear in one of these large functions was to stand near Tim and let him relive his glory days to people who just oohed and ahhed appropriately in hopes that he would end up writing them some kind of donation check.

She spotted him across the room regaling a group of men. As she passed by familiar faces, she greeted them politely, engaging in small talk when necessary, and pushing her way closer and closer to Tim. When he caught a glimpse of her, his face split into a grin and he threw his arms wide, stepping between the men surrounding him, “There’s my KitKat!” He wrapped her in a hug, smothering her in his heavily applied Polo Blue. When he kissed her cheek and draped his arm over her shoulder, he turned back to the group, “Gents, this is my beautiful daughter Kathrine.”

Kat reached out her hand to shake with the shortest of the group, who introduced himself as Mark, “Kat is fine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Exchanging quick greetings with the other two, Joe and Chris, Tim quickly charged back in control of the conversation before she could say more, “Sweetheart, these boys are trying to get me to spend some money on them.”

Mark, or maybe it was Joe, jumped in with a laugh, immediately changing the narrative to describe the new political platform they were developing, but Kat had essentially stopped listening. She was too busy batting her eyelashes at Chris. He stood almost a head taller than her, his shoulders filling out his navy tuxedo in the most delicious way. His perfectly styled hair, his relaxed stance with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a beer– how refreshing; no one in DC admitted to liking something as lowly as beer, much less a Sam Adams.

He’d had been the last to introduce himself and their hands had lingered while Chris’s blue eyes blatantly trailed slowly down her body. She’d felt a blush rising in her cheeks when his eyes met hers again and a very brief but very smug smirk crossed his features.

Slowly he returned his focus to his colleagues and let them continue to explain their new venture, glancing at Kat now and then, who got caught staring back almost every time. She had to force herself to stare at Joe and Mark while they spoke, feeling Chris’s eyes trail over her skin.

As soon as she’d approached, Chris’s eyes had been immediately drawn to the skin of Kat’s thigh exposed in her dress. Most of the room was filled with an older crowd, the younger women in the room choosing much more conservative dresses for this event. Kat’s choice, with her shoulders, a hint of cleavage, and all that leg made Chris practically salivate. He’d been back and forth to DC for the last several months as he, Joe, and Mark tried to build a following and convince the political world to work with them; each time he was surrounded by women in pantsuits or blazers. The young aides usually wore their outfits slightly tighter, but it was still the same variations of cream, navy, and red work dresses… not that it had stopped him from spending some time getting to know a few of those women.

When the three men had entered the ballroom this evening, he’d been prepared with their usual speech, ready to network and subtly beg for support. He hadn’t been prepared to be adjusting his pants at the sight of this woman’s tight ass when she turned to hug her father. Chris didn’t even bother to scold himself; they’d been working all weekend, and more importantly, Kat’s eyes were drawn to him too.

Kat recognized Chris, albeit not immediately, but after several minutes of making eyes at each other while the people around them talked, it clicked into place that she’d seen some movies that featured his washboard abs and perfectly cut pecs. She watched his reaction when she tossed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her skin (and bumping her father’s hand, which briefly ruined her moment before regaining composure); his eyes moved across her collarbone and up her neck, settling a steady gaze back on her.

No one was paying attention to them anyway. Joe and Mark were chatting away and Tim was listening the best his ADHD and slightly narcissistic brain allowed him.

“Well boys,” Tim finally said, both literally and figuratively jolting his daughter back to reality with a shake of her shoulder, “that is a truly terrific pitch, but I’m the wrong one to give it to. Just didn’t have the heart to stop you. My wife, Mallory, is the politician in the family.”

As if summoned, Mallory’s voice called over Kat’s shoulder, “there you two are,” in a huff and appeared at her daughter’s side, putting more distance between Kat and Chris. Tim remade the introductions of the group and Kat didn’t miss the way Chris’s eyes stayed on her, not Mallory, when the three of them once again began to explain their idea.

This time, Chris did most of the talking, Joe and Mark only offering occasional additions, but he continued to flicker his eyes to Kat. Kat found herself more impressed; she’d assumed he was the Hollywood buy-in to get politicians' attention, not part of the actual brain power. She listened to him, adding her own questions as her mother did the same, and watched him get more and more animated as he rattled off what seemed to be a heartfelt passion project.

He finally paused when Joe took over explaining the technical side to Mallory and Kat allowed herself to look back at his stupidly handsome face; he lifted his beer towards her and raised his eyebrow, silently asking if she wanted a drink.

Kat started to nod when a well-dressed staff member approached and invited them to find their seats, dinner was being served. Chris spoke up before the group separated, “I’m going to grab another drink before I go to the table, can I get anyone anything?” He looked pointedly at Kat who started to speak when her mother spoke for her.

“What a lovely offer, but Kathrine and I don’t drink. Tim?” She turned to her husband, letting him give Chris his drink order, before wrapping her hand around Kat’s arm and pulling her away from the group towards the clusters of tables without a goodbye.

“Kathrine, don’t even think about it,” she hissed, staring at the place cards on a long table and searching for theirs. She reached across Kat, snatched all three off the table, pulled Kat towards table 4, and continued, “I knew this dress was too much for tonight.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?”

“I saw the look on your face and that boy's. Don’t you dare.”

They’d reached the table and Mallory immediately dropped Kat’s arm, circling to say hello to their companions. Kat tucked herself into the nearest chair and immediately moved for the bread basket, perking up when she discovered the rolls were still warm. Mallory perched on the chair next to Kat, still in conversation with another one of DC's most powerful people whose name Kat could never remember… nor ever tried to.

Tim joined them shortly, sliding into the chair on Mallory’s other side and calling a loud, “see you boys later,” and toasted them as Joe, Mark, and Chris walked away. Kat’s eyes flickered up to catch Chris’s, offering a coy smile to his nod.

“That is what I’m talking about,” Mallory was back in her ear, using her butter knife to gesture at Chris’s broad, retreating back.

“Mother, relax, I just smiled at him.”

“You think I was born yesterday? That was not just a smile.”

“You do realize I’m 31 years old, right? And it is perfectly acceptable to smile at a man or even, god forbid, flirt with him.” Kat’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she spread her napkin on her lap.

“I don’t care how old you are, you reflect my campaign and my values every time you’re seen with me. If there are pictures of you kissing Captain fucking America, it is a direct reflection of me.”

“Literally no one cares who your adult daughter kisses.”

“You don’t think it comes up every election? You don’t think that you and your brother and… Do you know how much of my staff it takes to be sure that our family doesn’t get our business blasted across headlines?”

“I wish you realized how much America did not care about my sex life or Ben’s,” Kat reached for her ice water and sipped slowly, wishing it was a vodka tonic, and glanced at her mother’s furrowed brow, “Careful, Mom, your Botox doesn’t like when you frown.”

Mallory huffed and leaned away to start speaking to Tim, whispering frantically at him and casting sidelong glances at Kat. Kat, however, leaned back in her chair and allowed the woman next to her– a Congressman from Minnesota’s wife– to share all of the details of the grandchild her daughter was expecting. Kat had to bite her tongue while she listened to the several-minute monologue about how silly she found it that some people wouldn’t want to buy gender-specific baby clothes anymore. She let the woman talk, as she did most of these people, and let her mind wander, only staying focused enough to offer the occasional, “you don’t say” or “wow, that’s incredible.”

She truly loathed these events. She’d lost track over the years of how many she’d shown up to, how often her mother trotted her out like a prized pony to amplify her mother’s strong family value platform before being sent back home to her normal life. Each time it came with an all-expenses paid plane ticket and hotel, several– usually public to avoid real conversation– visits with her mother, at least one major political fundraiser/gala/rally/etc., and then a quick and once again public goodbye from Mallory before the whole ordeal was over.

Kat knew she could stop coming, stop being hassled by her mother and used as a pawn, she knew that she could and certainly should stop saying yes and start saying no. Ben always reminded her that no was a complete sentence.

Ben.

Ben had stopped coming to these the second he moved out of the house, right about the same time that Mallory and Tim–mostly Mallory– had refused to acknowledge that Ben might not actually be the preppy, lacrosse-playing womanizer he was bred to be and was instead questioning all parts of his identity. He’d moved to Vancouver for a job, and met a wonderful man, Kevin, who Kat adored and had never looked back.

Kat missed him terribly, even after almost 10 years of living several time zones apart, and looked forward to their annual September trip together. They’d meet somewhere each year to celebrate their birthdays… four days and four years apart… together, often surrounded by other people they loved but never ever with their parents.

Kat couldn’t actually remember the last time the four of them shared the same air. It had to have been a holiday while Kat was still in high school and Ben was home from college for a break. She knew that he occasionally emailed Tim or exchanged a quick phone call, but that Ben hadn’t spoken to their mother since the day he’d graduated from college. At their celebration dinner, he’d handed her a check and said, “I won’t owe you anything ever again,” and flown to Canada the next morning. Kat had been devastated but she knew what it was like for Ben to grow in their house. She knew the best thing for him was to put the Canadian Border Patrol between him and Mallory.

Ben was her rock, one of her favorite humans, and her constant reminder that she was a pawn in Mallory’s system and needed to get out before people started to think she actually supported their mother’s platforms. That thought pulled her back into the conversation with the Congresswoman’s wife just in time to force a cheerful, “hurry back!” when she’d told Kat she needed to use the ‘little girl’s room’ and scurried off.

Kat took the moment to enjoy the silence and scanned the room. The sea of tables was tastefully if subtly decorated in muted tones and low centerpieces on each table to allow for conversation. There had to be at least 50 tables, each holding anywhere from 10-12 guests, all various members of wealthy DC society. The majority were politicians and their donor friends; a perk of donating thousands of dollars to a cause was getting to attend other functions for free as a ‘thank you for your support’… only to be expected to write a check at the end for whichever cause the evening endorsed.

Five tables away, she found Chris’s gelled hair and sharp jawline in profile while he laughed at something the woman next to him said. She allowed herself the moment to admire the imperfect slope of his nose, the way his smile showed all his teeth, and the way his biceps were visibly flexing even under his jacket as he lifted his fork to his mouth.

“He is very handsome, I’ll give you that,” Mallory leaned closer to her daughter, who had been actively ignoring her mother trying to catch her eye, “but do not embarrass me tonight, Kathrine.”

“And what would be embarrassing for you, Mom?” Kat sighed and looked at her mom.

Mallory paused, glancing at her husband who was deep in conversation, and back at Kat, “if you did something inappropriate with him.”

Kat grinned slyly, knowing how much her mother hated these kinds of conversations, “what do you consider inappropriate?”

“You know what I mean,” she huffed.

“I’m not sure that I do. Could you explain it to me?”

Mallory sighed heavily and waggled her finger, “do not go home with that boy.”

“He seems to be all man,” Kat countered, her eyes traveling back to Chris just to spite her frustrated, demanding mother. He was rising from the table and gesturing to his tablemates, seemingly taking drink orders.

“Kathrine Marissa Littleman,” Mallory’s voice dropped low and Kat knew she’d hit a nerve, “I do not need any gossip because of you, there has already been enough talk about everything else in our family.”

“There hasn’t been anything to talk about for years, Mom, please give me a break. I’m a grown-up.”

Mallory shot her one last look and stood from her seat, moving around behind Kat and towards an empty seat at the other side of the table to start working the room now that she’d finished her meal– it didn’t matter to her that no one else had.

Kat reached into her clutch and rifled around for a pen, finding one at the bottom, and slid her place card towards her. She folded open the thick cardstock and write inside it, closing it back up and slipping the pen back in her purse before whispering, “back in a bit,” to Tim, who waved his acknowledgment, and she moved through the room to the bar.

Chris leaned on the bar in front of her, chatting with the bartender as he gathered the drinks for Chris’s table. She took a deep breath and stepped beside him and ordered a vodka tonic from the other barkeep; her voice caught Chris’s attention, who leaned on one arm.

“Kathrine,” her name in his deep timbre sent a chill down her spine and a warmth filling her belly.

“Christopher,” she countered, throwing a smile over her shoulder at him.

“I see that ‘we don’t drink’ thing was bullshit,” he nodded to the drink she now took a deep swallow from.

“Just another politician making things up.”

He gathered the drinks from the bartender– another beer for him, a wine for one of his tablemates, and a scotch for Joe, and turned to her– “Gimme a second. Don’t move.”

Kat nodded and watched him strut away; she toyed with the place card in her hand. She flipped it open, looking at her handwriting on the inside, and looked back up at Chris, who was just arriving at the table. Throwing her shoulders back, she followed after him, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought you were waiting for me,” he said quietly, dipping his head low to talk to her.

“I changed my mind,” she smiled and slid her hand down from his shoulder, briefly across his bicep, and to grip his large hand. She squeezed, pushing the cardstock into his hands, and turned gracefully on her heels. She moved slowly, knowing he was watching her, and swung her hips ever so slightly as she made her way across the room to the exit closest to the elevator.

She entered it alone, letting the doors slide shut and giving her a chance to take a deep breath, and another gulp of her drink before the doors were opening again on her floor.

In her room, she finished off her drink and mixed a new one from the minibar, and then moved across the suite to stand at the sliding glass doors. Her heart was pounding in her chest with both anticipation and anxiety, knowing she could be stood up, but hoping she’d read him right. Several long minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. Kat took her time to cross the room, finishing off her second drink on the way, and pulling the door open to Chris standing, both hands in his pockets, on the threshold.

“Hey you,” his crooked grin melted any nerves she had and she reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the room; she shut the door after dropping the “do not disturb” sign on the handle and turning to face him.

“Drink?” She started to move around him towards the mini bar but he used their still connected hand to pull her to him.

“Maybe after,” his boyish grin was gone and replaced with a sexy smirk; he held their hands to his chest while his other hand reached up to her shoulder, pushing a few strands of hair off her neck. His fingertips trailed along her clavicle before coming to rest at the back of her neck and leaning towards her.

He slotted his lips over Kat’s, the kiss hovering for a moment in sweetness before his tongue swiped at her bottom lip and the movement shifted. Kat stepped closer to him, allowing his tongue to swipe against hers and pushing her chest into his while his hands covered all the planes of her body, squeezing her hips and her ass, trailing gentle touches up her arms and into her hair to hold her to him and continue the needy kiss. She slid her hands up his body and tugged at his bow tie, feeling grateful for making out with Miles Sharpton at cotillion who taught her how to untie a butterfly knot. Once it fell around his neck, she slid her arms under his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Chris let it hit the floor and stepped away from it to push Kat– one hand on her hips, the other still grasping her neck— towards the dresser.

The backs of her thighs bumped the large wooden piece and she let herself lean against it while he pressed into her, his mouth now trailing her neck and his hands grasping at the back of her dress, pawing for the zipper. Kat pushed his chest away from him, his lips pulling from hers with an audible suction noise, and she panted to catch her breath while her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt. Each one she popped open exposed more of his chest, undershirt, and, to her surprise, a smattering of dark ink that made her mouth water.

She leaned forward and kissed the exposed skin, while she continued her journey down to his belt. Kat tugged his shirt free from his pants and glanced up at him through hooded eyes to find him watching her. Chris’s hands were rubbing her shoulders, raising goosebumps on her skin and sending a fire straight to her core.

Her hands hovered on his belt buckle, slowing the momentum of the last several minutes but giving neither of them pause. Chris watched her, licking his lips and trying to decide which way he wanted her to come first. “Don’t stop now, baby,” his voice had dropped dangerously low and he cupped her chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip, “or I’m going to take over.”

Kat blushed deeply but held his gaze; she felt her panties dampen even more with those few words and she finished unclasping his belt, whipping it out of the loops dramatically and winking at him when he chuckled. Slowly, agonizingly slowly for Chris, she popped the button of his trousers and then slid the zipper down, holding his eyes and watching his Adam’s apple subtly bob.

Keeping her eyes glued to Chris’s, she slid her hands under the waistband of his pants, still over his boxer briefs, and rubbed slowly down his length, then back up, then back down again, reaching all the way through to briefly caress all of him before dropping her eyes to see the hard bulge that seemed to just keep growing under her hand. When Kat looked away, he took the opportunity to close his and open his jaw, letting out a low groan when she squeezed him back and forth, teasing him, knowing that he wanted her lips on his cock but she wouldn’t give it to him just yet.

She continued her work, flicking her eyes back up at him and taking in the way his chest heaved and his eyes fluttered when she stroked him in just the right away. All this response and everyone still had their clothes on…

After more minutes of this agonizingly slow tease, Chris groaned and dropped his head to press his forehead into Kat’s and growled, yanking her upright and twirling her around. “It’s my turn to tease, Kitty Kat.” The impulsive nickname made Kat’s heart skip a beat but she shoved down that feeling and leaned back into his strong chest. He held her in his arms, one wrapped around her stomach, the other reaching towards her zipper, dragging it down slowly and his hand on her stomach pulled the fabric of the gown down just enough to expose her breasts. Both of his hands slowly slithered up her body to cup them in his palms, rolling her peaked nipples between his thumb and forefingers while he kissed her neck.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded between open-mouth kisses; one of his hands dropped her breast and used it to push her hair off her neck and expose her other shoulder, licking a stripe from the nape of her neck to her earlobe and planting a kiss behind her ear. Kat’s eyes flew open, surprised to find that he’d positioned them in front of the dresser mirror where his eyes were watching her reflection.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her breasts exposed and being palmed by his large hands, Chris’s face kissing all across any exposed skin he could reach, all while never breaking eye contact. He leaned his weight into her and she felt his hard cock against her ass; she pressed her hips back into him, grinding against him and letting out a moan before closing her eyes again to enjoy all the sensations.

“Open,” he said again, his tone leaving no room for question. He pulled his lips away from hers and he stood to his full height behind her– even in her heels she was still inches shorter than him, “I want you to watch yourself.”

Kat nodded, not knowing what else to do and allowing herself to melt entirely into his embrace and his command.

His right hand left her breast and moved tantalizingly across her sternum, her stomach, and to the thigh-high slit in her dress. Chris bent forward slightly to pull the fabric up and allow him access to her lacy thong. He bunched the dress up the best he could, pushing as much fabric out of the way to expose her in the mirror and trace a finger along the top hem of her panties. His left hand still played with her breast and now, she grasped his right forearm, bracing herself against him and using her left hand to reach behind her and hold onto his hip.

Chris traced the edge of her thong again, dipping his finger under the elastic and then back out multiple times before finally sliding his hand all the way down to cup her core. He groaned into her ear as his pointer finger swiped through the wetness between her legs, “all this for me, Kitten?”

“Please,” she whimpered, bucking her hips against him in anticipation.

He hummed in agreement, nuzzling into her hair and pressing his finger into her entrance, slowly pumping in and out at a painfully slow pace. Kat dropped her head back on his shoulder, obediently keeping her eyes open to watch his hand move in the mirror. His thumb found her clit and pressed against it, moving just as slowly. She rolled her hips, trying to find more friction, more pressure, more anything, but he stilled his movements and tutted, “not yet, Kathrine.”

She whined and pushed her weight against his chest, nudging her nose against his neck and pressing messy kisses to his jaw. Her reward was a second finger pressed inside of her, slowly making a come hither motion while his thumb started to increase the pressure and pace on her clit. After more minutes of playing with her, he leaned in to kiss her lips muttering against her, “you ready, baby? You going to come now, sweetheart?” as he continued to increase the intensity and Kat’s hips moved to meet him. He pulled away from her lips, removing his hand from her breast to gently but firmly grasp her chin and turn her to face the mirror again, “watch, baby, c’mon,” he grunted, his hips now joining the fray, “c’mon, Kat, come for me, baby.”

Kat let out a strangled, semi-pornographic moan when her orgasm hit her hard, her ears ringing and her whole body shaking in Chris’s arms. He slowed his rhythm, working her over the edge and through the intensity, giving her a moment of reprieve while he kissed her shoulders, her neck, her cheek, and pulled her lips to his to give her a long, wet kiss.

“Do you have a condom,” she muttered against him, ready to feel him inside of her the moment his fingers slid out. He released her with a quick kiss, stumbling in his pants that were still undone and sagging toward his tuxedo jacket. He fished in for his wallet while Kat studied herself, still trying to catch her breath.

Chris appeared in the mirror behind her again, his hands falling to her hips and pulling the fabric of her dress up quickly. She helped him, letting the dress bunch at her hips, her breasts still exposed and now her ass as well. He stepped back from her and she watched him in the mirror.

He was palming himself in his shorts, one hand still on the curve of her hip and she arched her back slightly, giving him a more full view of her. Chris glanced up in the mirror to find her smirking; he stopped palming himself to tuck both thumbs in the waistband of her thong and drag it down her legs, helping her step out of it and tossing it somewhere in the dim room.

Still, on his knees behind her, his hands traced up her calves, the back of her knees, her thighs, as he rose to stand and smacked her ass, watching her flesh bounce. Feeling impatient, she wiggled at him, arching her back even deeper. He chuckled, “you’re ready for me, pretty girl?”

He met her eyes in the mirror and she bit her lip, nodding and watching him drop his boxer briefs. From her place in front of him, she didn’t have a good view but she listened to him snap on the condom and then mewed when he rubbed the tip of his cock through her arousal.

With one hand on her hip and the other pushing her neck to lean her closer to the dresser, he pushed into her without warning, causing Kat to cry out at the stretch. He stilled, kissed her shoulder, and waited for her to nod before he started a steady, deep rhythm, hitting the soft, spongy parts she so desperately craved. The salacious sounds of his hips meeting her ass, his grunts, and Kat’s sighs and moans filled the room quickly while he pounded into her, the pace ever increasing. Kat fumbled with her dress, trying to get to her clit. Chris moved his hand from her waist, still keeping one on her neck to hold her steady, and licked his fingers before reaching around her hips and quickly building another steady rhythm on her clit. Over and over again he thrust into her, circling her clit and groaning into her neck.

“C’mon, Kat, come for me again, let go, Kitten,” he growled while her velvet walls squeezed him tight, “I can’t hold on, come, baby,” he babbled, rocking his hips while her hips pushed back against him, chasing her release. It hit her quickly, making her legs shake and then wobble, struggling to support her weight. Chris finished with a moan drilling inside of her and draping his body over hers that was slumped against the dresser. He planted kisses on her shoulder, her neck, and then down the top of her spine before gently helping her come upright. Kat turned in his arms and slid into the dresser, letting her back lean against the mirror and lazily tugging her gown to cover her breasts just enough.

Chris snagged a few tissues from the nightstand and handed her some while he cleaned up and disposed of the condom in the trash can by the desk. He tucked himself back into his briefs and came to stand between Kat’s useless legs. He leaned forward and planted his palms on the dresser beside her legs to kiss her lazily, their tongues swiping at each other and showing no urgency.

Finally, Kat pulled back and reached up to push his hair back in place the best she could. “Your business partners will wonder where you went,” she whispered, giving him an out.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “what about that drink?”

“Next time,” she shrugged, sliding off the dresser knowing there would be no ‘next time’ and moving towards her shopping bags for the zip-up and leggings she’d bought today. Once they were in her arms, she turned back to Chris still standing there, pants around his ankles, and looking confused. “I’m going to take a shower,” she pressed up on her toes and kissed his lips once more before crossing in front of him and stepping into the large bathroom.

#chris+evans+fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x ofc #chris evans angst #chris evans smut #chris evans series #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans

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sugaroto · 3 months

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Second day at work shenanigans

Old German lady that could not speak English (so we had a hard time communicating with her cause the German speaking coworker had left) wanted us to know when her plane was leaving. Girl we are a hotel how are we supposed to know that😭 how did you come to a different country without knowing when you booked your plane

Old English couple (like in their 70s) or something) asked me if they could go topless in the pools of the hotel and when I said no they asked if there are beaches they can go to

Also, they originally came bc they lost their suitcase and like they had given their room number to the airport or something like that I'm not sure (the suitcase was lost at the airport) and they asked me for a taxi but I forgot to take the information the taxi app needed and had to go out and ask him and I was like do you have suitcases with you and he was like no I lost my suitcase 😭yeah right 😭 απλά ξύνω την πληγή τώρα but like I thought they might had other stuff or something and I felt bad "I lost my suitcase 🥲" 😭😭ejrbjsdb

Also a lady who apparently was the owner's daughter or something said she didn't like my outfit and that I should wear white or black

Dude the other lady just told me to wear one color and yesterday my coworker was wearing green so I thought green was okay what the heck

If you want us to dress somewhat give us uniforms. My clothes could dress a clown I don't have what you need ffs I need to go shopping now

Oh btw I think she called me useless in a way. Not me personally, my position. Like "You[night shift dude] are here and the other lady [morning shift] and now the new lady so why do we need her, isn't that too much people?"

💀

Like. Girl I did not hire myself

Also the owners who are my mom's customer's were complaining to her that they don't have enough employees 💀 that's how I found the job (idk if she's their daughter cause apparently there are a bunch of different people, idk)

And like morning shift and night shift have both been complaining bc they've been working 12hours the last week cause there aren't enough people 💀 what are you talking about

And if it's the timing hey I did not ask for σπαστό I don't have my own car or a license yet do you know how difficult it is I need to bother like 3 different relatives to be there 9-1 & 5-9

#sugarenia jobs

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ubike-official · 7 months

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at the library right now, no car. I could've driven 10 minutes here, but I took the bus to force me to actually work on some stuff I needed to do without the distraction of bed and blanky. And this patio is so beautiful. An older gentleman was yelling pharmacy on the phone earlier in an accent and tried to speak with customer service and now he is playing dad rock at the most pleasant volume so that there is still music but not enough to be distracting and it really adds to the mood. life is beautiful and being around others existing really is such a joy, suburbs are so ugly but even in a suburb living a 9 to 5 style job, there can still be so much beauty. I definitely need to come to the lbrary more often. Just like I realized I need to take my dog to the big park near my house more to socialize him. But I usually don't do that even though I know its in both our best interests if I do. I don't do that because of all the issues with doing things. I didn't really know how to put into words how hard it can be to do stuff. Especially after a 9 hr shift in a grey cubicle, a mile walk with my dog at the park would be good, yet something in me won't let me do it. All it wants me to do is lie in bed and rot. But I got rid of all app notifs on my phone, unplugged a bit, and hopefully all of this will get easier in time. I hope I can return to the library more and journal and draw, and do the same at the park with my dog at my side. Love you all. I don't post here like I used to because of well, social media (and yes tumblr too) made my brain rot. But i'm still here, popping in and keeping up in my own ways. Love you all, i hope we can all be at peace.

#.txt

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cergisoft · 13 days

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#Top 9 Car Customization Apps For Android And iOS

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incarnateirony · 2 years

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This is an older chart I had from a few years ago, but this should actually help understand what's going on right now, and why I'm focusing so much on demo and paying attention to the contents of the ad slots. Since then, demos have come down across the board considerably, as we know nothing is running a 1.0 or even close anymore, top non-events are like 0.06 these days. (also a good way to meter and remember decline)

So we're going to use these numbers as ROUGH GUIDELINES, but then we're gonna sort of. Parallel this. These were across different networks

BUT ON TO THE POINT. And figuring out more reasons you can know The Winchesters is safe as shit, even if everything under it is about to die bloody.

Check the average cost per spot, and

Now, ads are sold in that 18-49 everywhere. Due to ABC Chicanery in the 50s that just got built into the bones of the industry, ABC long ago convinced the world they were the best bc of the 18-49 demo, everyone else onboarded, and it's been the standard outside of CW for 70 years. Resultingly, 18-49 is super high value and everything else is just like. meh. we'll buy the leftovers.

I'll also be pulling data from here.

Identifying the demographics of valuable and potentially valuable customers is useful for targeting campaigns and building audiences for remarketing. For an ecommerce site, you might want to identify user groups with the highest ecommerce conversion rate or revenue. For a content-focused site, you might want to identify user groups with the highest engagement (for example, as measured by session duration or pageviews/screenviews per session).

The Age, Gender, and Interests reports all include engagement and conversion metrics. You can start from any of these reports to build a picture of your high-value customers.

In this example, the Age report shows that 18-24 and 25-34-year-olds together make up the majority of users, but the 25-34 segment contributes the most revenue and has the highest conversion rate.

If you drill in to that age group to see how it breaks down by gender, you see less disparity in the volume of sessions (still 3:1 in favor of male), but a much larger disparity in revenue (58:1). The conversion rate is 2:1 male to female, but the revenue per transaction is 9:1 in favor of male users.

This isn't Supernatural, btw. If you break down SPN's age skew, the male and female demos looked level by the end, and that demo itself has 2 women heads to 1 male head. And now spnwin has higher women demo anyway, and they're showing the highest retention rate while older users drop off. So currently, 18-49 women are just dominating Spnwin, but there's still a strong presence of men. So you get women-skewing ads but still a healthy mix of gender neutral stuff guys can like, like marvel.

You can venture through that link to dig deeper, like which other nonclassical demos (technophiles, nerds, etc) also bring in the best revenue. Yes, we can and will see and figure that out.

You can use the same kinds of analysis to find low-value audiences that you used to find your high-value audiences: rather than look for high revenue and conversion rates, you simply look for the opposite. Once you’ve identified those low-value customers, you can then exclude them from seeing your ads. (*this is largely in digital distribution, like through the app; they can't individually target your TVs.)

So anyway, this is how ads break down. Then we go to this post someone helpfully tortured themselves so I don't have to.

Basics:

TW: iPad, iPhone, Marvel, Disney, Amazon Prime Video young romance films, Jeep car ads, 4 Kohls/Old Navy/Walmart ads, lots of ads with Millennials.

Walker: iPhone, Shingles vaccine (for those over 50), Medicare health plans, Olay wrinkle cream, Ford car ads, 2 Kohls ads, a mental health ad, some ads with Millenials.

Windy: iPad, Disney, Shingles vaccine, flu shot, dry skin cream, probiotic, ads with grandkids, 8 Kohls/Old Navy/Walmart/grocery store ads, no car ads.

Okay so I've helpfully highlighted. Bold is like. Big buku buck buyers. Italic is like, they're decently high end, it's not friggin disney or amazon, but I mean. They're solid big slot buyers. Crossout is "over 50, low monetization, health or other packaging not slotted 18-49" that are residual ad buy on lower value space. Beyond that, you see which has a few millenials and which is trusted with none. ipad and disney you can still pitch at old people and go "HEY CHRISTMAS IS COMING BUY FOR YOUR KIDS, THEY'LL LIKE THIS MOVIE, IT HAS YOUR FAVORITE 90S ACTOR VOICING A DOG, YOU'LL LIKE IT TOO"

But ultimately just look at the aggregate. TW doesn't even have SPACE for garbage ads. Meaning those slots drive up all the more.

Now look at that first chart again.

so ok, we know these numbers are inflated. But let's play a game. What shows are the highest demo here, which are the lowest demo, and how much do they cost.

See even that isn't always equal. The connors space is worth half as much as This Is Us, even with near similar audience. But we're gonna mark that as a breakout exception. Kinda like Winchesters. Winchesters HAS no extra space so competitors and buyers literally had to compete on those slots, inflating that show's value.

But now that I've broken down things like how to drill in and find the right advertisers, or mentioned risking a rare high ad in a low slot, you can see, there's almost calculated risks in that, and they know they'll hit at least a FEW target eyes, but they spend less for the slot.

So since Winchesters is running 0.2+ in +7, and Walker is running about 0.12 in it, we're gonna compare that between the high yield ones (let's just use BBT instead of This Is Us, to be Fair) at the top and the other lower running shows.

For example;; Empire looks weak in demo compared by what it's surrounded with!! what gives! ... well, uh. Look at the audence size. It's less than half what's around it but pulls well above half value. If you doubled that demo on magic audience powers that'd be above a 3.0. So that's actually a very dense collection of exactly the eyes you're looking for. It's highly monetizable. You are targeting EXACTLY the fuckin people you want.

...why the connors is so low I genuinely don't know. There's gotta be some logic there that's whistling over my head specific to that product.

You will see though, none of these actually portray the 0.2> 0.12 drop because that's almost half. The closest drop you see there is BBT to Grey's Anatomy which is STILL a hit show. 286K to 205K difference, between 2.27 to 1.73. That's what, a reduction of less than 25%? Try almost 50%. We'll be GENEROUS and say Walker is running 60% of Winchesters. 172K/spot even if we round up. And that's if we don't further value/devalue these shows based on their digitals, while CW is bundling packages together and Winchesters is pulling 3x Walker in the app. What's 1/3 of 286k--94K? if we round up i think. Cool, so if we give Winchesters that 286K for its Cdigitals, Walker's digitals are worth like. 94k. So then these bundle in averages and you get like. 286K/slot vs 133/slot if we're just. Roughing out this math with these averages.

[stares into the camera in the value gap]

So then we come down to Nexstar talking about what's monetizable. Ok. Well it's not working in the app, it's not working live and it's not working in DVR, it doesn't have international travelability. Can anyone tell me why they would offer these products more than 1M/licensing fee? There are typically four commercial breaks in a half-hour show, each lasting two minutes. This equates to a total of 16 30-second commercials.

So let's say. 16 x these numbers. 16 x TW, 4.576 Million in ads. 16 x Walker, 2.128M in ads. Keep in mind CW ads actually pull lower than these, so let's cut out about 25% from these numbers. Winchesters about 3.43M, Walker about 1.596M/ep. Live and app digitals they earn from.

OK. So. We'll just round. 3.4M vs 1.6M.

Now, Nexstar is talking about capping their licensing fee at 1M, with exdceptions to shows based on their performance and monetization, eg, is it worth it for them to put more in.

If walker is worth 1.6M to Nexstar per episode, and costs about 3M/episode to make especially by next year, can anyone tell me why Nexstar is gonna give them more than 1M? If they even upped it to 1.5 they'd be breaking even, not making money. Who's gonna pay the other 2 million? Is CBS gonna invest it and hope for mass licensing to pay it back? When it has REALLY low travelability outside of the US because nobody else gives a fuck about cowboy cops?

Who the fuck are they gonna sell it to, for how much? about 20 eps at about 2 million cost to CBS is 40 million. Where do you foresee Walker pulling 40million licensing out of this in the international markets? They could get a little in canada, brazil, great britain and AU, but already low volumes. It's a third as likely to draw interest in its top cross-the-border, and one fourth to one fifth in the next four markets. Where does CBS make its money back if it foots the bill.

CBS *might* opt to try to argue for a renancel "for its fans" which means "to be able to wring out every dollar, package and boost a final season, and prepare bulk marketing of final season DVDs and stuff for a final boom". And then pay off the balance. Because Nexstar sure fuckin wont.

Now let's look at Winchesters. It isn't even in a fuckton of markets yet, doesn't have bulks of seasons already available to watch, etc. But it's still locally pulling 3x digitals AND has some international demand as other markets open up and/or buzz about it.

We know in this figure we're saying it's worth about 3.4 M.

We know it is co produced by WB, CBS, and Chaos Machine. While walker only has CBS to fill in the bill Nexstar won't, Chaos Machine can opt to finance *them fuckin selves* if for some reason WB doesn't see fit to internationally market it and use that as a reason to suggest. Let's look at the Winchesters international markets while it's barely even in any:

it's not until markets 6 and 7 we hit 1/3 value, and markets 8-13 that hit that "1/4th to 1/5th" area. Several are around half or above. Average the first 3 after the US and that's 3 50% travelability zones. These are zones that will want it, and pay good money for it.And again, we don't even have many markets actually open. This is just the fuckin general demand.

So we know for a fact TW is worth WB investing in, but the question is, will it even have to?

3.4M vs 1.6M. If Walker gets about 1M from nexstar, they're looking for a ~roughly 33% margin which seems fair. About a third profit.

So let's take a third out of 3.4 2.278, rounding we'll just say 2.3. So nexstar could give Winchesters about 2.3 million and still make the same PERCENTAGE of profit as Walker, which actually constitutes *far more profit*

At its current age, Winchesters costs about 2.5 to produce. So either: minding the raw volume of profit they get, they can chunk in that extra couple thousand. Or, if they're still gonna be cheap asses, that remaining 200K or so can be first opted to WB who could easily find the value in it, then to CBS coproducing, and then ultimately to Chaos Machine, Jensen and their financiers. each source could put in 67K, which is pennies for them, mere pocket change, and nobody fuckin flinches.

(this also fails to divide out any other expenses for nexstar like payments to owners and royalties and shit, so realistically their profit margin is much slimmer, take that down to another third of themselves.

So that 600K profit per ep for walker on 1M licensing fees if someone else made up the other millions, that looks more like 200K still for Nexstar. But that 1.1million of Winchesters divided down to a third is still almost 400K/episode. After paying out those costs and fees and all the shit associated.

So even if Walker was reduced to 1M/ep licensing by Nexstar, Nexstar still barely sees shit back from it. Whereas if they gave Winchesters 2.3M they'd make twice as much out of it still on raw profit than they would giving Walker 1M.

There's just. There's no competition here yall.

Don't even get me started on Windy. That shit was dead on arrival. The only way it survives is to try to employ its lower budget, murder Walker, move it into Walker's place, assume it pulls the boosted numbers from timeslot, and hope it keeps the old audience. This IS a small potential because its CW app views are doing about 2x Walker, which is why it wedged in a FEW solid ads, even if still skewing meh. But it's really not enough to argue to save it.

That meeting Jared had was no doubt "either wrap it up, talk to CBS about financing your final season, or decide if you can import everybody to Windy, you've got a few months to come up with an answer."

by the way, this ENTIRE THING is working on the assumption that The Winchesters' digital value etc and its overpacked high end buyers *aren't* driving up the real estate the same as Last Of Us, which was worth double its competitors for that space. Otherwise enjoy 8.6M profit.

#ratings #ads #demo #walker #windy #the winchesters #spnwin

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revvcarrentals · 1 year

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Want the best car rental company in Delhi ? Look no further than Revv.

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Come and discover the national capital in your own way with the best car rental company in Delhi at Revv Car Rentals!

At Revv, you can choose from a diverse range of best car rental options in Delhi, starting from small hatchbacks to high-end sedans and even larger vehicles such as Innova and tempo travellers for group travel. We specialise in luxury and outstation rentals. Our cars are all equipped with air conditioning, maintained regularly, kept clean and sanitised to ensure top-notch service quality.

Revv is India’s fastest growing shared mobility platform, providing both self-drive car rental and subscription services to its customers. Revv currently operates a fleet of 3500+ cars in 22 cities within India since the past 8 years with over 9 fleets running in the Delhi-NCR region.

The booking with us is quick and easy. You can make a booking through our Revv app (android or iOS), website or by giving us a call at +91–9045450000. Just select your city, date and time of your trip, key in your location and choose the type of car you want. Then enter your payment details, confirm payment and you are all set to go!

Now see how easily you can download the app on your phone and even enter the details for car rental services. Go ahead, opt for the great places to be seen and adventures to be taken. Choose Revv- the best car rental service in Delhi today!

#best car rental company in Delhi #Revv car rentals Delhi

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yeahimwiththeband · 2 years

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-> with the band chapter 7 [EDITED]

poor little rock star

warning: angst, pining, incompetent dancing, minors DNI. also deals with people pleasing behavior, anxiety disorder, body image issues, and codependency.

summary: harry and mc get some alone time, thanks to lydia. what happens here has been building up for a while.

A/N: thank you to the readers who provided feedback that helped me with the rewrite of this chapter and adding in the last chapter, and i’m sorry to readers who read this one before that edit. i’m still learning, clearly. but i have a new outline and have written a draft of the rest of the story, so it won’t happen again! it’s so much better now :) sorry

this is a love on tour fanfic, slow burn harry style au. an angsty harry in a multi-chapter romance about a girl with anxiety disorder falling in love for the first time.

thank you so much for reading. i love any feedback, input, and criticism. i do read all of it. this is my first story post on tumblr.

word count: 3.4k

Every day for the two years since she graduated, Izzy woke up in her childhood bedroom and started the same dreary daily routine.

Her parents were always awake earlier and the mornings felt like they didn’t belong to her, at all. She could hear her mom in the hall, her dad shuffling back and forth in his slippers. Izzy always started at the sink: moisturizer, sunscreen, contacts, concealer. The march over to the closet, always a little hopeful that she’d find something that wasn’t as bad as she thought it was—a hope that was always disappointed. Breakfast across from her mother, and then in the store at 9 sharp, turning the lights on, and flipping the closed sign to open. Meg would come visit with a coffee when she could and they’d hang out by the register. Her mom would do chores upstairs while her dad lounged in front of the TV, and if it was nice out, Izzy might open the front door so she could feel a breeze from outside. Weekdays, her dad took the car to work, stranding them there. Eight hours in the store day in day out where they might get two customers if they were lucky, plus an hour for inventory, shipments, and whatever else, and then home at seven.

Her parents went to bed early and the evenings were her own: Izzy’s time to try to eke some happiness out of her phone or computer, scrolling through photos of far away places or pretty gardens, jungles and mountains she would never see. If she had the energy, she’d try swiping a bit on one of the many dating apps Meg had downloaded for her. She read fewer books after the accident, but she would often engage in one of the three secrets, strumming her guitar while her parents were asleep.

Now that she was with the band, all her time was all her own :)

She was in New York and she could walk anywhere, so she walked everywhere. Canal Street, Central Park, all the way up to Columbia and Morningside, past brownstones and big apartment buildings. People had made their own little gardens, with dahlias just blooming now all over the city, in pots on rooftops and hanging baskets on the street lamps. After going uptown she and Meg would wind back down through the Upper East Side, the only neighbourhood in New York that Izzy didn’t like; it was like its own strip mall, with a Diane von Furstenberg and a Wallgreens on every corner. She got used to stepping on the metal cellar doors in the sidewalk, confidently gliding over them like a real New Yorker. The Lower East Side was her favourite, full of tiny parks and people her age sitting on patios, taking phone calls on their fire escapes dotted with plants, and balancing bags of Trader Joe’s on their bikes’ handlebars. The people in the city seemed to move quickly or not at all; they walked fast, or sat on their stoops to chat for hours at a time.

Two weeks at The Garden in New York, George kissing her and disappearing, and Izzy sometimes visiting the river in the park to rest and recharge. She stayed out of George’s way, as instructed by Ryan (and her crippling anxiety): she never asked for more of his time, or knocked on his door. George stayed sharp. Ryan eased up on her a bit. Lydia had talked Izzy up to him as a fashion heiress and social it girl. When Izzy found out, she set all her social media to private; Ryan would figure out pretty quickly that the shots of Meg and her at the store alone through the years didn’t make her an it girl, whatever that was.

Izzy stayed out of the band’s preshow huddle—where Jess, Olivia, and Lisa sung a verse of one of the first songs they wrote—hanging back even when Tara tried to wave her over despite Jess’s cutting glares. Jess was around more and more; Izzy avoided Harry, not wanting to hear more underhanded comments from Jess about how he needed to be surrounded by real artists. It didn’t help that Izzy was actually working for them.

Lydia seemed to cheer up in New York too, dancing at the side of the stage every show. Her outfits got progressively crazier (always a good sign); she raided the thrift stores on the lower east side with Izzy, and Izzy picked up a soft cashmere sweater and rainbow shoes that reminded her of the ones she had liked at Gucci (it wasn’t a betrayal of her mom’s business if it was used, right?). Her savings took a small hit, but it was way cheaper than buying new.

She had finally picked out her own clothes, her own wardrobe. Everything was soft and colourful, and made for walking and dancing. She finally felt like herself, like the person she was underneath the brown dust ruffles that had suffocated her in the store. And George wasn’t putting any pressure on her, at all.

Meg’s shoulders unclenched and she looked refreshed; she pulled long hours at the clinic, and was sleeping now more than she was used to. Lydia, Meg, Izzy, Elijah, and some of Harry’s other band members would hang out in the arena after the shows, playing music and joking around. Harry sometimes played the songs that had been removed from his set list, Jess and Tara harmonizing with him. Elijah tried to teach Izzy how to play his drums, and Tara showed her more chords on the guitar.

It started to feel easy to Izzy. She started to feel like she belonged.

They had finally hit the last show in the city. Austin, Texas was next, and Izzy hadn’t been invited—she hadn’t expected to be, and she knew it would have to end anyway. She had just wanted a night away and had gotten two whole weeks. She was as far away from her hometown as she had ever been and that was plenty. Was it enough?

Izzy couldn’t be dragged from backstage during that last show—not when Meg suggested they should leave early to start packing, not when Ryan asked for the numbers for the day, and not when she saw George bounding toward her from the green room out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t look away.

Harry watched a banner rise above the crowd to commemorate his 15 nights there, putting his name up in the rafters of the arena beside other artists he admired, like Elton John. Izzy watched Harry put a hand over his mouth, eyes shining, as he watched it fly above him. He seemed like himself then, unmasked and genuinely moved.

He looked back at her once it was up, and their eyes met; she smiled at him, trying to send silent support.

Just then, George grabbed Izzy’s hand and pulled her away, further backstage, into the green room. Ryan was there, hands clasped together. Meg followed them.

“We found the opportunity,” Ryan said.

“Tomorrow. Charity lunch. Dancing,” George said. “Huge press there. Frick Fall Fete gala.”

“Say that five times fast,” Meg joked. “Frick Fall Fete gala, Frick…”

“You’re coming with me, Izzy,” George said.

“We’ll be there with bells on,” Izzy replied, smiling. “Lydia can bring the extra charger and—“

“No, as my date,” George said, cutting her off.

“Oh,” Izzy said. “Yes. Sure. Frick Fall…” Nervousness started to creep up, eating away and her joy. She had no idea how to attend a formal event, or how to dance at a formal event. Her usual concert jumping around probably wouldn’t do it.

“Great!” Ryan said.

“I’ll put your dress in your room,” he said, before disappearing again. Ryan followed him.

“I’m sure that you can come with us Meg,” Izzy said, coming out of her daze.

“I’m good,” Meg said. “It sounds like a date to me. Why was Ryan part of it? So weird.”

“A real date would be…” Izzy shook her head. A date with a guy who actually liked her, who she liked back? It seemed like science fiction. “He seems too good to be true,” Izzy said.

Meg just nodded. “And then home tomorrow, right?” she asked.

“Of course,” Izzy replied.

“I have a job and stuff.”

“Yes, right. Me too.”

“One more day,” Meg said.

“One more day,” Izzy repeated. “I should tell Lydia, too. She might want to do some getting ready shots. Where did she go?”

Meg gestured toward the stage.

Izzy left Meg, but she didn’t go toward the stage. She wound around to the back of the green room, down another long hallway, past Mitch, kissing a mystery girl behind one of the coloured curtains. Izzy was looking for George. If they were dating, she should see him more, right? Where did he go all the time?

She came to the end of the hallway, where Naomi and Elijah were chatting, drinks in hand. Naomi nodded toward a closed door. Izzy knocked (she learned her lesson last time) and heard Jess say come in.

“Hey,” Izzy said.

Jess was sitting down, shoes off, massaging her feet. “Thought you were Ryan, with the—“

“You found me,” George said, cutting her off.

“Did you see Ryan out there?” Jess asked.

“No,” Izzy replied.

“Could you go get him?”

“She’s Lydia’s assistant, not ours,” George said.

“Thanks babe,” Izzy said, trying out the word.

Jess glared at her and stood up. “I’ll bring him back.” She left.

Izzy wanted to ask George where he went all the time, and what they were, but she didn’t want to seem clingy. “One more day,” she said instead.

“Come here.” George pulled her into his chest and put his arms around her, running his fingertips up and down her back. “I know you have a career, helping your mom run the business.”

Izzy didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been held like this since she was a kid.

“But I really like you,” said George.

Izzy looked up at him. “I really like you too,” she whispered. She was sure that saying it out loud would destroy it somehow, take it away.

“No, I really like you,” George said. He kissed her temple, her cheek, and then her chin. “I don’t want to just break up with you after the party tomorrow. I want you to stay. I want you on the tour.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe what he was asking her.

“Stay,” George said. “For the whole tour. Our numbers are up, we’re the opening through all the dates in the US. We did it.”

“George! That’s great!” Izzy said. She was stalling. Her skin prickled and she felt lightheaded. It was excitement and anxiety and fear and the biggest crush she had ever had, all mixed together.

“Austin, Chicago, Los Angeles. California, Izzy?”

“I’m not a real content creator, George,” she said. “Lydia just said that so I could stay for the weekend.”

“I know.” He took his hands in hers. “I don’t want you to stay on as staff, I want you to stay as my girlfriend. I want to be with you.”

Izzy couldn’t breathe.

“I want to be with you,” George said again. “Will you stay?” Izzy thought about the store, her family. She knew what she would be going back to. The other option was totally unknown to her.

Izzy nodded. Her body answered for her before she could open her mouth. “Yeah, yes,” she found herself saying. Her heart hammered in her chest. “I want to be with you too.” He kissed her. Izzy felt almost nauseous, she was so excited.

Ryan and Jess burst back in, Jess’s right hand clenched around something.

“Sorry,” Jess said, walking around them and settling back down in her chair like they weren’t there at all. Izzy blushed, putting her hands to her cheeks.

“She’s staying,” George said.

“Fine, good,” Ryan said. “Official girlfriends are allowed. Your fans hearts may break, but that’ll only make them crazier for you.” Was he joking? He smiled at Izzy and shot her a wink; she smiled back, surprised. Maybe Ryan wasn’t so bad after all.

“We have band stuff to discuss,” Jess said.

“Izzy can hang,” George said.

“Can she?” Jess asked pointedly. Izzy rolled her eyes.

“Not yet,” Ryan said. “Not yet. Sorry Izzy, strategy sesh. You’re not on staff any more.” Ryan winked and patted her on the back.

“No problem!” Izzy said. Her cheeks were burning. She caught George’s gaze just as she closed the door behind her, stumbling back out of the green room. She had to tell Lydia. And Harry.

Izzy headed toward the concert hall, now empty. The last of the audience had left and it was a dark cavern, the floor of the pit littered with confetti. The arena was darker than it usually was, just the spotlight on.

Lydia was in the nosebleeds, feet resting on the railing of the balcony, arms out on the chairs on either side of her, breathing in the space. It actually looked bigger empty and with the lights off; Izzy was awestruck.

Izzy climbed her way up to Lydia, amazed at the sight of the empty hall from up there.

Izzy’s hair had fallen down during the concert and as she leaned over the railing, it dangled with her. Lydia snapped a picture.

“You look like Rapunzel. Or something like, out of Shakespeare.” Their voices echoed in the vast space.

“You mean Romeo and Juliet,” Izzy said. She hadn’t totally forgotten her minor in English.

Izzy puffed her chest out like a goofball and strutted the aisle, speaking out to the empty hall: “My only love, sprung from my only hate.”

“That I must love a loathed enemy…” a voice said from below.

That voice.

Izzy smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“Speak again, bright angel!” Harry laughed, coming out from under the balcony. “Oh, it’s just you, Izzy,” he said, mock disappointment in his tone. Lydia giggled and rushed downstairs.

Izzy leaned over and smiled at Harry. Lydia picked up a flower a fan had tossed onto the stage.

Harry wore his outfit from the last song of the night, blue slacks and a glimmering tan shirt, now open to his waist. Tattooed wings peeked out on either side of his chest.

“My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of your uttering, yet I know the sound,” said Izzy.

“I’m too bold; ’tis not to me she speaks,” Harry replied.

“I have no joy of this contact tonight. It’s too rash, too sudden!”

“That’s not how that goes!” Harry laughed. “Will you leave me so unsatisfied?”

“That’s not how that goes either!” They were both laughing now. Izzy followed Lydia down to the pit, calling after Harry, “what satisfaction can you have tonight?”

Lydia spun around the pit, kicking up the confetti on the floor. It floated around them like snow.

“A dance,” Harry said, holding out his hand and bowing like they were in a play. “Would you dance with me?”

“That’s more Jane Austen than Shakespeare,” Izzy said.

“Summertime sadness! Play summertime sadness!” Lydia cried. “They’re still in the booth,” she added, pointing above the balcony.

“He was just kidding,” Izzy said. Harry dropped his hand.

The chords of the opening came on. The song sounded like summer, lush and warm.

“Dance with him,” commanded Lydia. “I must be entertained. I want dancing, you’ve already done theatre.”

Harry held out his hand again and Izzy placed hers in his.

“I don’t really know how to dance like this,” she said.

Harry took her other hand.

“Just follow my feet.” He stepped back and Izzy stepped forward, then to the side, then back to the front, where she stepped on his toes.

“S’alright,” he said.

“Maybe I should practice with Lydia,” Izzy said. “We’re family. She won’t mind if I step all over her.”

“Not a chance,” Lydia called from the stage. She was propped up on her elbows, watching them, grinning.

They repeated the steps again, then Harry put his hand around her waist. Izzy was surprised she hadn’t broken both his feet by now, but the song was beautiful and easy to dance to. She felt totally calm. Harry pulled her closer and they danced the simple box step to start. Harry’s touch was different than George’s: it was deeper, firmer.

Izzy grew more confident in her steps and they floated around the pit, Harry leading her around the barricades in front of the stage and back around the first row of seats. Izzy managed to lift her eyes from the floor to see Harry’s kind smile; he was watching her while she was carefully watching her feet. Harry spun her and dipped her and she laughed as Lydia watched.

The song faded out, the last notes echoing in the hall. They danced until there was no more music, slowing down when there was only total silence left. Lydia clapped loudly and shouted her praise for their performance, asking for another one.

“Thanks,” Izzy stammered. “George is taking me to a charity thing tomorrow, and there’s dancing, apparently.” Harry stepped away from her.

“George is good at finding opportunities to get more press. I’m sure you’ll get lots of good photos.”

“I’m going as his date,” Izzy said. Harry dropped her hand.

“His date,” Harry said. “That was fast. You didn’t seem like George’s type.” Izzy felt devastated by the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. She felt her anger rising.

“You don’t know me,” Izzy shot back. This was true: she didn’t even know herself. Izzy was mad at Harry and had no problem speaking her mind because she didn’t care what he thought. And it felt so good to be honest and let it all out.

“Play Bel Air! Let’s do another one!” Lydia yelled from the stage. But no new music came on.

“Know you a little, I think,” said Harry, a little softer.

“I hope so,” Izzy said, calming down a bit. “I’m staying on the tour for the next few months. Now that Ryan got George to open for you for all the US shows, I can stay.”

“But you’re not a real social media person.”

“I know. I’m staying with George, as his girlfriend.”

Harry took a step closer to her. “Izzy, George is an asshole.”

“What is it with you two? He’s a real artist, you know,” Izzy protested. Harry scoffed. “Is it that you really can’t handle another guy in the spotlight?”

“You don’t belong here.” Harry said. “This isn’t you.”

“It could be.” You don’t belong here ricocheted around her mind like a thrown knife, cutting down the new image Izzy made of herself as a cool girlfriend with a cool job with the band.

“You’d be safer at home. I think you should go home.” The arrogance.

“Maybe I don’t want to be safe,” Izzy said.

“That’s too bad,” Harry said.

Izzy felt a sudden swell of determination to stay on the tour. She thought about what waited for her at home and shivered. Harry had no idea what he was talking about. You don’t belong here landed on her like a slap in the face. Her skin prickled with anger. It was different than the shame she usually felt.

“I’m staying.”

Just then, the lights flickered on in the arena and they were drowned in bright fluorescents. Lydia sat up, pressing her hands into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Izzy added, in spite of herself. She meant it, but she hated herself for saying it. Harry was being unreasonable, not her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I love teaching you to dance so you can dance with other men.”

A breeze blew in from outside—Izzy could see the van from the other side of the hallway. “We’re clearing out.” Ryan was at the door, holding it open.

Harry left Izzy without another word. Lydia followed him. Izzy lingered in the pit, watching the last of the confetti fall to the ground. George was in the van, and they were going back to the hotel together. Summertime Sadness lyrics played in her mind:

I feel it everywhere, nothing scares me anymore

chapter8

#harry styles au #love on tour au #love on tour fic #love on tour fan fiction #love on tour fanfiction #harry styles fandom #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #writer in training #thank you for your patience

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etes-secrecy-post · 2 years

Text

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

My Wangan Maxi Tune Career Returns to 2022 [Timezone Arcade Trinoma & Quantum Amusement SM North Edsa] - Part 3 (Recorded: Nov 19th, 2022)

Hey, hey! It’s me! 😁 Here’s Part 3 of my Wangan Maxi Tune Career! (This time, without paper dolls. Sorry. 😅)

BTW: Sorry for the long delay, I'm sure that we all know we're celebrating the spirit of Christmas w/ our beloved friends, neighbors & family until the very end when he hits 2023. So, I have to finish my Wangan Maxi topic, once & for all. 🙂

If you haven’t seen my two previous parts, then please [CLICK ME! #1], [CLICK ME! #2].

My Recorded video ⏺️📲: [Pls watch it]↑

• So, after my playthrough, I return to the Wangan Terminal to check some items & see if I have new stuff to claim or not. And it turns out, it does! I do have new stuff, in a form of two new cars! 😮🚘🚘The (current gen) Mazda MX-5 RF [ND] & the Nissan Fairlady Z 280Z-T (HGS130). I've already add two new cars through my garage!

Fun Fact: Originally, these two cars were debuted in Wangan Maxi 6 as purchasable by using MaxiG Points. Nowadays, they're now completely free after transferring data from Wangan Maxi 6 to 6RR, and the MaxiG points system was abolished.

Spot 🐶🏎️: Sweet new rides, man! That new MX-5 looks aggressive!😁

Riya 🐰🏎️: And I love the old timer S130 Z! Although, I prefer the S30 model. 🙂

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: Ooow, driving with the MX-5 is so relaxing with my cloudy bear on the sunny road!😁

Me 🇵🇭: Thanks for your thoughts.🙂

• Anyways, by the time when I go to Quantum Amusement arcade (in SM North Edsa), I realized that I forgot to show ya another feature in Wangan Terminal. I could take some pictures per vehicle I've owned. However, only 3 chances to take a picture per vehicle before it runs out & calls it for another day to take more. 3️⃣📸🚗And once it's done capturing, all the images will transfer to the Wangan Navigator app. Plus, using the aforementioned app could choose to save images to phone memory 🚘🖼️📲, and the images from Wangan Navi will expire in 14 days. 🗓️❌ And remember those ghost battles & obtaining trophies I've shown ya in my first part? These also were taken from the Wangan Navi app. Love it! (Here's an example ↓)

(And) Here are my photos taken from the Wangan Terminal, so far. ↓

• Unfortunately, not all vehicles that I've been taken. Because my Impreza GRB, the Silvia S15, and two Mitsubishi Lan Evos (No. 8 & No. 9) are not featured in my album (from Wangan Navi app). Despite their inactive, I hadn't touch on, them ever since.

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: Awww shoot! I want a see his entire car collection looks like. 🙁

Spot 🐶🏎️: Don't worry, once his entire cars alive he'll take another chance. 😉

Riya 🐰🏎️: Right now, he's focusing on his cool 350Z.😊

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: Well, his custom Z does look cool, after all. I give cred! 🙂

Me 🇵🇭: Why, thank you.☺️

Note: All of my cars used to have blank. But, thanks to screenshots from the arcade, I could set up images on each vehicle. That way, I'll recognize the look. And when I replace some parts on any vehicle, I have to update the look by taking a picture before I change it via (aforementioned) app. Like this one (pls see my 1st phone screenshot. ↓

2nd to 9th phone screenshot(s) [Honor 8C]: ↓

• Let's dive into some more details about the Wangan Navigator app, shall we? To be clear, I haven't touched my Wangan Navi app, ever since I downloaded it in 2019. Following the debut of Wangan Maxi 6. This app was still on my Honor 8C phone, and it remain inactive, until 2022. Right now, my Wangan Navi app has finally alive, after 3 years. Heck, I even re-link my BANAPASSPORT ID card after transferring data to get my wangan account working.

• Case in point, here are my activities when using the app. [1st phone screenshot] Such as unlocking license parts by earning miles, [2nd, 3rd, 4th & 6th phone screenshots] scratching the ticket (they call it the "Navi Scratch-Off") to unlock new titles, etc... Although, if someone is lucky enough to get a car with full tuned, which by the way, to get a scratch ticket you need to play Wangan Maxi arcade three times, [5th phone screenshot] and finally check stats on my garage. Yup, me & Spot's Impreza and broke our winning streaks. [7th to 9th phone screenshots] And finally, the "ticket box". To claim any tickets, you must earn a 1000-mile goal to accumulate a random ticket; whether its a "Name Change", a "VS Player Free Continue", a "Full Tune Build", a "Discarded Vehicle Card", or a "100 Miles Ticket". The latter of whom I used to have three "100 Mile Tickets", and now I've only one left. As I used 2 tickets to obtain six new license parts.

10th to 13th phone screenshot(s) [Honor 8C]: ↑

• [10th & 11th phone screenshots] Another obtain ticket after reaching 1000 miles is the "VS Player Continue" ticket. This will allow me to continue or rather rematch the VS player mode without spending numerous arcade tokens (or swipe amount if you're at the Timezone arcade). [12th & 13th phone screenshots] Here's another example of claiming license parts from earning miles, I've got three items parts for customizing "My Page". Which I'll show it to ya, right now. ↓

14th & 15th phone screenshot(s) [Honor 8C]: ↑

• Welcome to the so-called "My Page". On my original 2019 version (from the other side blog), it's completely blanked & nothing else on the inventory list. Nowadays, after I claimed some license parts & taking snapshots of vehicles, the so-called "My Page" has finally alive! 🚘💮😁Here, I could choose any parts from earning miles, showing off my car name, the actual car I used, and finally the background, which is also obtained from earning miles. Ah yeah, I can also save my current "My Page". Like this. ↓ (pls see my downloaded image)

Important Note: To unlock the vehicle without background for "My Page", you need to go to the Wangan Terminal & tap your existing game ID card. Then go to your "Garage", pick a vehicle, tap the "Take Photo Background", tap "Toggle Off" to remove the background, and then take a snapshot (from front to rear if you so desire). 🙂

Riya 🐰🏎️: Whoa! Do I have a picture of my Impreza? 😃

Spot 🐶🏎️:Or mine?! 😃

Me 🇵🇭: Well, yeah! *showing other transparent vehicle photos* 🙂🖼️🚘

Spot 🐶🏎️ & Riya 🐰🏎️: AWESOME! 😄🤜🤛😁

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: Wow, I wish I want a have a car featured in Wangan Maxi, too. 🙂

Spot 🐶🏎️: Don't worry, will get your car featured in Wangan Maxi, soon. 🙂

Riya 🐰🏎️: Yeah! Then, we can race together throughout the streets of Japan! 🙂

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: Sounds super duper fun, for me! 😁

Spot 🐶🏎️ & Riya 🐰🏎️: YEAH!😃

Overall:

• My Wangan account has finally been alive, both in-game & on the app. 😊 And don't worry about my other cars (from the likes of Impreza GRB, Silvia S15, and two Lan Evos), I'll take care of them when the time is right. 😉 For now, I'll be focused on three cars (My 350Z, and the Speedster Twins' Imprezas) that need to be done by finishing the "Story Mode" to unlock the full 840 HP/horsepower (the final level) potential. This might take a while, and I gonna need a ton of tokens to finish the "Story Mode" per vehicle. Plus, the unlock color for Riya's Impreza, too. 🖌️🔵🚙

Now, you think that my topic is over? Yeah, I was gonna, but... I got another part, coming up. So, my apologies for being lied. 😅 Because I have a bunch of photos & screenshots from Dec 18th (of this year). 🖼️🚗📲🙂 And I promise ya, this will be my final part before we enter 2023. 🎆🥳

So, if you're done reading "Part 3", then please head over to my Final Part by [CLICK ME!].

Well, that’s all for now. If you haven’t seen my 2019 Wangan Maxi Tune 6 & Wangan Navigator app (on the alternate blog), then I’ll provide some links down below. ↓😉

My Wangan Maxi Tune 6 Experience:

My WMMT6 Progress (2019): Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7, Part 7½, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 [Final]

My Wangan Navigator app (2019): Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 [Final]

Also check out my previous moment from my WMMT5DXPlus - Please CLICK ME to see it all.

Tagged: @bryan360, @carmenramcat, @leapant

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