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pedgito · 2 days ago

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𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial.

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive.

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in.

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?”

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard.

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer.

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless.

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before.

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved.

Up.

Barely.

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin.

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire.

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too.

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job.

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

#harry castillo #pedro pascal #harry castillo x reader #harry castillo x you #harry castillo x y/n #randy castillo #the materialists #my writing #pedro pascal fic

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dlxxv-vetted-donations · 5 months ago

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Urgent: @hashem-bader

Vetted: gazavetters #102 | Gfm: Paypal, credit/debit

Hesham's old tent was destroyed in a bombing. We fundraised to get him 1 tent, but much of his family are currently still without shelter and his injured niece can't sleep on the floor. He needs £5,500 in the campaign (fees included) to buy a second tent to protect his niece with a mattress and shelter family unprotected by their first tent.

Slightly more details (updates, fees, priority needs):

Nov 29 (info still accurate as of Dec 5): Hesham's niece is still injured, and on Dec 3 he found out that she'd need £4,700 for surgery. In the meantime, Hesham's niece needs a mattress (she can't sleep on the floor) and privacy, so the family has decided to focus on getting a second tent which would require £5,500 in the campaign. This would help her and house those who can't fit into the first tent.

Fees: gfm 2.9%, gfm £0.3 per donation, 30% bank transfer fee

Priority needs:

Reached Nov 25, purchased Nov 27-28: Tent 1: £1,000 → £1,550 after fees → £3,467 in campaign → £3,645 in campaign (Nov 18 update)

Tent 2 with medical mattress: £1,000 → £1,550 after fees → £3,645 + £1,550 = £5,195 in campaign (estimated amount, subject to change) £5,500 in campaign

Urgent medical care for Hesham's injured niece → £4,700 (not including extra fees, calculated after second tent goal met)

Tent 3: £1,000 → £1,550 after fees

A solar/battery power source for lighting and charging essential devices: ~£3,000

Past updates and some campaign details:

The campaign is for 26 people, 13 of which are children.

Nov 4: A mattressless tent costs £1,000 and a mattressed one £2,500 (both without extra fees included). Hesham will decide if he wants to try for the latter after meeting his small, short-term goal for a mattressless tent.

Nov 14: The family's tent, poor-quality as it was, was destroyed in a bombing. No members were harmed, but they are now without shelter. The need for a new matressless tent is even more urgent.

Nov 18: The family is currently without water and homeless, and the tent goal was stalled temporarily to help the family survive. Hesham sold his laptop and watch. With his current progress, he believes he'll need £3,645 in his campaign (fees included) to get a tent.

Accounts: hashem-bader (current), @support-heshem (shadowbanned), @support-hesham (shadowbanned)

Nov 25: The family met their goal of £3,645 and bought 1 tent on Nov 27-28. They need 2 more tents.

#palestine #support #urgent #my promo #contacted me

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phoenixyfriend · 4 months ago

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Ko-fi prompt from @liberwolf:

Could you explain Tariff's , like who pays them and what they do to a country?

Well, I can definitely guess where this question is coming from.

Honestly, I was pretty excited to get this prompt, because it's one I can answer and was part of my studies focus in college. International business was my thing, and the issues of comparative advantage (along with Power Purchasing Parity) were one of the things I liked to explore.

-----------------

At their simplest, tariffs are an import tax. The United States has had tariffs as low as 5%, and at other times as high as 44% on most goods, such as during the Civil War. The purpose of a tariff is in two parts: generating revenue for the government, and protectionism.

Let's first explore how a tariff works. If you want to be confused, then you need to have never taken an economics class, and look at this graph:

(src)

So let's undo that confusion.

The simplest examples are raw or basic materials such as steel, cotton, or wine.

First, without tariffs:

Let us say that Country A and Country B both produce steel, and it is of similar quality, and in both cases cost $100 per unit. Transportation from one country to the other is $50/unit, so you can either buy domestically for $100, or internationally for $150. So you buy domestically.

Now, Country B discovers a new place to mine iron very easily, and so their cost for steel drops to $60/unit due to increased ease of access. Country A can either purchase domestically for $100, or internationally for $110 (incl. shipping), which is much more even. Still, it is more cost-effective to purchase domestically, and so Country A isn't worried.

Transportation technology is improved, dropping the shipping costs to $30/unit. A person from Country A can buy: Domestic: $100 International: $60+$30 = $90 Purchasing steel from Country B is now cheaper than purchasing it from Country A, regardless of where you live.

Citizens in Country A, in order to reduce costs for domestic construction, begin to purchase their steel from Country B. As a result, money flows from Country A to B, and the domestic steel industry in Country A begins to feel the strain as demand dwindles.

In this scenario, with no tariffs, Country A begins to rely on B for their steel, which causes a loss of jobs (steelworkers, miners), loss of infrastructure (closing of mines and factories), and an outflow of funds to another country. As a result, Country A sees itself as losing money to B, while also growing increasingly reliant on their trading partner for the crucial good that is steel. If something happens to drive up the price of B's steel again, like political upheaval or a natural disaster, it will be difficult to quickly ramp up the production of steel in Country A's domestic facilities again.

What if a tariff is introduced early?

Alternately, the dropping of complete costs for purchase of steel from Country B could be counteracted with tariffs. Let's say we do a 25% tariff on that steel. This tariff is placed on the value of the steel, not the end cost, so:

$60 + (0.25 x $60) + $30 = $105/unit

Suddenly, with the implementation of a 25% tariff on steel from Country B, the domestic market is once again competitive. People can still buy from Country B if they would like, but Country A is less worried about the potential impacts to the domestic market.

The above example is done in regards to a mature market that has not yet begun to dwindle. The infrastructure and labor is still present, and is being preemptively protected against possible loss of industry to purchasing abroad.

What happens if the tariff is not implemented until after the market has dwindled?

Let's say that the domestic market was not protected by the tariff until several decades on. Country A's domestic production, in response to increased purchasing from abroad, has dwindled to one third of what it was before the change in pricing incentivized purchase from B. Prices have, for the sake of keeping this example simple, remained at $100(A) and $60(B) in that time. However, transportation has likely become better, so transportation is down to $20, meaning that total cost for steel from B is $80, accelerating the turn from domestic steel to international.

So, what happens if you suddenly implement a tariff on international steel? Shall we say, 40%?

$60 + (0.4 x 60) + 20 = $104

It's more expensive to order from abroad! Wow! Let's purchase domestically instead, because these prices add up!

But the production is only a third of what it used to be, and domestic mines and factories for refining the iron into steel can't keep up. They're scaling, sure, but that takes time. Because demand is suddenly triple of the supply, the cost skyrockets, and so steel in Country A is now $150/unit! The price will hopefully come down eventually, as factories and mines get back in gear, but will the people setting prices let that happen?

So industries that have begun to rely on international steel, which had come to $80/unit prior to the tariff, are facing the sudden impact of a cost increase of at least $25/unit (B with tariff) or the demand-driven price increase of domestic (nearly double the pre-tariff cost of steel from B), which is an increase of at least 30% what they were paying prior to the tariff.

There are possible other aspects here, such as government subsidies to buoy the domestic steel industry until it catches back up, or possibly Country B eating some of the costs so that people still buy from them (selling for $50 instead of $60 to mitigate some of the price hike, and maintain a loyal customer base), but that's not a direct impact of the tariff.

Who pays for tariffs?

Ultimately, this is a tax on a product (as opposed to a tax on profits or capital themselves, which has other effects), which means the majority of the cost is passed on directly to the consume.

As I said, we could see the producers in Country B cut their costs a little bit to maintain a loyal customer base, but depending on their trade relationships with other countries, they are just as likely to stop trading with Country A altogether in order to focus on more profitable markets.

So why do we not put tariffs on everything?

Well... for that, we get into the question of production efficiency, or in this case, comparative advantage.

Let's say we have two small, neighboring countries, C and D, that have negligible transportation costs and similar industries. Both have extensive farmland, and both have a history of growing grapes for wine, and goats for wool. Country C is a little further north than D, so it has more rocky grasses that are good for goats, while D has more fertile plains that are good for growing grapes.

Let's say that they have an equal workforce of 500,000 of people. I'm going to say that 10,000 people working full time for a year is 1 unit of labor. So, Country C and Country D have between the 100 units of labor, and 50 each.

The cost of 1 unit of wool = the cost of 1 unit of wine

Country C, having better land for goats, can produce 4 units of wool for every unit of labor, and 2 units of wine for every unit of labor.

Meanwhile, Country D, having better land for grapes, can produce 2 units of wool per unit of labor, and 4 units of wine per unit of labor.

If they each devote exactly half their workforce to each product, then:

Country C: 100 units of wool, 50 units of wine Country D: 50 units of wool, 100 units of wine

Totaling 150 units of each product.

However, if each devotes all of their workforce to the product they're better at...

Country C: 200 units of wool, no wine Country D: no wool, 200 units of wine

and when they trade with each other, they each end up with 100 units of each product, which is a doubling of what their less-efficient labor would have resulted in!

The real world is obviously much more complicated, but in this example, we can see the pros of outsourcing some of your production to another country to focus on your own specialties.

Extreme examples of this IRL are countries where most of the economy rests on one product, such as middle-eastern petro-states that are now struggling to diversify their economies in order to not get left behind in the transition to green energy, or Taiwan's role as the world's primary producer of semiconductors being its 'silicon shield' against China.

Comparative advantage can be used well, such as our Unnamed Countries (that are definitely not the classic example of England and Portugal, with goats instead of sheep) up in the example. With each economy focusing on its specialty, there is a greater yield of both products, meaning a greater bounty for both countries.

However, should something happen to Country C up there, like an earthquake that kills half the goats, they are suddenly left with barely enough wool to clothe themselves, and nothing for Country D, which now has a surplus of wine and no wool.

So you do have to keep some domestic industry, because Bad Things Can Happen. And if we want to avoid the steel example of a collapse in the given industry, tariffs might be needed.

Are export tariffs a thing?

Yes, but they are much rarer, and can largely be defined as "oh my god, everyone please stop getting rid of this really important resource by selling it to foreigners for a big buck, we are depleting this crucial resource."

So what's the big confusion right now?

Donald Trump has, on a number of occasions, talked about 'making China pay' tariffs on the goods they import into the US. This has led to a belief that is not entirely unreasonable, that China would be the side paying the tariffs.

The view this statement engenders is that a tariff is a bit like paying a rental fee for a seller's table at an event: the producer or merchant pays the host (or landlord or what have you) a fee to sell their product on the premises. This could be a farmer's market, a renaissance faire, a comic book convention, whatever. If you want to sell at the event, you have to pay a fee to get a space to set up your table.

In the eyes of the people who listened to Trump, the tariff is that fee. China is paying the United States for access to the market.

And, technically, that's not entirely wrong. China is thus paying to enter the US market. It's just the money to pay that fee needs to come from somewhere, and like most taxes on goods, that fee comes from the consumer.

So... what now?

Well, a lot of smaller US companies that rely on cheap goods made in China are buying up non-perishables while they can, before the tariffs hit. Long-term, manufacturers in the US that rely on parts and tools manufactured in China are going to feel the squeeze once that frontloaded stock is depleted.

Some companies are large enough to take the hit on their own end, still selling at cheap rates to the consumer, because they can offset those costs with other parts of their empire... at least until smaller competitors are driven out of business, at which point they can start jacking up their prices since there are no options left. You may look at that and think, "huh, isn't that the modus operandi for Walmart and Amazon already?" and yes. It is. We are very much anticipating a 'rich get richer, poor go out of business' situation with these tariffs.

The tariffs will also impact larger companies, including non-US ones like Zara (Spanish) and H&M (Swedish), if they have a huge reliance on Chinese production to supply their huge market in the United States.

If you're interested in the repercussions that people expect from these proposed tariffs on Chinese goods, I'd suggest listening to or watching the November 8th, 2024 episode of Morning Brew Daily (I linked to YouTube, but it's also available on Spotify, Nebula, the Morning Brew website, and other podcast platforms).

#id in alt text #id in alt #economics #tariffs #import tax #customs #customs duties #ko fi prompts #capitalism #phoenix talks #ko fi #taxes #taxation

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odinsblog · 2 years ago

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🗣️THIS IS WHAT INCLUSIVE, COMPASSIONATE DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE

Minnesota Dems enacted a raft of laws to make the state a trans refuge, and ensure people receiving trans care here can't be reached by far-right governments in places like Florida and Texas. (link)

Minnesota Dems ensured that everyone, including undocumented immigrants, can get drivers' licenses. (link)

They made public college free for the majority of Minnesota families. (link)

Minnesota Dems dropped a billion dollars into a bevy of affordable housing programs, including by creating a new state housing voucher program. (link)

Minnesota Dems massively increased funding for the state's perpetually-underfunded public defenders, which lets more public defenders be hired and existing public defenders get a salary increase. (link)

Dems raised Minnesota education spending by 10%, or about 2.3 billion. (link)

Minnesota Dems created an energy standard for 100% carbon-free electricity by 2040. (link)

Minnesota already has some of the strongest election infrastructure (and highest voter participation) in the country, but the legislature just made it stronger, with automatic registration, preregistration for minors, and easier access to absentee ballots. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded the publicly subsidized health insurance program to undocumented immigrants. This one's interesting because it's the sort of things Dems often balk at. The governor opposed it! The legislature rolled over him and passed it anyway. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years. (link)

Minnesota Dems gave the state AG the power to block the huge healthcare mergers that have slowly gobbled up the state's medical system. (link)

Minnesota Dems restored voting rights to convicted felons as soon as they leave prison. (link)

Minnesota Dems made prison phone calls free. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed new wage protection rules for the construction industry, against industry resistance. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a new sales tax to fund bus and train lines, an enormous victory for the sustainability and quality of public transit. Transit be more pleasant to ride, more frequent, and have better shelters, along more lines. (link)

They passed strict new regulations on PFAS ("forever chemicals"). (link)

Minnesota Dems passed the largest bonding bill in state history! Funding improvements to parks, colleges, water infrastructure, bridges, etc. etc. etc. (link)

They're going to build a passenger train from the Twin Cities to Duluth. (link)

I can't even find a news story about it but there's tens of millions in funding for new BRT lines, too. (link)

A wonky-but-important change: Minnesota Dems indexed the state gas tax to inflation, effectively increasing the gas tax. (link)

They actually indexed a bunch of stuff to inflation, including the state's education funding formula, which helps ensure that school spending doesn't decline over time. (link)

Minnesota Dems made hourly school workers (e.g., bus drivers and paraprofessionals) eligible for unemployment during summer break, when they're not working or getting paid. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed a bunch of labor protections for teachers, including requiring school districts to negotiate class sizes as part of union contracts. (Yet another @SydneyJordanMN special here. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a state board to govern labor standards at nursing homes. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a Prescription Drug Affordability Board, which would set price caps for high-cost pharmaceuticals. (link)

Minnesota Dems created new worker protections for Amazon warehouse workers and refinery workers. (link)

Minnesota Dems passed a digital fair repair law, which requires electronics manufacturers to make tools and parts available so that consumers can repair their electronics rather than purchase new items. (link)

Minnesota Dems made Juneteenth a state holiday. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned conversion therapy. (link)

They spent nearly a billion dollars on a variety of environmental programs, from heat pumps to reforestation. (link)

Minnesota Dems expanded protections for pregnant and nursing workers - already in place for larger employers - to almost everyone in the state. (link)

Minnesota Dems created a new child tax credit that will cut child poverty by about a quarter. (link)

Minnesota Democrats dropped a quick $50 million into homelessness prevention programs. (link)

And because the small stuff didn't get lost in the big stuff, they passed a law to prevent catalytic converter thefts. (link)

Minnesota Dems increased child care assistance. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned "captive audience meetings," where employers force employees to watch anti-union presentations. (link)

No news story yet, but Minnesota Dems forced signal priority changes to Twin Cities transit. Right now the trains have to wait at intersections for cars, which, I can say from experience, is terrible. Soon that will change.

Minnesota Dems provided the largest increase to nursing home funding in state history. (link)

They also bumped up salaries for home health workers, to help address the shortage of in-home nurses. (link)

Minnesota Dems legalized drug paraphernalia, which allows social service providers to conduct needle exchanges and address substance abuse with reduced fear of incurring legal action. (link)

Minnesota Dems banned white supremacists and extremists from police forces, capped probation at 5 years for most crimes, improved clemency, and mostly banned no-knock warrants. (link)

Minnesota Dems also laid the groundwork for a public health insurance option. (link)

I’m happy for the people of Minnesota, but as a Floridian living under Ron DeSantis & hateful Republicans, I’m also very envious tbh. We know that democracy can work, and this is a shining example of what government could be like in the hands of legislators who actually care about helping people in need, and not pursuing the GOP’s “culture wars” and suppressing the votes of BIPOC, and inflicting maximum harm on those who aren’t cis/het, white, wealthy, Christian males. BRAVO MINNESOTA. This is how you do it! And the Minnesota Dems did it with a one seat majority, so no excuses. Forget about the next election and focus on doing as much good as you can, while you still can. 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿

👉🏿 https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1660846689450688514.html

#politics #minnesota #social justice #culture wars #this is what democracy looks like #republicans are evil

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kaijutegu · 2 years ago

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I'm trying to come up with something clever to say here but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. In a good way. I never thought anything like this would pass in the Midwest, not even in a blue state like IL, because it's simply not the kind of thing anybody campaigns on or even talks about at the gubernatorial level.

This is honestly the perfect legal addendum to NAGPRA, and I'm thrilled it's at the state level. This type of legislation would be way too complex at the federal level, but the individual state responsibilities are manageable, and more importantly, doable.

Here's some of the highlights of what the law does:

It is now the state's responsibility to help return ancestral remains, funerary objects and other important cultural items to tribal nations

The state must follow the lead of tribal nations throughout the repatriation process.

Money must be allocated as part of the state Repatriation and Reinterment Fund to help with the costs of reburial, tribal consultation and the repair of any damage to burial sites, remains or sacred items.

Criminal penalties for the looting and desecration of gravesites are increased, and the law adds a ban on profiteering from human remains and funerary objects through their sale, purchase or exhibition.

Tribal nations must be consulted as soon as possible when Indigenous gravesites are unintentionally disturbed or unearthed — such as during construction projects. (We already had kind of a version of this, but it wasn't strong enough.)

IDNR must set aside and maintain land solely for the reburial of repatriated Native American ancestors and their belongings, as tribal nations have pointed to the lack of protected places for reburial in Illinois as among the highest barriers to repatriation.

Institutions that display human remains that are Native American and any items that were originally buried with those individuals (funerary items) cannot charge admission. You want to display looted grave goods? No money for you. (This is specifically targeting the Dickinson Mounds Museum, which is... well, it started as a guy's private display of Native American skeletons he personally looted. The state took it over in the 90s, but they didn't rebury any of the 230~ human skeletons.)

My favorite comment is this: When asked about what he would say to museums that may push back against the law, Illinois State Rep. Mark L. Walker said: “Too bad.”

#anthropology #archaeology #NAGPRA

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mostlysignssomeportents · 23 days ago

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With Great Power Came No Responsibility

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in NYC TONIGHT (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN and at PENN STATE TOMORROW (Feb 27). More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

Last night, I traveled to Toronto to deliver the annual Ursula Franklin Lecture at the University of Toronto's Innis College:

The lecture was called "With Great Power Came No Responsibility: How Enshittification Conquered the 21st Century and How We Can Overthrow It." It's the latest major speech in my series of talks on the subject, which started with last year's McLuhan Lecture in Berlin:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

And continued with a summer Defcon keynote:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/17/hack-the-planet/#how-about-a-nice-game-of-chess

This speech specifically addresses the unique opportunities for disenshittification created by Trump's rapid unscheduled midair disassembly of the international free trade system. The US used trade deals to force nearly every country in the world to adopt the IP laws that make enshittification possible, and maybe even inevitable. As Trump burns these trade deals to the ground, the rest of the world has an unprecedented opportunity to retaliate against American bullying by getting rid of these laws and producing the tools, devices and services that can protect every tech user (including Americans) from being ripped off by US Big Tech companies.

I'm so grateful for the chance to give this talk. I was hosted for the day by the Centre for Culture and Technology, which was founded by Marshall McLuhan, and is housed in the coach house he used for his office. The talk itself took place in Innis College, named for Harold Innis, who is definitely the thinking person's Marshall McLuhan. What's more, I was mentored by Innis's daughter, Anne Innis Dagg, a radical, brilliant feminist biologist who pretty much invented the field of giraffology:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/#annedagg

But with all respect due to Anne and her dad, Ursula Franklin is the thinking person's Harold Innis. A brilliant scientist, activist and communicator who dedicated her life to the idea that the most important fact about a technology wasn't what it did, but who it did it for and who it did it to. Getting to work out of McLuhan's office to present a talk in Innis's theater that was named after Franklin? Swoon!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ursula_Franklin

Here's the text of the talk, lightly edited:

I know tonight’s talk is supposed to be about decaying tech platforms, but I want to start by talking about nurses.

A January 2025 report from Groundwork Collective documents how increasingly nurses in the USA are hired through gig apps – "Uber for nurses” – so nurses never know from one day to the next whether they're going to work, or how much they'll get paid.

There's something high-tech going on here with those nurses' wages. These nursing apps – a cartel of three companies, Shiftkey, Shiftmed and Carerev – can play all kinds of games with labor pricing.

Before Shiftkey offers a nurse a shift, it purchases that worker's credit history from a data-broker. Specifically, it pays to find out how much credit-card debt the nurse is carrying, and whether it is overdue.

The more desperate the nurse's financial straits are, the lower the wage on offer. Because the more desperate you are, the less you'll accept to come and do the gruntwork of caring for the sick, the elderly, and the dying.

Now, there are lots of things going on here, and they're all terrible. What's more, they are emblematic of “enshittification,” the word I coined to describe the decay of online platforms.

When I first started writing about this, I focused on the external symptology of enshittification, a three stage process:

First, the platform is good to its end users, while finding a way to lock them in.

Like Google, which minimized ads and maximized spending on engineering for search results, even as they bought their way to dominance, bribing every service or product with a search box to make it a Google search box.

So no matter what browser you used, what mobile OS you used, what carrier you had, you would always be searching on Google by default. This got so batshit that by the early 2020s, Google was spending enough money to buy a whole-ass Twitter, every year or two, just to make sure that no one ever tried a search engine that wasn't Google.

That's stage one: be good to end users, lock in end users.

Stage two is when the platform starts to abuse end users to tempt in and enrich business customers. For Google, that’s advertisers and web publishers. An ever-larger fraction of a Google results page is given over to ads, which are marked with ever-subtler, ever smaller, ever grayer labels. Google uses its commercial surveillance data to target ads to us.

So that's stage two: things get worse for end users and get better for business customers.

But those business customers also get locked into the platform, dependent on those customers. Once businesses are getting as little as 10% of their revenue from Google, leaving Google becomes an existential risk. We talk a lot about Google's "monopoly" power, which is derived from its dominance as a seller. But Google is also a monopsony, a powerful buyer.

So now you have Google acting as a monopolist to its users (stage one), and a monoposonist for its business customers (stage two) and here comes stage three: where Google claws back all the value in the platform, save a homeopathic residue calculated to keep end users locked in, and business customers locked to those end users.

Google becomes enshittified.

In 2019, Google had a turning point. Search had grown as much as it possibly could. More than 90% of us used Google for search, and we searched for everything. Any thought or idle question that crossed our minds, we typed into Google.

How could Google grow? There were no more users left to switch to Google. We weren't going to search for more things. What could Google do?

Well, thanks to internal memos published during last year's monopoly trial against Google, we know what they did. They made search worse. They reduced the system's accuracy it so you had to search twice or more to get to the answer, thus doubling the number of queries, and doubling the number of ads.

Meanwhile, Google entered into a secret, illegal collusive arrangement with Facebook, codenamed Jedi Blue, to rig the ad market, fixing prices so advertisers paid more and publishers got less.

And that's how we get to the enshittified Google of today, where every query serves back a blob of AI slop, over five paid results tagged with the word AD in 8-point, 10% grey on white type, which is, in turn, over ten spammy links from SEO shovelware sites filled with more AI slop.

And yet, we still keep using Google, because we're locked into it. That's enshittification, from the outside. A company that's good to end users, while locking them in. Then it makes things worse for end users, to make things better for business customers, while locking them in. Then it takes all the value for itself and turns into a giant pile of shit.

Enshittification, a tragedy in three acts.

I started off focused on the outward signs of enshittification, but I think it's time we start thinking about what's going in inside the companies to make enshittification possible.

What is the technical mechanism for enshittification? I call it twiddling. Digital businesses have infinite flexibility, bequeathed to them by the marvellously flexible digital computers they run on. That means that firms can twiddle the knobs that control the fundamental aspects of their business. Every time you interact with a firm, everything is different: prices, costs, search rankings, recommendations.

Which takes me back to our nurses. This scam, where you look up the nurse's debt load and titer down the wage you offer based on it in realtime? That's twiddling. It's something you can only do with a computer. The bosses who are doing this aren't more evil than bosses of yore, they just have better tools.

Note that these aren't even tech bosses. These are health-care bosses, who happen to have tech.

Digitalization – weaving networked computers through a firm or a sector – enables this kind of twiddling that allows firms to shift value around, from end users to business customers, from business customers back to end users, and eventually, inevitably, to themselves.

And digitalization is coming to every sector – like nursing. Which means enshittification is coming to every sector – like nursing.

The legal scholar Veena Dubal coined a term to describe the twiddling that suppresses the wages of debt-burdened nurses. It's called "Algorithmic Wage Discrimination," and it follows the gig economy.

The gig economy is a major locus of enshittification, and it’s the largest tear in the membrane separating the virtual world from the real world. Gig work, where your shitty boss is a shitty app, and you aren't even allowed to call yourself an employee.

Uber invented this trick. Drivers who are picky about the jobs the app puts in front of them start to get higher wage offers. But if they yield to temptation and take some of those higher-waged option, then the wage starts to go down again, in random intervals, by small increments, designed to be below the threshold for human perception. Not so much boiling the frog as poaching it, until the Uber driver has gone into debt to buy a new car, and given up the side hustles that let them be picky about the rides they accepted. Then their wage goes down, and down, and down.

Twiddling is a crude trick done quickly. Any task that's simple but time consuming is a prime candidate for automation, and this kind of wage-theft would be unbearably tedious, labor-intensive and expensive to perform manually. No 19th century warehouse full of guys with green eyeshades slaving over ledgers could do this. You need digitalization.

Twiddling nurses' hourly wages is a perfect example of the role digitization pays in enshittification. Because this kind of thing isn't just bad for nurses – it's bad for patients, too. Do we really think that paying nurses based on how desperate they are, at a rate calculated to increase that desperation, and thus decrease the wage they are likely to work for, is going to result in nurses delivering the best care?

Do you want to your catheter inserted by a nurse on food stamps, who drove an Uber until midnight the night before, and skipped breakfast this morning in order to make rent?

This is why it’s so foolish to say "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product." “If you’re not paying for the product” ascribes a mystical power to advertising-driven services: the power to bypass our critical faculties by surveilling us, and data-mining the resulting dossiers to locate our mental bind-spots, and weaponize them to get us to buy anything an advertiser is selling.

In this formulation, we are complicit in our own exploitation. By choosing to use "free" services, we invite our own exploitation by surveillance capitalists who have perfected a mind-control ray powered by the surveillance data we're voluntarily handing over by choosing ad-driven services.

The moral is that if we only went back to paying for things, instead of unrealistically demanding that everything be free, we would restore capitalism to its functional, non-surveillant state, and companies would start treating us better, because we'd be the customers, not the products.

That's why the surveillance capitalism hypothesis elevates companies like Apple as virtuous alternatives. Because Apple charges us money, rather than attention, it can focus on giving us better service, rather than exploiting us.

There's a superficially plausible logic to this. After all, in 2022, Apple updated its iOS operating system, which runs on iPhones and other mobile devices, introducing a tick box that allowed you to opt out of third-party surveillance, most notably Facebook’s.

96% of Apple customers ticked that box. The other 4% were, presumably drunk, or Facebook employees, or Facebook employees who were drunk. Which makes sense, because if I worked for Facebook, I'd be drunk all the time.

So on the face of it, it seems like Apple isn't treating its customers like "the product." But simultaneously with this privacy measure, Apple was secretly turning on its own surveillance system for iPhone owners, which would spy on them in exactly the way Facebook had, for exactly the same purpose: to target ads to you based on the places you'd been, the things you'd searched for, the communications you'd had, the links you'd clicked.

Apple didn't ask its customers for permission to spy on them. It didn't let opt out of this spying. It didn’t even tell them about it, and when it was caught, Apple lied about it.

It goes without saying that the $1000 Apple distraction rectangle in your pocket is something you paid for. The fact that you've paid for it doesn't stop Apple from treating you as the product. Apple treats its business customers – app vendors – like the product, screwing them out of 30 cents on every dollar they bring in, with mandatory payment processing fees that are 1,000% higher than the already extortionate industry norm.

Apple treats its end users – people who shell out a grand for a phone – like the product, spying on them to help target ads to them.

Apple treats everyone like the product.

This is what's going on with our gig-app nurses: the nurses are the product. The patients are the product. The hospitals are the product. In enshittification, "the product" is anyone who can be productized.

Fair and dignified treatment is not something you get as a customer loyalty perk, in exchange for parting with your money, rather than your attention. How do you get fair and dignified treatment? Well, I'm gonna get to that, but let's stay with our nurses for a while first.

The nurses are the product, and they're being twiddled, because they've been conscripted into the tech industry, via the digitalization of their own industry.

It's tempting to blame digitalization for this. But tech companies were not born enshittified. They spent years – decades – making pleasing products. If you're old enough to remember the launch of Google, you'll recall that, at the outset, Google was magic.

You could Ask Jeeves questions for a million years, you could load up Altavista with ten trillion boolean search operators meant to screen out low-grade results, and never come up with answers as crisp, as useful, as helpful, as the ones you'd get from a few vaguely descriptive words in a Google search-bar.

There's a reason we all switched to Google. Why so many of us bought iPhones. Why we joined our friends on Facebook. All of these services were born digital. They could have enshittified at any time. But they didn't – until they did. And they did it all at once.

If you were a nurse, and every patient that staggered into the ER had the same dreadful symptoms, you'd call the public health department and report a suspected outbreak of a new and dangerous epidemic.

Ursula Franklin held that technology's outcomes were not preordained. They are the result of deliberate choices. I like that very much, it's a very science fictional way of thinking about technology. Good science fiction isn't merely about what the technology does, but who it does it for, and who it does it to.

Those social factors are far more important than the mere technical specifications of a gadget. They're the difference between a system that warns you when you're about to drift out of your lane, and a system that tells your insurer that you nearly drifted out of your lane, so they can add $10 to your monthly premium.

They’re the difference between a spell checker that lets you know you've made a typo, and bossware that lets your manager use the number of typos you made this quarter so he can deny your bonus.

They’re the difference between an app that remembers where you parked your car, and an app that uses the location of your car as a criteria for including you in a reverse warrant for the identities of everyone in the vicinity of an anti-government protest.

I believe that enshittification is caused by changes not to technology, but to the policy environment. These are changes to the rules of the game, undertaken in living memory, by named parties, who were warned at the time about the likely outcomes of their actions, who are today very rich and respected, and face no consequences or accountability for their role in ushering in the enshittocene. They venture out into polite society without ever once wondering if someone is sizing them up for a pitchfork.

In other words: I think we created a crimogenic environment, a perfect breeding pool for the most pathogenic practices in our society, that have therefore multiplied, dominating decision-making in our firms and states, leading to a vast enshittening of everything.

And I think there's good news there, because if enshittification isn't the result a new kind of evil person, or the great forces of history bearing down on the moment to turn everything to shit, but rather the result of specific policy choices, then we can reverse those policies, make better ones and emerge from the enshittocene, consigning the enshitternet to the scrapheap of history, a mere transitional state between the old, good internet, and a new, good internet.

I'm not going to talk about AI today, because oh my god is AI a boring, overhyped subject. But I will use a metaphor about AI, about the limited liability company, which is a kind of immortal, artificial colony organism in which human beings serve as a kind of gut flora. My colleague Charlie Stross calls corporations "slow AI.”

So you've got these slow AIs whose guts are teeming with people, and the AI's imperative, the paperclip it wants to maximize, is profit. To maximize profits, you charge as much as you can, you pay your workers and suppliers as little as you can, you spend as little as possible on safety and quality.

Every dollar you don't spend on suppliers, workers, quality or safety is a dollar that can go to executives and shareholders. So there's a simple model of the corporation that could maximize its profits by charging infinity dollars, while paying nothing to its workers or suppliers, and ignoring quality and safety.

But that corporation wouldn't make any money, for the obvious reasons that none of us would buy what it was selling, and no one would work for it or supply it with goods. These constraints act as disciplining forces that tamp down the AI's impulse to charge infinity and pay nothing.

In tech, we have four of these constraints, anti-enshittificatory sources of discipline that make products and services better, pay workers more, and keep executives’ and shareholders' wealth from growing at the expense of customers, suppliers and labor.

The first of these constraints is markets. All other things being equal, a business that charges more and delivers less will lose customers to firms that are more generous about sharing value with workers, customers and suppliers.

This is the bedrock of capitalist theory, and it's the ideological basis for competition law, what our American cousins call "antitrust law."

The first antitrust law was 1890's Sherman Act, whose sponsor, Senator John Sherman, stumped for it from the senate floor, saying:

If we will not endure a King as a political power we should not endure a King over the production, transportation, and sale of the necessaries of life. If we would not submit to an emperor we should not submit to an autocrat of trade with power to prevent competition and to fix the price of any commodity.

Senator Sherman was reflecting the outrage of the anitmonopolist movement of the day, when proprietors of monopolistic firms assumed the role of dictators, with the power to decide who would work, who would starve, what could be sold, and what it cost.

Lacking competitors, they were too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care. As Lily Tomlin used to put it in her spoof AT&T ads on SNL: "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.”

So what happened to the disciplining force of competition? We killed it. Starting 40-some years ago, the Reagaonomic views of the Chicago School economists transformed antitrust. They threw out John Sherman's idea that we need to keep companies competitive to prevent the emergence of "autocrats of trade,"and installed the idea that monopolies are efficient.

In other words, if Google has a 90% search market share, which it does, then we must infer that Google is the best search engine ever, and the best search engine possible. The only reason a better search engine hasn't stepped in is that Google is so skilled, so efficient, that there is no conceivable way to improve upon it.

We can tell that Google is the best because it has a monopoly, and we can tell that the monopoly is good because Google is the best.

So 40 years ago, the US – and its major trading partners – adopted an explicitly pro-monopoly competition policy.

Now, you'll be glad to hear that this isn't what happened to Canada. The US Trade Rep didn't come here and force us to neuter our competition laws. But don't get smug! The reason that didn't happen is that it didn't have to. Because Canada had no competition law to speak of, and never has.

In its entire history, the Competition Bureau has challenged three mergers, and it has halted precisely zero mergers, which is how we've ended up with a country that is beholden to the most mediocre plutocrats imaginable like the Irvings, the Westons, the Stronachs, the McCains and the Rogerses.

The only reason these chinless wonders were able to conquer this country Is that the Americans had been crushing their monopolists before they could conquer the US and move on to us. But 40 years ago, the rest of the world adopted the Chicago School's pro-monopoly "consumer welfare standard,” and we got…monopolies.

Monopolies in pharma, beer, glass bottles, vitamin C, athletic shoes, microchips, cars, mattresses, eyeglasses, and, of course, professional wrestling.

Remember: these are specific policies adopted in living memory, by named individuals, who were warned, and got rich, and never faced consequences. The economists who conceived of these policies are still around today, polishing their fake Nobel prizes, teaching at elite schools, making millions consulting for blue-chip firms.

When we confront them with the wreckage their policies created, they protest their innocence, maintaining – with a straight face – that there's no way to affirmatively connect pro-monopoly policies with the rise of monopolies.

It's like we used to put down rat poison and we didn't have a rat problem. Then these guys made us stop, and now rats are chewing our faces off, and they're making wide innocent eyes, saying, "How can you be sure that our anti-rat-poison policies are connected to global rat conquest? Maybe this is simply the Time of the Rat! Maybe sunspots caused rats to become more fecund than at any time in history! And if they bought the rat poison factories and shut them all down, well, so what of it? Shutting down rat poison factories after you've decided to stop putting down rat poison is an economically rational, Pareto-optimal decision."

Markets don't discipline tech companies because they don't compete with rivals, they buy them. That's a quote, from Mark Zuckerberg: “It is better to buy than to compete.”

Which is why Mark Zuckerberg bought Instagram for a billion dollars, even though it only had 12 employees and 25m users. As he wrote in a spectacularly ill-advised middle-of-the-night email to his CFO, he had to buy Instagram, because Facebook users were leaving Facebook for Instagram. By buying Instagram, Zuck ensured that anyone who left Facebook – the platform – would still be a prisoner of Facebook – the company.

Despite the fact that Zuckerberg put this confession in writing, the Obama administration let him go ahead with the merger, because every government, of every political stripe, for 40 years, adopted the posture that monopolies were efficient.

Now, think about our twiddled, immiserated nurses. Hospitals are among the most consolidated sectors in the US. First, we deregulated pharma mergers, and the pharma companies gobbled each other up at the rate of naughts, and they jacked up the price of drugs. So hospitals also merged to monopoly, a defensive maneuver that let a single hospital chain corner the majority of a region or city and say to the pharma companies, "either you make your products cheaper, or you can't sell them to any of our hospitals."

Of course, once this mission was accomplished, the hospitals started screwing the insurers, who staged their own incestuous orgy, buying and merging until most Americans have just three or two insurance options. This let the insurers fight back against the hospitals, but left patients and health care workers defenseless against the consolidated power of hospitals, pharma companies, pharmacy benefit managers, group purchasing organizations, and other health industry cartels, duopolies and monopolies.

Which is why nurses end up signing on to work for hospitals that use these ghastly apps. Remember, there's just three of these apps, replacing dozens of staffing agencies that once competed for nurses' labor.

Meanwhile, on the patient side, competition has never exercised discipline. No one ever shopped around for a cheaper ambulance or a better ER while they were having a heart attack. The price that people are willing to pay to not die is “everything they have.”

So you have this sector that has no business being a commercial enterprise in the first place, losing what little discipline they faced from competition, paving the way for enshittification.

But I said there are four forces that discipline companies. The second one of these forces is regulation, discipline imposed by states.

It’s a mistake to see market discipline and state discipline as two isolated realms. They are intimately connected. Because competition is a necessary condition for effective regulation.

Let me put this in terms that even the most ideological libertarians can understand. Say you think there should be precisely one regulation that governments should enforce: honoring contracts. For the government to serve as referee in that game, it must have the power to compel the players to honor their contracts. Which means that the smallest government you can have is determined by the largest corporation you're willing to permit.

So even if you're the kind of Musk-addled libertarian who can no longer open your copy of Atlas Shrugged because the pages are all stuck together, who pines for markets for human kidneys, and demands the right to sell yourself into slavery, you should still want a robust antitrust regime, so that these contracts can be enforced.

When a sector cartelizes, when it collapses into oligarchy, when the internet turns into "five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four," then it captures its regulators.

After all, a sector with 100 competing companies is a rabble, at each others' throats. They can't agree on anything, especially how they're going to lobby.

While a sector of five companies – or four – or three – or two – or one – is a cartel, a racket, a conspiracy in waiting. A sector that has been boiled down to a mere handful of firms can agree on a common lobbying position.

What's more, they are so insulated from "wasteful competition" that they are aslosh in cash that they can mobilize to make their regulatory preferences into regulations. In other words, they can capture their regulators.

“Regulatory capture" may sound abstract and complicated, so let me put it in concrete terms. In the UK, the antitrust regulator is called the Competition and Markets Authority, run – until recently – by Marcus Bokkerink. The CMA has been one of the world's most effective investigators and regulators of Big Tech fuckery.

Last month, UK PM Keir Starmer fired Bokkerink and replaced him with Doug Gurr, the former head of Amazon UK. Hey, Starmer, the henhouse is on the line, they want their fox back.

But back to our nurses: there are plenty of examples of regulatory capture lurking in that example, but I'm going to pick the most egregious one, the fact that there are data brokers who will sell you information about the credit card debts of random Americans.

This is because the US Congress hasn't passed a new consumer privacy law since 1988, when Ronald Reagan signed a law called the Video Privacy Protection Act that bans video store clerks from telling newspapers which VHS cassettes you took home. The fact that Congress hasn't updated Americans' privacy protections since Die Hard was in theaters isn't a coincidence or an oversight. It is the expensively purchased inaction of a heavily concentrated – and thus wildly profitable – privacy-invasion industry that has monetized the abuse of human rights at unimaginable scale.

The coalition in favor of keeping privacy law frozen since the season finale of St Elsewhere keeps growing, because there is an unbounded set of way to transform the systematic invasion of our human rights into cash. There's a direct line from this phenomenon to nurses whose paychecks go down when they can't pay their credit-card bills.

So competition is dead, regulation is dead, and companies aren't disciplined by markets or by states.

But there are four forces that discipline firms, contributing to an inhospitable environment for the reproduction of sociopathic. enshittifying monsters.

So let's talk about those other two forces. The first is interoperability, the principle of two or more things working together. Like, you can put anyone's shoelaces in your shoes, anyone's gas in your gas tank, and anyone's lightbulbs in your light-socket. In the non-digital world, interop takes a lot of work, you have to agree on the direction, pitch, diameter, voltage, amperage and wattage for that light socket, or someone's gonna get their hand blown off.

But in the digital world, interop is built in, because there's only one kind of computer we know how to make, the Turing-complete, universal, von Neumann machine, a computing machine capable of executing every valid program.

Which means that for any enshittifying program, there's a counterenshittificatory program waiting to be run. When HP writes a program to ensure that its printers reject third-party ink, someone else can write a program to disable that checking.

For gig workers, antienshittificatory apps can do yeoman duty. For example, Indonesian gig drivers formed co-ops, that commission hackers to write modifications for their dispatch apps. For example, the taxi app won't book a driver to pick someone up at a train station, unless they're right outside, but when the big trains pull in that's a nightmare scene of total, lethal chaos.

So drivers have an app that lets them spoof their GPS, which lets them park up around the corner, but have the app tell their bosses that they're right out front of the station. When a fare arrives, they can zip around and pick them up, without contributing to the stationside mishegas.

In the USA, a company called Para shipped an app to help Doordash drivers get paid more. You see, Doordash drivers make most of their money on tips, and the Doordash driver app hides the tip amount until you accept a job, meaning you don't know whether you're accepting a job that pays $1.50 or $11.50 with tip, until you agree to take it. So Para made an app that extracted the tip amount and showed it to drivers before they clocked on.

But Doordash shut it down, because in America, apps like Para are illegal. In 1998, Bill Clinton signed a law called the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, and section 1201 of the DMCA makes is a felony to "bypass an access control for a copyrighted work," with penalties of $500k and a 5-year prison sentence for a first offense. So just the act of reverse-engineering an app like the Doordash app is a potential felony, which is why companies are so desperately horny to get you to use their apps rather than their websites.

The web is open, apps are closed. The majority of web users have installed an ad blocker (which is also a privacy blocker). But no one installs an ad blocker for an app, because it's a felony to distribute that tool, because you have to reverse-engineer the app to make it. An app is just a website wrapped in enough IP so that the company that made it can send you to prison if you dare to modify it so that it serves your interests rather than theirs.

Around the world, we have enacted a thicket of laws, we call “IP laws,” that make it illegal to modify services, products, and devices, so that they serve your interests, rather than the interests of the shareholders.

Like I said, these laws were enacted in living memory, by people who are among us, who were warned about the obvious, eminently foreseeable consequences of their reckless plans, who did it anyway.

Back in 2010, two ministers from Stephen Harper's government decided to copy-paste America's Digital Millennium Copyright Act into Canadian law. They consulted on the proposal to make it illegal to reverse engineer and modify services, products and devices, and they got an earful! 6,138 Canadians sent in negative comments on the consultation. They warned that making it illegal to bypass digital locks would interfere with repair of devices as diverse as tractors, cars, and medical equipment, from ventilators to insulin pumps.

These Canadians warned that laws banning tampering with digital locks would let American tech giants corner digital markets, forcing us to buy our apps and games from American app stores, that could cream off any commission they chose to levy. They warned that these laws were a gift to monopolists who wanted to jack up the price of ink; that these copyright laws, far from serving Canadian artists would lock us to American platforms. Because every time someone in our audience bought a book, a song, a game, a video, that was locked to an American app, it could never be unlocked.

So if we, the creative workers of Canada, tried to migrate to a Canadian store, our audience couldn't come with us. They couldn't move their purchases from the US app to a Canadian one.

6,138 Canadians told them this, while just 54 respondents sided with Heritage Minister James Moore and Industry Minister Tony Clement. Then, James Moore gave a speech, at the International Chamber of Commerce meeting here in Toronto, where he said he would only be listening to the 54 cranks who supported his terrible ideas, on the grounds that the 6,138 people who disagreed with him were "babyish…radical extremists."

So in 2012, we copied America's terrible digital locks law into the Canadian statute book, and now we live in James Moore and Tony Clement's world, where it is illegal to tamper with a digital lock. So if a company puts a digital lock on its product they can do anything behind that lock, and it's a crime to undo it.

For example, if HP puts a digital lock on its printers that verifies that you're not using third party ink cartridges, or refilling an HP cartridge, it's a crime to bypass that lock and use third party ink. Which is how HP has gotten away with ratcheting the price of ink up, and up, and up.

Printer ink is now the most expensive fluid that a civilian can purchase without a special permit. It's colored water that costs $10k/gallon, which means that you print out your grocery lists with liquid that costs more than the semen of a Kentucky Derby-winning stallion.

That's the world we got from Clement and Moore, in living memory, after they were warned, and did it anyway. The world where farmers can't fix their tractors, where independent mechanics can't fix your car, where hospitals during the pandemic lockdowns couldn't service their failing ventilators, where every time a Canadian iPhone user buys an app from a Canadian software author, every dollar they spend takes a round trip through Apple HQ in Cupertino, California and comes back 30 cents lighter.

Let me remind you this is the world where a nurse can't get a counter-app, a plug-in, for the “Uber for nurses” app they have to use to get work, that lets them coordinate with other nurses to refuse shifts until the wages on offer rise to a common level or to block surveillance of their movements and activity.

Interoperability was a major disciplining force on tech firms. After all, if you make the ads on your website sufficiently obnoxious, some fraction of your users will install an ad-blocker, and you will never earn another penny from them. Because no one in the history of ad-blockers has ever uninstalled an ad-blocker. But once it's illegal to make an ad-blocker, there's no reason not to make the ads as disgusting, invasive, obnoxious as you can, to shift all the value from the end user to shareholders and executives.

So we get monopolies and monopolies capture their regulators, and they can ignore the laws they don't like, and prevent laws that might interfere with their predatory conduct – like privacy laws – from being passed. They get new laws passed, laws that let them wield governmental power to prevent other companies from entering the market.

So three of the four forces are neutralized: competition, regulation, and interoperability. That left just one disciplining force holding enshittification at bay: labor.

Tech workers are a strange sort of workforce, because they have historically been very powerful, able to command high wages and respect, but they did it without joining unions. Union density in tech is abysmal, almost undetectable. Tech workers' power didn't come from solidarity, it came from scarcity. There weren't enough workers to fill the jobs going begging, and tech workers are unfathomnably productive. Even with the sky-high salaries tech workers commanded, every hour of labor they put in generated far more value for their employers.

Faced with a tight labor market, and the ability to turn every hour of tech worker overtime into gold, tech bosses pulled out all the stops to motivate that workforce. They appealed to workers' sense of mission, convinced them they were holy warriors, ushering in a new digital age. Google promised them they would "organize the world's information and make it useful.” Facebook promised them they would “make the world more open and connected."

There's a name for this tactic: the librarian Fobazi Ettarh calls it "vocational awe." That’s where an appeal to a sense of mission and pride is used to motivate workers to work for longer hours and worse pay.

There are all kinds of professions that run on vocational awe: teaching, daycares and eldercare, and, of course, nursing.

Techies are different from those other workers though, because they've historically been incredibly scarce, which meant that while bosses could motivate them to work on projects they believed in, for endless hours, the minute bosses ordered them to enshittify the projects they'd missed their mothers' funerals to ship on deadline these workers would tell their bosses to fuck off.

If their bosses persisted in these demands, the techies would walk off the job, cross the street, and get a better job the same day.

So for many years, tech workers were the fourth and final constraint, holding the line after the constraints of competition, regulation and interop slipped away. But then came the mass tech layoffs. 260,000 in 2023; 150,000 in 2024; tens of thousands this year, with Facebook planning a 5% headcount massacre while doubling its executive bonuses.

Tech workers can't tell their bosses to go fuck themselves anymore, because there's ten other workers waiting to take their jobs.

Now, I promised I wouldn't talk about AI, but I have to break that promise a little, just to point out that the reason tech bosses are so horny for AI Is because they think it'll let them fire tech workers and replace them with pliant chatbots who'll never tell them to fuck off.

So that's where enshittification comes from: multiple changes to the environment. The fourfold collapse of competition, regulation, interoperability and worker power creates an enshittogenic environment, where the greediest, most sociopathic elements in the body corporate thrive at the expense of those elements that act as moderators of their enshittificatory impulses.

We can try to cure these corporations. We can use antitrust law to break them up, fine them, force strictures upon them. But until we fix the environment, other the contagion will spread to other firms.

So let's talk about how we create a hostile environment for enshittifiers, so the population and importance of enshittifying agents in companies dwindles to 1990s levels. We won't get rid of these elements. So long as the profit motive is intact, there will be people whose pursuit of profit is pathological, unmoderated by shame or decency. But we can change the environment so that these don't dominate our lives.

Let's talk about antitrust. After 40 years of antitrust decline, this decade has seen a massive, global resurgence of antitrust vigor, one that comes in both left- and right-wing flavors.

Over the past four years, the Biden administration’s trustbusters at the Federal Trade Commission, Department of Justice and Consumer Finance Protection Bureau did more antitrust enforcement than all their predecessors for the past 40 years combined.

There's certainly factions of the Trump administration that are hostile to this agenda but Trump's antitrust enforcers at the DoJ and FTC now say that they'll preserve and enforce Biden's new merger guidelines, which stop companies from buying each other up, and they've already filed suit to block a giant tech merger.

Of course, last summer a judge found Google guilty of monopolization, and now they're facing a breakup, which explains why they've been so generous and friendly to the Trump administration.

Meanwhile, in Canada, our toothless Competition Bureau's got fitted for a set of titanium dentures last June, when Bill C59 passed Parliament, granting sweeping new powers to our antitrust regulator.

It's true that UK PM Keir Starmer just fired the head of the UK Competition and Markets Authority and replaced him with the ex-boss of Amazon UK boss.But the thing that makes that so tragic is that the UK CMA had been doing astonishingly great work under various conservative governments.

In the EU, they've passed the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act, and they're going after Big Tech with both barrels. Other countries around the world – Australia, Germany, France, Japan, South Korea and China (yes, China!) – have passed new antitrust laws, and launched major antitrust enforcement actions, often collaborating with each other.

So you have the UK Competition and Markets Authority using its investigatory powers to research and publish a deep market study on Apple's abusive 30% app tax, and then the EU uses that report as a roadmap for fining Apple, and then banning Apple's payments monopoly under new regulations.Then South Korea and Japan trustbusters translate the EU's case and win nearly identical cases in their courts

What about regulatory capture? Well, we're starting to see regulators get smarter about reining in Big Tech. For example, the EU's Digital Markets Act and Digital Services Act were designed to bypass the national courts of EU member states, especially Ireland, the tax-haven where US tech companies pretend to have their EU headquarters.

The thing about tax havens is that they always turn into crime havens, because if Apple can pretend to be Irish this week, it can pretend to be Maltese or Cypriot or Luxembourgeois next week. So Ireland has to let US Big Tech companies ignore EU privacy laws and other regulations, or it'll lose them to sleazier, more biddable competitor nations.

So from now on, EU tech regulation is getting enforced in the EU's federal courts, not in national courts, treating the captured Irish courts as damage and routing around them.

Canada needs to strengthen its own tech regulation enforcement, unwinding monopolistic mergers from the likes of Bell and Rogers, but most of all, Canada needs to pursue an interoperability agenda.

Last year, Canada passed two very exciting bills: Bill C244, a national Right to Repair law; and Bill C294, an interoperability law. Nominally, both of these laws allow Canadians to fix everything from tractors to insulin pumps, and to modify the software in their devices from games consoles to printers, so they will work with third party app stores, consumables and add-ons.

However, these bills are essentially useless, because these bills don’t permit Canadians to acquire tools to break digital locks. So you can modify your printer to accept third party ink, or interpret a car's diagnostic codes so any mechanic can fix it, but only if there isn't a digital lock stopping you from doing so, because giving someone a tool to break a digital lock remains illegal thanks to the law that James Moore and Tony Clement shoved down the nation's throat in 2012.

And every single printer, smart speaker, car, tractor, appliance, medical implant and hospital medical device has a digital lock that stops you from fixing it, modifying it, or using third party parts, software, or consumables in it.

Which means that these two landmark laws on repair and interop are useless. So why not get rid of the 2012 law that bans breaking digital locks? Because these laws are part of our trade agreement with the USA. This is a law needed to maintain tariff-free access to US markets.

I don’t know if you've heard, but Donald Trump is going to impose a 25%, across-the-board tariff against Canadian exports. Trudeau's response is to impose retaliatory tariffs, which will make every American product that Canadians buy 25% more expensive. This is a very weird way to punish America!

You know what would be better? Abolish the Canadian laws that protect US Big Tech companies from Canadian competition. Make it legal to reverse-engineer, jailbreak and modify American technology products and services. Don't ask Facebook to pay a link tax to Canadian newspapers, make it legal to jailbreak all of Meta's apps and block all the ads in them, so Mark Zuckerberg doesn't make a dime off of us.

Make it legal for Canadian mechanics to jailbreak your Tesla and unlock every subscription feature, like autopilot and full access to your battery, for one price, forever. So you get more out of your car, and when you sell it, then next owner continues to enjoy those features, meaning they'll pay more for your used car.

That's how you hurt Elon Musk: not by being performatively appalled at his Nazi salutes. That doesn't cost him a dime. He loves the attention. No! Strike at the rent-extracting, insanely high-margin aftermarket subscriptions he relies on for his Swastikar business. Kick that guy right in the dongle!

Let Canadians stand up a Canadian app store for Apple devices, one that charges 3% to process transactions, not 30%. Then, every Canadian news outlet that sells subscriptions through an app, and every Canadian software author, musician and writer who sells through a mobile platform gets a 25% increase in revenues overnight, without signing up a single new customer.

But we can sign up new customers, by selling jailbreaking software and access to Canadian app stores, for every mobile device and games console to everyone in the world, and by pitching every games publisher and app maker on selling in the Canadian app store to customers anywhere without paying a 30% vig to American big tech companies.

We could sell every mechanic in the world a $100/month subscription to a universal diagnostic tool. Every farmer in the world could buy a kit that would let them fix their own John Deere tractors without paying a $200 callout charge for a Deere technician who inspects the repair the farmer is expected to perform.

They'd beat a path to our door. Canada could become a tech export powerhouse, while making everything cheaper for Canadian tech users, while making everything more profitable for anyone who sells media or software in an online store. And – this is the best part – it’s a frontal assault on the largest, most profitable US companies, the companies that are single-handedly keeping the S&P 500 in the black, striking directly at their most profitable lines of business, taking the revenues from those ripoff scams from hundreds of billions to zero, overnight, globally.

We don't have to stop at exporting reasonably priced pharmaceuticals to Americans! We could export the extremely lucrative tools of technological liberation to our American friends, too.

That's how you win a trade-war.

What about workers? Here we have good news and bad news.

The good news is that public approval for unions is at a high mark last seen in the early 1970s, and more workers want to join a union than at any time in generations, and unions themselves are sitting on record-breaking cash reserves they could be using to organize those workers.

But here's the bad news. The unions spent the Biden years, when they had the most favorable regulatory environment since the Carter administration, when public support for unions was at an all-time high, when more workers than ever wanted to join a union, when they had more money than ever to spend on unionizing those workers, doing fuck all. They allocatid mere pittances to union organizing efforts with the result that we finished the Biden years with fewer unionized workers than we started them with.

Then we got Trump, who illegally fired National Labor Relations Board member Gwynne Wilcox, leaving the NLRB without a quorum and thus unable to act on unfair labor practices or to certify union elections.

This is terrible. But it’s not game over. Trump fired the referees, and he thinks that this means the game has ended. But here's the thing: firing the referee doesn't end the game, it just means we're throwing out the rules. Trump thinks that labor law creates unions, but he's wrong. Unions are why we have labor law. Long before unions were legal, we had unions, who fought goons and ginks and company finks in` pitched battles in the streets.

That illegal solidarity resulted in the passage of labor law, which legalized unions. Labor law is passed because workers build power through solidarity. Law doesn't create that solidarity, it merely gives it a formal basis in law. Strip away that formal basis, and the worker power remains.

Worker power is the answer to vocational awe. After all, it's good for you and your fellow workers to feel a sense of mission about your jobs. If you feel that sense of mission, if you feel the duty to protect your users, your patients, your patrons, your students, a union lets you fulfill that duty.

We saw that in 2023 when Doug Ford promised to destroy the power of Ontario's public workers. Workers across the province rose up, promising a general strike, and Doug Ford folded like one of his cheap suits. Workers kicked the shit out of him, and we'll do it again. Promises made, promises kept.

The unscheduled midair disassembly of American labor law means that workers can have each others' backs again. Tech workers need other workers' help, because tech workers aren't scarce anymore, not after a half-million layoffs. Which means tech bosses aren't afraid of them anymore.

We know how tech bosses treat workers they aren't afraid of. Look at Jeff Bezos: the workers in his warehouses are injured on the job at 3 times the national rate, his delivery drivers have to pee in bottles, and they are monitored by AI cameras that snitch on them if their eyeballs aren't in the proscribed orientation or if their mouth is open too often while they drive, because policy forbids singing along to the radio.

By contrast, Amazon coders get to show up for work with pink mohawks, facial piercings, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don't understand. They get to pee whenever they want. Jeff Bezos isn't sentimental about tech workers, nor does he harbor a particularized hatred of warehouse workers and delivery drivers. He treats his workers as terribly as he can get away with. That means that the pee bottles are coming for the coders, too.

It's not just Amazon, of course. Take Apple. Tim Cook was elevated to CEO in 2011. Apple's board chose him to succeed founder Steve Jobs because he is the guy who figured out how to shift Apple's production to contract manufacturers in China, without skimping on quality assurance, or suffering leaks of product specifications ahead of the company's legendary showy launches.

Today, Apple's products are made in a gigantic Foxconn factory in Zhengzhou nicknamed "iPhone City.” Indeed, these devices arrive in shipping containers at the Port of Los Angeles in a state of pristine perfection, manufactured to the finest tolerances, and free of any PR leaks.

To achieve this miraculous supply chain, all Tim Cook had to do was to make iPhone City a living hell, a place that is so horrific to work that they had to install suicide nets around the worker dorms to catch the plummeting bodies of workers who were so brutalized by Tim Cook's sweatshop that they attempted to take their own lives.

Tim Cook is also not sentimentally attached to tech workers, nor is he hostile to Chinese assembly line workers. He just treats his workers as badly as he can get away with, and with mass layoffs in the tech sector he can treat his coders much, much worse

How do tech workers get unions? Well, there are tech-specific organizations like Tech Solidarity and the Tech Workers Coalition. But tech workers will only get unions by having solidarity with other workers and receiving solidarity back from them. We all need to support every union. All workers need to have each other's backs.

We are entering a period of omnishambolic polycrisis.The ominous rumble of climate change, authoritarianism, genocide, xenophobia and transphobia has turned into an avalanche. The perpetrators of these crimes against humanity have weaponized the internet, colonizing the 21st century's digital nervous system, using it to attack its host, threatening civilization itself.

The enshitternet was purpose-built for this kind of apocalyptic co-option, organized around giant corporations who will trade a habitable planet and human rights for a three percent tax cut, who default us all into twiddle-friendly algorithmic feed, and block the interoperability that would let us escape their clutches with the backing of powerful governments whom they can call upon to "protect their IP rights."

It didn't have to be this way. The enshitternet was not inevitable. It was the product of specific policy choices, made in living memory, by named individuals.

No one came down off a mountain with two stone tablets, intoning Tony Clement, James Moore: Thou shalt make it a crime for Canadians to jailbreak their phones. Those guys chose enshittification, throwing away thousands of comments from Canadians who warned them what would come of it.

We don't have to be eternal prisoners of the catastrophic policy blunders of mediocre Tory ministers. As the omnicrisis polyshambles unfolds around us, we have the means, motive and opportunity to craft Canadian policies that bolster our sovereignty, protect our rights, and help us to set every technology user, in every country (including the USA) free.

The Trump presidency is an existential crisis but it also presents opportunities. When life gives you SARS, you make sarsaparilla. We once had an old, good internet, whose major defect was that it required too much technical expertise to use, so all our normie friends were excluded from that wondrous playground.

Web 2.0's online services had greased slides that made it easy for anyone to get online, but escaping from those Web 2.0 walled gardens meant was like climbing out of a greased pit. A new, good internet is possible, and necessary. We can build it, with all the technological self-determination of the old, good internet, and the ease of use of Web 2.0.

A place where we can find each other, coordinate and mobilize to resist and survive climate collapse, fascism, genocide and authoritarianism. We can build that new, good internet, and we must.

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/2025/02/26/ursula-franklin/#enshittification-eh

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endereies · 1 month ago

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TAKING CARE OF YOU - MS

Warnings - Sub!Matt, handjob/blowjob, riding, slight praise kink, no protection, pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweet boy), slight mommy kink, I think that's it? Summary - Matt just wants you to take care of him and distract him from his long day Word count - 4.5k Author's notes - I never know how to structure these warnings, summaries etc but anyway. This took exactly a month to write and I couldn't tell you why. To be honest it isn't easy trying to write Matt whining during class so I am gonna blame that! As always, I do try to make sure it's written realistically and in enough detail but of course I'm open to suggestions etc. On that note, enjoy sub!matt.

You could tell just the day that Matt had. His feet dragging lazily on the floor when he walked through the front door, his keys landing in a small bowl and his bags dropped onto the couch. A long sigh brushed past his lips. His shoulders tense. He steadily removes his jumper, the extra heat and fabric overwhelming his senses. Even if he wasn't sure if you were inside, he didn't call out to check. However, he needed a recharge and he knew he would have to find you to get it.

"Baby..?" After a few calls, he finally found you. You were swaddled in blankets with your headphone covering your ears - no wonder you didn't respond. A new book purchase sat tight in the grip of your palms. When you moved to the top of the next page you smiled at the sight of your boyfriend. He set his eyes on you, entering with his own smile. "Hey..."

His voice was meek, and not due to the proximity. It wasn't just tender, but tired. "Long day?" You'd pick up the subtle hints of his behaviour as you grew to know him and by now you could read him like an open book.

He nods at your care, your book placed on the bedside table. Once he made eye-contact with you, the previous hours rushed to the back of his head. His feet slugged forwards rounding the bed before collapsing next to you. A groan is muffled into the pillow before he shifts his position to be almost completely on top of you. You never complained when he did this, the closeness was something you craved .

"My head is a mess, Chris won't stop yelling any chance he gets and Nick just kept encouraging it. It's- It's too much." He hadn't lied, his head was a mess. The loudness consumed everything and he just needed things to be quiet, managed for him without using any extra brain power.

His body lifts to face you straight on, his breath lingering on your skin. He dropped his head to your neck, grazing his lips against it. They touched hesitantly, placing a soft kiss on your skin before peppering a few more. His mind was in turmoil and he needed you to drown it out. You sighed at the contact which only made his brain fuzz.

"You want something, pretty boy?" A chuckle breaks the following silence, Matt's own lips curling into a weak smile. He nodded as he placed one final kiss. "Can you just- fuck- I just need you, please?"

"Of course baby, you want me on top for you?" After a hum of approval he leant back and off your body, sitting up straight. "Mhm, yeah... I do."

You sat up along side him, tugging at your shirt slightly before prying it off your body. You didn't do it teasingly, yet slow enough to let Matt enjoy it. His gaze dropped low, eyeing your chest thoroughly. A quiet cuss left his mouth as he continued to stare. "What do you want, Matt...you want me to ride you?" Your voice was painfully low, your words tormenting his brain.

"I do but-" He pauses, working through the hesitancy of his thoughts. "Can you suck me first, I don't want it to be too much..." A blush formed on his cheeks, any form of dominance sliding away.

More often than not, Matt would only beg when he wanted to please you, eat you out for hours or treat you perfectly when you wanted to refuse. Yet, you adored the times like this where he would allow himself to fall into his level of trust for you. You adored his comfortability too.

"Of course I can, I'll take care of you, yeah?" Once he nodded you shifted so that you were on either side of his legs, close enough to lean down to him easily. You start with a gentle touch under his shirt, massaging the tense muscles underneath. He sighed beautifully at the contact, the temperature difference between you forcing every nerve ending to burn. You were gentle, avoiding any majorly sensitive areas, rubbing deep.

Then you connected your lips with his, your touch insistent. It's as gentle as anything else you planned to do, featherlike. You give a final peck to his lips, pulling apart to speak as you pulled his shirt. "On or off?"

"Off please." You hummed in approval and pulled the shirt off with some help from Matt. His tattoos were free for you to gawk at, running your finger down them. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

He let out an awkward chuckle, avoiding how the praise made him feel. His body shifted under your gaze, staring at your eyes and following where you looked. You hadn't meant to tease him, but you did always appreciate his tattoos. The thin inks lines crafting designs that only you could touch and adore.

Normally you'd make Matt beg a little more for what he wanted, but the pure plead in his eyes twisted your heart. How could you ignore how sweetly he looked at you. "Want my help now ,baby?" Without waiting for a response, you dragged your hand to his waistline, sliding your hand under his clothing. His hips bucked slightly at your slightly colder hands and settled back when you soothed his skin.

Your fingers hooked onto the fabric, and you looked up to Matt expectantly. "Oh- sorry..." He then lifted his hips for you - a reassuring smile crossed your face as you brought his clothes down to his feet and tugged them from his body. They landed on the floor with a small thud, and you once again brought your attention to his face. Trust was written all over it, and it was warming to see. Eye-contact was held before he nodded with a large swallow, permission granted for you to continue. So you did.

Your hand wanders just as before, reaching under his boxers. Your hands were so close but you were just far enough to make him whine. He was trying hard to be patient, his eyes flickering between where your touch burned his skin and your face, a grin upon your face. His attention is brough back to himself when you attempt to slide his boxers past his hips, yet his rises them again to help you.

Unlike Matt, you were mostly clothed, you were too focused on him to even think about yourself. It pushed Matt into a further state of submission, reliant on you to help him. He falls into the nasty habit of licking his lips, a way of asking for yours, substituting any method he could get when you weren't kissing him. You shifted from his hardening dick and acknowledge the action with a warm smile. "Want a kiss, baby? Would that help?"

It was no shock to you when he nodded intensely, pushing himself up slightly to his elbows. Any reason to get closer to you. You were just as quick to meet him halfway, your lips connecting softly. Matt often found himself relaxed when you kissed him. It reset his breathing, silencing any worry in his mind and now was no different. The yelling of Nick and Chris fell to the back of mind, further if possible. The hints of your mint lip balm coated his lips, the smell rising between you. It softened them - a feeling that he loved. His lips always felt plump between your teeth, grazing the skin before going back to sucking on them. He loved the unpredictable feeling of it, sighing heavily.

His chest pushed against you in heavy breaths, his neediness showing more by the second. Matt whined when you pulled away, wanting your touch more than anything. Normally, he would hide with embarrassment when he made sounds like that - no matter how much you loved them. He didn't care in the moment, maybe he would tomorrow.

His body flopped back on the bed, releasing the strain of his elbows. However, you weren't quite finished, your lips meeting the skin of his neck. While leaning on your left, your right handed stroked the skin as you dragged it down past his stomach at the slowest pace. Matt shuddered beneath you. The light brush from your fingers made his skin tingle, the feeling in his stomach growing.

"You ready..?" Your voice broke the silence gently, looking at him for confirmation once more. He nodded which you felt in the movements of his body. The hold in your eyes adjusted, all touch of his body releasing. "Use your words, I know you can."

The corners of his mouth lifted when you recited the words he always muttered into your ears. He understood your reactions now. "Wan' your mouth, I- I need you, baby.." His voice cracked with need. He didn't want to think.

As much as you wanted to, you weren't going to tease. The pleading in his voice, barely holding back a whimper, made your head spin. This state of Matt was so rare to see - you were going to savour it all. You began with your hands snaking its way to his base, wrapping around it while you positioned yourself lower on the bed.

"Shiiiit..." His grip on the sheets tightened - anything to stop him from squirming. It was slow. It was enough for a slight pressure relief yet he knew what was truly coming. Once the dip in the mattress shifted towards his legs, his head pushed itself back into the pillow. He was now blinded from your action, but he wasn't given much time to regret it before he felt a small warmth down his dick.

The drop of saliva tracked its way down slowly before your palm was placed on top of it. The warmth of your palm and the stickiness of your saliva made him groan. His ribcage heaved an exhale when you steadied the grip you had. A few pumps later and he was fully hard in your hand.

When your hand left his body he planned to protest - beg even. You knew that and waited until his mouth opened to circle your lips around his tip. Instantly, he thrives under you, the sudden development surrounding his senses. Matt knew his body wouldn't hold out like usual but the sensitivity of his body paired with your touch made him cringe at the high possibility of cumming quickly.

You weren't going to blame him, you saw the signs of his body telling you he wouldn't last, you'd been in the same boat before. He treated you with such care, it was only fair to return it. "Shhh, it's alright. Let me take care of you tonight." A soft kiss landed on his hip, a few more on his thighs to settle his senses in any way you could.

This time you let your breath fan over his cock a few times, a signal you would repeat yourself. When you did, the response from Matt wasn't as overwhelming. Matt was desperately trying to hold back his body from moving, it would only bring him closer to the edge and even he wanted to hold on to this feeling. One thing he couldn't stop was his mouth, pure whimpers falling straight from his slacked jaw. It made you so happy - especially when knowing his hesitations to fully let go and give himself over. The trust he had in you made your heart swell and your body hot.

Both of his eyes were clenched shut, knowing that if he looked at the sight of your mouth surrounding his dick, he'd cum instantly. His pretty eyes were missed from your sight but you understood, so you focused on the task at hand. Every thought was gone from your minds, replaced with the feeling of the other. Pure heaven.

Matt wasn't using his mind anymore, every thought he tried to muster fell flat. Murmurs of your name were all that remained, stained with you.

Your mouth got used to the intrusion slowly but surely. You urged it to settle faster, wanting to take him completely and give him what he asked for. "I can't- fuck." You knew what he referred to, you weren't stupid.

Any other words of protest died in his mouth when you take him whole. You gag slightly but you pull back until you were comfortable, your hand taking what your throat couldn't. You knew he'd try and convince you to take your time, holding himself back so that you were content. Yet, torturing his body and mind for you wouldn't happen, you knew him well enough to know when he did.

His hips stutter forward, high-pitched apologies barely understood through his moans. It was a beautiful sound and you craved more. You rise up to focus on his tip. Not only was it more sensitive for him, but it gave you a view of his face that you rarely saw.

Matt's eyes clenched shut with furrowed brows, his head lolled back, and his mouth parted with wet lips. Pure pleasure written on his face, and it made all that more eager to please. His chest rose and fell quickly, a sign he was trying to tense himself and hold back. You didn't care if he finished quicker than normal - it was about him after all. Replacing your mouth with your hands, you spoke up. "Don't do that, baby. I just want you to relax, can you do that for mommy.."

Instantly, he attempted to relax, refraining from his usual tactics. The nickname stirred in his head. It was all he could focus on, his mental capacity being full of you. Matt nodded, knowing if he opened his mouth, only a shy whimper would escape. Satisfied, you returned the warmth of your mouth to his cock, pushing deep. The feeling had become familiar to you by now, your throat welcoming the intrusion.

Matt groaned again, louder than before. You could tell he was close by the twitch in his hips, stuttering forward to increase the friction. One hand, previously wrapped around his dick, moves to rub the skin on his hips. A soothing gesture to help ground him. You knew Matt, he'd get lost of the feeling of his approaching orgasm and overwhelm himself. The action of your palm resulted in a heavy sigh and soft repeating whimpers.

"Plea- please.. m'close." You barely heard his voice, hidden in his words. If only you weren't so focused on every sound he made. You smiled to yourself, content in your understanding of him. It wouldn't be long until he came - you wanted to make the last moments euphoric.

A shaky moan came from his throat, wavering until it fell into whimpers, all for that cycle to start again. Both of your hands relaxed into a rhythm, pumping whatever ever you could between your fingers whilst the soft warmth of your lips bobbed up and down. It was constant pleasure what Matt, every fibre pushing that feeling forwards. His arm reached forwards to your shoulder, gripping it and nursing the skin in a way to ground himself. One of your hands left his cock, the other working doubly as hard, so that you could ground him in the feeling of your hand in his.

His palms were sweaty, uncommon for him. As much as that was an uncomfortable sensation, you held on strong. He needed this, needed you. His grip fluctuated in strength, stronger when his orgasm drew closer.

"You can cum whenever you need to, yeah? Just let go..." Matt hadn't even processed the loss of your mouth, saliva still be coated around his dick, only when you return did the temperature make him thrive.

Focusing on Matt, you continued that old routine. You sucked minutely harder, your tongue grazing a vein, but it was exactly what Matt needed. He groaned continuously - unable to stay quiet if he tried. With another stutter of his hips he climaxed hard.

The grip on your shoulder tightened, a mark beginning to form on your skin. Forgetting your hands, you pushed your mouth fully onto Matt's dick, gagging slightly. Strings of whimpers came from Matt, which only egged you on. "Fuckfuckfuckkk-"

A warm substance eased into your mouth, efficiently gathering itself on your tongue. You stuck it out to show Matt before pulling it back into your mouth to swallow it. His eyes widened at the sight, and he groaned with a happy smile lingering by his cheeks. "You're fucking killing me" He spoke happily between moans as you prolonged his orgasm to spread the feeling of bliss.

Once he started to writhe, you released him, pulling your body up to meet him one on one. His expression was already dopey and the pure content made you smile. "You feeling better?"

He nodded graciously. "Definitely, thank you so much, baby..." His arm mustered the energy to lift its way to your jawline, tracing the skin atop the bone smoothly. Admiration stood between you both momentarily, pure love, and a silent thank you being translated. The kiss that followed was soft. One would question if there was any lust in it at all. The traces of his orgasm lingered on your tongue, the taste turning you both on.

You pulled apart, each of your lips not wanting to let go. "You still want me to ride you?" Elegant tones suspended from your mouth, your breath mingling with his. He looked away for a moment - breaking the eye contact. "I do... is that okay?"

You wanted to melt at the way he spoke and you were unable to stop the smile that flooded your face. "Of course I can, are you okay to go now?" He nodded once more, his stomach tensing slightly. You noticed this an decided to test him. When your hand inched closer to his dick and wrapped around the base of his dick. His stomach and surrounding muscles flexed harder with an inhale he was unfortunate to expel. "Impatient are we?"

"Shut up... I wanna please you too, baby. That's all." The grip you had on him loosened, his gaze falling anywhere else to avoid how your lips lifted. "Matt, tonight is about you, don't stress about me. You always make me feel so good anyway"

The way he faced you was immediate - praise sinking into his mind. That wasn't the effect you had initially wanted, but with the way his cheeks flushed, you were glad it worked out that way. He was still hesitant to truly acknowledge the words but they slipped out none the less. "Yeah?"

"Mhm, always," You paused your speech, letting the divide change the topic for you. "You ready now?" This time, his response had more confidence to it, nodding happily and shuffling across the sheets to make his position easier for you.

"I'm gonna go slow because I haven't stretched yet, I don't mean to tease, okay baby?" Going slow was always a tease for the both of you, wanting each other has close and as quick as possible. But pleasure was the main focus at the moment. The praise and the way your hand gently stroked at this dick made him half-hard again, so you took action. The bottoms that hugged your waist were pulled down at the same rate as your shirt. Goosebumps rose to your skin as you were no longer wrapped in an extra later or warmth. To make things slightly easier, you brought your underwear down too, slick starting to gather.

Your body moved and shuffled up the bed, placing both your knees to rest beside his. Both your eyes kept flickering between his face and where your bodies aimed to connect, making sure he was on the same page. He noticed this quickly and chuckled lowly. "I'm fine, I promise, just go slow for both of us..."

With his words of confidence, you nodded, focusing all attention onto his dick. One hand kept your weight up while another held his dick so you could lower down onto him. When your pussy enveloped around his tip, you both sucked in a deep breath, letting it go with a laugh at the joint reaction.

Matt's head lolled back again as you pushed down a little further. With no prep, the feeling of you wrapped snug around him had increased. Matt wasn't sure if heaven could feel better than this. Your heart beat strengthened alongside the arousal in your core, thudding steadily in your chest.

When you sunk completely and bottomed out, Matt began to bring his head back to you. His gaze settled on your face, your mouth in a permanent 'o'. Your eyes lingered at the connection between you. If he wasn't already hard then the pure sight of you on his cock certainly would make him so. You looked up and saw his eyes all over you and it only encouraged you. "See something you like?"

You had never seen his eyes switch from your body to your own eyes faster, the action nearly evaporating your focus. There is no longer a burn uncomfortably rising at your core and so you softly begin moving, lifting your hips only to slip back down to his pelvis. Your body naturally grinds forwards simultaneously. Everything is overwhelming for him, his cock still sensitive from the past orgasm – the current position not helping his mind flow. Matt’s eyes twinkle at the sight in front of him.

The friction is bliss, and he soon starts to naturally follow every move you take. His eyes follow too, watching as your tits bounce with every rise and fall you take, watching your ass slap every second, hearing the slick build between you as you each come closer to a release. Matt no longer has any sense of control. His mind runs in a permanent blur, so lost in pleasure speaking grew harder to muster. His body was mush in the best way possible. Every ounce of trust he had fell into you.

“Fuck- you feel so good, baby I-“ He began getting vocal again, comfortable in the new level on intimacy. “Hmm, you feel good? You’re making me feel good too baby.” The praise led him to a pathetic moan – one he’s normally chastise himself for but caring about what he sounded like was the last thing on his mind.

The feeling in his abdomen felt different to before, stronger. Every clench of your walls clouded in his mind, his hips bucking that extra distance. Your hands fell to his chest and shoulders – aiming for support. He saw the sign of tiredness in your thighs as you pace broke every so often. Matt attempted to aid you with his own arms resting on your hips, gripping the skin to take a bit of the weight. Yet, with his whole being so full of pleasure, it quickly turned into his way of grounding himself. White crescents slowly started to seep into your skin yet neither of you cared.

Pants and moans were exchanged between you continuously, steady and concise. “Sweetheart… I- I’m getting close… fuck” The way his words squeaked as you closed around him make the feeling in your gut surge. You tried to speak right away but when you practically felt him throb, a whimper escaped instead. Rather than fight it, you pried one of his hands away from your hips and hovering it just above one of your tits. “You want to touch me, Matt?”

The sight made his eyes force themselves shut, his head tilting back in case he had second thoughts. “As- as much as I want that… I think I’d cum instantly... wan- wanna cum with you.”

A chuckle left your lips as you heard him speak, the bluntness of his ‘issue’ catching you off guard. “Oh baby, I don’t care when you cum, you can whenever you want to.” He didn’t respond to your words, only shaking his head quickly – insistent on his claim. You want to question it, your chest being one of his favourite things, to look at, to touch, to own, yet your thoughts are obstructed by the pull down of your hips onto his cock. His hand returns to your hips, massaging the skin in between each tense squeeze. You’re brought quickly to the brink of pleasure. Hearing his moans when you jerked him to the frail whimpers as your rode him made your orgasm grow closer and closer.

No matter how you had Matt, it was a euphoric sight. His eyes remained glued shut but his mouth never was. He wasn’t able to with the whines interrupting him.

Between growing tired and an impending release, it was harder to rise and fall as quick as when you first began, and so you resorted to primarily grinding onto his dick. It managed to push Matt deeper for longer while brushing past your clit in the best way. You had now understood why Matt closed his eyes because even you had to drag your eyes away for a moment.

“Matt… can you open your eyes sweet boy? D-don’t you wanna… wanna see me cum?” The nickname alone made his eyes go wide before rolling back into his head, nodding as the only way to respond. His dick twitched again signalling his orgasm so with all the strength you could muster, you decided to make your body rise and sink down repeatedly. His grip and your weight on his chest increased dramatically – so did the noise.

He wasn’t expecting such a rise of movement and he had no clue how to handle it. His stomach flexed over and over again – his mind full of incoherent thoughts. He was worried that he’d tear up over how hard his eyes blinked. It took everything to look up at you and before he knew it, his fingers tapped several times on your thigh. “Shit- I-”

His orgasm took over and his cum leaked inside of you. Whimpers and pants flourished whilst you rode him through his high, inevitably bringing you to yours. Both of your hands switched to his shoulders just so that you had something to grip. You clench hard around him and sink down fully in exhaustion.

Fatigue makes its way through both of you and it takes you a second to push through the sensitivity of coming off of him. You end up flopping next to him, a dopey smile on his face. “Do you feel better…”

His sass immediately returns as he rolls his eyes and drags his hands over his face “Is that even a question.” He stares at the ceiling, pausing before he continues. “Definitely, thank you sweetheart.”

A smile instantly rose to your cheeks, pulling his head towards you so that you can place a small kiss into his hair, then his temple, cheeks and the edge of his mouth. “Always sweet boy. Now, let’s get cleaned up and get some rest. Sound good?”

He nodded his head gratefully and pushed himself onto his elbows. “Can we watch gravity falls?” Matt just stares up at you with wide and innocent eyes, and you find yourself falling victim to it.

“Anything you want.”

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batboyblog · 8 months ago

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Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #28

July 19-26 2024

The EPA announced the award of $4.3 billion in Climate Pollution Reduction Grants. The grants support community-driven solutions to fight climate change, and accelerate America’s clean energy transition. The grants will go to 25 projects across 30 states, and one tribal community. When combined the projects will reduce greenhouse gas pollution by as much as 971 million metric tons of CO2, roughly the output of 5 million American homes over 25 years. Major projects include $396 million for Pennsylvania’s Department of Environmental Protection as it tries to curb greenhouse gas emissions from industrial production, and $500 million for transportation and freight decarbonization at the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach.

The Biden-Harris Administration announced a plan to phase out the federal government's use of single use plastics. The plan calls for the federal government to stop using single use plastics in food service operations, events, and packaging by 2027, and from all federal operations by 2035. The US government is the single largest employer in the country and the world’s largest purchaser of goods and services. Its move away from plastics will redefine the global market.

The White House hosted a summit on super pollutants with the goals of better measuring them and dramatically reducing them. Roughly half of today's climate change is caused by so called super pollutants, methane, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), and nitrous oxide (N2O). Public-private partnerships between NOAA and United Airlines, The State Department and NASA, and the non-profit Carbon Mapper Coalition will all help collect important data on these pollutants. While private firms announced with the White House plans that by early next year will reduce overall U.S. industrial emissions of nitrous oxide by over 50% from 2020 numbers. The summit also highlighted the EPA's new rule to reduce methane from oil and gas by 80%.

The EPA announced $325 million in grants for climate justice. The Community Change Grants Program, powered by President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act will ultimately bring $2 billion dollars to disadvantaged communities and help them combat climate change. Some of the projects funded in this first round of grant were: $20 million for Midwest Tribal Energy Resources Association, which will help weatherize and energy efficiency upgrade homes for 35 tribes in Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, $14 million to install onsite wastewater treatment systems throughout 17 Black Belt counties in Alabama, and $14 million to urban forestry, expanding tree canopy in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh.

The Department of Interior approved 3 new solar projects on public land. The 3 projects, two in Nevada and one in Arizona, once finished could generate enough to power 2 million homes. This comes on top of DoI already having beaten its goal of 25 gigawatts of clean energy projects by the end of 2025, in April 2024. This is all part of President Biden’s goal of creating a carbon pollution-free power sector by 2035.

Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen pledged $667 million to global Pandemic Fund. The fund set up in 2022 seeks to support Pandemic prevention, and readiness in low income nations who can't do it on their own. At the G20 meeting Yellen pushed other nations of the 20 largest economies to double their pledges to the $2 billion dollar fund. Yellen highlighted the importance of the fund by saying "President Biden and I believe that a fully-resourced Pandemic Fund will enable us to better prevent, prepare for, and respond to pandemics – protecting Americans and people around the world from the devastating human and economic costs of infectious disease threats,"

The Departments of the Interior and Commerce today announced a $240 million investment in tribal fisheries in the Pacific Northwest. This is in line with an Executive Order President Biden signed in 2023 during the White House Tribal Nations Summit to mpower Tribal sovereignty and self-determination. An initial $54 million for hatchery maintenance and modernization will be made available for 27 tribes in Alaska, Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. The rest will be invested in longer term fishery projects in the coming years.

The IRS announced that thanks to funding from President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act, it'll be able to digitize much of its operations. This means tax payers will be able to retrieve all their tax related information from one source, including Wage & Income, Account, Record of Account, and Return transcripts, using on-line Individual Online Account.

The IRS also announced that New Jersey will be joining the direct file program in 2025. The direct file program ran as a pilot in 12 states in 2024, allowing tax-payers in those states to file simple tax returns using a free online filing tool directly with the IRS. In 2024 140,000 Americans were able to file this way, they collectively saved $5.6 million in tax preparation fees, claiming $90 million in returns. The average American spends $270 and 13 hours filing their taxes. More than a million people in New Jersey alone will qualify for direct file next year. Oregon opted to join last month. Republicans in Congress lead by Congressmen Adrian Smith of Nebraska and Chuck Edwards of North Carolina have put forward legislation to do away with direct file.

Bonus: American law enforcement arrested co-founder of the Sinaloa Cartel, Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada. El Mayo co-founded the cartel in the 1980s along side Joaquín "El Chapo" Guzmán. Since El Chapo's incarceration in the United States in 2019, El Mayo has been sole head of the Sinaloa Cartel. Authorities also arrested El Chapo's son, Joaquin Guzman Lopez. The Sinaloa Cartel has been a major player in the cross border drug trade, and has often used extreme violence to further their aims.

#Joe Biden #Thanks Biden #kamala harris #us politics #american politics #politics #climate change #climate crisis #climate action #tribal rights #IRS #taxes #tax reform #El Chapo

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rubywithecat · 3 months ago

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JJK men parenting their kid

Summary: The kids are at 5-8 ages.

A/N: Thank you so much for love and support and hope you enjoy this! <33

Time taken to write- 2hr 20 min

Gojo Satoru

(Only 1 son)

-His son is the splitting image of him in mini size. U are only blessed with one child cuz of how difficult it is to convince such powerful heir and how u nearly lost your life during laboring. So, both you and Gojo loves your son so much and spoiled a lot, especially Gojo. U are stricter than him and always had to scold him not to spoil him too much, worrying he would come spoiled brat. “Satoru! I told you he’s too young to have a Ps5!” You said angrily. He chuckled as he kissed your forehead. “Stop scolding me love. This isn’t just ordinary purchase. It’s his gift for being able to learn first step of his technique at this age. Our son is really incredible right?” He said proudly. “Ur gonna destroy his ethic for money, Satoru” you said, giving him up.

Toji Zen’in

(1 son, 1 daughter)

-He is relived that both his kids are born with cursed techniques, even considered really powerful ones in Zen’in clan cuz he doesn’t want them to go through how he had been treated. He would train them personally and protect them at all cost from toxic environment and you would do your best to educate them in manners and give them warm affections where Toji would be intimating but cool dad. His bad habit is that he would flirt with you in front of the children and you got so embarrassed and have to shut him up. He got really good relationship with the kids and always spend his free time tgt with them, doing casual activities. Plus, he is super protective of his daughter and would frighten any boys who would get close to her.

Nanami Kento

(2 sons, 1 daughter)

-He is a strict dad and even tho he spoils them, he is very careful on that. He is very nurturing and very close to them. He would put them into sleep by reading them storybooks and also play with children toys with them sometimes. He would train the kids to be responsible since young and he does all the work of disciplinary mostly and you only have to give them unconditional love and manage their eduction and activities. Your kids have to live with you mostly when he went to work but when he’s free, he would give all his time to family and since you both love traveling, he would plan for trips in holidays, especially ocean. The kids are very well-mannered just like their dad. Even your eldest son behaves like him already.

Sukuna Ryomen

(2 daughters)

-Sukuna wanted sons but he doesn’t mind anyway and he even became softer for his girls. He wouls call them his little princesses and would spoil them a lot. He would hire a lot of nannies and maids to give them extra care and could spend alone time with you. He would threaten the maids if they upset the kids. You like spending time with your girls, little dressing up games, mini kitchens and Sukuna would even be forced to do role-plays. He would tease the kids a lot too and accidentally made them cry. He def doesn’t know what to do after that so you always have to come to rescue. He isn’t good at teaching manners and stuffs so that’s your work.

Geto Suguru

(2 daughters)

-Just like Sukuna but totally different parenting. He has always wanted daughters and is a very calm dad and has a lot of patience with the kids. He would get up and make them snacks if they are hungry midnight and ur so sleepy to do it. He would put them on his shoulder while walking in the park. He spoils the kids so much like spending big bucks on fancy dresses and even if you told him that will make the kids lose value of money, he still goes behind your back. He often educates them to be high standards on boys and who they associate with. That is why sometimes your girls dont get along with some ppl at sch and you have to re-educate them on that. You like talking deep girly stuffs with your kids and your like their bestfris and mother as you know how it is impotant for girls to communicate freely. Sometimes you have to hide some stuffs from him about your girls cuz of his overprotection. Geto would always set standard for the girls as he openly shows them how he treats you, showering you with compliments and gifts.

——

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jjenthusee · 6 months ago

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Steady Breaths and String Lights

Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: another drabble 😫 i’m really into domestic jason rn so don’t mind me giving yall soft jason content <3 ENJOY and tell me your domestic jason headcanons in the comments if u have any :D

A brand new couch.

It was a deal from a discount furniture store and once you had laid your eyes on it, how could you pass up the deal?

No tears, a good color, the store wanted to get rid of it, so they slapped a large discount tag on it and it came with the decorative pillows. How could you not have it?

One card swipe later, you were the proud owner of this new couch.

The process getting it in your apartment was different. You had no vehicle to haul it, but you managed to convince the company to do one delivery for you.

After your great declaration of strength and independence (and with the help of your neighbors) you moved the couch.

The living room was complete with the new furniture.

You were practically an interior designer.

If Jason wasn’t gone for the week, he would’ve told you that was a stretch, but he had boring taste anyway.

After a good wash and spray, you moved the cushions into place, angling the decorative pillows perfectly and shifting a pristinely folded blanket for a unique touch. It was just like how you saw it in the store.

Then curiosity got the better of you and all the cushions were taken out again, placed at different angles, leaning against one another.

Placing, stabilizing, placing another one.

You grabbed a blanket from your bed, some battery powered string lights, and Jason’s pillow, leaving yours untouched on your side of the bed.

You had made a structurally sound fort, with an organized stack of books, lights hung from edge to edge to give the perfect ambience, comfy blankets and Jason’s pillow that smelled like him.

After admiring your creativity and one final inspection, you crawled into the fort, curling yourself in the safe cocoon.

It was warm and you leaned into his pillow, the scent of his shampoo comforting you until your breaths evened, falling asleep to the excitement of telling Jason about your brand new purchase when he got home.

An hour later, a slight rattle came from the window, cautious steps crawling in, but loudly enough to make a sound to alert whoever was inside.

Jason had got home early and he waited for your head to pop out of some corner.

His armor was heavier on his body that night and he had been away way too long. He just wanted to hear your voice happily welcome him back, passionately hug you, and then crash on the bed holding you near him.

Like routine, he was going to unclip his utility belt and peel off his jacket, but he never heard your voice.

Standing frozen, he kept the protective shiny red helmet on his head until he could physically see you.

There was no movement, no noise.

Jason stood still, pressing his boots into the floorboards as he readied himself. While preventing any sound from his movements, he switched on his infrared scanners, sweeping the entire home before he saw a curled up ball.

In the living room, you were protected by a small cushion fort in front of a couch that magically appeared.

You were sound asleep as his hushed footsteps walked closer to you. He had removed his helmet after he ensured you had a steady heartbeat and even breaths.

He placed his helmet outside the blanket door and removed his boots, placing them neatly next to one another.

He wanted to be a respectful guest in your newly built home.

With bare hands, Jason lifted the flimsy door and there you laid, peacefully drifted off.

Jason exhaled, releasing his previous tension with one glance at you.

He always loved coming home to you.

Carefully, he maneuvered himself through the door. With a surprise, he easily fit. He smiled at the thought that you must have built it with him in mind because the door perfectly fit his shoulders. What an attention to detail.

He crawled in, moving his body by his arms until he was parallel with your face.

Unconsciously, you moved to the new warmth, Rolling your body closer to the new presence.

Jason smiled into your scalp, closing his eyes to the weight of you.

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” Jason whispered, vibrations felt against your cheek.

You incoherently mumbled into his body, barely able to open your mouth.

As you felt the comforting arms rubs and strong arms encircling you, your mind started to slowly wake up. The fog clearing.

You freed one of your hands buried underneath the blanket to match the hands enveloping you.

Then your hand felt a familiar bicep, firm in your palm.

Your eyes shot open as you moved your head out of the crevice of Jason’s neck to see your sleepy vigilante laying next to you.

“Feeling me up in your sleep?” Jason tiredly smirked, teasing you as soon as you woke up.

You slowly blinked before fully registering this wasn’t just another pleasant dream.

It was the real deal in front of you.

“Welcome home.” You softly greeted, kissing his knuckles.

Jason’s body physically relaxed at your words, his smirk morphing into content.

His hands were rough and calloused, but the feeling on your lips have never felt better.

“I got a couch.” You smiled into his hand.

“I see that.” Jason glanced around the inside of the fort. “I got ya something while I was out for the week, but I don’t think I could top a couch.”

“It was nicely decorated before, but I got carried away.” You closed your eyes to nuzzle into Jason’s pillow, holding onto Jason’s hand.

He watched you get comfortable, your silent contentment with his touch and warmth. Loving the skin he hated so damn much.

You yawned, the comfortability of your shared lives relaxing you.

Your hair was a mess from the nap, your lashes laid on your skin, and his hands rubbing at any inch of your face, memorizing every detail he could so even his dreams could also have you.

“No, it’s perfect.” Jason watched you, leaning in to kiss your temple, lips lingering a second longer.

You smiled, feeling complete that your other half was home.

“I’m glad.” You slurred, letting sleep inch closer and closer to you.

The two of you lost to the night, your sleeping forms intertwined and Jason’s legs sticking out of the fort.

And a brand new couch that joined your shared life.

#i love jason my pookie wookie doo doo caca #clawing at my walls because i’m so sick with fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #writing

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lunarforager · 9 months ago

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Beginner Witch's Guide: Crystals

Today's witchy lesson is on crystals! Specifically, crystal shapes and their meanings, types of crystals and their meanings, and what you can use crystals for in your practice!

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Basic Crystals and Their Meanings:

Clear Quartz -> Clear quartz is known for its ability to amplify intention and magnify the energy of other stones around it

Selenite -> Selenite is good for cleansing and purifying the area and objects around it

Amethyst -> Amethyst provides a peaceful and relaxing energy

Carnelian -> Carnelian is known for boosting creative energy and allowing for better creative flow

Rose Quartz -> Rose quartz is known for supporting and amplifying love of all kinds (self love, romantic love, platonic love, etc.)

Pyrite -> Pyrite (also known as 'Fool's Gold') is known for drawing in success and fortune

Obsidian -> Obsidian sucks in negative energy from the surrounding space providing protection from unwanted energies and negativity

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Crystal Shapes and Meanings:

Cube -> Cube shaped crystals are often tied to grounding and would be good to use during meditation or meditative spellwork.

Sphere -> Sphere shaped crystals are thought to be more balanced with the energy they emit, splitting it evenly in all directions. They are good to use in grounding work (like meditation) or for protective spells/energy.

Pyramids -> Pyramid shaped crystals are most commonly associated with the idea of communing with celestial bodies or with the universe. Pyramid shaped crystals would be beneficial to use in deity worship or working with deities for spellwork.

Tower/Point -> Tower and point shaped crystals are known to amplify intention and point it in a certain direction. In my opinion, they are the most universally helpful shape and so can be used for a variety of spells.

Palm Stones -> Palm Stones are flat disks of stone that can be placed in one's palm and are often used to provide soothing energy. When placed in the palm they can be rubbed to provide therapeutic relief in moments of anxiety.

Cluster -> A cluster is a mix between a sphere and a point. The energy is emitted in all directions, but not evenly. They are most beneficial for spells and powers you want amplified, but don't need to be even or concentrated in one particular area.

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General Crystal Tips:

When purchasing crystals, make sure the ones you are buying are coming from reputable, ethical sources and are actual crystals!

Before letting any crystal come in contact with the sun or with water, make sure it is safe to do. Some crystals are known to leech harmful chemicals or elements into water when submerged while some will just erode away in minutes. Some crystals can also fade if left in direct sunlight for a long time (amethyst is one of these so keep that in mind!)

If you do not like working with crystals, think something works better for you than crystals, or simply are just not interested in working with crystals, they are not necessary for the craft! Crystals (like any other witchy tool) are optional but can not only provide useful energies or attributes, but also just look super cool and are great to put on altars or in spaces around your home!

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Well, that's all for my beginners guide to crystals! There are so many more crystals out there with their own unique shapes, attributes and energies that I suggest going and doing more research as you start to collect crystals! If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to reach out, I love talking to people and love making new friends <3

Valete my friends! :3

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seiwas · 2 years ago

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₊˚⊹｡ 11:49 p.m. | gojo satoru

wc: 421 summary: gojo is larger than life, but you make him feel small. contains: none really, can be read as gn! a/n: he’s a big baby :’(

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

There’s something in the way you hold Gojo that makes him feel so incredibly small.

He stays tucked under your chin, like a child, your palm lying flat on the top of his head. White wisps of hair poke at the corners of your nose, but all you feel is the soft puffs of air tickling your neck.

Gojo has always been affectionate—clingy even; he’s loud and obnoxious, always the first to touch but never the one to feel. He takes up space, the very thing he holds power over, and squeezes it to fit in this small bed, right by you.

Nights this quiet rarely come by anymore. If you aren’t sweeping the streets for curses, he is; if neither of you are, then curses come to find you—in your dreams, in the slight twitching of Gojo’s fingertips resting on your hip.

On nights like this, you cradle him to you, leg slung over the expanse of his body, tugging him closer. He’s a lot bigger than you are, stronger too—long limbs and lean muscle. But you hold him like he is someone to protect, gentle and fragile—as if his single touch hasn’t killed, as if his eyes haven’t seen destruction caused by his very hands.

When you hold Gojo in this rare, quiet night, he feels so incredibly small. And for someone so big, someone who is larger than life—all 6 feet over, all seeing, bearing all the burdens of the world, he thinks: feeling small isn’t so bad. Feeling small is okay. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Only because it’s you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, squeezing, the other finding purchase on your thigh slung over his hip. His face nuzzles deeper into your neck, lips brushing against your skin in a blur of kisses. Your legs soon become a tangled mess when he adds his to the mix.

The grandeur attached to Gojo’s name is a birthright he can’t escape from. It’s the responsibility of being the strongest. But in moments like this, he doesn’t feel like Gojo at all. He feels like Satoru, only wanting the simple things, like still nights tangled up in your bed, close enough to disintegrate the space he’s so proudly surrounded himself with his entire life.

Now, he feels like Satoru, made small by your hands, but so content with the simple things—like your tiny bed and the moonlight peeking through your curtains, like the thrum of your heartbeat and the fact that he can exist in this space, with you.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #shotorus.writes #writing gojo is hard cos his characterisation is rlly complex #thats why i didnt include any dialogue 🤭

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 months ago

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chapter xxvi – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 5,100+

warning: sex scene [even bigger warning: the first one i've ever written, so it'll probably be very bad 😂]

masterlist

“If we continue paying the farmers this way, it will have consequences on the court’s treasury!" The Master of Coin droned on to the rest of the advisors and Eris.

“Abbán, you have been poisoned by the same greed of the late High Lord Beron,” defended General Domnhall.

He was Eris’ most loyal warrior when he controlled Autumn Court's armies. And once Eris became High Lord, there was no one else he trusted more to take his place as General than him. The male was yet another that, had it had been safe enough, Eris would've considered Domnhall a friend.

General Domnhall had been away from the Forest House since Eris had usurped the throne, in order to protect the Court and assure Eris’ reign was not overtaken or challenged, while also monitoring the borders of Autumn Court.

Eris tried to suppress his smirk at his friend’s defensiveness.

“And what of the funds we gained from trading in human flesh?” Domnhall added darkly.

Eris finally leaned forward, forearms pressing into the oak table. “Do not take me as a fool, Abbán. My father’s greed was always framed as responsible and for the good of the Court. But we all know neither were true. He kept as much as could, so our people were desperate and worked harder for nearly nothing. He did it to control them.”

“They are your subservients!” Abbán’s voice raised.

Eris shot to his feet. “There are my Court!”

From the outburst, his entire body was engulfed in flames that threatened the room, but remained in control at his side.

Everyone at the table tensed.

“A High Lord is meant to bring his Court to glory, not to keep his inhabitants weak and scared of his power,” Eris continued evenly. “You and I both know there is plenty of coin, Abbán. Rid yourself of the illness that is greed, or I will find a Master of Coin who can.”

Abbán swallowed nervously.

But Eris continued. “In the past, we have relied too heavily on the interest of other Courts to purchase our goods. We shall start trading to the Mortal Realm and to the fae of Spring Court.”

There was instantly murmuring amongst the table.

“But High Lord Tamlin could see this as an attempt to take his Court,” one said.

Eris scoffed. “Tamlin cannot even manage his own manor. Do you honestly think he’s paying any attention to the goods being imported through his borders? Lucien will manage the shipments. They trust him. And if their High Lord will not assure his inhabitants are being fed, then I will.”

Abbán knew better than to argue. So, he bowed his head and replied, “Yes, High Lord.”

“We have been at council since dawn, High Lord.” Another spoke gently. “Perhaps that is enough for today…”

“Yes,” Eris agreed in a growl. “It is.” He waved his hand lazily. “You are dismissed.”

He slumped back into his chair, waiting for the others to leave.

Domnhall was the only one that stayed behind, patiently waiting to be left alone with the High Lord.

Eris pretended to not notice.

There was a moment of tense silence shard between the two males.

“Shall I kill him?” Domnhall asked cheerfully.

Eris rolled his eyes. “If I wanted him dead, I could do it myself.”

Domnhall stood and moved closer to his High Lord, hovering about his seat at the council table. “Yes, I am well aware.”

Eris sighed and crossed his arms. “Is there something you needed, Domnhall?”

The general smirked at him. “Get rid of the ol’ git. He is useless. His greed makes him unfit for the role. It is smart a smart move to bring food to Spring Court. They are suffering. And perhaps your charity could bring more to Autumn Court.”

Eris nodded slowly. “How is my army?”

“They are my army now,” Domnhall teased. “And they are well. Some are weary about the civil unrest. None wish to fight against their own, some of which are their families and friends. But they remain loyal to you, Eris – as always.”

During Beron's reign, the army would have followed Eris through anything. They were loyal to him, not Beron. They trusted him, believed in him. But Eris would never have risked their lives to an outright war against his father.

Eris rubbed his face, clearly deep in his head.

“Now, where is that mate of yours?” Domnhall asked with a smile, looking around playfully as if she would appear at any moment. “You have hid her from me for months now. All I know of her are the rumors that spread through the Court.”

Eris cocked his eyebrow at him. “With your history, do you really think I would let you anywhere near her?”

Domnhall only chuckled. He was not shy about his love for females, especially ones who were...unsatisfied with their husbands.

All teasing disappeared as Eris’ gaze darkened. “She wishes to return to the mortal realm. To Y/N, her place is not here, but amongst the humans.”

Domnhall’s smile dropped. “But you are mates…”

“Yes, and that holds little meaning to mortals. She does not see it as we do. She cannot feel the bond.”

“But she is not just a mortal,” Domnhall argued. “She is a witch!”

“If she wishes to leave, who am I to stop her?” Eris finally snapped. “Shall I chain her to the Forest House, hold her captive, make her no more than a prisoner?” He rubbed his face. “It wouldn’t be the first time a High Lord imprisoned a woman in such a manner…”

“Do not compare yourself to Tamlin,” Domnhall spat with disgust. “You keep her here to insure her safety. The mortal realm is unstable as it is – and if anyone found out who she was, she would be endangered. I know your actions are noble, Eris. Your father is no longer here to force your false character. And I know the male you truly are.”

Eris stood, his hands pressing down into the table. “Thank you, Domnhall, for your…loyalty and…”

“Friendship?” The general offered with an amused smirk.

He too now stood. “One day, I hope you can undo your conditioning and actually call me your friend.”

Domnhall started to leave, but paused at the doorway. “And in case you didn’t know, friends usually introduce each other to their mates.”

He winked and disappeared.

—🍁—

Eris needed to see her. His body started to ache when he was away from her for too long. And once she had moved into the Forest House, the aches only grew stronger.

All the talk of her from Domnhall only made him realize the council had been distracting him from the feeling.

And he could ignore it no longer.

Y/N had healed him after the battle, after he had used his beast form for the first time since becoming High Lord.

It had been almost two weeks, since Y/N had healed him after the battle, after he had used his beast form for the first time since becoming High Lord.

And Eris had barely had time to see her since.

Now, he searched for her in the surrounding forest of the manor. It was all enclosed and protected by countless spells of his own magic.

She should not be in any danger here. But it still left him uneasy for her safety.

The trees were getting thicker and he tried to pull on the string that tied him to her. He'd heard of mates calling to each other, yanking at the tie between their hearts and souls.

But Y/N was not fae – even worse, she had not accepted the bond yet.

Instead, Eris came across one of his guards that he had assigned to watch over Y/N.

He bowed immediately. “She is safe, High Lord. Lady Y/N wished for space, I have the guards surrounding her, but keeping out of her sight.”

Eris nodded in thanks. “You and the rest of the guard are relieved of your duties for the day. Thank you for watching over her.”

The guard bowed again, but hesitated before he soflty added, “She was helping the injured all morning, High Lord. Then she immediately went to the archives for hours. I believe she needs some rest.”

Eris gripped the guards shoulder in thanks. A gesture he would’ve never even thought of doing when Beron was still alive and ruling.

He walked forward until there was a break in the trees. The small patch of hilly grass allowed the light of the setting sun to slip through.

In the middle of the clearing was a giant oak tree, its trunk over five feet wide.

And beneath it was his mate, fast asleep on top of a thick blanket. But not alone, for his smoke hounds were an extra layer of protection on top of the guard he assigned to watch over her.

She was wearing a blood red dress made of both velvet and sheer fabric. Even when laying on the grass asleep, she looked utterly beautiful. Her lips were covered in a stain that perfectly matched the color of her dress, and Eris could only assume one of her servants had insisted on the detail.

Eris swore he did not pay the Court’s seamstresses enough for how perfectly they tailored all of Y/N’s clothes.

Per usual, her feet were bare. But somehow hardly dirty for having trounced through the woods.

As soon as Eris took a step into the clearing, all 12 of his smoke hounds – who had been cuddly and guarding Y/N – shot up and growled a warning to him.

Eris whistled lowly, his signal for them to relax, one of many that he had trained into them since they were puppies.

Their growling immediately ceased and a couple even trotted over to give their master a greeting.

The only threat now: Ronan. Y/N’s pet fox, who was not his nor trained by him.

Ronan still growled in warning at Eris, standing protectively at Y/N’s feed as she slept.

Eris chuckled at Ronan, still a kit and not a full-grown fox yet.

Ronan let out a bark when Eris was only a few feet away, and it finally stirred Y/N.

“You woke her, you overprotective runt,” Eris hissed his scold to the fox.

Y/N blinked and reached for her knife. But as soon as her gaze found Eris, her entire body relaxed.

“I apologize for waking you,” Eris quickly told her, hovering where he stood, unsure if he should invade her space or leave.

Y/N gave him a shy grin and then reached out a hand, silently signaling him to join her on the blanket.

Ronan gave another warning growl.

“Hush, Ronan,” Y/N chided, as she picked the fox kit up and moved him on the other side of her, away from Eris. "You know he means no harm.”

Ever so gracefully, Eris walked through the pack of protective smoke hounds and carefully sat on the blanket beside Y/N, his back resting against the trunk of the oak tree.

To his surprise, Y/N scooted closer instantly, resting her head against his chest.

Eris tried to control his heart rate as his mate’s ear lingered right over it. One would think he was some pubescent fae youngling with the way his body reacted to such an innocent gesture. It would be more embarrassing if he was not getting such a thrill from this innocent intimacy.

“What are you doing out here, little witch?” He asked her as he brushed hair behind her ear and off her neck, so he could clearly look down at her face.

Y/N sighed, “I needed some air.”

“Ahh…and what gossip did the wind tell you today?”

Y/N smirked “Nyx took his first steps today. Rhysand cried more about it than Feyre did.”

“What a sentimental fool,” Eris snarked back.

“Do not be rude!” She snapped back with a smile, and pinched his thigh in warning.

As if laughing with them, a small fist of wind flurried around them.

Eris looked down at Y/N. Really she should be wearing a cloak or have another blanket.

Quickly, he slightly jostled her to remove his own cloak, the collar lined with fur.

He wrapped it over Y/N gently.

She smiled. “You didn’t need to do that. What if you get cold?”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Tis only fashion. I am the High Lord of Autumn, a wielder of flame. My blood runs hot and I am almost never cold.”

To prove it further, he held out the hand that wasn’t holding his mate, and lit a fireball in his palm. Then released it into the air. It remained floating around them and Y/N immediately felt its warmth, as if they were sitting near a bonfire.

Y/N cuddled even further into his chest.

She looked up at the trees around them, forever in a state of orange, red, and yellow.

“In the mortal realm, I would wait all year for autumn. I dreamt of the leaves changing all summer. I always yearned for the chill air, the cloudy skies, the rainy days. Summer weighs me down. I hate the heat and the humidity, the sun is overbearing.”

Y/N hesitated before she continued. “When I first entered Autumn, it felt like a cruel joke, being dragged into the most beautiful place I’d ever seen, while bound and enslaved.”

Eris’ body tensed in rage. The ball of fire sparked from his emotions.

There were some days when he wished he could bring his father back, only to torture him for what he did to Y/N, and the mortal women and childcare.

But when Eris managed to stifle his anger, he looked down at Y/N, she had already fallen back asleep.

He whispered to the wind, “It is because you were meant for this place, my mate.”

Then he leaned down to kiss her brow.

The wind brushed through again, as if it agree with his statement.

Suddenly, all he wanted was to join his mate in her peaceful sleep.

Eris whistled to his dogs. Their ears perked up and they all looked to him, waiting for the command.

“Stand guard,” he ordered.

They all scattered, taking on positions in a radius and sitting stiff with watchful eyes to the surrounding forest.

But to Eris’ amusement, Ronan trotted to the edge of the blanket and joined in the reconnaissance and as the last line of defense.

Perhaps Ronan did take orders from him…when it involved his mate’s safety.

—🍁—

Eris awoke almost 2 hours later.

His recent distance from Y/N had made sleeping difficult. And as soon as he had her in his arms, his body relaxed and the exhaustion caught up with him.

Loyal and obedient, his smoke hounds were pacing around them, guarding and surveying the area for any potential threats.

Eris looked down to see that Y/N was still peacefully asleep on his chest.

She needed to eat, and rest in a proper bed.

He whistled again and the smoke hounds sprinted toward him, then sat in a line, awaiting their masters next order.

“With me, back to the Forest House.”

The half the smoke hounds sprinted ahead, while the other half surrounded Eris.

Ronan stayed at Y/N's side.

As carefully as he could, Eris gathered Y/N in his arms. And with a wave of his hand, the blanket disappeared and would arrive in the wash house.

Y/N’s head naturally fell to his shoulder.

Eris walked slowly back to the Forest House, worried that winnowing would wake her.

As soon as they reached the grand hall, a servant paused her work and bowed at their arrival.

“Ready a meal for two and bring it to my bedchambers, please.” Eris ordered.

When they reached his room, Eris gently placed Y/N on his bed.

“Little witch, you must wake soon and eat something.”

She whined at her slumber being interrupted.

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked her with a narrowed gaze.

She shied away at the question, and was smart enough to look a little guilty. For if the tables were turned, it would also upset her to see the High Lord skipping meals and working himself into utter exhaustion.

“That is what I thought,” Eris answered for her.

It only took a few minutes for someone to bring up a meal for them.

It was a sweet looking fae who looked quite young. But Y/N had quickly learned that looks could be deceiving when it came to predicting the age of fae.

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the servant practically carted in a feast for just the two of them.

Eris stood, moving to the cart. “Thank you…” There was an awkward pause. “…Delyth.”

The servant blushed at the High Lord using her first name.

“O-O-Of course, High Lord.” The poor thing stuttered out with a bow.

Eris had been making an effort to address the staff with more kindness and acknowledgment. It was hard to adjust from the way Beron had rule this house. Which was why it was sounded so unfortunately awkward for Eris to address the servant by name.

Feeling a bit braver now, the servant turned a bit to address Y/N directly with a shy smile. “The cooks made sure to include a few apple tarts. The bakers said they have quickly become one of your favorites.”

Y/N beamed at the kindness. “They are! Thank you so very much, Delyth. And please tell everyone in the kitchen thank you, as well.” She gave some side eye to Eris. “From both of us,” she added.

Delyth rushed out with a final bow.

Y/N joined Eris at the cart of food. Now that she was smelling and seeing it, her stomach growled and she finally acknowledged how hungry she was.

“The servants seem less scared of you these days,” Y/N pointed out with amusement as she lifted lids off various sides.

“That is less scared?” Eris cocked a brow.

Y/N sighed and turned to face him fully. “Give it time, Eris. You have only been High Lord of Autumn for – how long? – 4 months?”

He just hummed.

She continued. “You have been alive for centuries. Surely you do not expect to undo your previous reputation in mere days?”

Eris was already filling a plate with a little bit of everything they had been given. “Well, certainly I should take notes from you. My Court adores you.” He smirked. “If the apple tarts were not obvious enough.”

He handed it to her, making Y/N realize he had been making a plate for her before himself.

She took it carefully, trying to ignore the sweet gesture.

“Eat,” he urged, the High Lord in him clearly heard.

“Yes, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m eating. I’m eating.”

Y/N moved to sit on the floor next to the giant fireplace in his bedchambers. Before she had even fully sat down, Eris had started a fire with a simple nod of his head. Then giant floor cushions – blood red, velvet, and tufted – appeared next to her.

“I like sitting on the floor,” she muttered to herself, but fully knowing he could hear.

“Well, I do not,” Eris retorted as he joined her on his own cushion.

“Ah, right. We were just talking about how you are centuries old. It probably isn’t comfortably for your poor back…”

Eris paused the stabbing of his food with his fork at such a comment.

But when he looked up, Y/N was trying not to laugh.

“What!?” She finally giggled. “I find it hard to believe anyone ever had the courage to tease you. Perhaps it will build character!”

“No one teased me because if they did… they were fried to ash and soot.”

“By Beron?” She mocked.

“By me.”

But his glare could no longer be ignored.

“Fine. I will stop,” Y/N surrendered.

They continued their meal with comfortable conversation. Mostly of Eris asking about her day, and the days before when he could not see her. He asked her about the mortals, how they were faring, if the children needed anything.

In return, Eris told her about all the meetings with his council. He even admitted how much he struggled with not lashing out at those who seemed resolute on disagreeing with his every decision and philosophy.

“You may rid yourself of them, you know…” Y/N hummed.

She now lounged on her side across the floor cushion, head propped up on her elbow as she gazed up at his straight posture.

Y/N added, “There is a middle ground between complete submission and murdering any who disagree with you.”

“And what is that, little witch?” He asked, almost bitingly.

“You could dismiss them from their position, remove them from the High Lord’s council.”

“And let them live?” Eris challenged with disgust in his tone. “So they could leave my court, and join the rebellion and challenge me?”

Y/N sat up and moved closer, matching his sitting position. “Yes, let them live! So your people see that you are not a tyrant, but a just High Lord with honor and benevolence. And you leave an opening for others to gain standing with you, showcasing their honor, taking any opportunity to help you and help their court. True acts of service – not titles won through deceit and greed.”

Eris stared at her in awe.

His witch spoke like a vizier, whispering council into a mortal king’s ear. But she was not doing it for any benefit other than his own. She only wished to help him.

“I see your time in our libraries has taught you a thing or two,” he whispered to her.

Y/N's face warmed and she looked away from his studying gaze. “I only wished to understand the ways of the fae and of Autumn Court.”

“Yes, and you learned much more than that, too.”

Eris reached out then, his fingers brushing gently against her cheek, lifting her chin so she was forced to look at him. His touch was like a spark— familiar and foreign still.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers, a kiss that was both a promise and a plea. Their politics and council seemed to vanish in that moment—the weight of their bond, the burden of their destinies, all faded into the background, until there was nothing left but the beat of their hearts and the shared warmth of their embrace.

This was not their first kiss, but it was the most daring of them all.

There was a new energy, one that had been tapping at her shoulder for too long. And she feared she could no longer ignore it.

When they pulled apart, Y/N’s breath was shaky, her pulse racing.

Eris’ hand slid down her spine, pulling her flush against him. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and contour.

He pulled away to look at her face, reading every tiny expression to see if she wanted him to stop. Because he knew his mate to be bashful, and she would not stop him until she was too scared.

Thus, he was surprised to see such hunger and desire in her y/e/c eyes.

Eris pulled up the skirt of her velvet dress, then undid the delicate buttons at the back of the dress, letting it fall from her torso to reveal a sheer lace body suit as her lingerie.

His fingers traced the lace, teasing her skin through the farbic, until Y/N arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"You are beautiful," he murmured against her mouth, his breath hot on her skin. “I fathom any males who have had the pleasure of seeing you this way were undeserving.”

Y/N's hands were not idle either. She ran her fingers through his thick, flame hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Her nails scraped lightly down his back, eliciting a shudder from him. Eris groaned, his desire for her growing with every touch.

Eris lowered his head, his lips moving down her neck and across her chest.

Y/N arched her back, her hands gripping his shoulders, as waves of pleasure rippled through her.

"Eris," she gasped, her voice hoarse with desire.

She was not a stranger to sex. But it had left her so disappointed in the past, that her body had declared a complete disinterest in exploring it further with men, moving forward in life with an utter lack of desire.

But Y/N did not know that Eris had put those pieces together, from Feyre’s subtle warning to him after Y/N had shared such a depressing sexual past to her friends.

It brought him a strange rage that men had disappointed her so thoroughly. But that was quickly replaced with the primal urge to show her what she could have from him.

So, Eris obliged, lavishing attention on his mate, his hands roaming lower, caressing the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips.

Y/N's breath quickened as his fingers dipped underneath the skirt of her dress, tracing the lace edge of her body suit.

Pride swelled through Eris as his hand moved to instantly find her arousal.

“Let me, Y/N. Please. I beg you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed up at him, her expression a mix of desire – and, surprisingly, trust.

Eris smiled, a predatory grin, and gently pushed her back onto the cushion, following her down, his body covering hers. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, his hands roaming freely over her body, exploring every inch of her soft skin.

His fingers traced the line of her thigh, pushing her skirt higher and out of the way, fully revealing the delicate lace that covered her core.

Y/N's breath hitched as his fingers brushed against her over the fabric, and she arched her hips, seeking more contact.

He finally took pity on her and moved the fabric to the side.

Eris's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her exposed sex.

With that, he dipped his middle finger into her, slowly, teasingly, remembering that she was a mortal – and one has lived without being deservedly worshipped by a male.

Y/N gasped, her body jerking at the sudden intrusion. The sensation of his finger sliding into her was exquisite.

His finger moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, gently stretching her, filling her with a pleasurable ache. He added a second finger, causing Y/N to moan softly, her head tossing back. And she clenched around his fingers, her body welcoming the touch in a way it never had before. It was a reminder than fae males were bigger than men in every way – including their fingers.

“Breathe, Y/N.” Eris encouraged with equal parts dominance and tenderness. “I can feel you holding back. Relax, my little witch.”

His voice alone sent a tremor through her body and it listened to his command as if he were her master.

He began to move his hand in a steady, rhythmic motion, his fingers curling and inside her, hitting a spot within her that she had never felt before.

Y/N gasped as pleasure coursed through her body.

She could feel her orgasm building, a feeling she had never experienced when sharing a bed with the few males in her past. Delicious tension coiled in her core.

"Eris..." she could barely whisper, pleading with him against her own control.

Eris grinned, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her. He increased the pace, his fingers working her with relentless precision.

But he was not another fumbling, mortal male. He was high fae, a powerful high lord – with Autumn fire in his blood. And he could give her more than just his fingers.

His magic flickered out of him, controlled and careful. He could not give her too much or she might never recover. She may be a witch, but she had a fragile mortal body still.

An invisible flame under his control spread across her skin, like a hundred warm hands were touching her, overwhelming her senses. Her skin was hot from the magic and beads of sweat started to form.

She couldn’t handle it any longer.

Y/N’s hips bucked off the floor, her hands trying to grip onto something as she surrendered to the sensations.

But Eris took both of her hands in one and locked them above her head, keeping her his prey.

“Let go, Y/N.“ Eris encouraged, his thumb finding her clit and circling it gently.

His words were like magic too, and Y/N’s body exploded in pleasure.

She cried out, her back still arching as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss. Every window flew open by a gust raging into the room. Not the messengers, but her own witchcraft. As if it was her body’s subconscious response, desperate for relief from the stimulation.

“Good girl,” Eris whispered as his magic wouldn’t let her calm down, overstimulating her. His fingers continued their assault, pushing her orgasm further, drawing out every last bit of the pleasure she deserved.

As the tremors subsided, Y/N lay panting with closed eyes, her hair fanned out on the wood floor like a halo. Her body spent, recovering from something she’d never felt before.

But Eris comforted her, reminding her of his presence by caressing her skin and kissing up her torso and focusing on her neck.

He kept her arms above her head, worried she would try to use them to hide herself from him.

After a few minutes, Y/N opened her eyes to find Eris still nuzzling her neck.

As if sensing her clarity coming back, Eris finally released her and pulled back to give her a stern look. “You are not allowed to be embarrassed—understand?”

The dominance in his voice forced a quick nod from her.

Eris had always had an imposing energy as High Lord. But it had never been directed at Y/N like this, and it was making her body tremble.

Y/N had never been given a chance to openly express her sexuality, and the intensity of her reaction caught her off guard.

In his presence, she was able to let go and give him control over her body and mind.

But Y/N’s whole body only grew warmer – and not by the hand of Eris’ sex magic. Was that even what it had been? Her mind was fuzzy.

Before Eris could say another word, she scrambled onto her feet. At least she had the decency of lingerie still being on her body. But she abandoned the dress Eris had so easily removed, the dozens of buttons would now betray her in this moment.

Instead, she lunged for the Eris’ cloak that he had draped over her in the forest earlier and wrapped it around her shoulders, hiding her undergarments.

Her heart was pounding, and she felt a rush of emotions—pleasure, confusion, and a strange sense of vulnerability.

"I... I shouldn’t… we can’t,” she stammered, eyes darting around the room at everything, but him.

Before Eris could respond, she rushed out of his bedchambers.

He knew her avoidance would win in the end. But Eris was a patient male. One does not live for centuries, planning their tyrant father’s usurping without great persistence and humility.

So he would let her hide…for now.

Eris had been tiptoeing around Y/N, submitting to her fear and need of distance. He let Y/N control their relationship with her withholding and protective isolation.

But he now understood: Y/N needed to be chased, needed to be exposed to her greatest fears just so he could show her he would not let her get hurt.

But now she had proven to him that she could handle his passion, his desire. He just had to take it, with the unbroken promise of keeping her safe through it.

Eris fell back to the floor and stared up at the high ceilings of his bedchamber.

Y/N had left him alone with the lingering scent of her passion. It filled his bedchambers and it wouldn't dampen for days.

Eris smiled, knowing what he had to do now.

Y/N needed to be conquered.

-------------------------

I know people never read these author notes. But I have two things:

a) if you've been following my work for awhile, you know that this is the first sex scene I have ever written. I usually just skip sex scenes and heavily imply them with a fade-to-black strategy. So, if you liked it: please, please, please let me know. I really don't know if I pulled it off.

b) thank you so much for being patient with me. work has cause me to have multiple mental breakdowns, panic attacks so bad that I have to call out sick from work. I have been busy applying to jobs, while also dealing with the high demands of my current job. so i simply have not had the mental motivation to produce art, instead only finding the energy to consume it.

if you liked this chapter, please write a book report for me. it will bring me joy. 🥹🧡

#gust & flame #gust and flame #eris vanserra #eris #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris smut #eris vanserra smut #autumn court #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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