#financial paradox

[ericartem]

The Curious Case of Universal Debt

The Curious Case of Universal Debt #artem

Content 16+ A peculiar phenomenon has emerged that would befuddle even the most pragmatic of accountants: everyone owes everyone. The United States, China, France, Germany, the United Kingdom—name a country, and chances are its national debt is not merely a small sum but a towering Everest of financial obligations. If everyone owes someone, who exactly is holding the IOUs? Let us journey into…

[maruren]

Release AU Part 2

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Gideon Rachman: Whose side are you on — the Israelis or the Palestinians? Do you think that western policy should be to support Israel, in the aftermath of the biggest single slaughter of Israeli civilians since the foundation of the state in 1948? Or do you think that Benjamin Netanyahu’s government is itself committing mass atrocities in Gaza, and that western policy should be to put maximum pressure on Israel to stop? These are the binary terms in which much of the debate about the Israel-Palestinian conflict is being conducted. But talking to policymakers in Washington, Brussels and other European capitals, I am struck that this is not the approach of most of the western leaders who have engaged with Israel over the past week. They argue that the best chance of preventing a humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza is to support Israel.

That sounds paradoxical — even hypocritical. But, thinking about it further, I understand the logic. Many civilians have already died in Gaza and there is much more tragedy to come. The UN is warning of an impending disaster. But the best chance of mitigating the suffering of Palestinian civilians is to start from an understanding that Israel itself has just suffered an unprecedented tragedy and has the right and obligation to ensure its own security. This is a policy that one senior US official calls: “hug them close”. He describes Israel as “traumatised and frightened”. “We need to present this as a situation that we are facing together and that we can work on together,” says the official. The White House thinks that only then will Joe Biden get a hearing when he makes public statements about the need for Israel to respect the laws of war and to protect civilian lives. In private, politicians can then press Israel about the most urgent humanitarian priorities, such as the restoration of electricity and water in Gaza.

That approach reflects a realistic understanding of Israeli society. The Jewish state is founded on the premise that antisemitism is global and ineradicable — and that no one will save the Jews except the Jews themselves. If, at this traumatic moment, foreigners arrive in Israel with lectures rather than deep and genuine sympathy they will not be listened to. The Israeli government and wider society will simply be confirmed in their view that they need to shut out the voices from a hostile world — and concentrate on the battle for their own survival. Many senior European officials are following a similar approach to the US. One says, “I’ve seen Netanyahu many times over the years. But I have never seen him like this. He’s stunned.” European leaders who travelled to Israel last week found that both Netanyahu and President Isaac Herzog had moved their offices to the Israeli defence ministry in Tel Aviv. With the city still under sporadic attack from rockets, some high-level diplomatic meetings have taken place in the ministry’s bomb shelter.

But the decision to show emotional and strategic solidarity with Israel — even as it bombards Gaza — is controversial in Europe. The visit to Israel last week by the EU Commission president, Ursula von der Leyen, has drawn criticism. Mujtaba Rahman of Eurasia group quotes a senior EU official, who accuses von der Leyen of undermining outreach to the global south, endangering European hostages and diplomats and giving Israel “carte blanche” in Gaza. I heard similar complaints in Brussels. These are all understandable concerns. But they are not a strategy for persuading Israel to show restraint. Von der Leyen, like the Americans, believes the west has to start by listening to the Israelis.

The US believes there are some early signs that its policy can pay dividends. Israel announced over the weekend that the water supply to southern Gaza will be restored — a decision made during a call between Biden and Netanyahu. America also points to the opening of safe routes for civilians in Gaza, which Israel says it will refrain from bombing during certain hours. The Biden administration does not believe — despite chatter on Israeli social media and statements by some politicians — that the Netanyahu government plans to drive all the Gaza Palestinians into Egypt. For many in the west, all this will sound like an infuriatingly mild response to the death and destruction in Gaza. But while much harsher western denunciations of Israel may provide an opportunity to express outrage, they are unlikely to do much for suffering Palestinians. In the short-term, Israel is a well-armed country that believes it is fighting for its survival. It is not going to be stopped by a resolution in the European parliament or the UN General Assembly.

In the longer-term, the west is deeply divided over the Israel-Palestine conflict — too divided for the “boycott, divestment and sanctions” movement aimed at Israel to make real headway. BDS will gain new followers because of what is happening in Gaza. But the group who believe passionately in the defence of Israel will also swell in numbers because of what Hamas did. The idea that the EU or the US will ever form a consensus to isolate and boycott Israel is deeply unrealistic. Compassion for innocent people suffering on all sides of this conflict is not just the moral position. It is also the only practical way forward.

[Financial Times]

[kc22invesmentsblog]

The Penny Paradox: A Coin Worth More Than Meets the Eye

Written by Delvin In the vast world of currency, there exists a peculiar paradox—a coin that costs more to create than its actual value. We’re talking about the U.S. penny, the humble one-cent coin that has perplexed many. In this fun fact blog post, we will delve into the fascinating realm of the penny and uncover the surprising truth behind its production cost. 1. The Costly…

[wickedzeevyln]

An Afterthought

Sixteen days into the new year… Somehow, I see us as gophers popping our heads out of a hole and Life is always trying to conk us on the head with a giant, rubber mallet. We don’t get far without a throbbing bump. Yes, Life is unfair, but it’s unfair to everyone. Some, behind the glittery glitz and pompous pearly smiles, are mum while mucky monsters are gobbling them, but their image tickle our…

[nxlvb4]

The Premier League’s Paradox: The High Stakes of Financial Dominance and Competitive Balance

The Premier League, often touted as the “best league in the world,” faces an existential crisis that threatens its future as a competitive and financially sustainable football institution. As a new season kicks off, the league finds itself grappling with a paradox: the very model that has driven its success is also leading it towards potential decline. This analysis explores the complex dynamics…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon’s financial shell game let it create an “impossible” monopoly

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

For the pro-monopoly crowd that absolutely dominated antitrust law from the Carter administration until 2020, Amazon presents a genuinely puzzling paradox: the company's monopoly power was never supposed to emerge, and if it did, it should have crumbled immediately.

Pro-monopoly economists embody Ely Devons's famous aphorism that "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

Rather than using the way the world actually works as their starting point for how to think about it, they build elaborate models out of abstract principles like "rational actors." The resulting mathematical models are so abstractly elegant that it's easy to forget that they're just imaginative exercises, disconnected from reality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful

These models predicted that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power. Even if they became a monopoly – in the sense of dominating sales of various kinds of goods – the company still wouldn't get monopoly power.

For example, if Amazon tried to take over a category by selling goods below cost ("predatory pricing"), then rivals could just wait until the company got tired of losing money and put prices back up, and then those rivals could go back to competing. And if Amazon tried to keep the loss-leader going indefinitely by "cross-subsidizing" the losses with high-margin profits from some other part of its business, rivals could sell those high margin goods at a lower margin, which would lure away Amazon customers and cut the supply lines for the price war it was fighting with its discounted products.

That's what the model predicted, but it's not what happened in the real world. In the real world, Amazon was able use its access to the capital markets to embark on scorched-earth predatory pricing campaigns. When diapers.com refused to sell out to Amazon, the company casually committed $100m to selling diapers below cost. Diapers.com went bust, Amazon bought it for pennies on the dollar and shut it down:

https://www.theverge.com/2019/5/13/18563379/amazon-predatory-pricing-antitrust-law

Investors got the message: don't compete with Amazon. They can remain predatory longer than you can remain solvent.

Now, not everyone shared the antitrust establishment's confidence that Amazon couldn't create a durable monopoly with market power. In 2017, Lina Khan – then a third year law student – published "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," a landmark paper arguing that Amazon had all the tools it needed to amass monopoly power:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

Today, Khan is chair of the FTC, and has brought a case against Amazon that builds on some of the theories from that paper. One outcome of that suit is an unprecedented look at Amazon's internal operations. But, as the Institute for Local Self-Reliance's Stacy Mitchell describes in a piece for The Atlantic, key pieces of information have been totally redacted in the court exhibits:

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/02/amazon-profits-antitrust-ftc/677580/

The most important missing datum: how much money Amazon makes from each of its lines of business. Amazon's own story is that it basically breaks even on its retail operation, and keeps the whole business afloat with profits from its AWS cloud computing division. This is an important narrative, because if it's true, then Amazon can't be forcing up retail prices, which is the crux of the FTC's case against the company.

Here's what we know for sure about Amazon's retail business. First: merchants can't live without Amazon. The majority of US households have Prime, and 90% of Prime households start their ecommerce searches on Amazon; if they find what they're looking for, they buy it and stop. Thus, merchants who don't sell on Amazon just don't sell. This is called "monopsony power" and it's a lot easier to maintain than monopoly power. For most manufacturers, a 10% overnight drop in sales is a catastrophe, so a retailer that commands even a 10% market-share can extract huge concessions from its suppliers. Amazon's share of most categories of goods is a lot higher than 10%!

What kind of monopsony power does Amazon wield? Well, for one thing, it is able to levy a huge tax on its sellers. Add up all the junk-fees Amazon charges its platform sellers and it comes out to 45-51%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Competitive businesses just don't have 45% margins! No one can afford to kick that much back to Amazon. What is a merchant to do? Sell on Amazon and you lose money on every sale. Don't sell on Amazon and you don't get any business.

The only answer: raise prices on Amazon. After all, Prime customers – the majority of Amazon's retail business – don't shop for competitive prices. If Amazon wants a 45% vig, you can raise your Amazon prices by a third and just about break even.

But Amazon is wise to that: they have a "most favored nation" rule that punishes suppliers who sell goods more cheaply in rival stores, or even on their own site. The punishments vary, from banishing your products to page ten million of search-results to simply kicking you off the platform. With publishers, Amazon reserves the right to lower the prices they set when listing their books, to match the lowest price on the web, and paying publishers less for each sale.

That means that suppliers who sell on Amazon (which is anyone who wants to stay in business) have to dramatically hike their prices on Amazon, and when they do, they also have to hike their prices everywhere else (no wonder Prime customers don't bother to search elsewhere for a better deal!).

Now, Amazon says this is all wrong. That 45-51% vig they claim from business customers is barely enough to break even. The company's profits – they insist – come from selling AWS cloud service. The retail operation is just a public service they provide to us with cross-subsidy from those fat AWS margins.

This is a hell of a claim. Last year, Amazon raked in $130 billion in seller fees. In other words: they booked more revenue from junk fees than Bank of America made through its whole operation. Amazon's junk fees add up to more than all of Meta's revenues:

https://s2.q4cdn.com/299287126/files/doc_financials/2023/q4/AMZN-Q4-2023-Earnings-Release.pdf

Amazon claims that none of this is profit – it's just covering their operating expenses. According to Amazon, its non-AWS units combined have a one percent profit margin.

Now, this is an eye-popping claim indeed. Amazon is a public company, which means that it has to make thorough quarterly and annual financial disclosures breaking down its profit and loss. You'd think that somewhere in those disclosures, we'd find some details.

You'd think so, but you'd be wrong. Amazon's disclosures do not break out profits and losses by segment. SEC rules actually require the company to make these per-segment disclosures:

https://scholarship.law.stjohns.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3524&context=lawreview#:~:text=If%20a%20company%20has%20more,income%20taxes%20and%20extraordinary%20items.

That rule was enacted in 1966, out of concern that companies could use cross-subsidies to fund predatory pricing and other anticompetitive practices. But over the years, the SEC just…stopped enforcing the rule. Companies have "near total managerial discretion" to lump business units together and group their profits and losses in bloated, undifferentiated balance-sheet items:

https://www.ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/public-purpose/publications/2021/dec/crouching-tiger-hidden-dragons

As Mitchell points you, it's not just Amazon that flouts this rule. We don't know how much money Google makes on Youtube, or how much Apple makes from the App Store (Apple told a federal judge that this number doesn't exist). Warren Buffett – with significant interest in hundreds of companies across dozens of markets – only breaks out seven segments of profit-and-loss for Berkshire Hathaway.

Recall that there is one category of data from the FTC's antitrust case against Amazon that has been completely redacted. One guess which category that is! Yup, the profit-and-loss for its retail operation and other lines of business.

These redactions are the judge's fault, but the real fault lies with the SEC. Amazon is a public company. In exchange for access to the capital markets, it owes the public certain disclosures, which are set out in the SEC's rulebook. The SEC lets Amazon – and other gigantic companies – get away with a degree of secrecy that should disqualify it from offering stock to the public. As Mitchell says, SEC chairman Gary Gensler should adopt "new rules that more concretely define what qualifies as a segment and remove the discretion given to executives."

Amazon is the poster-child for monopoly run amok. As Yanis Varoufakis writes in Technofeudalism, Amazon has actually become a post-capitalist enterprise. Amazon doesn't make profits (money derived from selling goods); it makes rents (money charged to people who are seeking to make a profit):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profits are the defining characteristic of a capitalist economy; rents are the defining characteristic of feudalism. Amazon looks like a bazaar where thousands of merchants offer goods for sale to the public, but look harder and you discover that all those stallholders are totally controlled by Amazon. Amazon decides what goods they can sell, how much they cost, and whether a customer ever sees them. And then Amazon takes $0.45-51 out of every dollar. Amazon's "marketplace" isn't like a flea market, it's more like the interconnected shops on Disneyland's Main Street, USA: the sign over the door might say "20th Century Music Company" or "Emporium," but they're all just one store, run by one company.

And because Amazon has so much control over its sellers, it is able to exercise power over its buyers. Amazon's search results push down the best deals on the platform and promote results from more expensive, lower-quality items whose sellers have paid a fortune for an "ad" (not really an ad, but rather the top spot in search listings):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute

This is "Amazon's pricing paradox." Amazon can claim that it offers low-priced, high-quality goods on the platform, but it makes $38b/year pushing those good deals way, way down in its search results. The top result for your Amazon search averages 29% more expensive than the best deal Amazon offers. Buy something from those first four spots and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average, you need to pick the seventeenth item on the search results page to get the best deal:

https://scholarship.law.bu.edu/faculty_scholarship/3645/

For 40 years, pro-monopoly economists claimed that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power over buyers and sellers. Today, Amazon exercises that power so thoroughly that its junk-fee revenues alone exceed the total revenues of Bank of America. Amazon's story – that these fees barely stretch to covering its costs – assumes a nearly inconceivable level of credulity in its audience. Regrettably – for the human race – there is a cohort of senior, highly respected economists who possess this degree of credulity and more.

Of course, there's an easy way to settle the argument: Amazon could just comply with SEC regs and break out its P&L for its e-commerce operation. I assure you, they're not hiding this data because they think you'll be pleasantly surprised when they do and they don't want to spoil the moment.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

Image: Doc Searls (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/docsearls/4863121221/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[milkfordragons]

Why do you think Will and Hannibal both went through scarcity but relate so differently to money? (love your blog)

Will grew up poor, but there is no indication that he suffered from literal hunger. More likely, he lived in a state of constant limitation, having enough for basic sustenance and shelter but little beyond that. His poverty was not one of extreme deprivation but of restriction, of never being able to afford more than the essentials. Later in life, however, Will gained financial security through his professional roles...his work as an FBI consultant, his teaching position, and even as an author of a book used in official training. By the time we see him in the show, he is far from poor; in fact, he has amassed significant wealth. Yet his attitude toward money is cautious, even frugal. This is a common trait in those who grow up without financial security. Money is not seen as something to be indulged in but as something to be preserved. The fear of losing it lingers, and so he is unlikely to splurge, preferring comfort over excess, stability over extravagance.

Hannibal’s trajectory, by contrast, is one of dramatic extremes. He was born into wealth, lost it in an incredibly brief yet profoundly traumatic period of scarcity, and then regained it, never to lose it again. The nature of his deprivation was far more intense than Will’s, his suffering was not just financial but existential, marked by starvation, war, and the destruction of his entire world. This kind of scarcity often breeds an obsession with indulgence rather than security. Those who experience such extreme deprivation, especially those who later come into great wealth, frequently develop compulsions toward excess, seeking to consume, possess, and experience everything available to them as a way to compensate for past lack. Hannibal, with his tastes, opulent lifestyle, and relentless pursuit of pleasure, embodies this tendency. He doesn't just enjoy luxury, he devours it, making an art form out of indulgence itself.

This contrast in their financial psychology also mirrors their deeper fears. Hannibal’s greatest fear is the loss of control, but paradoxically, he has a repressed desire to relinquish it. His indulgences, his love of fine dining, extravagant possessions, and excessive refinement, serve as an outlet for this tension, a "safe" way for him to surrender control without ever truly doing so. He allows himself to indulge because he remains the master of his own excess.

Will, on the other hand, fears losing his mind. His life is not built around control in the same way Hannibal’s is, but rather around creating an environment that minimizes risk. He does not need extravagance, he needs stability, predictability, a life free from unnecessary variables. His frugality is not just financial but existential; he seeks security, not pleasure, and constructs his world accordingly. His job then is his way of indulging in risk.

In the end, their differing relationships with wealth reflect the deeper structures of their personalities. Hannibal, ever-consuming, transforming indulgence into control, and Will, always conserving, ensuring he never steps too far into uncertainty.

[astroa3h]

Chiron through the signs ✨

Chiron, the wounded healer, is a celestial body that carries profound significance in our astrological journey. Its placement in your chart reveals where you harbor deep, often unspoken pain, and paradoxically, where you possess the unique power to heal others. But let's get one thing straight: Chiron is not a fluffy, feel-good part of your chart. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s the stuff we don’t talk about at dinner parties.

If your Chiron is in Aries, you’ve likely struggled with your sense of identity. You’ve been burned by rejection, by the feeling that no matter how hard you try, you’re never quite good enough. You might feel like you’re constantly at war with yourself, and this inner conflict can manifest in a need to prove yourself over and over again. But here’s the truth: the only person you need to prove yourself to is you. Stop fighting battles that don’t exist. Instead, recognize that your wound is your power. You have the ability to lead, to inspire, to be the trailblazer who shows others that self-acceptance is the greatest victory. When you stop looking for validation outside of yourself, you’ll find it within.

With Chiron in Taurus, the wound runs deep in your sense of security and self-worth. Maybe you’ve never felt truly stable, either financially or emotionally. You might cling to material possessions or relationships, thinking they will fill the void inside you. But I sense that this is a trap. The more you try to hold on, the more you lose sight of what really matters: your own intrinsic value. The key here is to redefine what security means to you. It’s not about what you have; it’s about who you are. When you start to appreciate your own worth, you’ll find that the external world mirrors that back to you. Your healing comes from knowing that you are enough, just as you are.

Chiron in Gemini speaks to wounds around communication and self-expression. You might feel like you’re never truly heard or understood, like your voice is lost in the crowd. This can lead to a fear of speaking up, of sharing your thoughts and ideas. But let me tell you, your voice is powerful, and it’s needed. Your challenge is to push through the fear, to find the words even when they don’t come easily. When you do, you’ll find that your words have the power to heal, not just yourself but others too. Your gift is in connecting the dots, in seeing the big picture, and helping others do the same. Don’t shy away from that. Your voice is your superpower.

If your Chiron is in Cancer, the wound is tied to your sense of belonging, to home and family. Maybe you’ve never felt like you truly fit in, or perhaps there’s a deep hurt connected to your childhood or your relationship with your mother. This wound can make you feel emotionally exposed, vulnerable in a way that’s hard to protect yourself against. But here’s what you need to know: your sensitivity is not a weakness; it’s a strength. You have the capacity to create the safe space you’ve always longed for, both for yourself and for others. Your healing comes from nurturing, from creating a sense of home within yourself. When you do, you’ll find that the world feels a lot less hostile.

With Chiron in Leo, the wound strikes at your sense of self-expression and creativity. You might feel like you’re always in the shadow, never truly able to shine in the way you want. This can lead to feelings of inadequacy, like you’re not special enough, not talented enough. But I’m here to tell you that this is a lie. You were born to shine. Your challenge is to step into the spotlight, to own your gifts, and to stop comparing yourself to others. When you embrace your uniqueness, you’ll find that your light not only brightens your world but illuminates the path for others too. Your creativity is your medicine; use it.

Chiron in Virgo touches on issues of perfectionism and self-criticism. You might feel like you’re never quite good enough, like you’re always falling short of some impossible standard. This can lead to a constant state of anxiety, of feeling like you need to fix yourself or others. But let me give you a reality check: perfection is an illusion. The more you chase it, the further away it gets. Your healing comes from accepting your imperfections, from realizing that you don’t need to be perfect to be worthy of love and respect. When you let go of the need to be perfect, you’ll find peace. And that peace will allow you to help others find their own.

Chiron in Libra brings wounds related to relationships and balance. You might struggle with feeling like you’re always the one giving more, always the one trying to keep the peace. This can lead to resentment, to feeling like you’re never truly valued for who you are. But here’s the deal: you need to stop seeking balance outside of yourself. True balance comes from within. When you find that inner equilibrium, your relationships will naturally start to reflect that. You have the ability to create harmony, to bring people together, but only when you’re in harmony with yourself. Stop trying to please everyone and start pleasing yourself.

With Chiron in Scorpio, the wound is deep, connected to issues of power, control, and transformation. You might have experienced trauma or betrayal, something that has left you feeling powerless or out of control. This wound can lead to a fear of intimacy, a fear of being vulnerable. But here’s what I know: your power lies in your ability to transform. You have the capacity to rise from the ashes, to reinvent yourself in a way that others can only dream of. Your healing comes from embracing the darkness, from facing your fears head-on. When you do, you’ll find that your power is unstoppable. You are the phoenix; don’t be afraid to burn and be reborn.

Chiron in Sagittarius touches on wounds related to belief systems and the search for meaning. You might feel like you’re always questioning, always searching for something that feels true. This can lead to a sense of restlessness, of never feeling truly grounded. But I sense that your journey is not about finding the answers; it’s about embracing the journey itself. Your healing comes from trusting your own inner wisdom, from realizing that you don’t need to have all the answers to be on the right path. When you embrace the adventure, you’ll find that the meaning you’re searching for is already within you.

If your Chiron is in Capricorn, the wound is tied to issues of authority, responsibility, and achievement. You might feel like you’re always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, like you need to be the strong one, the responsible one. This can lead to a fear of failure, of not living up to expectations. But here’s the truth: you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Your value is not in what you achieve but in who you are. Your healing comes from letting go of the need to control, from trusting that you are enough just as you are. When you do, you’ll find that success comes naturally, without the struggle.

Chiron in Aquarius brings wounds related to individuality and belonging. You might feel like you’re always on the outside looking in, like you don’t quite fit in with the crowd. This can lead to a fear of being different, of standing out. But let me tell you, your difference is your gift. You were not born to fit in; you were born to stand out. Your challenge is to embrace your uniqueness, to find your tribe, the people who get you, and to stop trying to conform. When you do, you’ll find that your individuality is exactly what the world needs. You are the change-maker, the innovator, and your healing comes from embracing that.

Finally, with Chiron in Pisces, the wound is connected to spirituality and the dissolution of boundaries. You might feel like you’re always picking up on the emotions of others, like you’re drowning in a sea of feelings that aren’t even yours. This can lead to a sense of confusion, of not knowing where you end and others begin. But here’s the secret: your sensitivity is your superpower. You have the ability to tap into the collective consciousness, to feel deeply and to heal others through your empathy. Your healing comes from setting boundaries, from learning to protect your energy while still being open to the world. When you do, you’ll find that your compassion is your greatest strength.

Chiron is not here to break you; it’s here to make you whole. By understanding its placement in your chart, you can turn your wounds into wisdom, your pain into power.

Blessings,

Ash ✨

Get your own reading at astroash.net

[assaultmystic-archive]

i guess what im interested in is moving past transfeminine positivity when talking amongst ourselves. there will always be a place, always always, for celebration, affirmation. for the new girls critically, and for all of us, endlessly important. but it cant be to the exclusion of the negativity.

i dont want to try and construct a femininity safe from misogyny, a transfemininity safe from transmisogyny - because gender is violence. transfemininity exists as, has its beauty constituted of, a rejection of gender as oppression - and it wouldnt be possible to talk about anything we can recognise as transfemininity if it werent for that violence. and so i dont want to silo out from transfemininity when we talk about it that we are not all just made this way out of our own choice, but can be beaten, raped, coerced emotionally, sexually, financially….

and that this coercion and this choice, can, paradoxically live together. that neither is more true, that memory is plastic and remembering is strategic and our histories are things we wield to survive. sometimes transmisogynisation will be a story about choice, about you, about will over an opposed reality, and sometimes it will be a story about the emotional labour your exes made you do. or about childhood abuse. or about institutionalisation. or anything else besides and all of these things together. and neither of these things needs ro be more true, because i love you, and i want you to be able to be as many ways as you possibly can.

[yanyandam]

𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙏 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏

Chapter One: "World"

Bonten!Kokonoi Hajime x Fem! Reader

-W𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡: 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬.

>> reader is a hostess, Reader works in a strip club, Koko is an asshole at first, Koko is hella arrogant, No use of second person ("You"), Reader is mentionned with 3rd person, fem!reader -Non-Graphic Smut, Eventual Smut, Angst, Lots of Angst, Bits of fluff, Mention of the reader's father at first (he's not very present in the story), shared trauma

12/09/2017

Bonten was the most dangerous and influential criminal organization in all of Japan, maybe Asia.

 A sprawling syndicate with hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of members, it controlled the country’s largest arms trade, drug networks, and prostitution rings. But those were just the surface of its operations. Behind closed doors, bloody vendettas were settled with ruthless efficiency, and its tendrils reached deep into the political sphere, weaving alliances with conservative parties that turned a blind eye in exchange for favors. Their symbol was unmistakable, tattooed onto the skin of every single member.

And at the top of it all stood the one they called the Invincible Mikey.

Just beneath him, a pantheon of legends. Men who had once ruled the streets during the golden era of the bosozoku. Their names still carried weight. The Haitani brothers of Roppongi, their elegance masking a savagery that few had ever lived to tell of. Kakucho, known as ‘Hitto,’ the embodiment of unwavering loyalty, a fighting machine. They were ghosts in the city, seldom seen but always felt. Their presence was undeniable, their influence woven into the very fabric of Japan itself.

Because Bonten was not just a criminal empire. Bonten was Japan.

Bonten’s empire stretched far beyond the shadows. It reigned over dozens of establishments: clubs, high-end restaurants, and, of course, an elite circle of executives. Among them, one name stood out: the Money God, Hajime Kokonoi.

No one mastered the art of capital like he did. A financial genius, a man who seemed less like a strategist and more like the very embodiment of profit itself. Unlike others in the organization, he was not feared for brute strength or combat prowess, yet he remained one of Bonten’s most dangerous weapons. Power came in many forms, and his was corruption; an ability to twist, buy, and control anything and anyone with nothing more than numbers on a balance sheet.

Because when you understand money, you don’t just hold power. You own the world.

But don’t mistake him for a man driven by wealth. He did not love money. No, Kokonoi was money.

His talent was not a gift; it was the product of a past carved in loss. But that story? That’s one everyone already knows, don’t they?

Kokonoi wasn’t married, unlike some of his colleagues. He never saw the point, especially when most of them spent their nights tangled up with hostesses, only to return home to a wife they barely respected. He found the whole thing pathetic. Yet, unlike the others, he carried a curse far worse than infidelity: he still believed in love.

But didn’t chase it. Just knew it was possible. Love didn’t fill bank accounts. So why chase a paradox that had no place in his world?

That didn’t mean he deprived himself. Every now and then, he indulged, booking the most luxurious hotel suites money could buy. It was a simple transaction, one that his wealth and status afforded him without question. But he had no interest in spoiling the women who warmed his bed. He never faked affection, never whispered sweet lies.

Because what was the point? He didn’t love them.

And Hajime Kokonoi was many things, but he was not a liar. He just never spotted the entire truth.

It was a night like any other at one of Bonten’s clubs: a strip club in disguise, masquerading as an upscale hostess lounge. Technically, nothing about it was illegal, but registering it for what it truly was? That would’ve been far more expensive. So, like most things in Bonten’s world, the truth was neatly buried under a more palatable illusion.

Beyond the velvet ropes, past the neon haze and the scent of expensive perfume, the club doubled as a crucial HQ, a place where deals were made over whiskey and promises. Tonight was no different.

Hajime Kokonoi sat in the VIP section, legs crossed, fingers idly tapping against the rim of his untouched glass. He was waiting for some old bastard to show up, another businessman who needed an executive’s signature to finalize a deal. He understood the importance of it. A partnership with a major alcohol distributor meant serious money. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a pain in the ass.

His gaze drifted downward to the stage. The dancers moved in fluid, practiced motions, their eyes scanning the crowd for high-rollers, for the kind of men who would drop a small fortune just for a few moments of feigned attention. One girl, in particular, was putting in extra effort. He could tell.

Maybe it was because of the Bonten emblem tattooed on the side of her head, a silent pledge of loyalty that left her with no choice but to please. Or maybe it was because of him.

Draped in a deep red luxury suit, silver hair falling effortlessly around sharp, piercing eyes, Kokonoi looked every bit the king he knew he was. 

He couldn’t deny it, the dancer was fucking stunning. And not just tits and ass. There was something in the way she moved, a precision that turned every motion into something close to poetry.

Her nudity wasn’t even refined, he thought. It was raw. Undiluted.

Hajime watched her for a while, elbows resting on his knee, fingers lazily rolling the base of his whiskey glass. That was the thing about places like this: you could watch a bitch like she was yours. Like no one else in the room mattered. Like no other man could touch her, fuck her, own her.

And yet, the brutal truth? A few bills were all it took. A little cash, and the illusion shattered. Strip her bare, take the name she was born with, the girl she once was, turn her into nothing more than a bitch to be fucked and forgotten.

That’s how it worked. That’s what they were.

But he wasn’t delusional. He didn’t pretend. He knew what money did, what it could buy. And he was money.

After what felt like an eternity, the old bastard finally showed up. Hajime didn’t even bother to hide his irritation. He exhaled slowly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before leveling the man with an unimpressed gaze. “Took you long enough.” His tone was sharp, dismissive, the words dripping with quiet disdain. He didn’t even look at the old man at first, only shifting his gaze when the guy hesitated before finally sitting down.

The man, late fifties, maybe sixties, was trying to keep his composure, but Hajime could see right through him. The stiffness in his shoulders, the way he adjusted his outdated but expensive suit, the slight twitch of his fingers before he neatly folded them on the table. He was nervous. And he had every damn reason to be. 

“Yes, yes, excuse me…” the old man muttered, voice just a little too eager to appease.

Hajime smirked, leaning back against the plush leather of the booth. The neon lights of the club flickered against the polished table, the distant bass thrumming beneath his feet. The dancer he’d been watching earlier was still moving, twisting under the glow of artificial light, but his attention had shifted elsewhere. “Keep your excuses. I’m not a whore.” His voice was smooth, slow, deliberate. “Let’s talk about the contract.”

The old man cleared his throat, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a neatly stacked pile of documents. His hands weren’t visibly shaking, not yet, at least, but Hajime noticed the extra second he took to straighten the papers before pushing them forward. “Everything is in order,” the man said carefully. “Deliveries will begin next week. We’ve secured partnerships with several distributors, but to ensure the volumes you requested, we’ll need—”

Hajime lifted a hand, cutting him off. He picked up the contract lazily, his gaze skimming the pages with barely any interest before letting them drop back onto the table with a dull thud. “You think I have time to read this shit?” He raised an eyebrow, mockery dripping from his words. “You get my signature when I decide you’re worth it. Not before.”

A muscle in the old man’s jaw twitched, but he swallowed whatever insult was clawing at his throat. He wasn’t stupid. No one pushed a Bonten executive.

“Of course,” he replied, forcing a tight smile. “I only wanted to ensure everything was clear between us.”

Hajime clicked his tongue, lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Oh, it’s clear. Crystal clear.” He paused, eyes locked on the man, who was carefully avoiding his gaze. “You want our influence. You want Bonten’s name on your bottles, so your little business becomes untouchable.” Another pause. He leaned in slightly, just enough to watch the way the old man’s breath hitched. “And I want you to stop wasting my fucking time.”

Silence.

The man stiffly nodded, obedient.

Hajime took a slow sip of his drink, letting the silence stretch between them, then exhaled, his smirk widening as he spoke.

“You seem pretty comfortable for a man whose biological daughter is dancing half-naked just a few meters away.” His tone was smooth, almost amused. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

The old man froze. His face lost its color as his wide eyes snapped to Hajime, panic flickering beneath the surface. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Hajime tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh? You didn’t think I’d do my research before signing a deal with you?” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make the words hit deeper. “Turns out, you recently found out you’re the father of one of these little sluts.” He gestured lazily toward the stage without even looking. “All thanks to some messy little affair you had in ’91 with a hostess whose pregnancy you never knew about. And now, look at you! Sending her money every month, playing the good Samaritan from the shadows.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head like he was scolding a child. “Disgusting.”

The old man swallowed thickly, his breath uneven. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried, but his voice wavered. Weak.

Hajime chuckled. “Oh, come on. You really think you can bullshit me?” He traced the rim of his glass with his finger before continuing, his tone turning sharper. “Tell me, why not just…oh, I don’t know, tell her the fucking truth? Pull her out of this shithole? Get her away from this world?”

He gestured lazily to their surroundings, the neon haze, the bodies moving under dim lights, the stench of alcohol and greed filling the air. “This place is a fucking slaughterhouse for girls like her. A life after midnight that gets men like you rock hard because it lets you forget your pathetic little problems. And yet, you let her stay.” He let the words sink in before adding, with mock sympathy, “Oh… wait. That wouldn’t be profitable, would it?”

The old man’s breathing was ragged now. His fingers curled into fists against the table. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Hajime arched an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

The man looked like he wanted to lunge across the table, but he didn’t dare. He wouldn’t. Not here. Not against him.

Hajime leaned back, stretching slightly before letting out a mocking sigh. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna let her keep spreading her legs for every rich bastard who walks through those doors? Or are you hoping she ends up just like her mother?” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. “Maybe you’re even hoping for a prince charming to knock her up and let history repeat itself. Wouldn’t that be poetic?”

The old man shot up from his seat, his chair scraping against the floor as he glared down at Hajime. “You little—”

Hajime didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. He just grinned. “What? We’re just having fun, aren’t we?”

The man’s face was red with fury, but he didn’t say another word. He knew better than to make a scene. His jaw tightened, his hands trembling slightly as he straightened his suit. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the VIP section. 

Hajime watched him go, utterly unbothered. Then, he reached for his drink, taking a slow, satisfied sip before mumbling to himself with a smirk—

“What a fucking joke.”

—

It had been about a week since that night at the club, and Hajime Kokonoi was seething in his office.

The leather chair creaked slightly as he leaned back, eyes locked onto the document on his desk, the contract termination notice. His jaw clenched, fingers tapping impatiently against the polished wood.

That old bastard had backed out. At the very last fucking minute.

Hajime himself had personally allocated resources, shifted capital, rerouted assets, pulled strings with bastards who didn’t like to wait. And now? Now there was a gaping hole in the revenue pipeline, a missing percentage that would have to be covered. By whom? By what? It wasn’t just a matter of money lost, it was money wasted. Capital that could’ve been reinvested into other high-yield ventures was now locked into a failed agreement. Worse, the sudden withdrawal of a business partner created market instability, the kind that could make other investors hesitant, the kind that chipped away at Bonten’s illusion of invincibility. That was unacceptable.

Kokonoi didn’t know what had finally scared him off. His little guilty conscience, or the fact that he’d realized what kind of game he was playing. Either way, he had pulled out, and Bonten had lost money. A lot of it. The deal had been profitable as hell. The alcohol distribution network was tight, clean, and already established. The profits had been estimated in the hundreds of millions. And now? Now that deal was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Unacceptable.

Across from him, one of his men stood stiffly, waiting for orders. He hesitated before speaking.

“Koko-kun, do you want me to take care of him? Directly?”

Kokonoi exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples before responding. “Not yet.” His voice was low, tight with restrained fury. “I can’t let him walk away feeling like he made the right choice.”

The man frowned. “But if we let him live–”

Kokonoi’s gaze snapped up, sharp and cold. “Who the fuck said anything about letting him live?”

The man stiffened. “I—I just meant, if we wait too long—”

Kokonoi clicked his tongue, silencing him. “If we kill him now, it’s easy. It’s clean. Too clean.” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his voice dropping even lower. “Do you have any fucking idea how much we lost because of this?”

The man swallowed, but didn’t speak. He knew better.

“That contract was worth billions in long-term revenue. Not just from alcohol sales, but from political leverage, real estate, smuggling routes. We had a goddamn empire built into that deal, and now? Now I have to explain to Mikey why it went to shit.”

The thought alone made his blood boil.

“That old fuck thinks this is over. Thinks he can just run back to his sad little life and pretend Bonten never touched him. But I’ll make sure he remembers.” Kokonoi’s fingers curled into a fist. “I’ll take everything from him.”

‘But what everything?’ he thought. The old man had nothing but himself. And that slut of a daughter…

Silence settled between them, heavy and charged. Then, in a casual tone, Kokonoi finally spoke again. “Find out everything about his assets. His real estate, his suppliers, his family. I want to know where every yen of his goes.” He leaned back, exhaling through his nose, the anger settling into something calmer. Something colder.

—

The club was suffocating tonight.

A thick haze of smoke lingered in the air, clinging to the velvet walls and cheap perfume of the girls weaving through the crowd. The bass was low, steady, a dull throb that rattled in Hajime’s ribcage as he stepped inside. He didn’t rush. He never rushed.

Tonight wasn’t business.

Tonight was about the girl.

The plan was simple. Take her. Fuck her. Destroy her. Kill her, preferably right in front of her old man. Make him watch. Make him understand exactly how badly he fucked up. It wasn’t just about the contract anymore. That bastard had been in debt to Bonten long before this little scandal. This? This was just the final nail in the coffin. He had dug his own grave, and Hajime was more than happy to bury him in it. Twenty million yen. That was the number. The amount that wrinkled old shit owed them. Did they make him pay it off in blood first, or did they let him sweat: make him watch as his dirty little secret was used and ruined before they slit her throat?

Hajime hadn’t decided yet.

But the mere thought of getting his revenge made his pulse hum with excitement. This was personal now.

Some things, you left to the grunts. The dumb muscle. The ones who barely knew how to count the money they broke bones for. But Kokonoi wanted to handle this himself. Personally.

Because money was his business. And if you tried to fuck with his business, then he would fuck you right back. Only, unlike that old bastard, he finished the job.

She wasn’t on stage. No bright lights casting her into a fragile illusion of allure. No hungry men stuffing bills into her hands. No rehearsed smiles. Just her. Somewhere in this room. He walked slowly through the club, letting his presence ripple through the space like oil spilling over water. He could feel the eyes on him, some of the girls whispering, some of the men shifting uncomfortably at the sight of his crimson silk jacket, the insignia of Bonten stitched onto his head like a warning.

No one approached him. No one dared.

He didn’t need muscle to clear a path. He was the fucking muscle.

The bartender, a man in his forties with a sunken face and a shirt too tight around his stomach, recognized him immediately. He tensed up but nodded in respect.

“Koko-kun. Welcome.”

Hajime barely glanced at him. “The girl,” he said, voice smooth, quiet, but firm. The bartender took a moment to understand. Ah yeah, that terrible story…The contract…He hesitated for a second too long. Hajime didn’t like that.

His fingers drummed against the bar once, a slow, lazy rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The man swallowed. “She’s over there.” He gestured with his chin.

Hajime turned his head, following the direction. And then. There she was.

Perched at the end of the bar, a cigarette between her fingers, head tilted slightly as she exhaled a slow stream of smoke. Her lips parted just slightly, lazily, like she had all the time in the world to ruin her lungs.

Not painted in glitter. Just a black dress clinging to her shoulders, bare legs crossed as she swirled the whiskey in her glass, the ice clicking softly against the glass.

Hajime already knew everything about her. Twenty-six years old. Been working in the club for six years. No family…except, well. He smirked to himself. She wouldn’t know about that.

She didn’t look fragile. If anything, she looked unbothered. Detached. As if the world could collapse around her, and she’d simply take another drag of her cigarette and wait for the dust to settle. Yet there was something that made everything softer.

His footsteps were soft against the polished floor as he moved toward her.

One step. Then another. No rush. No need.

By the time she noticed him, he was already too close to ignore.

Her eyes flicked up, scanning him lazily, as if trying to decide whether he was worth acknowledging.

Hajime smiled. 

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable at first. Maybe she thought he was just another rich bastard in an expensive suit, looking for a way to waste his money on booze and flesh.

But then, she really saw him.

Her grip on the cigarette tightened. Just a fraction. But Hajime noticed. The realization flickered in her eyes, slow but certain. Bonten.

And it was already too late.

The moment fear settled in, the moment her breath hitched just slightly, he knew.

She was terrified.

Good.

The neon lights above the bar painted her skin in soft shades of pink and violet, but they couldn’t hide the way she stiffened, the way she suddenly sat up a little straighter. He could see her mind working, trying to figure out why the hell a high-ranking member of Bonten was standing in front of her. Did she fuck up? Was she getting fired? Or was it something worse?

Hajime chuckled lowly, tilting his head just enough to let her feel his amusement. “Relax,” he murmured, voice smooth, almost gentle, almost. He pulled out the barstool next to hers and took a seat, slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. The club pulsed around them, thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of cheap whiskey. Laughter echoed from dark corners, hushed conversations slithering between the bass of the music. But at this moment, at this table, there was only them.

Hajime Kokonoi sat lazily, one arm draped over the back of his seat, his expensive clothing barely creasing as he leaned forward just enough to inspect her. His gaze raked over her like she was nothing, like she was an object, a transaction.

He smirked, slow and cold. “Nice dress. Yves Saint Laurent.”

The girl blinked at him, her features smooth and unreadable. But he saw the flicker of something underneath, something cautious. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before slipping on her well-rehearsed mask. A pretty smile, a soft gaze. The kind of expression that had kept her alive in a world that chewed girls up and spat them out before dawn. “Thank you, sir.” Her voice was syrupy sweet, perfectly measured.

He tilted his head, his sharp eyes gleaming under the dim neon glow. “That dress wasn’t provided by the club, though.” He tapped his fingers against the table, a slow calculated rhythm. “Too expensive. Why waste money dressing up the merchandise when it’s just going to get ripped off after midnight?” His tone was light, casual even, as if he was discussing the weather. But the disdain dripped from every syllable.

The girl didn't flinch. Instead, she let out a soft, practiced laugh. The kind of laugh that made men believe they were charming. “You’re right,” she admitted smoothly. “It wasn’t the club.”

Hajime feigned curiosity. “You didn’t buy it either. That much is obvious.” He smirked, his voice like silk laced with venom. “You can’t afford it.”

She nodded, still holding her polite little smile. “That’s true. It was a gift. From a client.”

His smirk deepened. He loved this game.

“Oh? A lover? A sugar daddy, maybe? Where is he now?”

There was a brief pause. Just a flicker of hesitation before she answered, her voice still sweet, still careful. “No. Just a loyal client. He died.”

Hajime raised an eyebrow. “Ah. A casualty of business, I assume?”

She gave a small, indifferent shrug. “A turf war. A hit. Who knows? These things happen.” She said it with such calm detachment, like death was nothing more than another item on the menu.

Hajime chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Of course. You’re versatile, aren’t you? Sometimes a dancer, sometimes a hostess, but always a whore.”

His words were a knife, sharp and deliberate. Cruel, but not emotional. Just an observation. A fact.

She smiled: small, poised. The way a servant smiles at a king.

He leaned forward now, closing the distance just enough to let her feel the weight of his presence. His voice dropped just slightly, still smooth, still dangerous.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

She blinked at him.

“You’re pretty. You bring in good money as long as you stay fuckable and breathing.” His fingers traced the rim of his untouched glass. “And most importantly, alive.”

The girl exhaled a slow stream of smoke, letting it curl lazily into the air between them before meeting his gaze again.

“Smoking kills,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady. Then, with the faintest hint of something that might have been defiance, or maybe just resignation, she added, “Living does too. So I might as well ruin myself on my own terms.”

For the first time that night, Hajime actually laughed. Shame she wouldn’t last long.

Hajime exhaled slowly, letting the air settle between them, his gaze dripping with condescension as he let his eyes roam over her. He didn’t bother hiding it. He never did. “Good one.” His voice was smooth, low, laced with something almost mocking as he tilted his head slightly. “Alright, let’s not dance around it. I want you tonight.”

She didn’t react at first. Just a blink, a flicker of something careful behind her practiced expression. But then she slipped back into character, that same polite mask she had perfected years ago. “You’re an executive,” she said, her voice feather-light, like she wasn’t about to walk on knives. “What brings someone of your rank to a club like this? And for me, no less?”

Hajime clicked his tongue, rolling his neck as if the question itself was exhausting.

“Don’t piss me off with stupid questions, sweetheart.” His tone was still calm, but there was an edge to it now. A warning. “You’ve got a reputation. I like to verify things myself.”

She hummed softly, pretending to be flattered, pretending like she wasn’t already mapping the quickest way out of this conversation. “Oh? Really?”

Hajime’s smirk didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t get cocky.” His voice dropped lower, colder. “See, I signed. Which means I can do whatever the fuck I want. You might have men at your feet, but I have the world at the tip of my pen.”

How disgusting.

She said nothing. Just let the words sit there, sinking into the space between them like a poison she had no choice but to swallow. Hajime chuckled, leaning back as he studied her reaction, or rather, her lack of one. His smirk deepened. “I hear you’ve got a sharp tongue. Your blowjobs are practically wordplay.” He laughed at his own remark, a low, lazy sound, amused at his own filth.

“So much money, so little love… But hey—” He tapped his temple lightly, as if sharing a secret. “Professional secrecy. Shhh. This stays between us.” He laughed again, it all felt so cold.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke and expensive perfume, a mix of sweat and desperation clinging to the velvet-lined walls of the club. The low hum of jazz-laced lounge music barely masked the occasional moans slipping from behind closed doors, where men of power spent their nights indulging in whatever they could afford.

He exhaled slowly, watching her, waiting. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there, her fingers gripping the edge of the bar like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. He had seen it before, this moment of realization. When they understood that no matter how much they played the game, they would always be at the mercy of men like him.

Hajime fed on that understanding.

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair before tilting his head at her with that same lazy smirk. “What, you want me to get on my knees and beg or something?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “C’mon, let’s move. VIP rooms are upstairs… but oh, I don’t have to teach you that, do I?”

She hesitated. Not because she was new to this, but because of him. His words, his tone, the way he didn’t even try to hide how fucking brutal he was.

Hajime caught it immediately. He lived for that hesitation. His smirk widened, but his gaze remained sharp, cruel. “What’s wrong? Scared?” His laugh was low, taunting. He leaned in just a bit, his presence suffocating as he murmured, “Oh, let me guess. You wanted something more romantic? A countryside love story?” Then, with a sharp, biting laugh, he added, “You’d rather I bend you over a haystack and fuck you under the stars?”

She swallowed hard, forcing a small, trained smile, but he could see the stiffness in her fingers as she brushed her hair back. She was good at this game, but he was better. Without waiting for a response, Hajime turned on his heel and started toward the VIP rooms, expecting her to follow. The club’s heavy bass thrummed beneath his feet as he moved, his expensive loafers clicking against the polished floor. The dim, red-tinted lighting cast long shadows, giving the space a dark, almost underworldly glow.

The other girls, the staff, the security, they all watched. Not openly, of course. Nobody in their right mind would stare directly at Hajime Kokonoi. But he could feel their eyes, their silent acknowledgment of who he was and what was about to happen.

She followed. Of course, she did.

They always did.

The VIP room was drowned in low, amber lighting, the kind designed to make sins feel softer, more acceptable. The walls were lined with velvet, deep crimson like the color of fresh blood, and a faint trace of perfume, expensive, floral, but cheapened by the suffocating scent of lust, lingered in the air. A large leather couch sat in the center, sleek and indulgent, facing a glass coffee table littered with empty crystal glasses. A half-melted candle flickered in the corner, its dim glow casting restless shadows across the walls. A room built for indulgence. A room built for men like him.

Hajime took a seat with a lazy sort of elegance, spreading his legs, one arm resting over the back of the couch as he watched her. She already knew the routine. No hesitation, no pointless attempts at small talk, just quiet obedience. She turned, hands ghosting over the zipper of her dress, but Hajime narrowed his eyes.

“Front.” His voice was smooth but firm, leaving no room for argument. “I want to see your straps roll down your hips.”

There was a flicker of something in her expression, reluctance? But she obeyed.  The dress peeled away from her body in slow, deliberate movements, sliding over the curve of her shoulders, her arms, her waist. He watched, taking in the way silk and skin intertwined before parting, his gaze unreadable, yet heavy.

This was business. 

He had walked into this room with a purpose: to ruin, to destroy, to punish. He was meant to be thinking of her father, of the debt, of the contract, of revenge. But then she looked at him. Not with desire, not with fear. Just… unreadable, much like himself. And suddenly, his thoughts became something else entirely.

And for the first time that night, Hajime Kokonoi forgot why he was here.

This is my second work ever yayyy. English isn't my first language!!

[probablyasocialecologist]

Today, we know from the research of Jason Hickel and his colleagues that in 2021 the Global North was able to extract from the Global South 826 billion hours in net appropriated labor. This represents $18.4 trillion measured in Northern wages. Behind this lies the fact that workers in the Global South receive 87–95 percent lower wages for equivalent work at the same skill levels. The same study concluded that the wage gap between the Global North and the Global South was increasing, with wages in the North rising eleven times more than wages in the South between 1995 and 2021. This research into the contemporary global labor arbitrage is coupled with recent historical work by Utsa Patnaik and Prabhat Patnaik that has now documented the astronomical drain of wealth during the period of British colonialism in India. The estimated value of this drain over the period of 1765–1900, cumulated up to 1947 (in 1947 prices) at 5 percent interest, was $1.925 trillion; cumulated up to 2020, it amounts to $64.82 trillion. It should be emphasized that the Global North’s contemporary drain of economic surplus from the Global South, via the unequal exchange of labor embodied in exports from the latter, is in addition to the normal net flow of capital from developing to developed countries recorded in national accounts. This includes the balance on merchandise trade (import and exports), net payments to foreign investors and banks, payments for freight and insurance, and a wide array of other payments made to foreign capital such as for royalties and patents. According to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), the net financial resource transfers from developing countries to developed countries in 2017 alone amounted to $496 billion. In neoclassical economics, this is known as the paradox of the reverse flow of capital, or of capital flowing uphill, which it ineffectively tries to explain away by various contingent factors, rather than acknowledging the reality of economic imperialism. With respect to the geopolitical dimension of imperialism, the focus this century has been on the continuing decline of U.S. hegemony. Analysis has concentrated on the attempts of Washington, since 1991, backed by London, Berlin, Paris, and Tokyo, to reverse this. The goal is to establish the triad of the United States, Europe, and Japan—with Washington preeminent—as the unipolar global power through a more “naked imperialism.” This counterrevolutionary dynamic eventually led to the present New Cold War. Yet, despite all of the developments in imperialism theory over the last century, it is not the theory of imperialism so much as the actual intensification of the Global North’s exploitation of the Global South, coupled with the resistance of the latter, that has stood out. As Sweezy argued in Modern Capitalism and Other Essays in 1972, the sharp point of proletarian resistance decisively shifted in the twentieth century from the Global North to the Global South. Nearly all revolutions since 1917 have taken place in the periphery of the world capitalist system and have been revolutions against imperialism. The vast majority of these revolutions have occurred under the auspices of Marxism. All have been subjected to counterrevolutionary actions by the great imperial powers. The United States alone has intervened militarily abroad hundreds of times since the Second World War, primarily in the Global South, resulting in the deaths of millions. In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, the primary contradictions of capitalism have been those of imperialism and class.

3 November 2024

[sensualnoiree]

astro notes- libra full moon & eclipse 🌕

MARCH 25TH- The Libra full moon shines a light on our relationships, urging us to release doubt and uncertainty. As we transition from the Equinox into Aries season, a new cycle begins, marked by the fast-approaching total eclipse on the Aries new moon. This eclipse season acts as a powerful catalyst for change, offering us the opportunity to realign and detoxify our energy.

The Aries-Libra axis highlights the dynamic interplay between individuality and partnership, self-expression and cooperation. These opposing forces challenge us to find balance within ourselves and in our connections with others. It's a time for deep introspection and transformation, as we navigate the delicate dance between independence and interdependence.

Eclipses are not to be feared but embraced as gateways to resolution and new beginnings. They offer us a chance to shed past karma and step into our higher purpose. As Carl Jung teaches, life emerges from the spark of opposites, and the Lunar Eclipse in Libra reminds us to harmonize polarities to experience a more vibrant existence.

During this eclipse cycle, observe your experiences and reflections, noting any shifts or realizations that occur. Embrace change and complexity, turning problems into powers and paradoxes into pathways to growth. As we navigate these cosmic currents, may we find balance, harmony, and a deeper understanding of our interconnectedness.

Aries Rising (Libra 7th House - Aries 1st House): This eclipse highlights the need to find balance in your relationships (7th house) while asserting your individuality (1st house). You may experience shifts in your partnerships that encourage you to take a more assertive stance in expressing your needs and desires.

Taurus Rising (Libra 6th House - Aries 12th House): The eclipse brings attention to your health and daily routines (6th house) as well as your spiritual and subconscious realms (12th house). You may feel a need to prioritize self-care and introspection, letting go of old habits that no longer serve you.

Gemini Rising (Libra 5th House - Aries 11th House): This eclipse highlights creativity, romance, and self-expression (5th house) as well as your social circles and aspirations (11th house). You may feel inspired to pursue creative projects or reassess your social connections to align them with your true desires.

Cancer Rising (Libra 4th House - Aries 10th House): Home, family, and emotional security (4th house) come into focus, along with your career and public image (10th house). You may experience changes in your professional life that require you to find a balance between your personal and public responsibilities.

Leo Rising (Libra 3rd House - Aries 9th House): Communication, learning, and short trips (3rd house) are emphasized, along with higher education and philosophical pursuits (9th house). You may feel a strong urge to expand your knowledge or share your ideas with others, leading to new opportunities for growth.

Virgo Rising (Libra 2nd House - Aries 8th House): Finances, values, and self-worth (2nd house) come into focus, along with shared resources and deep transformations (8th house). You may need to reassess your financial situation and how you share resources with others, leading to a more profound understanding of your own worth.

Libra Rising (Libra 1st House - Aries 7th House): This eclipse highlights your identity and self-expression (1st house) as well as your partnerships and relationships (7th house). You may experience a shift in how you perceive yourself in relation to others, leading to a greater sense of balance and harmony in your relationships.

Scorpio Rising (Aries 6th House - Libra 12th House): Health, work, and service to others (6th house) are emphasized, along with spirituality and subconscious patterns (12th house). You may feel a need to take better care of your physical and mental well-being, leading to a deeper understanding of your own inner workings.

Sagittarius Rising (Aries 5th House - Libra 11th House): The eclipse highlights creativity, romance, and children (5th house) as well as friendships and social connections (11th house). You may feel inspired to pursue creative projects or connect with like-minded individuals who share your aspirations.

Capricorn Rising (Aries 4th House - Libra 10th House): Home, family, and emotional foundations (4th house) come into focus, along with your career and public image (10th house). You may experience changes in your professional life that require you to find a balance between your personal and public responsibilities, leading to a greater sense of fulfillment in both areas.

Aquarius Rising (Aries 3rd House - Libra 9th House): Communication, learning, and short trips (3rd house) are emphasized, along with higher education and philosophical pursuits (9th house). You may feel a strong urge to expand your knowledge or share your ideas with others, leading to new opportunities for growth and understanding.

Pisces Rising (Aries 2nd House - Libra 8th House): Finances, values, and self-worth (2nd house) come into focus, along with shared resources and deep transformations (8th house). You may need to reassess your financial situation and how you share resources with others, leading to a deeper understanding of your own worth and values.

follow for more astro insights like this and support me over on yt @quenysefields or instagram sensualnoiree

[canlifechillforasecond]

I just want to circle back around and point out I posted this almost a year and a half before Power of the Doctor. Chris Chibnall where are my royalties.

Doctor who companions unionize

[honeypipin]

The Banker made König Jealous?

Mafia!König who felt terribly sour after seeing the posts you made on instagram at the gala.

The way you looked in your outfit, and the bright smile on your face... yeah, ok so he might have jerked off to the pictures countless times, it was very good material for his imagination, in his defense... but he was so upset he wasn't there with you!

No matter what au he's in, König is our favourite pathetic man, he might try to hide it, but stalking all of your crush's social medias, finding out where they live and constanly fighting over control of the area (and obviously you) will always make him a simp. He just can't help it when it comes to you.

And now he sits in his office, waiting for your arrival, picking at the old scab on his forearm with nothing else to do.

Now he does, you're here!

"Ah, Hallo." He sits up straight, posture no longer henched over his desk, and gestures to the free seat infront of his.

"Hello König, how are you today?"

"Good. How are you?"

"Im ok, thank you. So as we talked last time..."

Now he means no disrespect, but he zones out immediately, so entranced with you, how confidentally you speak about financials, the little smirk that plays on the corner of your mouth when you tell him about an investment plan you are sure is full proof - you're so proud of your abilities, and it doesn't help König's heart with how pretty you are. He could spend hours listening to your sweet voice (and is very desperate to).

A good 10 minutes pass of you explaining your brilliant ideas and König always agreeing to it, since he would let you burn him to the ground if you really wanted. You could tell him that you wanted to feed all of his money to a donkey and he would, just to see a smile on your face. A romantic at heart.

"So? What do you think?"

"Perfekt."

"Really?"

"Always." Always, everything you do is perfect, even in it's imperfect ways, it's always perfect. He is a man who lives to serve, and who else to serve but you? He could wait on you, hand on knee for his life for what matters. Have you ever seen something so awe-inspiring and amazing you physically freeze, jaw-dropped just to take it in? You just stop and this completely new feeling overcomes you, no fear, not even happiness, you're just taking it in.

That's how König felt about you. Well, the first time, but now, he's trying to get himself closer to this absolute paradox. How could you just...be? Like somekind of idol he can't get into the space of, that was exactly it. Like light, he can only watch, watch it dance and play with its beautiful colour, watch it trick him and reveal to him, but can never touch, only feel the ghost of its warmth.

Does he have to let you burn him?

Will he have to feel your love scald his spine? Drip down his body with bloody blisters in its leave? Feel his skin splinter away and his bones into ash under your adoration? Let his wax wings melt into the sea and drown himself in your heat for your heart? He'll do it. He's a man of his word, perhaps not a wise one, but devoted for sure.

"Great. How about we meet up tomorrow to discuss further, your office?"

"Sure."

You weren't going to burn him, not yet. For now, you were going to sear him a little, take a few bites out of his heart, then fucking disintergrate him. And the weirdo would let you do it everytime.

[drdemonprince]

Lots of great advice for trans guys looking to get some pole on Grindr to be found in this article by David Davis:

Like honking, blocking on social media has a bad rap. The mainstream take on blocking seems to be that it’s the prerogative of cowards, assholes, and even authoritarians, to the extent that those who disappear without explanation—whether by failing to respond or, more pointedly, by eliminating the opportunity for contact—are seen as antisocial, even pathological. I’m not here to argue about that (although believe me, I have my opinions!). I just want to point out that, like honking, blocking has different meanings across contexts. In fact, it’s naive to insist they are uniformly negative. In some situations, one or both parties understand that blocking is simply a more direct way of communicating desires, drawing boundaries, and granting and taking space. Take the gay hook up app, Grindr: to function well on this platform, you need to block, especially if you’re a fetishized minority. It’s not just trolls, spam, and creeps—it’s also the perfectly inoffensive people that you’re just not interested in (indeed, some users will put in their bio that you should block them in this case). Because Grindr is location-based, you see your grid—that is, the matrix of users in your immediate vicinity—every time you open the app. If you’re mostly opening it at home, that means you see more or less the same people every time, roughly 15 per scroll. If someone around the corner hits you up and you don’t respond, that could mean Not right now or Not ever. If you’re busy but potentially interested, you may just ignore their messages or likes until the stars align. If you know they’re not your type, blocking them saves you both some time. Anyone who’s used apps like Grindr for longer than a minute will know that while rejection doesn’t feel good, it’s part of the playing the game. Without failing to acknowledge the ways that normative standards of attractiveness affect us all, taking a block personally just doesn’t make sense1.

When I used Grindr previously, I avoiding putting FTM in my handle because it drew a preponderance of chaser-types (I enjoy and will fuck chasers2, but they do take more work to weed through), though I was obliged to put a kindergarten-level explanation of my genitals in my bio, since people often read me as transfeminine3. This time around, I started advertising as FTM out of sheer laziness: with my transness in my handle as well as my bio, I get more messages than I can respond to, which means I can pick and choose. This has also put me in the position of needing to block considerably more, which has led me to think more about when and why I do it. After a few years of being an FTM on gay hookup apps, my trigger finger is constantly itching. Within the first few words of an exchange, I can tell how worthwhile a conversation with someone will be. If there is any hint that I will be insulted or annoyed, I’m more likely to block than see it through. This is both good and bad: snap judgments save me time while limiting my range of experiences. I’ll deal with fewer time-wasters, assholes, and rapists, but I’ll also have more homogenous hookups as a result. This transgender hypersensitivity, while admittedly crazy, is the price of my safety and, paradoxically, my mental health (some have more tolerance, some less; your mileage, etc.). It is what it is. I don’t block because someone sends me unprompted nudes, is direct or aggressive, offers to pay me, or misgenders me in a well-intentioned way. In fact, I prefer this sort of interaction, as it shows that the other person recognizes that 1) we are on a gay hookup app for FAGGOTS, 2) attraction both transcends and reinscribes identity, whether or not we think it does, 3) it’s just sex, 4) acknowledging the potential of a financial transaction means they understand that that I understand that my attention is valuable4, and 5) that I am clearly fem and should be approached with the princess treatment.