#and not even money its just increasing loans

[despazito]

It's so awesome how canada's answer to the housing crisis is giving more money to people who already have houses so they can renovate shitty overpriced basement rentals

[hannieehaee]

TOO MUCH

18+ / mdi

summary: after a few weeks of constant overtime work slouching over a desk, you feel as if your back is about to give out on you. fortunately for you, your best friend seungcheol is a professional masseuse! unfortunately for you, you're unsure of how you'll keep your crush on your best friend at bay while on his massage bed, ass up and oiled up.

content: masseuse!seungcheol, friends to lovers, pining (act surprised), touch-starved reader, inexperienced reader, very uninformed view of what being a masseuse is like oops, afab reader, smut, fingering, oil is involved, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 7.9k

a/n: as someone who's had horrible back pain ever since i was a child, this is based on mostly real events </3 also not 100% proofread

masterlist

support me through a one-time tip! <3

Your back was killing you.

It had been weeks since you'd gotten some proper rest, having made the terrible decision to take on some overtime at work, not knowing that your supervisor would get so used to the extra help she would continue to schedule you more hours week after week, thus destroying your back in the process. You knew that you could simply say no, but the extra money was helpful. You had wanted to start saving up a little more so you could finally move out of your shitty neighborhood, so the situation kind of worked out. The money would also go to paying your student loans, meaning you really couldn't miss this chance for an increase in income. It was kind of a win-win situation, except your poor back was the sole loser.

Your job didn't involve too much movement, no. It was mostly office work, which required you to sit on your hunched back for 10 hours per day, only allotting yourself for three quick 15-minute breaks and a 30 lunch break in which you would still be hunched over as you ate. You knew it was a bad habit, but sitting there for so many hours, you'd forget to sit up straight as you looked into the computer screen, and even if you fixed your posture while working, your back was just not built for standing still for such long periods of time. There was really no saving your back from its stiff fate at this point. These work hours also didn't allow you time to even work out or stretch in order to keep your body at least a little active and maybe prevent your pain a tiny bit.

Your best friend Seungcheol constantly scolded you over your bad posture. It wasn't like you actually had bad posture, okay? You weren't constantly hunched over, nor were you carrying all your weight on your shoulders. This was a recent development resulting directly from your increased work hours. But Seungcheol, being a masseuse, always noticed the slightest changes in your physique, claiming he could spot a sore back from a mile away, with yours being a very obvious case. He could notice your head standing a little lower, digging into your shoulders more and more as the days went by. He also took notice of your constant wincing and your futile attempts at rubbing your own shoulders whenever the soreness got too annoying.

He pitied you, really. He hated seeing you in pain. Being your best friend, he felt it as his duty to try and relieve it in any way he could. On top of having most of your free time being taken over by work, he hated to think that you were also in pain during the few hours you spent away from the office. He had communicated all these concerns to you over the past few weeks, trying to convince you to let him give you a massage in order to relieve the pain, but you'd consistently refused. He was unsure as to why, and being denied a proper reason made him want to keep on insisting until you finally allowed him to rid you of your discomfort.

"One massage won't fix my issues," you'd argued over and over again. To which he simply responded by saying he could just give you a standing appointment every week! He was very insistent on helping you, wanting to relieve you of at least some of the pain. But you were even more insistent in denying him. You were too busy to use up the little bit of free time you had going to the spa Seungcheol worked at. You also didn't think a massage would really be the ultimate solution, despite how badly your sore shoulders begged for relief. Yeah, sure, a massage might alleviate the pain for a bit, but it would simply come back after another week at the office. That, and the fact that the spa Seungcheol worked at was only open during your work hours, meaning you'd have to either haul ass over there during your thirty minute lunch, or take time off. Both were huge no's to you. There were just far too many reasons as to why not take him up on his offer, you argued both to him and yourself. But you knew these were simply excuses. Your main reason had been something you'd kept deep within yourself. You were starving for his touch, but scared of how your body would react to it.

You were generally an averagely touchy person with friends and family. Not overly touchy, but arguably an appropriate amount. It had only been a little over a year or so since you'd begun to feel a bit strange at the lack of intimate touch you'd experienced thus far in your life. While all your friends had experimented and had fun during college, you were a little shier and more reserved, rendering you a bit behind the rest of the herd in that area. It wasn't very noticeable to all. It wasn't like your friends were aware about how sexually frustrated you'd grown over the years due to your lack of experience, but you'd still tried to keep it a secret how unaccustomed you were to more intimate forms of physical touch. Even something as innocent as a massage from a friend. You'd be as touchy as any friend would expect, but still felt a slightly strange sensation when it came to any mention of more intimate activities. You'd somehow grown used to a lack of touch, despite being best friends with the touchiest person alive. You usually avoided being too physically affectionate with Seuncheol anyways, having harbored a small crush on him when you'd first met and wanting to avoid any of your emotions getting in the way of a friendship you treasured so much. You'd known that a massage from the man would be a huge nono, all things considered, which was where all your denials stemmed from.

You had been friends with Seungcheol since college. You had both shared a major, meaning that you kept bumping into each other day after day, attending almost all the same classes freshman year. You had taken a quick liking to each other, befriending one another almost immediately. Despite having had a crush on the man at first sight, you were content with the friendship that had blossomed instead. You'd even ended up joining Seungcheol's little friend group, being friends with most of them even to this day. This unexpected closeness during your first year led you to coordinate your schedules the following three years, thus seeing each other literally every day you were on campus. Even now, having recently graduated college, you were still best friends, meeting up constantly. Despite sharing a major, you both had ended up in drastically different places after college. You had gone for the corporate route while Seungcheol suddenly developed a passion for physical therapy, eventually becoming a massage therapist. At the time, however, he worked at a luxury spa downtown, being known as one of their best masseuses and singlehandedly earning the establishment an increase from a four-star rating to five stars just from the quality of his work alone.

You had visited Seungcheol's work before, quickly deciding it just wasn't your vibe. The place was nice and perfectly polished, but upon seeing a few of the masseuses' skills in action, you realized it'd be better for your friendship if you avoided such intimate contact with one another. Yes, you knew massages were not inherently intimate, but being oiled up and felt up by someone who was as close to you as Seungcheol just didn't ring like a good idea to you. It also didn't help that the massive crush you had on the man in college seemed to be resurfacing as of late. You believed to have gotten over it a few months into senior year, but you didn't want to risk reviving it under any circumstances.

However, despite your constant rejections, Seungcheol continued to beg you to let him take care of your problem, and denying him was something that pained both you and your back. So you now found yourself with two issues; back pain, and a very pouty Seungcheol.

"Fuck, my back is killing me," you repeated for the millionth time in the past five hours since you had woken up. You had intended to enjoy your rare day off, even waking up a little earlier than intended so you could make plans with your roommates, but your plans quickly died on you as soon as you woke up, body stiff as a rock and your soreness worse than ever.

"We get it! You're in pain. So go do something about it!", whined your friend Seungkwan in return, not even bothering to look at you from his phone, "It's bad enough I had to cancel my plans to stay here and take care of you. Just go get oiled up by Cheol and stop making this my problem!"

If there was anything Seungkwan was, it was direct. He was right. Your pain was getting out of hand. And the longer you waited, the worse it would get. Except he didn't know about your calamity to its full extent.

"Listen, I don't even have the money to afford his fancy spa. Have you been there? One day is worth a whole day's pay!"

"Please. It's Seungcheol. He'll get you in for free. Hell, he'll even pay you to go."

"I don't have time to go!", another excuse. A few more and Seungkwan might even begin to crack the code behind your insistent refusal.

He suddenly straightened up from his laid-back position, staring directly in your direction, "All the solutions are there. You're the problem. It's like you want to be in pain! I could literally call him up right now and he'd drop work to come help you. Just get the damn massage!"

This is how a lot of your conversations went lately. Well, the very few conversations you could have nowadays due to your heavy workload. You'd occasionally even have to bring work home even after having been there for half the day. Your eight hours of sleep a night were not even pleasurable anymore, as you felt stiff as a rock the moment you attempted to lay down. The only comfortable stance, ironically, was hunched over in front of a computer. It was like you'd frozen into that pose, feeling immeasurable pain any time you attempted to move any other way. You'd tried pilates, stretches, yoga. Nothing worked. Maybe Cheol's massage really was the only solution, but it'd been so long since you began denying him you now felt a little silly going back on your word. That, and your other obvious issues.

"I'll be fine, Kwan! Just leave. You don't have to take care of me, I just need to lay for a bit."

"You'll lay there all day, I know you. Your life's become a constant state of sleep and work. Maybe you should just quit," he suggested, seemingly moving on from the Cheol topic. Finally.

"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how much debt I have to pay off? I don't wanna be paying this off for the rest of my life. I'd rather suffer for a few years now and just get it out of the way," you reasoned, although not sounding very reasonable even to yourself. What's the rush?, a voice in the back of your head would sometimes whisper, but you'd just ignore it.

"Fine," he tsk'd. "Rot in your own misery, I'm going out with Kyeom and Soonie. If I come back and you've morphed into a rock, don't say I didn't warn you," and with that, he announced his departure, going forward with the plans you had made with your friends before your back had gotten in the way.

You knew your friend was kidding, but the unbearable pain would sometimes have you wonder. Should you just go to Cheol? What was the worst that could happen of you just let him touch you? His touch would be purely platonic, you were sure of that. But you feared that it would rekindle your feelings even more, and maybe that your high-strung self would not be able to handle such touch from him without finally snapping.

You were weak. This wasn't much of a secret among your friend group, or anyone really. Which is why you now found yourself walking through the doors of Seungcheol's spa. You had spent about an hour rotting in your own misery, as Seungkwan had put it, before deciding to power through your pain and drive down to where you knew Seungcheol was currently working a shift. You hadn't called him, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. You weren't planning on booking a massage today, no. You couldn't have even if you wanted, knowing that the spa Seungcheol worked at was a bit renown in town and that their bookings went weeks back. You had just wanted to give it another try. Maybe visual learning would convince your stubborn self to accept Cheol's help for once.

You entered the establishment, already knowing exactly where to go to find out about Seungcheol's whereabouts. You walked to the receptionist, opening your mouth to ask for assistance before being rudely interrupted.

"Sorry. We're booked for the day. Our next open bookings begin in December. Try again then," the conversation had ended before it began, causing you to close your mouth right back up.

Once more, you opened your mouth to speak, maybe respond in equally passive aggressive tone as the girl had, but you were rudely interrupted once again, except this time it was by a warmer, more welcoming voice.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?", you could not see him from your angle, needing to turn around to face the source of the sound, but you could instantly hear the smile in his voice, clearly both happy and shocked to find you here of all people.

You turned around, now facing the boy. He was wearing his usual 'uniform', which really just consisted of some tight black slacks and a matching black short-sleeve top tucked into his pants. You'd forgotten how well his uniform fit him. It must've been one of the reasons why his massages were rated so high, you thought.

"Hey, Cheol ..." you smiled awkwardly, having been caught off guard by the man. You'd meant to surprise him, not the other way around.

"I wasn't expecting you. Did you call? Did you make an appointment?!", his eyes widened at the possibility, looking past you and at the receptionist as if to confirm his inquiry.

"No, Cheol. I told you I didn't want a massage. I came to see you, actually," well that was half true. You had wanted to see your friend in his element, maybe even convince yourself of finally taking him up on his offer. You had just wanted to see if you could handle that type of touch from your best friend considering your situation (re: a recovering case of touch starvation with a mixture of 'I might kind of maybe still have a bit of a crush on my bff').

To be completely honest, you were somewhat afraid. You'd hadn't felt any form of intimate touch in a long while or, well, ever. And to have it come from your best friend would only open up a can of worms you had wanted to keep under lock and key ever since meeting the man. Every excuse you'd given thus far to reject him bad been true, but had also been just that; an excuse. You knew that Seungcheol's treatment would help you lessen an issue that had now grown past your own personal ability to manage on your own. Which is why you were now here, willing to give it a try. You had self control, right? What was the worst that could happen if you let your best friend get his hands on you, your bare back as he rubbed it with oil? You'd deal with the logistics later, now you just wanted to see exactly what your friend was offering you.

"Me? What's up?", he had begun to walk you towards his rest area, away from the mean receptionist as he continued conversation with you.

"Well, I, uh, I was thinking about your offer ..."

"Really?! You wanna do it? I can clear up my schedule! Just let me talk to Stacy real quick and-"

"Cheol!", you had to physically hold him back from walking back to the reception to rearrange his day. He seemed way too excited to help you out.

"I haven't decided yet, Cheol. I was just thinking, well, wondering if it'd be okay for me to maybe shadow you for a while or something? Just to see what it'd be like?"

To any outsider you must've sounded like an idiot, somehow worrying over something that was arguably the most relaxing experience a person could possibly have. Ironically. What people didn't understand was the effect Seungcheol could have on a person. Specially a touch-starved, heavily emotionally invested, weak individual such as yourself. Denying your crush on Seungcheol was really the only defense you had left at this point. You could admit to your fears of being touched by Cheol, chalking it up to your lack of experience at being touched in general, but you could not even admit that your crush had maybe, perhaps, possibly, creeped back up a while back. It didn't help that no one you knew was aware of your sensitive state when it came to intimate contact. This was intel you hadn't even let your best friend in on. Maybe if it had been someone else, you would've accepted the massage already. You knew it didn't have to be an intimate interaction, it was just the fact that Cheol would be doing it that made it seem that way to you. But you knew his feelings would be hurt if you denied him and went to someone else. You'd dragged it out for far too long, making such a simple thing way too complicated.

~

Cheol easily agreed to your request, seemingly excited to even have you around his workplace at all. It was cute, really. He let you know that his next booking would start in ten minutes or so, so you waited with him during his break. Despite not receiving a massage for yourself, he provided you with a robe to change into due to the humidity most of their rooms tended to have during a session.

"Are you sure it's okay that I'm here? Won't the client mind?"

"Nah. She's a regular, she tends to forget her own name five minutes in," he winked at you. Well, that was reassuring ..

The massage began soon after. The woman, probably in her early 40's, walked in, gave Seungcheol a friendly greeting and proceeded to lay down, barely even acknowledging your presence in the back of the room. Cheol gave some weak excuse of 'she's in training, just showing her the ropes' to justify your presence, earning an uninterested hum in acknowledgment from the woman before she had begun taking off her robe and gotten on the bed in preparation for her awaited session. She was't fully naked but had very thin underwear on, meaning you could practically see every detail from her back. Her face-down position gave you a perfect angle to her almost-bare ass as Seungcheol prepared the oils he had set on the table beside him. There was also some incense burning in the room, along with some steam to help with ambience.

The massage began very slowly, allowing Seungcheol to deliver very soft touches as he spread the oil around her back. He even went as far as the back of her legs and ass, reaching as far as her feet. The first few minutes simply consisted of him spreading the oil around. You hadn't known Seungcheol gave full body massages til now. Before having started the session, Cheol had told you 'Pay close attention. This is what I'll do to you when you agree.' Had he meant he'd be running his hands up and down your entire body? The thought made you shudder, almost missing the show in front of you.

His next movements were harsher, but in a clearly pleasurable way. He began to knead roughly at the woman's shoulders, making her groan at the pleasurable pain. He did this for a while, clearly having found a point of tension in that area. His thumbs focused on specific areas of tension that you were familiar with; the same areas you'd known your back had knots in. Even just seeing it made the sore parts of your back beg for release of tension. When he moved on, he targeted the upper center of her back, just below where her breasts were located on the opposite side of her body. He rubbed at the sides, sliding his hands up and down the length of her back as he massaged expertly. He continually used the extra strength of his thumbs to pressure and rub at the sore spots. He didn't even have to ask where it hurt, it seemed like he could just detect it on his own. This was clearly exerting the woman, as she moaned and sighed at the feeling of Seungcheol's hands on her. It was clearly exerting Seungcheol too, who was letting out groans from his own efforts.

You imagined yourself in her position, wanting to be the sole receiver of his touches and sounds. You felt ashamed, but the act was making your body heat up. You knew it was purely innocent, and with the purpose of relaxation, but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to blame the humidity in the room, or maybe the cozy material of your robe, but there was only one culprit; Choi Seungcheol. You had been right to believe that his touch would be your undoing. Simply hearing him was enough to make you lightheaded. You had lost track of where the massage had went, only thinking about the man in the room now. You cursed your vivid imagination for the images it was putting in your head just at the mere sounds coming from your friend.

The massage continued for a while, eventually sending the woman into a deep slumber. Cheol kept re-applying oil to her back throughout the session, even lowering his hands all the way to knead at her ass and the back of her legs during some points. That made you extra lightheaded. Not just at the thought of Seungcheol touching you in the same way, but knowing he'd have the magic touch able to release the tension trapped all over your back. You couldn't blame the woman for the sounds she made or the way she fell asleep due to the pleasure. You could only imagine your own reaction at Seungcheol doing the same to you. Even just seeing the way he rubbed at the skin had your back aching for the same release of pressure from the tightest spots on your back.

You were still slightly affected by the time the woman had woken up and left, leaving you and Cheol alone in the room, promising Seungcheol she'd be back soon as she exited. He approached you with a smile, clearly proud of having shown you his skills in action.

"So, what did you think?"

"I, uh, you're really good, Cheol. I'm surprised."

"Surprised? I've been telling you I'm the best for months! C'mon, there's no way you don't want a massage after seeing that," he rebutted, smirking with confidence.

You remained silent for a second, pondering as to whether or not you should move forward with this. He was right. He was clearly talented at it, and he really just wanted to help. Your aching back was begging for it, and so were the other aching parts of your body. But you didn't know if you could hold back without embarrassing yourself at your best friend's hands on you in such an intimate way.

Your best friend must've taken notice of your silence, speaking up again, but in a more serious yet sympathetic manner.

"Listen. I know you can be a bit .. shy about these things. If it helps, we can just set up at my apartment? I have a massage bed there too! It would just be the two of us. C'mon, what do you say?", he gave you puppy eyes as he usually did when asking for something.

He was always hard to deny. And in this vulnerable moment, with your back begging for relief and your body aching for his touch, you weren't surprised when you found yourself muttering a 'yes' in affirmation.

A few days passed. You and Cheol ended up having to coordinate your days off. It had actually been almost a full week until you were able to see each other again, which for you meant yet another week of grueling pain you had to put up with. You were really beginning to consider putting an end to the overtime you'd been working. Maybe after the massage you could begin to work less hours in order to lessen the pain. Maybe even take Cheol up on his offer of getting a standing appointment to lessen the pain more and more and prevent it from coming back again. It was something to think about. But now you had better things to worry about. Those things taking form in the man standing on the opposite side of the door in front of you.

You had agreed on today, a Saturday night, in order for you to come to his apartment and receive the dreaded massage. Cheol had worked all day today, which made you feel a bit bad about making him basically step back into his work duties but this time at home. He reassured you it was more than fine, reasoning that you'd worked all week and he had just wanted to work around your busy schedule. You appreciated his efforts to work with you, having always known Cheol to put your comfort before anything else. Which was yet another reason why you felt badly at receiving this favor from him. To anyone else it might've just been a massage, but you knew that to Cheol this was a service he was used to getting paid for, a talent which he put effort into. You felt like both like a leech and like a source of annoyance due to this whole ordeal.

You put all your thoughts aside and knocked on the door, knowing it was now time to forget about all your worries and just let Seungcheol take care of you. He opened the door almost immediately, almost as if he'd been waiting on the other side of it, ear against the door while your internal monologue went off in your head.

"You're here!", he smiled widely at you, ushering you in.

"You invited me, Cheol. I wasn't about to ditch you."

"But you thought about it, didn't you?", he kinda had you there. You did consider it, but you knew your best friend would've tracked you down sooner or later anyways.

"Listen, I know you're nervous, but there's nothing to be nervous about! I'll take care of you. It won't be awkward, I swear," despite having never told him of your lack of experience with touch, you always assumed he had some idea of it. He didn't know the full story, though. Not about the fact that your issue with the massage was being touched by him; the former source of your desires.

"It's .. it's fine, Cheol. I'm not nervous, I promise. Just don't know what to expect, that's all."

"I'll guide you through it. I set out the massage table for you in my room. I have the oils ready too. Oh! Did you bring a bikini to change into?"

Right. Last time you spoke he had asked you to bring either a bikini or some comfortable underwear. He's said something about needing your body as nude as possible ('within your comfort zone!', he'd quickly added) in order to give you a full massage. He also said the oils he used had a tendency of staining and leaving their strong fragrance on most fabrics. It was usually spa policy to provide customers with robes and such for their sessions, but being located in his home at the moment, he'd asked you to just bring your bikini directly.

You didn't feel any type of way about this, surprisingly. Having known Seungcheol for years, he'd seen you in a bikini as many times as you'd seen him shirtless and in very tiny swim trunks. The one thing, however, was the thought of him touching your bare skin, but it was too late to back out - not that you wanted to anyways.

"Y-yeah, it's in my bag. Did you wanna start right away or ..?"

"Yeah! Go get ready and I'll start preparing the oils for you. I'll also light some incense for ambience," and with that, he left you alone in the living room so that you could change without interruption. He went into his room to prepare things, closing the door to allow you some privacy.

You had chosen your skimpiest bikini. Not for any inferior motives! But because you knew Cheol needed access to your bare skin as much as possible. Your lower lower back had been killing you lately. Even more so than your shoulders, due to sitting all day every day. So you wanted to give him room to take care of that without any clothing getting in the way. You hastily got changed, deciding that you'd already waited long enough and that it was time to get this over with.

'Are you ready?", you heard Cheol ask from his room a few minutes later.

Ok, it was time. Anyone else would've been ecstatic at the thought of their crush rubbing all over their body, or at the idea of a free full-body massage. But you were too high-strung for your own good, which only increased your anxiety over the whole thing. However, you were now here, almost in the nude, only one door away from the man who would rid you of your pain and replace it with pleasure.

You stepped into the room without verbalizing a response, immediately meeting eyes with an expectant Cheol, who was organizing his oils as he awaited your arrival. He'd outdone himself, really. He had lowered the lighting in the room, lighting a few candles and some incense in order to turn up the spa ambience. The place smelled divine, and even the temperature was perfect. You could already feel yourself getting relaxed.

"Cheol, holy shit. This is too much. You didn't have to go so out of your way. This looks like an actual spa!"

"Only the best for my best friend," he gave his gummy smile in return, eyeing you as he directed you towards the massage table that was standing in the middle of the room. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, accepting his stretched hand as he helped position you on the table.

He laid you face down on the table, but with your head turned to the side, as to not squish your features against the flat surface, "Try not to think too much, yeah? It'll feel so good, I promise. I'm gonna get rid of all tension in your body," the way he'd said it sounded promising, almost hinting at something more.

Without much warning, he began to softly run his hands up and down your body, going from your shoulders all the way down to your calves, almost as if sizing you up in order to come up with a game plan for your massage. Even that feather-like touch had you flinching a little. You'd never been caressed like this before.

"Shit, you're very high-strung. Even more than I thought," he chuckled in response to your body's reaction to such light touch.

"Cheol ..." you whined.

"Sorry. I'll start now, okay? You're gonna feel a little warm in a second. I'm gonna oil you up so it's easier for me to massage you, yeah? I picked my favorite scented oils for you."

You were thankful for the warning, because the warmth you felt immediately after made you swoon internally. You almost moaned out loud at the feeling of his hands lightly rubbing the oil all over your body. You were already affected and he hadn't even begun. It didn't take him long to actually start, however. He began with your neck, almost wrapping his hands all around it, but not closing them in on it. His thumbs were focusing on the lower part of the back of your neck, rubbing at spots you hadn't even realized were that sore.

"You're so tense, Jesus Christ," he was right. You could feel instant relief at his touch, pressing your body further into the soft material of the cushion of the table in pure relaxation.

He rubbed that area for a while, seemingly trying to target the knots located there. He then moved onto your shoulders, beginning to rub a little harder. He began to dig his thumbs into the problem areas, going extra hard at any points of tension. With this extra strength, also came his vocalization of his efforts. His groans of exertion began to fill the room, making you feel even more lightheaded than the massage itself.

"Shit, Baby. You're so fucking tight here."

The wording itself was killing you, but the way he touched you while doing it made you melt into the table, afraid you'd begin to vocalize your pleasure through the form of moans or whines. So far you'd been able to get away with soft breaths and maybe a gasp or two. But you knew that the moment you let go, you wouldn't be able to control the way your body would react to his touch. You were slightly terrified of what would come the lower he went down your body.

Then he threw you yet another curveball.

He leaned down, halting his movements for a moment, and put his mouth a few inches from your ear, "I can feel you tensing up. It's okay, I'll take care of you. You can relax for me."

You saw that as a green light to let go, whining a tiny 'uh huh' in response as he continued his movements.

He went lower and lower, now rubbing your lower back; the area right before the slope of your ass began, but he was quickly approaching it. Every area he had touched so far, he had undone. You felt like your back had been liberated of the huge weight it had been carrying for years. You were whining and moaning at the pleasure he was giving you, and also at the feel of his hands on your body. You felt yourself get wetter by the minute, having started to feel moisture down there from the moment he began massaging you. You were ashamed, but his touch so close to your biggest point of tension was driving you insane. You wanted him to forget about the massage and just flip you over.

"Okay, baby. Now I'm gonna do your ass, okay? Trust me, I know it sounds dumb, but a lot of people carry a lot of tension here"

He was right once again. As he massaged the muscle, you felt tension you didn't even know you had finally unwind. He repositioned you a bit, asking you to lift one of your legs to the side and let it hang a bit off of the side of the table. This angle lifted up your ass a bit, and disconnected your crotch from the table. You were slightly embarrassed, knowing that if he looked through a certain angle he'd be able to see you glisten with desire for him, but you chose to ignore it and hope for the best. Cheol was already helping you so much.

He continued for a few moments, occasionally going down and rubbing lightly at the back of your thighs and calves before coming back up to your lower back and butt. But he suddenly stopped at some point. You could've sworn you heard an intake of breath.

"Hey .. I'm gonna try a special technique. Is that okay?"

You were almost completely gone in pleasure by then, eyes becoming heavier by the minute. You didn't even have to think before saying yes.

You felt him lean his body more over the table, and also a bit over the lower half of your body. He was still just massaging your lower back with one hand, while making you bend your leg a little higher than before. You weren't sure what he meant by special technique, but you were down for anything had in mind. Except you hadn't expected what he would do next.

Having bent your leg forward, he had given himself the perfect angle of your pussy from behind, deciding to let his hand slip between your legs and run his fingers lightly over your folds. You gasped at this, repositioning yourself a bit to give him even more access. He took this as a welcoming sign, starting to run his hands up and down your pussy, stopping once in a while to rub at your swollen clit.

"Baby .. You're so tense here .. Let me help you? Yeah?" He said this as he continued to increase the intensity of his movements, rubbing more and more at your clit.

"Y-yes. Fuck. Please, Cheol ..." you whined, giving him permission to do whatever he wanted to you.

You yelped at his next movements. He had shoved his fingers inside with no warning, leaning down to kiss softly at your ass while he fingered you. The speed of his fingers wasn't too fast, but it was deep and calculated, dragging across all the places you needed him most. He was right, you did feel tense there, but his movements were relaxing you like nothing else could.

"Is it working, baby? Am I making you feel good?"

You'd buried your face into one of your arms, but still managed to squeak out a "yes!" in affirmation.

"Just 'yes', baby? We can do better than that, don't you think? I think I have something to rid you of all your tension ..." you could hear the smirk in his voice as he said this, feeling him finally remove the tiny piece of fabric between your legs.

He positioned his body a little further over the lower half of the table, lowering his face to the space between your cheeks in order to get his tongue on your pussy. He began to lick and suck softly, keeping a pace similar to that of his fingers just a few seconds ago. The pleasure was blinding you, causing you to lightly grind against his face, wanting as much pleasure as you could milk out of him. He seemed to like this, as he lifted his hands and placed them on your hips, guiding your grinding against him and taking on an even better angle.

All that could be heard were the moist sounds of his tongue on your heat and your cries of pleasure. The massage had been fully forgotten. All you could think about was your best friend's tongue and the way his groans against your pussy were making you lose your mind. It seemed like this was bringing him as much satisfaction as it did you.

"Ch-Cheollie! Right there! Fuck!", he'd begun to suckle at your clit, wanting you to finally reach your high and bring you as much pleasure as imaginable.

"Cum all ove' my face baby! wann' taste that pretty pussy," his words were muffled. He seemed physically incapable of separating himself from you.

You came almost immediately, loving the vibrations of his groans against you. You fell completely limp, being rendered a shell of yourself. The whole thing had felt like an out of body experience. From the massage to the life-changing orgasm. You were convinced there was no greater pleasure than what you'd felt in the past half hour. But Seungcheol seemed to disagree, instantly pulling you towards him and sitting you on the table, your body now facing his.

He had untied your bikini top earlier into the massage, which you hadn't minded since you were facing down and away from his view anyways, but now you were grateful he had. He was making direct eye contact with your tits, almost as if pondering as to what to do with them. He seemed to reach a decision, however, and attacked them with his lips with intense fervor, licking and biting at your swollen buds. He had you moaning out in pleasure again. It was as if he'd studied your body without you knowing, being an expert in all your weak spots.

He made out with your tits for a while, making your eyes roll back at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive nipples. When he pulled away, he instantly began undressing himself at record speed. He had just been wearing shorts and a loose top, which made the process pretty quick. Immediately after getting himself nude, he positioned you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist from your position sitting on the table. He dragged you as close to him as possible by your legs, pressing your chests together.

He looked down at you while running his hands up and down your back, which was still slightly sticky with oil. He seemed to be in a trance, just looking at you with an endeared expression in his eyes, "You're so beautiful. Your body's so ... fuck. Can't believe you've been in pain for so long, baby. When I could've been taking care of you all this time," he had began to kiss along your neck and clavicles as he said this.

"Cheollie .." you breathed out, tilting your neck to the side to allow him extra space to kiss.

"Can I take care of you, baby? Let me get rid of all your tension?", he'd started grinding his bare hips against yours, having pushed open your legs in order to allow himself to drag his dick against your cunt.

Even just the weight of his cock against you had you whining, burying your face in his neck, not knowing how to react at the stimulation. You'd already felt the most pleasure when Cheol buried his tongue in your cunt, or so you'd thought. But that did not hold a candle to the feeling of his fat head as it nudged against your folds. You began to whine and writhe against him, hands digging into his arms as he ground against you. Until he nudged your head away from his neck, wanting to face you. He halted his movements altogether and looked into your eyes for a few moments, a small smile gracing his lips. His eyes began to lower, now staring directly at your lips. Your eyes mirrored his. It was a tender moment in the midst of what had just now been a mess of grinding bodies and oil. When he finally kissed you was when you truly felt relief. No massage could have compared to the bliss you felt with your best friend's lips against your own. The softness of the kiss didn't last much, however, as the movements of his hips picked back up and the kiss began to become more moist by the second.

Cheol took advantage of your soft gasps at the feeling of his cock against your cunt to slip his tongue in your mouth, expertly massaging yours with his. This went on for a bit, allowing for Cheol to stimulate you with some kissing and dry humping, further preparing you to take him free of pain. He was a little larger in size than average, and with the very limited experience he had asserted you to have, he wanted to prevent you from feeling any pain. He had wanted tonight to be nothing but pleasure for you, knowing how badly you've been needing some relaxation, and maybe with the slight ulterior motive of finally getting with his pretty bestie.

He unglued himself from your lips, chuckling at the way you whined as your lips followed his, "Baby, I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah? Wanna see you fully relaxed. That okay?"

"Mhm. Yes, Cheollie. Do anything you want. Trust you," you mumbled in response, head filled with air as you barely caught your breath from the overload of pleasure you'd felt tonight.

With that, he began to enter you, bulbous head showing a bit of a fight in entering your tight walls. You both let out a moan of relief when he finally bottomed out, almost as if you'd both been craving this for a while. He fucked you with a passion only someone who wanted you the way you wanted him would. You'd thought you'd reached the utmost pleasure when Cheol had you cumming against his tongue, but nothing could ever compare to being full of him as he praised you through every thrust, calling you every possible adjective to describe your beauty.

"B-baby! So fucking good. So pretty for me .. Gonna fuck you all night. Gonna fuck you to sleep. All mine now," he began canting in and out of you with even more intensity now, making sure to hit that spot with every thrust.

"Cheollie!"

"I know, baby. Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me fill that pussy up, aren't you, pretty?"

It didn't take long for you to cum, already feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions at every type of pleasure Seungcheol had delivered to you tonight. He followed soon after you, yelling out your name at the tightening of your walls around him. He breathed heavily as he leaned against you for a minute or two, only then moving away from you in order to get a towel and begin to clean you up.

"Sorry .. was that too much?", he smiled sheepishly as you seemed to wince when he attempted to clean you up between your thighs.

"No! It was perfect, just ... not really used to it, that's all."

"Okay, baby. If you say so. Now let me take you to bed!", with no warning, he picked you up and brought you over to his bed, completely ignoring the mess he'd caused on his massage table after having fucked you on it. He laid you down, cocooning you into his blankets before rushing to the other side of the bed and holding you in his arms.

He turned to look at you as he cradled your body against his, "Do you feel better now? Still sore?", the question seemed genuine.

"No, Cheollie. I feel amazing. I've never felt this good before, actually."

"That good, huh? I told you I was the best! But don't worry, baby. Gonna keep your appointment every week like I promised. Gonna keep you in my bed every time you're feeling sore, yeah, baby? Don't even have to ask, I'll be waiting for you," he chuckled at himself as he said this, but being completely serious.

"Will you give me your special treatment again?," you giggled against his lips.

"That's for you and you only, baby," he replied as he closed the gap between you once more.

a/n: ok i mightve made reader a lil extra overdramatic this time but u guys have to understand. my back hurts like hell. so pls sympathize w reader bc shes lowkey my soul sister in that area 😭

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval. 

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

[txttletale]

My question about growth/the venture capitalist mindset is like … how have venture capitalists and the like not figured this out already? It’s been a decade, give or take a few years, since the internet started being monetized to hell and back, and if we all know they’re not really making a profit (bc no one clicks on ads, obviously) then why are the structures still in place?im looking at all this and I feel like a dunce bc I just don’t get how ppl can keep ofunelling money into something that we all know doesn’t work lol ! :0

there's a couple reasons for this, but the tldr of it is that if you're wile e. coyote and you're running in the air over the edge of a cliff, it's in your material interests not to look down

let's say you're a venture capitalist and you've put $10 million into hypnospace, the hot new social media site. when you invest into a company, you invest at a certain price--the company has an idea of how much it's worth, and that determines what price they'll sell their shares at. let's say you buy at $10 a share, so you have a million shares in hypnospace. that $10-a-share-valuation was based on hypnospace telling you (in, say, 2012, when this was still believable and even seemed self-evident) that becuse they were seeing huge growth in daily active users, they'd eventually become insanely profitable.

now usually even you, a venture capitalist, a lifeform mostly resembling a parasitic flatworm, might be a little cautious about this investment. will they really become profitable? it seems risky. however because it's 2012, the US federal reserve has been giving out loans at their ZIRP (zero interest rate policy) for four years in a response to the 2008 financial crisis. what that means is that it's incredibly cheap for banks to borrow money, which in turn means it's incredibly cheap for you, a venture capitalist, to borrow that money from banks. when money is cheap, risky investments make a lot of sense--when you can get an extremely low-interest-rate loan, throwing that money down the toilet is unfortunate but no longer catastrophic. so you put your $10 million into hypnospace because the risk is artificially lowered by the ZIRP, making it well worth the reward.

now it's five years later and it's 2017 and it's becoming increasingly clear that hypnospace.horse is probably not going to became the new facebook and that perhaps there will in fact only be one facebook. bummer. but you've still got a million shares in it. this means that you're directly invested--not in the company becoming profitable, but in the valuation of that company going up. if people can be convinced to buy hypnospace shares at $12-a-share, you can make off with a cool $2 million even though the website never did anything useful or made any money. on the other hand, if people start thinking 'hey, this website has never made any money and it's obviously never going to, why would we buy shares in it'--shares plummet to $1 a share, and you're out $9 million! worst case scenario!

so even if you, the venture capitalist, realize that the website's a boondoggle, it's in your best interest to convince everyone around you that no, it really will become profitable, and its shares (that you hold some of!) are really valuable and you should want to buy them. and this doesn't just mean lying to other venture capitalists (although they love doing this)--capitalists pay close attention to sales of stocks. if you realize that hypnospace is never going to make money and decide to cut your losses and abruptly offload all million shares, other capitalists will interpret that for what it means--that you've totally lost confidence in seeing return on your investment--and many of them will panic and also start selling their shares, while capitalists with no hypnospace shares will think 'boy, this hypnospace thing seems like a real wash, i don't want to buy shares in that'.

so what do you do? you keep putting money in. if the company's increasing in valuation the more it grows, then even if you're crystal-clear aware that growth has no path to profitability, you still gain wealth for every month that the business stays afloat by burning money, because the valuation goes up and your shares are worth more. the ideal outcome for a venture capitalist investing into a tech company is to make a big investment, let the company bleed money while it grows for several years, then sell--not all at once, not abruptly, and not while the price is in stagnation or decline. it's one big game of hot potato for when the gig is finally up. not every venture capitalist has to be a totally credulous dipshit--just the last one in the line.

[callmeagardengnome]

𐙚 ink my heart 𐙚 - chapter 1

w.c. - 2.3k words

pairings - idol! lee dong-hyuck x tattoo artist! fem! reader x idol! mark lee

genre - romance, strangers to friends to ?

synopsis: being a tired university student with no interest in life was something you were satisfied with until you unexpectedly become friends with an idol.. but what if it becomes more?

not proofread!

previous / next

masterlist

You never expected to find yourself in a love triangle. From working in various odd jobs during high school to currently taking a hellish part-time job as a beginner tattoo artist in university, you have always focused on one thing: money. Your desire for cash increased tenfold when you entered university, as your student loans racked up. Sure, you were lucky enough to get a job, but you somehow ended up with one of the worst bosses you have ever come across. 

As someone who only started tattooing actual people a year ago, your boss was really pushing you to take on all of his clients. You didn’t mind too much (he was paying you more money) but you can’t help but wonder if he even knows how to tattoo people. 

Now not only is your social life dead, you feel dead on the inside, having to work unnecessary hours with additional school assignments on top of that. It didn’t help that the tattoo studio was about 2 hours from your school, home or any signs of life. You can’t remember the last time you met up with a friend. 

Ding ding!

You look up from what you realise is a blank computer screen and see three blurry figures walking to towards you. You fumbled around your desk and grabbed your glasses. You noticed that they all wore caps and masks. Okay, weird, but who are you to judge? 

You bit the inside of your cheek. You don’t remember seeing three clients on the schedule - do you have to work overtime again?

One of them approached your desk and started tapping on it rhythmically before finally saying, “Hey uh.. I booked a session for 4pm?” you nodded mindlessly while turning on your computer to look for the work schedule. 

“Yeah you’re a little early,” you squinted your eyes at the computer trying to see if you read the right name. “It says here that you are… TY..?” you asked while raising my eyebrow.

“Sorry, thats just my nickname,” he said nervously. “It's actually Taeyong.” 

“Uh huh.. you’re the only one getting a tattoo right? Unless the other two are walk-ins?” You swivelled your chair over to the printer and waited for the tattoo stencil to print out. The moment he nodded, a mini celebration went through your mind. You finally have short day. Sure, the tattoo would take a minimum of 3 hours, but at the very least you wouldn’t have to walk through the creepy street at midnight again. 

“You guys can make yourself comfortable over there,” you said, while pointing to the tattoo chair in the corner that was accompanied by a small couch. 

They shuffled over to the chairs before deciding to take off their masks and caps. You took a glance and of course, they happened to be one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen. It’s not like you’ve never met a man before in your life, but none of them looked like models. You gathered the templates (and your composure) before rolling your chair over to the three men. “You wanted a shoulder tattoo right?” you asked, while putting on your gloves. 

The three of them looked at each other, surprised. “A-are you the one tattooing him?” one of them questioned. “Yeah…?” you looked at them confused. 

“Sorry- it’s just that on the Instagram page it said that a ‘Mr Park’ was the sole tattoo artist here.”

“Well.. Mr Park is my boss and no, I’m actually the only tattoo artist here.” you answered before taking a warm towel and slowly dabbing the stencil onto Taeyong’s arm. 

As you continued your work, they started to chat with each other, trying their best to include you in the process. You soon find out that the other two men were named Mark and Haechan.

“So how did you guys find this place? Its not like it’s popular or anything,” you asked, trying to make small talk as you focused on the tattoo. 

Mark shrugged. “We heard that it was good for privacy.” He isn’t wrong, your boss’s main priority was the privacy of the studio. Shady location, tinted windows, only providing the address once the client puts down a deposit, the whole studio screamed safe house to you. 

“Yeah- well.. Mr Park is known for his discretion,” you said, lifting the tattoo gun when you saw Taeyong wincing.

“But it seems that you’re the real talent here,” Haechan said while leaning closer to the tattoo. 

His words made you pause for a second. It’s not everyday you receive such compliments, especially by someone so.. good-looking. You tried to brush it off and returned back to tattooing, but the way he continued to look at your work (and you) made it difficult to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest. 

“Thanks..” you mumbled keeping your eyes on the tattoo, hoping that no one would notice the slight blush on your cheeks. You continued to steal glances at him, seeing his eyes sparkle with curiosity and amazement. 

“Dude.. you have a really steady hand though,” Mark said while pushing Haechan aside to get a better view of the tattoo. “How long have you been doing this again?”

“A little over a year.. I think…?” you trailed off, feeling slightly self-conscious under his gaze. It’s strange, you always prided yourself as someone that was independent, a workaholic, being perfectly fine with having little social interaction. And yet, you’re basically crumbling under the a simple compliment. 

You heard him mumbling a ‘thats awesome’ before continuing to talk about random things you didn’t catch. The level of sincerity in their interest made you question every interaction you’ve ever had. Sure, you’ve talked with some of your clients before, but most of them barely acknowledged you, treating you as though you weren’t even there. 

Today is different though, these guys treated you like a friend, like someone real. The way they talked to you made it feel as though you have an actual friend group, even if it’s just for a moment. 

Hours pass by in a blur of conversations and needlework. When you finished, Taeyong looked at the tattoo, smiling widely while doing different poses. 

“Dudee.. that looks sick!” Mark exclaimed, the awe in his voice making your heart swell. Haechan nodded behind him before saying, “Yeah you’re crazyy talented.”

You can’t remember the last time you said the words ‘thank you’ as much as today. You haven’t felt this good about your work (or yourself) in a long time. 

“Thanks, you really did a good job today,” Taeyong said. You gathered the money in his hands before putting it in the cash register. 

“No, thank you guys for being such great company,” you said while looking over at each of them. 

As they gather their things to leave, you notice Mark lingering near your desk a bit longer, hesitating. “Hey uh-“ he said, looking at the door. “We were thinking of get some food nearby… do you wanna join?”

Your eyes widened, did you hear him correctly? “Uhh…” you glanced at the clock briefly before looking back at him. 

Your first instinct is to refuse. You’ve had a long day of work and school and you know that you have an assignment waiting for you back at home.

As if noticing your hesitation, Taeyong quickly added, “No pressure by the way. We just thought it would be fun.”

“Yeah, it would be fun to hangout more,” Haechan interjected. “You're cool.”

Great, more pressure. You let their words sink in. You never saw yourself as someone ‘cool’, just basic. You only knew how to talk about three things - work, school, and tattoos. Also, you’ve never really hung out with anyone before. You doubt you would be a fun addition to their night. 

“Sorry to disappoint guys.. I’ve had a really long day today,” you said hesitantly. “But I’m pretty sure I can make time for you guys next week…?”

A downcast expression flashed on Mark’s face, “It’s okay we understand..” You gave him a small smile before continuing to pack your things.

“Wait, before we go can I get your Instagram?” Haechan said while swiftly sliding his phone towards you. 

The shock on your face must have been obvious as he started to chuckle at your expression. You weren’t expecting any form of interest from them, and the sudden request caught you off guard. 

“Uh.. sure...” you muttered as you took his phone and entered your details. You handed his phone back and your fingers brushed against each other, sending an immediate spark through you. 

“Let’s keep in touch yeah?” Haechan says with a playful grin. 

Mark, who had been quietly observing the two of you finally speaks up, “I hope we can meet again soon ‘___’. Tell us when you’re free, okay?”

“Yeah of course,” you replied, hoping that your exhaustion isn’t obvious on your face. 

Right before they leave, Taeyong suddenly mentioned, “Wait, I didn’t see a car when we got here..” he looked at you with concern. “How are you gonna get back?”

“I mean trains are a thing..?” you said shrugging, before Mark interrupted you. “Dude.. didn’t you say that you lived like- two hours away from here?”

“It’s really not a big deal,“ you tried to say. It really wasn’t, you had gotten used to the routine of taking the train back home. However, the three of them looked at you as if you were going to be trekking through a storm. 

“Absolutely not,” Mark says firmly. “We can’t let you do that, especially not this late.”

Haechan nods in agreement, “Yeah it’s not really safe in this area.”

“You guys are acting as if you didn’t take public transport here,” you chuckle as you pick up your heavy bag from the floor. 

“We took the car…?” 

“Wait, WHAT??” Now it was your turn to be shocked. “Aren’t guys like my age? How can you afford a car?” you started to question rapidly. 

The three of them looked at each other nervously. “Well.. we’re actually ido-“ Haechan said before he got cut off by Mark. 

“Actually its my parent’s car.. yeah my parents car,” he said weirdly. You saw a look of confusion on Haechan’s face before he added on, “Sure whatever he said..?”

Mark offered, “Just- let us give you a ride home.”

The offer does seem tempting, but it doesn’t feel right to enter the car of three guys that you just met. You open your mouth to protest, but the looks on their faces made you pause for a moment. “I really don’t wanna be a bother.. and I promise you that I can make it home safely.”

“You’re not a bother,” Mark insists. Taeyong made a sound of agreement before saying, “You did me a huge favour today so let us help you."

You don’t know what compelled you to enter a stranger’s car. You weren’t usually this trusting, but something about them made you feel.. safe. Still, you gave them the address of the train station near your house to be careful. You sat at the back with Mark while Haechan accompanied Taeyong as he was driving. You were planning on staying awake to make sure that they weren’t going to kidnap you but your heavy eyelids had other plans. 

You shifted in your seat, trying to get comfortable. Without realizing, you drifted closer to the person next to you. Before you could stop yourself, your head gently came to a rest on Mark's shoulder.

You froze for a moment, hoping he wouldn't say anything. Just as you lifted your head, you heard a chuckle.

"It's okay man," Mark said softly. "You should rest.. you had a long day."

You met his eyes. There isn't a trace of annoyance, you only found a warm smile that spread across his face. Feeling embarrassed, you nod slightly and allowed yourself to relax on his shoulder.

You accidently glanced at the car mirror and saw Haechan watching your interaction with Mark. He quickly turned away though, pretending to look outside at the quiet street. Confused, you let your eyes close, listening to the soft hum of the engine, drifting to sleep.

You woke up with Mark nudging your shoulder lightly. “This is it right?” he asked. You squinted your eyes and saw the all familiar worn-down train station ahead of you. You nodded your head tiredly while sluggishly reaching for your bag. 

You feel a hint of reluctance to leave the car as it stopped in front of the drop-off, “Thanks again guys.. really,” you said gratefully.

“Anytime,” Taeyong replied. “Yeah, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” Haechan added while smiling.

You waved them goodbye as you stepped out of the car. You haven’t felt acceptance in a while. This entire interaction breathed life into your barren routine and you find yourself actually being excited for the following days. 

When you reached your apartment, you flopped onto your bed as your phone starts lighting up continuously. 

@dong-hyuckkkk

‘____’ did you make it back safe

answerrrrjerjue 

OMG I SHOULD HAVE WALKED YOU BACK

A smile slowly appeared on your face as you replied him. 

@‘____’

its okay haechan im safe…

also your username is dong-hyuck??

@dong-hyuckkkk

Yeahh its my actual name

Haechan is just a nickname

@‘____’

ohhh i see

@dong-hyuckkkk

Friendly reminder:

CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE NEXT WEEK 

Not the whole week but still

You clicked on his profile and started to do a little digging. Despite of his outgoing personality, he only had 26 followers, including you. You scrolled through the countless photos, seeing Mark tagged in a few. You resisted the urge to follow Mark as you didn’t want to come off as stalker-ish.

You put your phone down before taking in whatever happened today. For the first time in forever, you feel warm and happy about something that happened in your life. Maybe you should take up their offer of meeting again next week. 

authors note: this is my first ever fic that im writing and all kinds of feedback is welcome! make sure to like and repost if you enjoyed <3

[mariacallous]

The headlines coming out of COP29—the recently concluded United Nations climate conference—focus on one key number: $300 billion. This is the annual amount of climate finance the governments of wealthy countries are responsible for generating for developing countries by 2035.

But to focus solely on whether the number is too big or too small misses what it means and why it matters. The agreement does not automatically produce any funds on its own, and no court can enforce it.

Wealthy countries will not provide most of the funds directly; the money will pass through entities like the World Bank, the Green Climate Fund, or even private companies. And the $300 billion number is not even the only climate finance goal to come out of COP29—the agreement also includes a target of $1.3 trillion per year in climate investment from all sources for developing countries by 2035.

As many have argued, the $300 billion goal is too small, and both it and the $1.3 trillion goal are riddled with ambiguities. But the agreement is also a rare force that places pressure on developed countries’ climate finance, and taking its targets seriously demands more transformative action than developed countries had been anticipating. Actually achieving the agreement—and more importantly, maintaining a safe shared climate—requires a set of actions that must unfold across the global economy. Setting the goals was just the beginning. What matters most is what happens next.

The $300 billion goal is structured similarly to the original climate finance goal agreed upon in Copenhagen in 2009, which said that developed countries would provide $100 billion per year by 2020. It is perhaps the greatest failing of the new climate finance agreement that it did not correct the key unanswered questions in the formulation of that goal: the distribution of responsibility among developed countries; the allocation of resources between developing countries; how and whether to distinguish between grants, subsidized loans, and market-rate loans; and the relationship between climate finance and development finance.

The ambiguities are so great that countries could not even agree if the original goal has been met. Developed countries say they met it in 2022, but earlier versions of the new climate finance agreement contained dueling language on the question. It proved so impossible to agree that the subject was simply dropped from the final draft.

Unfortunately, developed countries will presumably continue using the same, disputed method of counting climate finance as they did before. And as with the original goal, only a relatively small share of the $300 billion will come from grants from a developed country to a developing country. Bilateral climate finance—climate finance from one country to another—currently adds up to $41 billion.

Increases in this bilateral finance, which tends to place the greatest strain on national budgets, will likely only go a small way toward the $300 billion. It is not that developed countries do not have the means to provide more, but that domestic political realities stand in the way.

Contributions from major developing countries, which are not required to contribute toward the new goal but can do so voluntarily, may add some money. For example, from 2013-2022, China provided an average $4.5 billion per year in climate finance under the label of South-South cooperation.

Finance through multilateral climate funds like the Green Climate Fund will also increase. The new agreement called for a tripling of financing through these mechanisms, but they are starting from such a low baseline that even this would only form a few percentage points of the $300 billion.

This leaves two main sources for developed countries to meet the goal. The first is mobilizing private finance, which developed countries controversially count toward the total. But despite years of ambitious plans to mobilize private finance, it has demonstrated little success. In the most recent year with data, less than a fifth of developed countries’ climate finance came through mobilized private investment.

These realities mean that multilateral development banks (MDBs) like the World Bank are the most viable route to power the growth in climate finance needed to reach the $300 billion goal. They were already the fastest-growing source of climate finance under the $100 billion goal and became the single largest source in 2022.

These banks provide few grants, but they provide loans at cheaper interest rates than borrowing countries could access on the market. And they are cost-effective for donors: They can lend out several multiples of what governments put in. However, if MDBs are to provide finance on the necessary scale—and if they are to ensure new climate finance does not come at the expense of development priorities—they will need shareholding countries to contribute more.

In recent years, as developing countries were hit by the COVID-19 pandemic, high interest rates and debt levels, as well as mounting climate impacts, the idea of international financial architecture reform grew in prominence. The idea expands focus beyond individual aid programs or funding priorities to the broader rules and institutions that direct money around the globe—too often in ways unfavorable to developing countries.

While the new climate finance goal does not explicitly engage with these debates, its contents make its achievement dependent on international financial architecture reform. Expanding and improving MDBs has been a major priority of these efforts: During the recent G-20 summit, members approved a road map to achieve this.

The overall $1.3 trillion investment target in the new climate finance goal is rightly criticized as vague, but it is more closely tied to the needs of developing countries than the $300 billion goal—and meeting it would require more ambitious action. The implication is that private finance is expected to fill the gap between the $300 billion goal and the $1.3 trillion goal.

But private financial flows will not suddenly proliferate without government action, and given how low private finance mobilization rates are, it is implausible that $1.3 trillion in investment could be met without an increase in public finance well beyond the minimum necessary to meet the $300 billion goal. Even the International High-Level Expert Group on Climate Finance, whose work was influential in shaping the $1.3 trillion target, projected that private finance would account for just around $500 billion of the $1.3 trillion total.

Reaching that target will also require addressing the financial constraints that prevent climate investment in developing countries. Many countries will need debt relief so that unsustainable debts do not crowd out climate investments. The International Monetary Fund will need to reorient itself to prioritize a green investment push. And international levies on undertaxed activities like shipping, aviation, and financial transactions could produce reliable revenue streams for climate finance.

The $1.3 trillion target also creates opportunities through the “Baku to Belém Roadmap to 1.3T”—a plan added to the agreement to address outstanding issues before next year’s COP30 in Belém, Brazil. It provides an opportunity to address the broader reforms needed in the international financial architecture, as well as to salvage priorities excluded from this year’s agreement, such as guaranteeing funding for particularly vulnerable countries and for adapting to climate change. With countries’ new climate action plans due in the coming months, it is crucial to give quick signals to developing countries that they will be backed by adequate finance.

The new climate finance agreement demands transformative action in the international economy. It is also eminently achievable. Even the broader $1.3 trillion target equates to about 1 percent of global gross domestic product. It is around half of global military spending. U.S. President-elect Donald Trump will likely pull the United States out of the 2015 Paris Agreement—again—but Washington already provided relatively little climate finance.

Much depends on whether rich countries see this year’s new goal as the bargain at the heart of global climate cooperation or an unwanted obligation they should minimize, as many developing countries understandably perceive them to have done under the original goal. This dynamic is part of why the $100 billion struggled to advance the objective it was meant to address—the need for developing countries to manage climate impacts they did little to cause and to forgo the fossil fuel-heavy development model today’s developed countries used to get rich.

Since the signing of the Paris Agreement, a period in which global emissions should have fallen rapidly, global emissions have grown, with two-thirds of growth coming from developing countries other than China. If developing countries cannot reduce emissions, any emissions savings from initiatives like the Inflation Reduction Act in the United States or the Green Deal in Europe could quickly be canceled out.

Wealthy governments will need to understand the centrality of climate finance to their global legitimacy, as well as the inescapably global nature of the climate crisis. And supportive domestic political constituencies must put organized pressure on them to follow through on the agreement.

Still, this climate finance agreement is not what decides whether humanity pays for climate change. Someone will pay. It could be—and often already is—farmers spending their savings to replace drought-ravaged crops and governments drowning in interest payments they incurred to help citizens drowning in floods.

It could be the governments of developed countries paying for the consequences of emissions and instability they could have helped avoid. But it doesn’t have to be. Working together to pay now is cheaper and fairer than paying the price later.

[pannaginip]

Located 62km north-east of the capital Manila, Daraitan village in Rizal province is home to about 5,700 residents, a majority of whom are members of the Dumagat-Remontado indigenous people who consider vast hectares of the mountain range as part of their ancestral domain.

But the village may soon disappear under the same waters that give it life, once the Philippine government finishes building the Kaliwa Dam – one of 16 flagship infrastructure projects of former president Rodrigo Duterte that is being funded by China.

The new dam is expected to provide Metro Manila with an additional 600 million litres of water daily once it is finished by end-2026. Officials said building the 60m-high reservoir is even more necessary now that the country is starting to feel the impact of the El Nino weather phenomenon.

But it was only in 2021 under Mr Duterte that construction finally broke ground, three years after Manila and Beijing signed the 12 billion peso (S$288 million) loan agreement.

Of the 119 on the list [of flagship projects of the "Build, Build, Build” infrastructure programme], Mr Duterte turned to China to finance 16 big-ticket projects in a bid to cement his legacy by the time his presidency ended in 2022. He embraced Beijing during his term and even downplayed Manila’s claims in the disputed South China Sea in favour of securing loans and grants from China.

Analysts have criticised Mr Duterte’s infrastructure programme as ambitious. Perennial domestic issues like local politics, right-of-way acquisition problems, lack of technology and red tape in bureaucracy led to severe delays in the projects.

The same issues hound the China-funded projects – which come under Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) to build infrastructure in developing nations – with the problems made more severe by Beijing’s high interest rates in its loan agreements and local backlash due to displacement of residents or potential environmental damage.

Critics say the BRI has been detrimental in the long run to some recipient countries, especially those that have been unable to repay their loans, like Sri Lanka and Zambia.

The Duterte government’s failure to take advantage of its BRI loans was a “missed opportunity” for the Philippines, said infrastructure governance specialist Jerik Cruz, a graduate research fellow at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

The four completed China-funded projects under Mr Duterte were controversial too. But they came to fruition because they had the support of local politicians allied with Mr Duterte and therefore increased his political capital, said Dr Camba.

Tribal leaders said they were not properly consulted regarding the project that threatens their traditional way of life. Environmentalists from the Stop Kaliwa Dam Network also say the project would destroy 126 species of flora and fauna in the Sierra Madre.

The Philippines’ Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act states that the government must first secure a tribe’s free, prior and informed consent before building on its ancestral lands.

But Ms Clara Dullas, one of the leaders of the Dumagat-Remontado in Rizal, alleged that the Duterte government had either misinformed or pressured other tribe members into giving their consent.

She could not bear to hold grudges, though, noting that the Dumagat-Remontado organisations that eventually agreed to the Kaliwa Dam were each given 80 million pesos, or $1.9 million, in “disturbance” fees.

“The Kaliwa Dam is the reason why our tribe is divided now. There is a crack in our relationships even if we all come from the same family,” said Ms Dullas. “I can’t blame the others because we lack money. I believe there was bribery involved.”

The government requires them to present identification documents, and only those given passes may enter. Mr Dizon said this is to ensure that no unidentified personnel enter the area [close to the construction zone].

“We feel like we are foreigners in our own home because the Chinese and the people in our own government are now preventing us from entering the lands where we grew up,” said tribe leader Renato Ibanez, 48.

Mr Ibanez also accuses the Philippine authorities of harassing tribe members who are vocal against Kaliwa Dam. Some of them have been accused of working with communist rebels, a charge the tribe vehemently denies.

Unlike his predecessor, Mr Marcos is more aggressive in defending Manila’s overlapping claims with Beijing in the South China Sea, but still fosters economic ties with it.

Geopolitical tensions between the two nations and Mr Marcos’ stance towards Beijing are going to dictate the fate of the pending China-funded projects the President inherited from Mr Duterte, said Mr Cruz.

Tribe members said they would be more amenable if Mr Marcos would revisit Japan’s proposed Kaliwa Intake Weir project that Mr Duterte had set aside.

“We like Japan’s proposal. It would not destroy our forests. It would not affect residents here. The Philippines would not be buried in debt,” said Ms Dullas.

This was among the alternatives the Dumagat-Remontados offered during their nine-day march in February 2023, when some 300 members walked 150km from Quezon and Rizal all the way to Manila to protest against the Kaliwa Dam.

But they failed to secure an audience with Mr Marcos. They remain wary of the President’s position on the Kaliwa Dam and other controversial China-funded deals.

“As much as we want to fully pin our hopes on him, we don’t. We’ve learnt from past efforts to trick us, make us believe a project is about to end, only for it to be resurrected again years later,” said Ms Dullas.

2024 Mar. 3

[dailyanarchistposts]

Chapter III. Economic Evolutions. — First Period. — The Division of Labor.

2. — Impotence of palliatives. — MM. Blanqui, Chevalier, Dunoyer, Rossi, and Passy.

All the remedies proposed for the fatal effects of parcellaire division may be reduced to two, which really are but one, the second being the inversion of the first: to raise the mental and moral condition of the workingman by increasing his comfort and dignity; or else, to prepare the way for his future emancipation and happiness by instruction.

We will examine successively these two systems, one of which is represented by M. Blanqui, the other by M. Chevalier.

M. Blanqui is a friend of association and progress, a writer of democratic tendencies, a professor who has a place in the hearts of the proletariat. In his opening discourse of the year 1845, M. Blanqui proclaimed, as a means of salvation, the association of labor and capital, the participation of the working man in the profits, — that is, a beginning of industrial solidarity. “Our century,” he exclaimed, “must witness the birth of the collective producer.” M. Blanqui forgets that the collective producer was born long since, as well as the collective consumer, and that the question is no longer a genetic, but a medical, one. Our task is to cause the blood proceeding from the collective digestion, instead of rushing wholly to the head, stomach, and lungs, to descend also into the legs and arms. Besides, I do not know what method M. Blanqui proposes to employ in order to realize his generous thought, — whether it be the establishment of national workshops, or the loaning of capital by the State, or the expropriation of the conductors of business enterprises and the substitution for them of industrial associations, or, finally, whether he will rest content with a recommendation of the savings bank to workingmen, in which case the participation would be put off till doomsday.

However this may be, M. Blanqui’s idea amounts simply to an increase of wages resulting from the copartnership, or at least from the interest in the business, which he confers upon the laborers. What, then, is the value to the laborer of a participation in the profits?

A mill with fifteen thousand spindles, employing three hundred hands, does not pay at present an annual dividend of twenty thousand francs. I am informed by a Mulhouse manufacturer that factory stocks in Alsace are generally below par and that this industry has already become a means of getting money by stock-jobbing instead of by labor. To SELL; to sell at the right time; to sell dear, — is the only object in view; to manufacture is only to prepare for a sale. When I assume, then, on an average, a profit of twenty thousand francs to a factory employing three hundred persons, my argument being general, I am twenty thousand francs out of the way. Nevertheless, we will admit the correctness of this amount. Dividing twenty thousand francs, the profit of the mill, by three hundred, the number of persons, and again by three hundred, the number of working days, I find an increase of pay for each person of twenty-two and one-fifth centimes, or for daily expenditure an addition of eighteen centimes, just a morsel of bread. Is it worth while, then, for this, to expropriate mill-owners and endanger the public welfare, by erecting establishments which must be insecure, since, property being divided into infinitely small shares, and being no longer supported by profit, business enterprises would lack ballast, and would be unable to weather commercial gales. And even if no expropriation was involved, what a poor prospect to offer the working class is an increase of eighteen centimes in return for centuries of economy; for no less time than this would be needed to accumulate the requisite capital, supposing that periodical suspensions of business did not periodically consume its savings!

The fact which I have just stated has been pointed out in several ways. M. Passy [13] himself took from the books of a mill in Normandy where the laborers were associated with the owner the wages of several families for a period of ten years, and he found that they averaged from twelve to fourteen hundred francs per year. He then compared the situation of mill-hands paid in proportion to the prices obtained by their employers with that of laborers who receive fixed wages, and found that the difference is almost imperceptible. This result might easily have been foreseen. Economic phenomena obey laws as abstract and immutable as those of numbers: it is only privilege, fraud, and absolutism which disturb the eternal harmony.

M. Blanqui, repentant, as it seems, at having taken this first step toward socialistic ideas, has made haste to retract his words. At the same meeting in which M. Passy demonstrated the inadequacy of cooperative association, he exclaimed: “Does it not seem that labor is a thing susceptible of organization, and that it is in the power of the State to regulate the happiness of humanity as it does the march of an army, and with an entirely mathematical precision? This is an evil tendency, a delusion which the Academy cannot oppose too strongly, because it is not only a chimera, but a dangerous sophism. Let us respect good and honest intentions; but let us not fear to say that to publish a book upon the organization of labor is to rewrite for the fiftieth time a treatise upon the quadrature of the circle or the philosopher’s stone.”

Then, carried away by his zeal, M. Blanqui finishes the destruction of his theory of cooperation, which M. Passy already had so rudely shaken, by the following example: “M. Dailly, one of the most enlightened of farmers, has drawn up an account for each piece of land and an account for each product; and he proves that within a period of thirty years the same man has never obtained equal crops from the same piece of land. The products have varied from twenty-six thousand francs to nine thousand or seven thousand francs, sometimes descending as low as three hundred francs. There are also certain products — potatoes, for instance — which fail one time in ten. How, then, with these variations and with revenues so uncertain, can we establish even distribution and uniform wages for laborers?....”

It might be answered that the variations in the product of each piece of land simply indicate that it is necessary to associate proprietors with each other after having associated laborers with proprietors, which would establish a more complete solidarity: but this would be a prejudgment on the very thing in question, which M. Blanqui definitively decides, after reflection, to be unattainable, — namely, the organization of labor. Besides, it is evident that solidarity would not add an obolus to the common wealth, and that, consequently, it does not even touch the problem of division.

In short, the profit so much envied, and often a very uncertain matter with employers, falls far short of the difference between actual wages and the wages desired; and M. Blanqui’s former plan, miserable in its results and disavowed by its author, would be a scourge to the manufacturing industry. Now, the division of labor being henceforth universally established, the argument is generalized, and leads us to the conclusion that misery is an effect of labor, as well as of idleness.

The answer to this is, and it is a favorite argument with the people: Increase the price of services; double and triple wages.

I confess that if such an increase was possible it would be a complete success, whatever M. Chevalier may have said, who needs to be slightly corrected on this point.

According to M. Chevalier, if the price of any kind of merchandise whatever is increased, other kinds will rise in a like proportion, and no one will benefit thereby.

This argument, which the economists have rehearsed for more than a century, is as false as it is old, and it belonged to M. Chevalier, as an engineer, to rectify the economic tradition. The salary of a head clerk being ten francs per day, and the wages of a workingman four, if the income of each is increased five francs, the ratio of their fortunes, which was formerly as one hundred to forty, will be thereafter as one hundred to sixty. The increase of wages, necessarily taking place by addition and not by proportion, would be, therefore, an excellent method of equalization; and the economists would deserve to have thrown back at them by the socialists the reproach of ignorance which they have bestowed upon them at random.

But I say that such an increase is impossible, and that the supposition is absurd: for, as M. Chevalier has shown very clearly elsewhere, the figure which indicates the price of the day’s labor is only an algebraic exponent without effect on the reality: and that which it is necessary first to endeavor to increase, while correcting the inequalities of distribution, is not the monetary expression, but the quantity of products. Till then every rise of wages can have no other effect than that produced by a rise of the price of wheat, wine, meat, sugar, soap, coal, etc., — that is, the effect of a scarcity. For what is wages?

It is the cost price of wheat, wine, meat, coal; it is the integrant price of all things. Let us go farther yet: wages is the proportionality of the elements which compose wealth, and which are consumed every day reproductively by the mass of laborers. Now, to double wages, in the sense in which the people understand the words, is to give to each producer a share greater than his product, which is contradictory: and if the rise pertains only to a few industries, a general disturbance in exchange ensues, — that is, a scarcity. God save me from predictions! but, in spite of my desire for the amelioration of the lot of the working class, I declare that it is impossible for strikes followed by an increase of wages to end otherwise than in a general rise in prices: that is as certain as that two and two make four. It is not by such methods that the workingmen will attain to wealth and — what is a thousand times more precious than wealth — liberty. The workingmen, supported by the favor of an indiscreet press, in demanding an increase of wages, have served monopoly much better than their own real interests: may they recognize, when their situation shall become more painful, the bitter fruit of their inexperience!

Convinced of the uselessness, or rather, of the fatal effects, of an increase of wages, and seeing clearly that the question is wholly organic and not at all commercial, M. Chevalier attacks the problem at the other end. He asks for the working class, first of all, instruction, and proposes extensive reforms in this direction.

Instruction! this is also M. Arago’s word to the workingmen; it is the principle of all progress. Instruction!.... It should be known once for all what may be expected from it in the solution of the problem before us; it should be known, I say, not whether it is desirable that all should receive it, — this no one doubts, — but whether it is possible.

To clearly comprehend the complete significance of M. Chevalier’s views, a knowledge of his methods is indispensable.

M. Chevalier, long accustomed to discipline, first by his polytechnic studies, then by his St. Simonian connections, and finally by his position in the University, does not seem to admit that a pupil can have any other inclination than to obey the regulations, a sectarian any other thought than that of his chief, a public functionary any other opinion than that of the government. This may be a conception of order as respectable as any other, and I hear upon this subject no expressions of approval or censure. Has M. Chevalier an idea to offer peculiar to himself? On the principle that all that is not forbidden by law is allowed, he hastens to the front to deliver his opinion, and then abandons it to give his adhesion, if there is occasion, to the opinion of authority. It was thus that M. Chevalier, before settling down in the bosom of the Constitution, joined M. Enfantin: it was thus that he gave his views upon canals, railroads, finance, property, long before the administration had adopted any system in relation to the construction of railways, the changing of the rate of interest on bonds, patents, literary property, etc.

M. Chevalier, then, is not a blind admirer of the University system of instruction, — far from it; and until the appearance of the new order of things, he does not hesitate to say what he thinks. His opinions are of the most radical.

M. Villemain had said in his report: “The object of the higher education is to prepare in advance a choice of men to occupy and serve in all the positions of the administration, the magistracy, the bar and the various liberal professions, including the higher ranks and learned specialties of the army and navy.”

“The higher education,” thereupon observes M. Chevalier, [14] “is designed also to prepare men some of whom shall be farmers, others manufacturers, these merchants, and those private engineers. Now, in the official programme, all these classes are forgotten. The omission is of considerable importance; for, indeed, industry in its various forms, agriculture, commerce, are neither accessories nor accidents in a State: they are its chief dependence.... If the University desires to justify its name, it must provide a course in these things; else an industrial university will be established in opposition to it.... We shall have altar against altar, etc....”

And as it is characteristic of a luminous idea to throw light on all questions connected with it, professional instruction furnishes M. Chevalier with a very expeditious method of deciding, incidentally, the quarrel between the clergy and the University on liberty of education.

“It must be admitted that a very great concession is made to the clergy in allowing Latin to serve as the basis of education. The clergy know Latin as well as the University; it is their own tongue. Their tuition, moreover, is cheaper; hence they must inevitably draw a large portion of our youth into their small seminaries and their schools of a higher grade....”

The conclusion of course follows: change the course of study, and you decatholicize the realm; and as the clergy know only Latin and the Bible, when they have among them neither masters of art, nor farmers, nor accountants; when, of their forty thousand priests, there are not twenty, perhaps, with the ability to make a plan or forge a nail, — we soon shall see which the fathers of families will choose, industry or the breviary, and whether they do not regard labor as the most beautiful language in which to pray to God.

Thus would end this ridiculous opposition between religious education and profane science, between the spiritual and the temporal, between reason and faith, between altar and throne, old rubrics henceforth meaningless, but with which they still impose upon the good nature of the public, until it takes offence.

M. Chevalier does not insist, however, on this solution: he knows that religion and monarchy are two powers which, though continually quarrelling, cannot exist without each other; and that he may not awaken suspicion, he launches out into another revolutionary idea, — equality.

“France is in a position to furnish the polytechnic school with twenty times as many scholars as enter at present (the average being one hundred and seventy-six, this would amount to three thousand five hundred and twenty). The University has but to say the word.... If my opinion was of any weight, I should maintain that mathematical capacity is much less special than is commonly supposed. I remember the success with which children, taken at random, so to speak, from the pavements of Paris, follow the teaching of La Martiniere by the method of Captain Tabareau.”

If the higher education, reconstructed according to the views of M. Chevalier, was sought after by all young French men instead of by only ninety thousand as commonly, there would be no exaggeration in raising the estimate of the number of minds mathematically inclined from three thousand five hundred and twenty to ten thousand; but, by the same argument, we should have ten thousand artists, philologists, and philosophers; ten thousand doctors, physicians, chemists, and naturalists; ten thousand economists, legists, and administrators; twenty thousand manufacturers, foremen, merchants, and accountants; forty thousand farmers, wine-growers, miners, etc., — in all, one hundred thousand specialists a year, or about one-third of our youth. The rest, having, instead of special adaptations, only mingled adaptations, would be distributed indifferently elsewhere.

It is certain that so powerful an impetus given to intelligence would quicken the progress of equality, and I do not doubt that such is the secret desire of M. Chevalier. But that is precisely what troubles me: capacity is never wanting, any more than population, and the problem is to find employment for the one and bread for the other. In vain does M. Chevalier tell us: “The higher education would give less ground for the complaint that it throws into society crowds of ambitious persons without any means of satisfying their desires, and interested in the overthrow of the State; people without employment and unable to get any, good for nothing and believing themselves fit for anything, especially for the direction of public affairs. Scientific studies do not so inflate the mind. They enlighten and regulate it at once; they fit men for practical life....” Such language, I reply, is good to use with patriarchs: a professor of political economy should have more respect for his position and his audience. The government has only one hundred and twenty offices annually at its disposal for one hundred and seventy-six students admitted to the polytechnic school: what, then, would be its embarrassment if the number of admissions was ten thousand, or even, taking M. Chevalier’s figures, three thousand five hundred? And, to generalize, the whole number of civil positions is sixty thousand, or three thousand vacancies annually; what dismay would the government be thrown into if, suddenly adopting the reformatory ideas of M. Chevalier, it should find itself besieged by fifty thousand office-seekers! The following objection has often been made to republicans without eliciting a reply: When everybody shall have the electoral privilege, will the deputies do any better, and will the proletariat be further advanced? I ask the same question of M. Chevalier: When each academic year shall bring you one hundred thousand fitted men, what will you do with them?

To provide for these interesting young people, you will go down to the lowest round of the ladder. You will oblige the young man, after fifteen years of lofty study, to begin, no longer as now with the offices of aspirant engineer, sub-lieutenant of artillery, second lieutenant, deputy, comptroller, general guardian, etc., but with the ignoble positions of pioneer, train-soldier, dredger, cabin-boy, fagot-maker, and exciseman. There he will wait, until death, thinning the ranks, enables him to advance a step. Under such circumstances a man, a graduate of the polytechnic school and capable of becoming a Vauban, may die a laborer on a second class road, or a corporal in a regiment

Oh! how much more prudent Catholicism has shown itself, and how far it has surpassed you all, St. Simonians, republicans, university men, economists, in the knowledge of man and society! The priest knows that our life is but a voyage, and that our perfection cannot be realized here below; and he contents himself with outlining on earth an education which must be completed in heaven. The man whom religion has moulded, content to know, do, and obtain what suffices for his earthly destiny, never can become a source of embarrassment to the government: rather would he be a martyr. O beloved religion! is it necessary that a bourgeoisie which stands in such need of you should disown you?...

Into what terrible struggles of pride and misery does this mania for universal instruction plunge us! Of what use is professional education, of what good are agricultural and commercial schools, if your students have neither employment nor capital? And what need to cram one’s self till the age of twenty with all sorts of knowledge, then to fasten the threads of a mule-jenny or pick coal at the bottom of a pit? What! you have by your own confession only three thousand positions annually to bestow upon fifty thousand possible capacities, and yet you talk of establishing schools! Cling rather to your system of exclusion and privilege, a system as old as the world, the support of dynasties and patriciates, a veritable machine for gelding men in order to secure the pleasures of a caste of Sultans. Set a high price upon your teaching, multiply obstacles, drive away, by lengthy tests, the son of the proletaire whom hunger does not permit to wait, and protect with all your power the ecclesiastical schools, where the students are taught to labor for the other life, to cultivate resignation, to fast, to respect those in high places, to love the king, and to pray to God. For every useless study sooner or later becomes an abandoned study: knowledge is poison to slaves.

Surely M. Chevalier has too much sagacity not to have seen the consequences of his idea. But he has spoken from the bottom of his heart, and we can only applaud his good intentions: men must first be men; after that, he may live who can.

Thus we advance at random, guided by Providence, who never warns us except with a blow: this is the beginning and end of political economy.

Contrary to M. Chevalier, professor of political economy at the College of France, M. Dunoyer, an economist of the Institute, does not wish instruction to be organized. The organization of instruction is a species of organization of labor; therefore, no organization. Instruction, observes M. Dunoyer, is a profession, not a function of the State; like all professions, it ought to be and remain free. It is communism, it is socialism, it is the revolutionary tendency, whose principal agents have been Robespierre, Napoleon, Louis XVIII, and M. Guizot, which have thrown into our midst these fatal ideas of the centralization and absorption of all activity in the State. The press is very free, and the pen of the journalist is an object of merchandise; religion, too, is very free, and every wearer of a gown, be it short or long, who knows how to excite public curiosity, can draw an audience about him. M. Lacordaire has his devotees, M. Leroux his apostles, M. Buchez his convent. Why, then, should not instruction also be free? If the right of the instructed, like that of the buyer, is unquestionable, and that of the instructor, who is only a variety of the seller, is its correlative, it is impossible to infringe upon the liberty of instruction without doing violence to the most precious of liberties, that of the conscience. And then, adds M. Dunoyer, if the State owes instruction to everybody, it will soon be maintained that it owes labor; then lodging; then shelter.... Where does that lead to?

The argument of M. Dunoyer is irrefutable: to organize instruction is to give to every citizen a pledge of liberal employment and comfortable wages; the two are as intimately connected as the circulation of the arteries and the veins. But M. Dunoyer’s theory implies also that progress belongs only to a certain select portion of humanity, and that barbarism is the eternal lot of nine-tenths of the human race. It is this which constitutes, according to M. Dunoyer, the very essence of society, which manifests itself in three stages, religion, hierarchy, and beggary. So that in this system, which is that of Destutt de Tracy, Montesquieu, and Plato, the antinomy of division, like that of value, is without solution.

It is a source of inexpressible pleasure to me, I confess, to see M. Chevalier, a defender of the centralization of instruction, opposed by M. Dunoyer, a defender of liberty; M. Dunoyer in his turn antagonized by M. Guizot; M. Guizot, the representative of the centralizers, contradicting the Charter, which posits liberty as a principle; the Charter trampled under foot by the University men, who lay sole claim to the privilege of teaching, regardless of the express command of the Gospel to the priests: Go and teach. And above all this tumult of economists, legislators, ministers, academicians, professors, and priests, economic Providence giving the lie to the Gospel, and shouting: Pedagogues! what use am I to make of your instruction?

Who will relieve us of this anxiety? M. Rossi leans toward eclecticism: Too little divided, he says, labor remains unproductive; too much divided, it degrades man. Wisdom lies between these extremes; in medio virtus. Unfortunately this intermediate wisdom is only a small amount of poverty joined with a small amount of wealth, so that the condition is not modified in the least. The proportion of good and evil, instead of being as one hundred to one hundred, becomes as fifty to fifty: in this we may take, once for all, the measure of eclecticism. For the rest, M. Rossi’s juste-milieu is in direct opposition to the great economic law: To produce with the least possible expense the greatest possible quantity of values.... Now, how can labor fulfil its destiny without an extreme division? Let us look farther, if you please.

“All economic systems and hypotheses,” says M. Rossi, “belong to the economist, but the intelligent, free, responsible man is under the control of the moral law... Political economy is only a science which examines the relations of things, and draws conclusions therefrom. It examines the effects of labor; in the application of labor, you should consider the importance of the object in view. When the application of labor is unfavorable to an object higher than the production of wealth, it should not be applied... Suppose that it would increase the national wealth to compel children to labor fifteen hours a day: morality would say that that is not allowable. Does that prove that political economy is false? No; that proves that you confound things which should be kept separate.”

If M. Rossi had a little more of that Gallic simplicity so difficult for foreigners to acquire, he would very summarily have thrown his tongue to the dogs, as Madame de Sevigne said. But a professor must talk, talk, talk, not for the sake of saying anything, but in order to avoid silence. M. Rossi takes three turns around the question, then lies down: that is enough to make certain people believe that he has answered it.

It is surely a sad symptom for a science when, in developing itself according to its own principles, it reaches its object just in time to be contradicted by another; as, for example, when the postulates of political economy are found to be opposed to those of morality, for I suppose that morality is a science as well as political economy. What, then, is human knowledge, if all its affirmations destroy each other, and on what shall we rely? Divided labor is a slave’s occupation, but it alone is really productive; undivided labor belongs to the free man, but it does not pay its expenses. On the one hand, political economy tells us to be rich; on the other, morality tells us to be free; and M. Rossi, speaking in the name of both, warns us at the same time that we can be neither free nor rich, for to be but half of either is to be neither. M. Rossi’s doctrine, then, far from satisfying this double desire of humanity, is open to the objection that, to avoid exclusiveness, it strips us of everything: it is, under another form, the history of the representative system.

But the antagonism is even more profound than M. Rossi has supposed. For since, according to universal experience (on this point in harmony with theory), wages decrease in proportion to the division of labor, it is clear that, in submitting ourselves to parcellaire slavery, we thereby shall not obtain wealth; we shall only change men into machines: witness the laboring population of the two worlds. And since, on the other hand, without the division of labor, society falls back into barbarism, it is evident also that, by sacrificing wealth, we shall not obtain liberty: witness all the wandering tribes of Asia and Africa. Therefore it is necessary — economic science and morality absolutely command it — for us to solve the problem of division: now, where are the economists? More than thirty years ago, Lemontey, developing a remark of Smith, exposed the demoralizing and homicidal influence of the division of labor. What has been the reply; what investigations have been made; what remedies proposed; has the question even been understood?

Every year the economists report, with an exactness which I would commend more highly if I did not see that it is always fruitless, the commercial condition of the States of Europe. They know how many yards of cloth, pieces of silk, pounds of iron, have been manufactured; what has been the consumption per head of wheat, wine, sugar, meat: it might be said that to them the ultimate of science is to publish inventories, and the object of their labor is to become general comptrollers of nations. Never did such a mass of material offer so fine a field for investigation. What has been found; what new principle has sprung from this mass; what solution of the many problems of long standing has been reached; what new direction have studies taken?

One question, among others, seems to have been prepared for a final judgment, — pauperism. Pauperism, of all the phenomena of the civilized world, is today the best known: we know pretty nearly whence it comes, when and how it arrives, and what it costs; its proportion at various stages of civilization has been calculated, and we have convinced ourselves that all the specifics with which it hitherto has been fought have been impotent. Pauperism has been divided into genera, species, and varieties: it is a complete natural history, one of the most important branches of anthropology. Well I the unquestionable result of all the facts collected, unseen, shunned, covered by the economists with their silence, is that pauperism is constitutional and chronic in society as long as the antagonism between labor and capital continues, and that this antagonism can end only by the absolute negation of political economy. What issue from this labyrinth have the economists discovered?

This last point deserves a moment’s attention.

In primitive communism misery, as I have observed in a preceding paragraph, is the universal condition.

Labor is war declared upon this misery.

Labor organizes itself, first by division, next by machinery, then by competition, etc.

Now, the question is whether it is not in the essence of this organization, as given us by political economy, at the same time that it puts an end to the misery of some, to aggravate that of others in a fatal and unavoidable manner. These are the terms in which the question of pauperism must be stated, and for this reason we have undertaken to solve it.

What means, then, this eternal babble of the economists about the improvidence of laborers, their idleness, their want of dignity, their ignorance, their debauchery, their early marriages, etc.? All these vices and excesses are only the cloak of pauperism; but the cause, the original cause which inexorably holds four-fifths of the human race in disgrace, — what is it? Did not Nature make all men equally gross, averse to labor, wanton, and wild? Did not patrician and proletaire spring from the same clay? Then how happens it that, after so many centuries, and in spite of so many miracles of industry, science, and art, comfort and culture have not become the inheritance of all? How happens it that in Paris and London, centres of social wealth, poverty is as hideous as in the days of Caesar and Agricola? Why, by the side of this refined aristocracy, has the mass remained so uncultivated? It is laid to the vices of the people: but the vices of the upper class appear to be no less; perhaps they are even greater. The original stain affected all alike: how happens it, once more, that the baptism of civilization has not been equally efficacious for all? Does this not show that progress itself is a privilege, and that the man who has neither wagon nor horse is forced to flounder about for ever in the mud? What do I say? The totally destitute man has no desire to improve: he has fallen so low that ambition even is extinguished in his heart.

“Of all the private virtues,” observes M. Dunoyer with infinite reason, “the most necessary, that which gives us all the others in succession, is the passion for well-being, is the violent desire to extricate one’s self from misery and abjection, is that spirit of emulation and dignity which does not permit men to rest content with an inferior situation.... But this sentiment, which seems so natural, is unfortunately much less common than is thought. There are few reproaches which the generality of men deserve less than that which ascetic moralists bring against them of being too fond of their comforts: the opposite reproach might be brought against them with infinitely more justice.... There is even in the nature of men this very remarkable feature, that the less their knowledge and resources, the less desire they have of acquiring these. The most miserable savages and the least enlightened of men are precisely those in whom it is most difficult to arouse wants, those in whom it is hardest to inspire the desire to rise out of their condition; so that man must already have gained a certain degree of comfort by his labor, before he can feel with any keenness that need of improving his condition, of perfecting his existence, which I call the love of well-being.” [15]

Thus the misery of the laboring classes arises in general from their lack of heart and mind, or, as M. Passy has said somewhere, from the weakness, the inertia of their moral and intellectual faculties. This inertia is due to the fact that the said laboring classes, still half savage, do not have a sufficiently ardent desire to ameliorate their condition: this M. Dunoyer shows. But as this absence of desire is itself the effect of misery, it follows that misery and apathy are each other’s effect and cause, and that the proletariat turns in a circle.

To rise out of this abyss there must be either well-being, — that is, a gradual increase of wages, — or intelligence and courage, — that is, a gradual development of faculties: two things diametrically opposed to the degradation of soul and body which is the natural effect of the division of labor. The misfortune of the proletariat, then, is wholly providential, and to undertake to extinguish it in the present state of political economy would be to produce a revolutionary whirlwind.

For it is not without a profound reason, rooted in the loftiest considerations of morality, that the universal conscience, expressing itself by turns through the selfishness of the rich and the apathy of the proletariat, denies a reward to the man whose whole function is that of a lever and spring. If, by some impossibility, material well-being could fall to the lot of the parcellaire laborer, we should see something monstrous happen: the laborers employed at disagreeable tasks would become like those Romans, gorged with the wealth of the world, whose brutalized minds became incapable of devising new pleasures. Well-being without education stupefies people and makes them insolent: this was noticed in the most ancient times. Incrassatus est, et recalcitravit, says

Deuteronomy. For the rest, the parcellaire laborer has judged himself: he is content, provided he has bread, a pallet to sleep on, and plenty of liquor on Sunday. Any other condition would be prejudicial to him, and would endanger public order.

At Lyons there is a class of men who, under cover of the monopoly given them by the city government, receive higher pay than college professors or the head-clerks of the government ministers: I mean the porters. The price of loading and unloading at certain wharves in Lyons, according to the schedule of the Rigues or porters’ associations, is thirty centimes per hundred kilogrammes. At this rate, it is not seldom that a man earns twelve, fifteen, and even twenty francs a day: he only has to carry forty or fifty sacks from a vessel to a warehouse. It is but a few hours’ work. What a favorable condition this would be for the development of intelligence, as well for children as for parents, if, of itself and the leisure which it brings, wealth was a moralizing principle! But this is not the case: the porters of Lyons are today what they always have been, drunken, dissolute, brutal, insolent, selfish, and base. It is a painful thing to say, but I look upon the following declaration as a duty, because it is the truth: one of the first reforms to be effected among the laboring classes will be the reduction of the wages of some at the same time that we raise those of others. Monopoly does not gain in respectability by belonging to the lowest classes of people, especially when it serves to maintain only the grossest individualism. The revolt of the silk-workers met with no sympathy, but rather hostility, from the porters and the river population generally. Nothing that happens off the wharves has any power to move them. Beasts of burden fashioned in advance for despotism, they will not mingle with politics as long as their privilege is maintained. Nevertheless, I ought to say in their defence that, some time ago, the necessities of competition having brought their prices down, more social sentiments began to awaken in these gross natures: a few more reductions seasoned with a little poverty, and the Rigues of Lyons will be chosen as the storming-party when the time comes for assaulting the bastilles.

In short, it is impossible, contradictory, in the present system of society, for the proletariat to secure well-being through education or education through well-being. For, without considering the fact that the proletaire, a human machine, is as unfit for comfort as for education, it is demonstrated, on the one hand, that his wages continually tend to go down rather than up, and, on the other, that the cultivation of his mind, if it were possible, would be useless to him; so that he always inclines towards barbarism and misery. Everything that has been attempted of late years in France and England with a view to the amelioration of the condition of the poor in the matters of the labor of women and children and of primary instruction, unless it was the fruit of some hidden thought of radicalism, has been done contrary to economic ideas and to the prejudice of the established order. Progress, to the mass of laborers, is always the book sealed with the seven seals; and it is not by legislative misconstructions that the relentless enigma will be solved.

For the rest, if the economists, by exclusive attention to their old routine, have finally lost all knowledge of the present state of things, it cannot be said that the socialists have better solved the antinomy which division of labor raised. Quite the contrary, they have stopped with negation; for is it not perpetual negation to oppose, for instance, the uniformity of parcellaire labor with a so-called variety in which each one can change his occupation ten, fifteen, twenty times a day at will?

As if to change ten, fifteen, twenty times a day from one kind of divided labor to another was to make labor synthetic; as if, consequently, twenty fractions of the day’s work of a manual laborer could be equal to the day’s work of an artist! Even if such industrial vaulting was practicable, — and it may be asserted in advance that it would disappear in the presence of the necessity of making laborers responsible and therefore functions personal, — it would not change at all the physical, moral, and intellectual condition of the laborer; the dissipation would only be a surer guarantee of his incapacity and, consequently, his dependence. This is admitted, moreover, by the organizers, communists, and others. So far are they from pretending to solve the antinomy of division that all of them admit, as an essential condition of organization, the hierarchy of labor, — that is, the classification of laborers into parcellaires and generalizers or organizers, — and in all utopias the distinction of capacities, the basis or everlasting excuse for inequality of goods, is admitted as a pivot. Those reformers whose schemes have nothing to recommend them but logic, and who, after having complained of the simplism, monotony, uniformity, and extreme division of labor, then propose a plurality as a SYNTHESIS, — such inventors, I say, are judged already, and ought to be sent back to school.

But you, critic, the reader undoubtedly will ask, what is your solution? Show us this synthesis which, retaining the responsibility, the personality, in short, the specialty of the laborer, will unite extreme division and the greatest variety in one complex and harmonious whole.

My reply is ready: Interrogate facts, consult humanity: we can choose no better guide. After the oscillations of value, division of labor is the economic fact which influences most perceptibly profits and wages. It is the first stake driven by Providence into the soil of industry, the starting-point of the immense triangulation which finally must determine the right and duty of each and all. Let us, then, follow our guides, without which we can only wander and lose ourselves.

Tu longe seggere, et vestigia semper adora.

[racefortheironthrone]

Newsom's UI Veto Is a Sign of CA's Dysfunction on UI

Introduction:

While I'm not yet up to a full blogpost, I thought I'd chime in on social media to buttress a point that my colleague Erik Loomis made in regards to Gavin Newsom's veto of the Unemployment Insurance strike bill. While Erik is absolutely correct that Newsom's veto is a pretty nakedly anti-union move, (especially in the wake of a major entertainment industry strike in which management attempted to use the threat of eviction and foreclosure to break the union), I think the veto also reflects the dysfunction in the California Unemployment Insurance system.

California's UI System:

Back when I was a freelance policy analyst in grad school, I had the opportunity to write about a wide range of topics in social and economic policy - and it just so happened that one of those topics was unemployment insurance.

One of the problems with the U.S' social insurance system is that, because UI is a joint Federal-state program that's financed by state payroll taxes that are then forgiven against Federal taxation (or in the case of the pandemic or the Great Recession, Federal loans), there is a powerful incentive for states to under-tax and under-finance their UI systems and rely instead on the Federal backstop to keep the system ticking over.

For all of California's progressive reputation, it actually ranks towards the bottom of the national league tables when it comes to underfunding its UI system:

"Unemployment benefits in California are funded by a payroll tax on businesses, but the tax is so low and generates so little revenue that the state had to borrow $20 million from the federal government to provide benefits during the pandemic. In a veto message, Mr. Newsom said that $302 million in interest is due on the federal loan in September alone. “Now is not the time to increase costs or incur this sizable debt,” he said." (source)

To be fair, California is not absolutely terrible - it's not Texas or Mississippi or Alabama - and a lot of its current predicament has to do with how hard California was hit by the COVID-19 pandemic, but even in good times, California taxes itself so lightly that it routinely owes the Federal government UI money. This creates another reason/excuse for the state government to not follow the California Labor Federation's lead and transform the UI system into something that can fight not just poverty but all forms of economic exploitation.

State Capacity:

Now, to my mind, this only makes it more imperative for the state to get its act together - and a big part of that is adopting labor's proposal for decoupling strikes and starvation through the UI system. As I see it, that goes hand in hand with raising minimum benefit levels, such that UI plus strike pay should allow people to live with dignity even during a long strike of 5-6 months duration, improved administration so that people don't have to wait three weeks to actually get their hands on their own money, and improved financing so that the system as a whole can actually work as an automatic stabilizer in economic crises.

To me, this is the essence of community unionism: we work to improve the lives of our members, and in so doing improve the lives of the entire community.

[santoschristos]

Othala, Fate

Othala was also known as Odin's Rune.

"The well-known Oþala/Odal/Othala rune, originally meaning homeland, ancestry, and inheritance (inherited property), has been known to symbolize free peasants in medieval times, who went on to use the symbol in their house marks but is also seen on several churches. It may have been seen as a symbol to fend off evil." --Folk Wisdom & Ways

Today, 29th of May, the Othila rune manifestation period starts, it will last until 14th of June

The Othila Runa ( or Odal,(Othil) is associated with family property, or heritage, it symbolizes the fence that delineates property and innate qualities both spiritual and material. it represents the power to obtain and predicts favorable answers to all questions concerning your property, and family or social life interests, as well as Freedom, Achievement of objectives and therefore Success.

To make dreams come true, Othila offers some wise advice: you need to keep the goals you want to achieve in mind, in order to channel your energy correctly.

You don’t need to force destiny: everything has its own time, so Othila encourages not to despair and to have faith in your own possibilities.

Divination

If the Runa Othila is in the phase of divination, Dritta warns that it is time to concentrate your efforts towards the goals you most want to achieve: a job, the love of a person, the realization of a project.

If energies are scattered in multiple directions, you won’t be able to conclude anything and you will feel frustrated.

So it tells us that, maybe we are in a period of renewal, that it’s time to get rid of all those relationships that lead to nowhere, and then, to start new projects and that all of this could be very positive.

You need to accept that life removes some things to offer new ones. It’s good to own this truth to stay open to changes.

Overturn, on the other hand, can mean loss of property or exclusion from a community. It may also indicate diatribes related to probate or probate, or a sudden request for repayment of a loan. In any case Othila toppled indicates a problem that not even money or an inherited position can solve.

Informs, then, that excessive attachment, either to people, material, cultural or social goods, is not a good advisor.

If you accept that everything is subject to change, that everything changes, and that losses can mean new gains, you will feel more free and able to live according to your own way.

You need to learn to adapt to circumstances and learn from every experience. This way you will make the most of situations and you won’t suffer when your wishes are not met, when you have to face a separation (in your personal relationships and work), when you don’t achieve the desired success or, simply, when you realize that you have wrong.

Regarding love, the Runa Othila tells us that it is a moment of great sensuality. Your attractiveness increases and you will have many opportunities to meet new people and then start interesting relationships.

Othila advises to take advantage of this situation. If you have a partner, the relationship with him will get stronger.

While in the Laboratory Field Othila tells us that, you will be offered the opportunity to work with new colleagues or to introduce significant changes in the development of your professional activity: something that, sooner or later, will bring benefits.

While regarding Health: The Runa Othila recommends learning to control stress. To this end you need to devote some time every day to yourself, to do some physical exercise, to read or listen to music, or just to chat with friends.

Correspondence

Syllabus : o

Associated with Ragnarok, "inevitable destiny".

Tree : Thorn

Herb : Clover

Crystal : Ruby

Colour : Gold

Zodiac sign : .

Animal : Lion

Tarot cards: XXI major arcano - The World

Astrology: Sun in Aquarius / Moon in Taurus

I Ching: 64th Exagram, Wei Chi - Before completion.

SOURCE the power of the runes the magic of the runes Runica paths of light Source From: --L'Antro celtico

[aqquai]

The Democratic party needs drastic changes in messaging to win the next election. The party is seen as old, affulent, and out of touch with middle America.

Harris did, in part, what she attempted to: make gains in white, college educated suburbs while minimizing losses everywhere else. She did the first part relatively well.

The Democrats believed that by moving to the right on specific issues, they could win moderate suburban (generally wealthier) voters. Harris portrayed herself as tough on crime, strong on border control, and put forth means tested welfare policies. She did her best to portray herself as an extension of the status quo, and Trump as a radical.

Democrats made gains they desired: in the suburbs of Atlanta and Dallas, and shifts to the right were minimized in wealthy suburbs outside cities like Milwalkee and Austin, even as those states made hard turns to the right. In 2024, more than any other election year in recent history, voters for the Democratic candidate were comparitively wealthier and older.

It is clear that voters wanted a change to the status quo. If the Democrats want to get back the voters they lost: Hispanic and Black voters in high cost of living cities, working class voters in the rust belt, young voters, they need to acknowledge that the issues they are facing are real.

Globalization and neoliberal economic policy have led to a loss in manufacturing jobs. Poor planning has made large cities too expensive to live in. Inequality and midde class flights have led to poverty concentration in urban centers and increased crime. Job growth is strong, but most of this growth has been in lower paid service sector work: underemployement is a real issue for young voters, and they are generally worse off than previous generations. And politicians, wealthier than ever, seem more bothered by fundraising and corporate interests.

And Republicans have been able to make these issues stick to Biden-Harris.

Workers feel screwed over and overworked, and Trump is telling people that they are. He says immigrants and "coastal elites" are bringing crime and taking jobs, while Americans are being left behind. Trump, to the working class voters who left the Democrats behind, was seen authentically pointing out issues "everyones thinking about:" job loss, crime, immigration, war, and inflation. Trump's platform is short and to the point, while Harris's takes 600 words to answer one policy question.

Elections are based on vibes, and the "Vibe" of the Democratic party is that it's dominated by liberal intellectuals and party machine candidates. Policy such as student loan forgiveness, tax cuts for first-time homebuyers, etc, mean nothing to voters who never went to college and can't imagine buying a home in this economy.

If the Democrats want to move to the right on issues like crime and immigration--if they think this will better reach voters--they cannot simply just take a page out of the Republican's playbook and start talking about border security and being tough on crime. Using Republican framing will fail and will just legitimize Republican talking points.

If they want to move right on issues of immigration and crime, Democrats need to frame the issues in "Democrat" ways. Talk about the potential depressing effect immigrants have on wages. Talk about how big agribusiness loves illegal immigration because they can exploit that labor more, and this is why nothing is done. Talk about inequality and its relation to crime. Talk about how large chains have eaten away at small businesses in middle America, killing downtowns and a small town middle-class.

Democrats also must talk about issues that are generally relatable to voters and motivate their base. Issues like expensive health insurance, strong union rights, high housing costs, stagnant real wages, and money in politics.

A Republican would tell you that it was DEI, abortion, and lgbt issues that caused voters to leave the Democratic party, but I would disagree. Harris, more than Hillary, minimized her gender and focused on policy. Voters broadly agree with the democratic party on issues of abortion and lgbt, but those issues are simply not as important as the core economic issues that bring people to the polls.

I voted for Harris, but I could see her loss coming before the election started. I work with people on the ground, and they feel unheard.

[bunchacrunchcake]

Hot take: Call them a colonizer.

Some people are that, 3rd 4th 5th generation colonists. They say "Speak English." "This is a Christian nation." "We are just following the law." "You have to earn what you work for." "Stop being angry. It's making me uncomfortable."

People on all sides of the spectrum can act like colonizers. It's not just "the other side" that's doing it.

Here's why it's okay. This country wasn't empty when Europeans landed here. It was full, coast to coast, of Native people. Algonquin, Navajo, Cree, Comanche, Kiowa.

Natives aren't perfect magical people that do no wrong. But they were here first. The rules and laws, the money, the highways, the religion was all forced on people that already lived here after a genocide. Over 200+ years, it's estimated that colonizers "reduced" the Native population from 10,000,000 to 300,000. 9.7m people "reduced." Is how it is described today. In minutes the US nuked ~200,000 civilians in cities that were non-military targets and agreed on by officials were unnecessary to bomb to end the war. The Holocaust is estimated between 6 - 11 million https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Holocaust#Death_toll I'm not making the point that these are equivalent. Or that they are not. Arguing which was worse, erasing two cities or erasing entire populations is idiotic. They are both reprehensible. And it takes a certain kind of person, a certain kind of system, a certain kind of outlook on human life in order to do something like that. European culture, oddly, wipes people off of the map, plants a flag, and says "We were here first." The people that came before are erased. And the people that come after are second class. The history of how we built the first railroads by using Chinese immigrants as dynamite fodder is horrifying.

The European culture has whiteness hidden in a lot of it, and deeper underneath the skin tone is a large set of values that are ultimately predatory, and absolutely awful for most people that don't own businesses. Europe was a country of Kings. A lot of the values from that culture are about justifying the existence of a king:

Top down authority, rules set by leaders, asking leaders to increase pay or change governing laws, people are entitled to what they earn therefore someone who has billions must have worked for it and must be entitled to it, everything is for sale even the land you are currently living on, you have to pay tax or you will lose your home, you have to pay for everything you want because it is a way of showing you earned it, causing loud head on conflict is worse than causing quiet conflict that undermines people, if you agreed to it you agreed to it forever.

Its a system that convinces people their rulers are better than them, makes it hard for them to resist, and entraps them within the system.

In the US, most peoples history goes back 100-200 years, however humans have been around for 10-30,000 years. Native people are in almost every country, Japan, China, Russia, the Americas, the list goes on and on. In almost every country there was a process of erasing them so another culture could dominate.

And the end result of those cultures globally are taxes that only the middle class and the poor pay, payday loans, overpriced foods, homes that you do not truly own.

When you see someone defending the legitimacy of this system, through racism, or just through moralizing and logic justifying it, they are participating in hundreds of years of colonialism.

[rjzimmerman]

No paywall, so click/tap the caption to read an interesting story in full. But in the meantime, here's an excerpt from this story from Mother Jones:

With the election of Donald Trump, we’re in for a climate catastrophe.

We know because we’re in that crisis now, already. We just don’t talk about it all that much, mostly because we don’t like to admit what it means.

Many of us recognize on some level that we’ve moved into a world of superstorms and rising seas; droughts and failed crops; deluges and floods; megafires and orange skies full of gagging smoke; life-threatening heat waves and blackouts; invasive insects spreading infectious diseases, and the loss of native ecosystems. We may try to tune it out, but we know it’s bad.

But what hasn’t sunk in is that we built this country for physical conditions that no longer exist. We’ve experienced a discontinuity with the past, a threshold where what used to work no longer does, and what we used to know no longer makes much sense. Once-sturdy systems will break more frequently. Once-safe places will find themselves disaster zones. No aspect of our lives will go untouched. And while it’s true some places are safer than others, nowhere is immune, and even communities like Asheville, North Carolina, can find themselves walloped by extreme weather.

Hundreds of millions of Americans are about to have a collision with planetary reality. We’re already seeing the impact on insurance and finance. Insurance depends on the ability to accurately price risk, to accurately measure future value. And the truth is, a big chunk of America is way riskier than we thought it was, and seriously overvalued.

A conservative estimate of the homeowner insurance gap is $1.6 trillion in uncovered risks. That’s mostly being borne by people who are relatively poor or live in acknowledged flood and fire zones. Everyone in the insurance industry expects that gap to grow, as risks metastasize and are priced into policies. Insurance eventually becomes too expensive for many to afford, if it’s even still available. For homeowners, skyrocketing premiums are too high. But insurers worry they can’t charge enough to keep up with increasing risk. The climate crisis is already rendering entire communities and even regions uninsurable.

Uninsurable properties are also often unlendable. Typically, getting a mortgage depends on the bank agreeing that the house it’s loaning you money to buy will hold its value for 30 years. Millions of American homes won’t. Homes you can buy only with cash (or with shady commercial loans) are homes that are also set to see a huge drop in value. This is as true in mountain towns surrounded by flammable timber as in cities on the floodplains of the Mississippi or beachside communities on the Gulf.

Already, some folks are realizing they have no option but to leave. Some will be directly displaced by fire or flood (as we’ve seen in California and Texas). Many more will simply find life in a declining community untenable. Others are getting out while the market still slumbers. There is some evidence that rising home prices in the safer ­communities­ in the Great Lakes and ­Northwest are starting to be driven by (largely wealthier) newcomers relocating away from climate change.

I don’t believe America still has the option of an orderly transition. We’re going to have to fight like hell for rapid decarbonization while we reckon with the challenges of a climate-changed America and continue to contend with intergenerational problems of poverty and oppression. The next decade was always going to be messy.

The next president could declare a climate emergency and launch a national climate response. We could invest heavily in climate science, foresight capacities, and worker upskilling. We could forge a national insurability strategy—one that combines tax breaks for household adaptation measures with local disaster readiness and a major investment in stabilizing insurance costs in places that are still insurable. We could undertake wartime-scale efforts to build out clean energy, harden critical infrastructure, and defend relatively safe places from their worst demonstrated threats. We could invest in widespread managed retreat (especially on the coasts) with supported mass relocation for those living in the communities we cannot possibly save. We could lay the groundwork for equitable growth, making sure those moving away from climate chaos find places to live, with functioning roads and water systems and with schools, hospitals, and social services ready to meet a great increase in need. We could go all in, and make this catastrophe the spur for building the stronger bones of a better country.

That is not what we’re in for now that Donald Trump has been elected.

The Trump crowd has already shown they don’t see acceleration of the climate chaos as a problem—they see it as an opportunity.

[financeattips]

Millennials Money Tips for Personal Finance

It is very difficult for millennials to manage their own finances today as the world of competition requiring one to workout harder has changed in a matter of months. From student loan debt to increasing living costs, this generation has faced financial struggles that are all its own. Nevertheless, there are strategies out there that can work for the millennial in search of sustainable financial security or even just a better bottom line. Below are a few of the basic personal finance tips for millennials.

1. Set Clear Financial Goals

The first step in any financial plan is establishing specific and attainable goals. Whether it's to buy a home, pay off your student loans, or save for retirement — knowing what you're working towards will keep you more engaged and inspired. Divide your goals into short-term (one to two years), medium-term (three to five years) and long-(five or more). This approach helps you to prioritize and use your resources accordingly.

2. Create and Stick to a Budget

The Facet of Financial Management: Budgeting Track your income and expenses: The very first step is to track how much you are earning, after that what things consume your bills? Budgeting tools; you may use an app to categorize what you spend on and where they can be reduced. If possible, adhere to the 50/30/20 rule — apportion half of your funds towards needs and twenty percent for saving or repaying debt.

3. Build an Emergency Fund                                                                         

It is only a rainy day fund to act as an emergency safety net in case life decides not to follow your plan. The hopefully three to six months of absolute must-have sequestered in a separate, liquid account. It can help you with the cost of surprising expenses–whether they be medical bills or it lets you maintain your financial schedule, rather than having a huge hole in it due to car repairs.

4. Manage Debt Wisely

For many millennials, student loan debt can be a large financial weight. Start your payoff journey with high-interest debt — credit card balances are a solid place to begin. Refinance or consolidate student loans at a lower interest rate. Establish and Maintain a HISTORY of consistent on-time payments to improve your credit score, reducing overall debt.

5. Invest for the Future

If you want to create wealth then investment is the most important thing for it. If your employer offers a matching 401(k) plan, that is what you should start with. Demand more investment options like IRAs, Stocks and Mutual Funds. Simply Diversify A toasted way to diversification! The point is that, your money should earning with compounding.

6. Enhance Financial Literacy

One can be really good at making informed decision which is backed by financial literacy. Use online sources, books and courses to learn more about personal finance. Understanding concepts such as interest rates, inflation and investment options can help you make more informed financial decisions.

7. Plan for Retirement

Architecting retirement: It is never too early to plan for retirement. Save a minimum of 15% of your income toward retirement. Make use of Roth IRAs and traditional IRA tax-advantaged accounts. You may want to talk with a financial advisor who can help you put together your own retirement plan based on what you hope for in retirement and how much risk you are willing to take.

8. Protect Your Assets

But while it may not be the sexiest asset class around, insurance is integral to any complete financial plan. Make sure of health, auto and and home insurance coverage. Good idea: If you have dependents, consider life insurance. Disability insurance provides you income in the event of an illness or injury.

9. Check Your Credit Score

Great credit can unlock lower-interest rates and financial possibilities. Review your credit report on a regular basis for inaccuracies and work towards building up the score. By paying your bills on time, keeping credit card balances low and only opening new accounts when you need them (and therefore improved scores so long as other key factors don't weigh in ).

10. Seek Professional Advice

If you are unsure of where to begin or need help, then speak with a financial advisor. They can give you advice and even consult with you to build a financial plan as well. Also look for a good pedigree — Certified Financial Planner (CFP) or Chartered Financial Analyst (CFA).

With these personal finance tips, a millennial can move forward in the financial journey feeling more secure for their future. Earning money is only part of the process… its mastering discipline, consistency and continuous learning that leads to long-term financial success.

[lunarsilkscreen]

The Homeless for profit Industry

There's several programs in the US. That attempt to get homeless people off the streets into homes, and they routinely claim they find stable *permanent* Housing. But that "permanent" housing lasts about a year. And those who can't recover in that time to a *more permanent* solution are Shit Outta Luck.

I could go into all the predatory lending behavior and identity theft that happens to people who don't have a secure place to keep their necessary "Three forms of ID" required to register vote in this country. (You need the fourth form of id post registration to vote every year as well.)

But that's just the tip of the iceberg. The visible shit.

Here's the thing; how long do you think it will take you find a permanent job, near a place to live and vehicle to drive if it isn't near public transit?

Don't say Uber; $40 to be driven to and from work is far to costly.

By permanent, I mean indefinite.

How many people keep their first jobs for more than a year? How many rental agreements last for more than a year?

And how many landlords are *so worried* about being taken advantage of by "squatters" and "renters" rights laws that they refuse to lease a property for longer than a year to somebody?

And, finally; How many landlords prey on the homeless because it means a guaranteed paycheck?

The fact that guaranteed payment plans by the government to pay landlords for a limited period of times means that homeless people wind up homeless and without the ability to save anything they've purchased over that year.

And the proposed solution is "Well, you're supposed to lease with another rental property every year until you die."

That's not permanent housing, especially if renters want you to leave at least bi-yearly. And before you say "why don't you save up your money for a down payment on a home?"

It's not just the down payment, is it? You need house inspections, a real estate agent who will take a % because otherwise you're likely to get screwed in the process.

You could wind up in a predatory home owner association. You could wind up signing a sales agreement with somebody who didn't actually own the property.

There's so many ways to wind up back on the street *even* when everything goes right.

And that's the issue facing people today; but if you've never been worried about losing a stable place to live, it's not something you think about.

Obviously; the main problem with renting, isn't renting. There's plenty of situations in which renting would be preferable. But because of the giant chunk of $$ it takes from your paycheck; it makes it hard to save up any money.

And thus the reason for a loan, which, if I remind you about the housing crisis; doesn't guarantee you can't lose your home when shit hits the fan.

This is why there's economic disparity. Because despite its unethical nature; it's not illegal.

And all of *that* doesn't even cover the increase demand, and thus the increased price of rental properties *caused* by homeless programs themselves. Which feeds into itself.

Because if you don't have permanent housing, and you don't have the ability to achieve permanent rent free housing; you're stuck feeding the system or camping in a van in Public Park or Nature Reserve, and paying for a YMCA membership in order to take showers.

And don't get me started on how expensive laundromats are getting. ($20 for a single load!? Gonna have to throw in an entire month's worth of laundry to break even...)

Right now; the most cost effective method is to get every homeless person a van, with a bed and a closet, a place to park that has a fire pit, a place to do laundry, and a bunch of outhouses.

Then they can all have a roof over their heads, transportation, and Covid Safe Distancing and mask free self-isolation.

Plus; instead of paying money to shitty landlords begging for free guaranteed handouts at others expense; you can create an entire class of mechanics that actually get paid to maintain something.

[mariacallous]

In Kenya, people took to the streets to protest tax hikes to pay for foreign debt. In Sri Lanka, a takeover of the presidential palace was followed by the election of a new government aiming to renegotiate Sri Lanka’s International Monetary Fund (IMF) loan. In Argentina, there’s been a record increase in poverty and hunger as the government pursues austerity to free up cash and pay off debt to the IMF. These are three of almost 80 countries currently in or at risk of debt distress, and most of them are highly climate-vulnerable. In the context of a simultaneous climate and development crisis, high debt payments are a direct obstacle to countries’ abilities to fund essential public services, tackle climate change, and invest in sustainable development. External shocks such as the U.S. Federal Reserve’s 2022-2023 interest rate hikes, combined with a slow recovery from the COVID-19 crisis, have exacerbated debt burdens around the world. And one global institution is absolutely crucial to making debt relief viable in the short term: the IMF.

Atop the international monetary hierarchy, the IMF is the head of the creditors’ cartel. Not only is it a gatekeeper for other supranational lenders; it also functions as a seal of approval for countries to gain access to capital markets. Created to rebalance countries’ balance-of-payments crises, it can even issue a type of international money called Special Drawing Rights (SDRs). Without counting this, it has a trillion dollars of lending power, plus a quarter-trillion-dollars’ worth of gold reserves. In recent years, though, the IMF has diverged from its obligation to support countries in need. Though it has increasingly relied on fees from its more distressed borrowers, over the last 12 months it made a record-breaking $6.8 billion in earnings.

As the fund’s yearly fall meetings are about to begin on Oct. 21, we propose five quick fixes for the IMF, all of which require minimal paperwork and will help get effective relief and climate funds to developing countries. Despite important strides over the last few years, the IMF is still stuck in old ways of austerity and conditionality. The institution is out of sync with the climate emergency and needs to change.

1. Immediate debt relief through the elimination of surcharges

Just as with hidden fees charged by credit cards, dozens of countries have due to surcharges paid the IMF much higher interest rates than those advertised. The institution’s own historical precedents show that bold moves, such as removing these fees, are possible. After prolonged pressure from economists, policymakers and civil society groups, the Fund recently reformed the policy to lower the fees—but didn’t go far enough. Had the IMF board scrapped surcharges, the developing world would have seen up to $13 billion in additional relief over the next decade. Highly indebted countries will continue to face an unnecessary burden and obstacle to development.

The Fund argues these surcharges are a disincentive for large and prolonged borrowing. Some rich countries’ board members opposed full elimination of the policy because they claimed the income derived from these extra fees could pay for concessional rates for loans mainly issued to low-income African and small island states. Beyond the fact that, decades ago, rich countries committed to subsidizing these loans’ low interest rates, the IMF does not need the extra income to fund this subsidy. Boasting a trillion dollars of lending capacity, the powerful IMF can cover this subsidy by freeing up cash from its retained earnings as well as conducting a partial accounting revaluation of its gold reserves. In short, the IMF is solvent enough to forego surcharge income and provide full relief from surcharges to its debt-distressed members before the next review.

2. A new issuance of SDRs

The IMF has a special unit attached to it called the Special Drawing Rights Department. It has its own balance sheet, and with the mandate from its members, it can issue and allocate international currency. American legislation allows the U.S. Treasury to vote at the IMF for an expedited issuance worth up to $650 billion. This issuance would not cost the United States—or any government, for that matter—a single penny. It is a zero-tax, deficit-free, debt-free, and conditionality-free way to support countries in distress without the lengthy political delays of budget appropriations.

The main use for foreign exchange is to pay for international transactions, primarily imports of goods and services. While 41 rich countries and China would get two-thirds of SDRs and generally would not use them, over 150 developing countries would get around $200 billion worth of SDRs, and most of them would certainly use them to pay for imports. This would boost international trade and stimulate U.S. exports. A recent study shows that hundreds of thousands of export-related jobs in the United States can be preserved or created from an SDR issuance of this magnitude.

Together with this issuance, the United Nations can decide that all UN agencies’ statistics, reports, and accounting are denominated in XDR—the international standard symbol for the SDR, the currency of the IMF, which is, let’s not forget, a UN institution. This will promote the use of SDRs and will incentivize countries to donate them for climate purposes.

3. Invest the IMF’s portfolios in African and Latin American green bonds

The IMF has unused cash on hand for about $405 billion. It has an additional $42 billion invested in the stock market, mainly in rich countries’ blue chip stocks, corporate bonds, and sovereigns. Why not have the IMF increase its portfolio and invest it in top-rated green bonds issued by regional development banks such as the African Development Bank and the Development Bank of Latin America? The usual argument is that the IMF has to follow legacy risk models biased in favor of rich-country markets, but this is shortsighted as it is a globally systemic institution—it doesn’t have to follow markets; it has to make them. This is an opportunity for unused cash at the IMF to instead be put to productive use through climate-oriented, real-life projects.

4. Fix the IMF’s new climate fund

The IMF’s managing director, Kristalina Georgieva, is an environmental economist. She was successful in creating a trust fund at the IMF that is the closest thing to an IMF climate fund: the Resilience and Sustainability Trust. However, old habits die hard, and its framework was problematic from the start. While its 20-year loans are at lower rates than the conventional 10-year IMF loans, they are full of counterproductive conditionalities linked to regular austerity-filled IMF programs and are arbitrarily capped at $1.3 billion per country. The IMF can quickly fix this by tweaking its inertial habits: scrapping the harmful conditionality, delinking it from conventional IMF loans, and removing the arbitrary cap.

5. Fast-track congressional approval for a quota increase

The U.S. government hosts the IMF in Washington and with veto power it is the most important voice at the IMF. The role of the United States is crucial in getting these quick fixes underway. For this next fix, congressional approval will be required.

The IMF’s solvency depends on its members’ quotas, its yearly profits and borrowing agreements with rich countries. The IMF had approved a quota-funding round from its members in 2010, but it was concluded only in 2016—mainly because of a slow U.S. Congress that resisted a small change in voting power. Voting power is defined according to a formula that largely rewards economic size. Per the latest round approved in 2023, the distribution of voting power will remain the same, but countries are required to proportionally increase their quotas to the IMF. In order to comply with the latest round, it is estimated that rich countries will provide around $225 billion, but mostly in their own currencies. Meanwhile, developing countries will have to seek $25 billion in U.S. dollars, with the difference in local currency promises. U.S. congressional approval for the new funding round should be accelerated.

However, for a subsequent round, it is imperative that the IMF opens a discussion on the formula. Economic power shouldn’t go unchecked by climate responsibilities but should include a climate variable that can interact with economic size. We propose including countries’ historic greenhouse gas emissions in the denominator of that formula.

Out of all these measures, only the increase in quotas requires congressional approval. Everything else can be done quickly and for free, with the voting power and influence of the U.S. Treasury representative at the IMF. It is preferable for the United States to lead these reforms, which will realign the fund with its foundational principles and purpose—especially in the context of the climate emergency and a necessary green transition.