#how many times have companies walked back policies

[batwynn]

I know not everyone can care about things that don’t effect them personally. I know this, and I try to set my expectations to remember that. I try to remember that not everyone understands, cares, or even knows about some of the bad things out there. That even I miss things, or misunderstand, or don’t know everything about everything. And when I do know a thing, and educating them on it, even as gently as possible, does fuck all: I try to let it go because some people really just aren’t capable of understanding in a way that translates to caring enough to take a stand in the face of not getting something they want.

I try, I really do try to remember these things when I see people walk over hurting people for their own entertainment. When I see things like Netflix make an intentional choice to boost anti-trans ‘comedy’, the CEO specifically saying they love this kind of content and he supports it. And no one drops their Netflix accounts then, only a year later when they start their password bullshit. When JRK puts out a new game where the money funnels back into her anti trans donation funds, where her already highly-regarded, bigoted voice is boosted, and the game is literally openly antisemitic, and people want a ‘pass’ to be able to play because the ‘game looks fun.’ Where disabled people’s lives are at risk, or actually ending because going to Walmart without a mask is more important than not. For literally no fucking reason than that it’s slightly uncomfortable to mask. When a news agency intentionally continues to publish racist articles, leaning harder and harder into it over the years to the point where the majority of the news they publish is purely bigoted, and people still get their news from them and even quote them to their Black friends.

Do you see the common thread? The fact that something a person wants, not needs, usually entertainment, is valued over people’s suffering and sometimes even their lives.

And I’m trying to live with that. I’m trying to live with the fact that a lot of this does directly effect me, and even some people in my life… don’t see it. Don’t have that care-enough-to-make-a-stand in support of even me, never mind communities that deserve their support that aren’t someone they know directly. I really am trying to be understanding and forgiving and let it go let it go let it go. But jfc I’m so fucking angry. I’m so angry at so many people for valuing bullshit over real people. That their wants couldn’t be quelled for even a small, non-essential thing in support of someone else, or even sometimes their own communities. That, in the end, they’re just so fucking selfish.

I’m just… furious. And I’ve tried being quiet about it, and letting it go. But what the actual fuck does that do for anyone other than let people hurt me and others I care about? Fucking grow a back bone and support real people over your wants, or shut the fuck up and stay away from the communities and people you claim you love and support. You don’t belong with us when you side with and support bigots who actively harm other people. The end.

[ruewrote]

ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: the end of s6 e10, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff to angst to fluff, friends to lovers SONG INSPIRATION: close by nick jonas, tove lo WORD COUNT: 5.4k

navigation | ask | evan buckley masterlist

working out with buck had been your idea. you’d been needing a workout buddy for weeks, and when the team’s golden retriever of a firefighter overheard you mumbling about it to yourself, he all but begged to join.

“you kidding me?” he’d said, practically bouncing on his heels. his blue eyes lit up. “i’ve been dying for someone to spot me! eddie’s great and all, but he always wants to do leg day. you can’t skip chest, y’know?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, rolling your eyes in fond amusement. “fine,” you’d said, shrugging. “but don’t complain when i make you do cardio.”

he’d placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “cardio? brutal. i’m in.”

truthfully, you weren’t about to turn him down. buck’s infectious energy was always a mood booster, and the idea of having some company – especially someone as good natured as buck, made the thought of dragging yourself to the gym a little more bearable. 

what you hadn’t expected, though, was just how much of a scene your new workout buddy would cause once you actually got there.

from the moment you walked in, it was clear buck had a way of drawing attention. it wasn’t just his size, though, at a towering 6’2 with broad shoulders and a physique that screamed firefighter, he was hard to miss. 

it was the way he carried himself: confident, animated, and completely unaware of how many people were stealing glances his way.

“alright, partner,” he said, clapping his hands together with a grin as he surveyed the gym floor. 

“what’s the game plan?”

before you could respond, he leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “wait…please tell me you’re not one of those people who only does the treadmill and leaves.”

your eyebrows shot up. “and what if i am?”

buck gasped, scandalized. “then i’d have to stage an intervention. you’re not just here to take instagram selfies, right?”

“relax, buck,” you said, laughing. “i actually want to work out. and for the record, i don’t even have instagram.”

“good,” he said, relieved. “because i have a strict no posers policy,” he laughs.

the first hour was typical enough. you’d both started on treadmills to warm up, buck kept pace with you, occasionally shooting you goofy grins or nudging your arm to try and playfully throw you off.

but when it came time to hit the weights, the playful banter took a backseat to something else entirely.

“alright,” buck said, clapping his hands together as the two of you moved to the weight machines. “what’s the plan? you wanna start light and work your way up?”

you gave him a look, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “not exactly.”

he blinked, his curiosity piqued, as you walked past the smaller dumbbells and headed straight for the leg press machine. without hesitation, you loaded it up with plates, a lot of plates.

buck’s eyebrows shot up. “uh…” he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “you sure about that? that’s, like, 280 pounds.”

“yeah,” you said casually, adjusting the seat as if it was no big deal.

he stepped closer, his concern evident. “i mean, not to doubt you or anything, but… that’s a lot of weight. you sure you don’t wanna, i dunno, warm up with something lighter?”

you shot him a grin, sliding into position. “relax, buck. i’ve got this.”

he opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat as you pushed against the plate, lifting the weight with almost laughable ease.

his jaw dropped.

“holy–”

you completed the first few reps with smooth, controlled movements, your legs steady as you pressed the weight up and lowered it back down like it was nothing. by the time you finished the set, buck’s jaw was practically on the floor.

you sat up, brushing a bead of sweat from your brow and giving him an amused glance. “what?”

buck shook his head, a laugh bubbling out of him as he stared at the loaded machine. “i don’t even know what to say right now.”

“say i’m strong and move on,” you said, smirking as you got up to grab a towel.

“oh, you’re strong, alright,” he said, still staring at the weights like they might be made of styrofoam. “you’re, like, scary strong.”

you rolled your eyes, brushing off the compliment as you moved toward the next machine. “it’s not that impressive.”

“not that impressive?” buck repeated, practically tripping over himself to follow you. “are you kidding me? you just lifted more weight than half the guys i know! heck, i’m not even sure i can do that.”

you shrugged, unconcerned. “it’s not a competition, buck.”

“no, but seriously, how did you– what’s your secret? is it, like, spinach? protein shakes? did you sell your soul for quads of steel?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “hard work, buck. and maybe a little bit of magic spinach.”

he laughed, still looking at you with something bordering on awe. “okay, but now i’m scared to spar with you. what if you accidentally throw me across the room or something?”

“don’t tempt me,” you teased, grabbing a set of dumbbells for your next exercise.

but buck wasn’t letting it go. he lingered by your side, peppering you with questions about your routine, your strength, and how you managed to make 280 pounds look like a warm up as you both did your shoulder press sets.

“do you ever, like, wrestle people for fun?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity. “because i think you could clean out a bar with those legs.”

“i don’t usually make a habit of that,” you said, amused by his relentless fascination.

“well, you should. you’d make bank,” he said, completely serious.

you chuckled, shaking your head as you put down your equipment. you moved to another machine. “buck, are you going to work out, or are you just here to watch me?”

“oh, i’m working out,” he said, grabbing a pair of weights. “but i’m also taking mental notes. i mean, i thought i was strong, but now? i’ve got to try not to be lifted by you in every single exercise.”

“good luck with that,” you said, smirking.

buck’s grin widened, his competitive streak lighting up in his eyes. “oh, it’s on.”

as the workout continued, buck kept finding new things to be impressed by.

when you did pull ups, he counted under his breath, his awe growing with each rep. “you’re gonna make me look bad,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“then keep up,” you teased, dropping down effortlessly.

when you moved back over to free weights, buck watched as you lifted with perfect form, the muscles in your arms flexing with every movement.

“i think i just found my new hero,” he said, only half-joking.

“buck,” you said, laughing. “stop staring and do your set.”

“i can’t help it,” he admitted, grinning. “you’re like… the woman version of captain america.”

you rolled your eyes, your cheeks warming despite yourself. “you’re ridiculous.”

over the weeks, going to the gym with evan had become a comforting routine. he always made your favorite protein shakes, bringing it in the reusable cup you’d picked out together on a shopping trip. 

there was a soothing familiarity to the cycle you’d both fallen into: wake up early, eat, meet evan, work out, eat again, then head to work.

it was exhausting, sure, but it also made you feel more alive and motivated than you had in ages.

as much as you enjoyed it, though, it was becoming a bit of a problem. you felt an ache of disappointment on the days evan couldn’t make it or when he brought someone else to the gym on days you were too sick to go. 

there was a twinge of something deeper, an unease in your stomach, whenever you weren’t around him.

you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking glances at him between sets. watching him lift massive weights with ease, his face barely showing the strain, made your cheeks heat up. flustered, you quickly turned away, taking a sip of water to hide the smile threatening to betray your feelings.

the more time you spent with evan, the harder it became to ignore how much you enjoyed his company – how much you looked forward to your time together. it was in the way when he’d adjust the equipment for you, his knowing smirks when he caught you stealing glances at him, and the way he made the gym feel more like a hangout than a chore.

that morning, as you finished a set on the leg press, you caught evan watching you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than usual. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“not bad,” he said. “looks like someone’s been paying attention.”

you shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “someone had to. i can’t exactly count on you for tips.”

his grin widened as he pushed off the wall, walking toward you. “oh, is that right? maybe i should stop correcting your form then.”

“maybe you should,” you quipped, grabbing your water bottle. “but we both know you can’t help yourself.”

he laughed, low and warm. “you’re lucky i like you.”

you tilted your head, smirking. “oh, you like me? i thought this whole thing was me doing you a favor.”

he stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who keeps showing up to see me.”

you rolled your eyes, even as your pulse quickened. “don’t flatter yourself, buckley. i’m here for the gains.”

“sure you are.” he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “and the protein shakes, right?”

you shrugged, letting a sly smile cross your lips. “well, the shakes are pretty good. i might keep you around for those.”

he laughed, shaking his head as you brushed past him toward the mats. “unbelievable.”

the rest of the session passed with the same energy. quick-witted remarks, lingering looks, and more than a little playful tension. when you finished stretching, evan handed you your protein shake, his smirk firmly in place.

“taste test,” he said, nodding toward the cup. “admit it. i’m the best gym partner you’ve ever had.”

you took a sip, deliberately slow, meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. “mmm… you’re definitely in my top three.”

his jaw dropped in mock offense. “top three? that’s all i get?”

you shrugged, walking toward the door. “guess you’ll have to work harder if you want to move up.”

he followed after you, his chuckle soft but full of amusement. “oh, i will. don’t worry.”

as you stepped into the cool morning air, the playful grin you exchanged with him lingered. it wasn’t just the workouts keeping you coming back, and you were pretty sure he knew it too.

you should have said something before you left the station.

the bad feeling in your gut had been sitting there all morning, clawing at your nerves with every glance toward buck. he’d been his usual self. bright, charming self. in the way only evan buckley could be, but something about today felt incredibly off. 

you didn’t know what it meant but you knew it wasn’t anything to do with his usual antics that made you uneasy.

as soon as the alarm sounded, buck had been all business, as if the bad feeling had somehow missed him completely. but it had latched onto you, sinking its sharp claws deeper with every second.

"hey," he had said just before you all climbed into the engine. "you’ve been staring at me all morning. something on your mind, or do i look extra good today?" his grin was wide, teasing, just like always.

you rolled your eyes, the usual banter offering no comfort this time. "just… don’t do anything stupid, buck."

he smirked as he slung his helmet on, the motion so casual it could have been an instinct at this point. "define stupid," he teased back, his voice light as he climbed into the engine.

you watched him for a second, a twinge of frustration running through you. he wasn’t taking you seriously. but the bad feeling, the nagging sense that something was off, wouldn’t leave.

you knew you weren’t being paranoid.

"buck," you called, stopping him by holding onto his arm just as he was about to get into the engine, his back turned to you. "i'm serious. you’ve been a little more reckless lately, and i don’t want to see you get hurt. you need to be careful."

his expression softened slightly, but there was a flicker of that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "hey, you worry too much," he said with a chuckle. "i’ve got this."

you exhaled sharply, watching him climb in and settle into his seat. you should have insisted more. should have made him listen. but instead, you let it slide, trying to push aside the bad feeling in your gut.

still, that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.

the entire drive to the scene, you couldn’t shake it. you kept glancing at buck out of the corner of your eye, but every time he caught you staring, he’d throw you a grin or wink, as if everything was just fine, as if nothing was wrong. he didn’t see it.

you tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to prepare yourself for whatever was waiting for you once you arrived. but that feeling, that certainty in your gut that something was about to go wrong, kept escalating. 

the scene before you was pure chaos. flames licking hungrily at the night sky, smoke billowing in plumes from the high rise apartment building. the rain was relentless, drenching everything, adding a cruel, ironic touch to the flames. you worked quickly, herding evacuees to a safe distance, your voice steady despite the frantic pounding of your heart.

through it all, your eyes kept flickering to buck. he was ‘arguing’ with chimney, both gesturing toward the ladder propped up next to the burning building. you didn’t need to hear them to know what it was about; the decision of who would ascend into danger.

buck won. chimney relented, clapping him on the shoulder before stepping back. you watched buck as he adjusted his gear and started up the ladder.

your hands itched to pull him back, to ground him. but this was the job.

“be careful,” you murmured under your breath, as if the wind might carry your words to him.

he was now fully up the ladder, chimney and eddie stood close by, ready to assist

the hose spraying water over the flames as he leaned into his harness. the muscles in his arms flexed against the pull of the stream, his movements steady despite the slippery ladder and the brutal weather.

you stayed rooted on the spot, keeping a watchful eye on him. every instinct in your body screamed at you to make sure he was okay. he was professional, you knew that, you'd seen it time after time again but also knew that he was always pushing himself, always risking too much.

he adjusted his grip on the hose, pausing for a moment to glance around. his head tilted slightly, scanning the sky above.

that’s when it happened.

a blinding flash of light. searing, far too close. the bolt of lightning struck with a deafening crack, so near it sent a shockwave through the ground. you stumbled back, shielding your face against the glare. when your vision cleared, the madness continued.

eddie was on the ground, sprawled beside the truck, stunned but moving. your eyes darted to the ladder, searching frantically for buck.

your breath hitched.

he was dangling. his body hung limply from the harness. your heart dropped into your stomach, your voice breaking as you screamed his name.

“buck!”

hen was suddenly beside you, her hand firm on your arm. “i’ve got this,” she said quickly, taking your place as you stumbled toward the ladder.

everything around you blurred except for him. your heart racing as you saw chimney and eddie already scaling it, their movements urgent. your heart pounded in your ears. 

buck was still swaying in the harness.

chimney reached him first, working quickly to detach the harness, easing him on a stretcher.  the seconds felt like hours as they maneuvered to bring him down, each movement too slow for your frantic mind.

they pulled his helmet off, revealing a face that was far too pale. he wasn’t moving. he wasn’t breathing.

“oh my god.” the words left your lips in a whisper at first, then louder, more frantic. “oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

your knees buckled, and eddie caught you, his arms steady around your shaking frame. “they’ve got him,” he said, his voice tight but comforting. yet his eyes betrayed him, he was just as terrified as you were.

chimney was already working, barking orders, his hands moving with practiced precision. but all you could do was stare, tears streaming down your face as you clung to eddie.

“come on, buck,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “please.”

time stretched endlessly, each second a cruel twist of the knife. eddie’s arms tightened around you, grounding you as you sobbed into his shoulder, unable to tear your eyes away from the still figure on the stretcher.

and then, mercifully, chimney shouted, “i’ve got a pulse!”

relief washed over you, a sensation you hadn’t realised how desperately you needed until it finally hit. the moment buck’s chest rose and fell, a steady rhythm of life, you felt a flicker of hope ignite in your chest.

you were the first to jump into the ambulance after they loaded him in, not even thinking, you just knew that you needed to be with him, to stay close. you sat beside him, as the paramedics worked, hands moving swiftly.

your eyes stayed glued to buck, to the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. the fog of his exhale against the oxygen mask was the smallest of assurances, but it was enough. enough to make you believe that, against all odds, he was still here with you.

your fingers curled into the seat beneath you, holding on to that fragile hope. his pulse was steady now, mingling with the low hum of the ambulance. for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe again, knowing that somehow, miraculously, he was still with you.

later that night, the others came by to visit buck after their shifts ended.

first, it was hen. she walked into the room, her face drawn with concern, her eyes immediately seeking you out. when she saw you still sitting in your uniform, not having moved from buck’s side, her expression softened. she took a slow breath, then crossed the room to stand beside you.

“hey,” hen said quietly, her voice gentle as she took in the sight of you, your exhaustion evident. she noticed how you were clinging to the quiet hope that buck would wake up any moment. she placed a hand on the back of the chair you were sitting in, her touch light but grounding.

“i know there’s nothing i can really say to fix this, but just know you’re not alone, alright?”

you gave her a small, tired smile, grateful for her presence. “i know,” you whispered, nodding toward buck. “i just… i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon, hen. he has to.”

she didn’t push you to talk more, knowing there were no words that could change what had happened. she simply stood there, her presence a quiet comfort. she squeezed your shoulder lightly before stepping back toward the door. “i’m one phone call away if you need me.”

you nodded again, and hen gave you one last look. one filled with unspoken support, before she left the room, leaving you alone with buck, the steady beeping of machines and the soft rustle of sheets the only sounds filling the silence.

next came bobby. his steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he approached. he paused for a moment by the door, taking in the sight of you sitting by buck’s side, clearly worn out but unwilling to leave. he stepped closer, his hand briefly resting on your shoulder in a silent show of support.

“how’s he doing?” bobby asked, his voice low but laced with concern.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you gave him the same explanation you’d given hen. “he’s stable. the doctors said it’s just the aftereffects of the lightning strike. he’s in a coma, but they’re monitoring him closely.” your voice wavered slightly, but you pushed through, not wanting to show how deeply it was affecting you.

bobby nodded, absorbing the information. he didn’t ask for more details. his gaze lingered on buck for a moment, his brow furrowing with worry before he looked back at you.

“i know that he appreciates you being here with him.”

you offered him a tight smile, appreciating the sentiment even if it didn’t quite ease the weight in your chest.

bobby gave you one last, understanding glance before he turned and made his way to the door. 

he left quietly, leaving you alone once more with buck, the room feeling a little emptier than before but still filled with that quiet hope that he’d wake up soon.

it wasn't long until eddie got there. he stood at the doorway for a moment, looking at you with that familiar, quiet worry in his eyes. his gaze flickered to buck before he approached. “how are you holding up?” he asked softly.

you nodded, though the exhaustion was starting to hit you. “i’m fine. i just... i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon. the doctors are optimistic.”

eddie gave a short, strained smile, but his eyes didn’t quite match the gesture. “you’re doing everything you can.” he patted your shoulder and lingered for a moment, then left without another word, his presence offering you the slightest bit of comfort.

after eddie, chimney and maddie came by together, both looking drained from their shifts. they paused when they saw you still sitting there, but you shook your head, silently telling them you were okay.

you reiterated what you had said to the others.

chimney gave you a concerned glance, but maddie was the first to pull you into a hug. her arms wrapped around you, offering a quiet but comforting presence. you let yourself lean into the embrace for a moment, grateful for the feeling of someone who understood what you were going through.

they stayed for a little while, with maddie talking softly to you, her voice calm and steady, offering small distractions. eventually, she gave chimney a look, and he gave a brief nod before heading out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

the room felt a little quieter, a little more intimate, and the weight of everything seemed to settle around you both. after a beat of silence, maddie let out a soft sigh and glanced over at buck, his unconscious form still hooked up to machines. “of course evan would be the one to go and get struck by lightning,” she said with a light laugh, the sound a bit shaky.

you couldn’t help but chuckle too, glancing at buck with a fond smile. the moment lingered for a while, but the laughter eventually faded, and the air grew heavier again.

maddie’s expression softened, her tone turning more serious. “he talks about you all the time, you know?”

your head snapped toward her, the surprise evident in your eyes. “he… he does?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

maddie gave a small, knowing smile and nodded. “a little too much, if i’m being honest. but don’t tell him i said that,” she added with a wink, as though sharing some kind of secret.

you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought, warmth spreading through you. the idea that buck, through everything, even in the midst of his chaotic life. talked about you with such frequency, it was almost too much to process. 

but somehow, it made the weight of the moment feel a little lighter, the hope growing that he’d wake up and that you’d get the chance to hear all of it from him, yourself.

you requested time off, and bobby didn’t hesitate to approve it. he knew, as well as you did, that there was no way you could focus on work, not when your heart and mind were stuck in that hospital room.

so you stayed. you spent your days at the hospital, barely leaving buck’s side. the rest of your life faded into the background. the gym, your job, even basic routines. all of it felt distant and unimportant compared to the need to be there for him.

every night, the nurses gently urged you to leave when visiting hours ended. you could tell they didn’t want to force you out; the sympathetic looks on their faces said as much. they were kind, patient, and understanding, but rules were rules.

each time you left, you were reluctant, your heart aching at the thought of being away in case he woke up. before you’d go, you always leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering a moment longer each time. you’d clasp his hand in both of yours, brushing your thumb gently across his limp fingers, whispering words of hope he couldn’t yet hear.

at home, everything felt heavier. eating and showering became a struggle, but you managed, if only because you needed to be somewhat put together for him when you returned. you’d collapse into bed, trying to drown out the fear and negativity with the faint hope that maybe, when you woke up, he would too.

a week passed like this, each day melting into the next as you clung to your new routine. 

on this particular evening, as visiting hours neared their end, you sat by buck’s side again. you clasped his hand, bringing it to your lips briefly before leaning over to place another on his forehead.

and then you felt it, a faint squeeze against your hand.

your breath caught in your throat as you froze, your heart racing. slowly, you pulled back and stared at his hand in yours, disbelief mixing with hope. “buck?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

your heart pounded as you stared at his hand, still clasped in yours. for a moment, you wondered if you had imagined it, if your mind was playing tricks on you after days of exhaustion. but then it happened again, a weak, deliberate squeeze.

“buck?” you whispered again, louder this time, leaning closer to him. tears welled in your eyes as you searched his face for any other signs of movement. his eyelids fluttered, just barely, but it was enough to send a wave of relief crashing over you.

“oh my god, buck, can you hear me?” your voice cracked, and your free hand reached out to gently brush against his cheek. his skin felt warmer than it had in days, and the faintest sound escaped his lips. a low, hoarse groan.

you pressed the call button frantically, your hand shaking as you leaned in closer, desperate to see more. “it’s me. i’m here,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “you’re okay, buck. you’re safe. just keep waking up for me, please.”

the door burst open as a nurse hurried in, quickly assessing the situation. “he’s waking up,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and panic.

the nurse nodded, immediately moving to check his vitals and calling for the doctor. you stepped back slightly to give them space, but you couldn’t take your eyes off buck. his fingers twitched in yours again, his head turning just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. his eyes opened slowly, unfocused but alive.

“hey, there you are,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you smiled through the overwhelming emotions.

his gaze drifted to you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he was trying to make sense of where he was. his lips moved, dry and cracked, but no sound came out.

“it’s okay,” you said quickly, leaning closer again. “don’t try to talk. just rest. you’re in the hospital, but you’re safe now. i’m here, buck. i’ve been here the whole time.”

the doctor arrived shortly after, giving you a reassuring smile as they began to examine him. you reluctantly let go of his hand so they could work, stepping aside but never straying far from his side.

“his response is a very good sign,” the doctor said after a moment, turning to you. “we’ll keep monitoring him closely, but it looks like the worst is over.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, your chest feeling lighter than it had in days. as soon as the doctor stepped back, you were at buck’s side again, taking his hand in yours.

“see? i told you you’d be okay,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d seen in a while.

a couple of hours later, after the doctors had left and the atmosphere had settled, it was just you and buck in the quiet hospital room. the dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the color slowly returning to his cheeks.

he shifted slightly, wincing, and you immediately reached for the cup of water on the tray beside his bed. “easy,” you murmured, slipping a straw into the cup and holding it up for him. “here, small sips.”

buck obediently took a sip, his eyes never leaving yours. his throat worked as he swallowed, and you felt a wave of relief seeing him manage something so simple. it was progress.

“you scared the hell out of me, you know,” you said softly, setting the cup down once he’d had enough. “you got struck by lightning, buck. lightning. do you even realise how lucky you are to be here right now?”

he blinked, his gaze turning thoughtful. “i remember… the storm,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. you immediately reached for the water again, bringing it to his lips before he could continue.

“here. drink more. don’t push yourself,” you said, your fussing in full force now. you fluffed his pillows, adjusted his blanket, and scanned the machines monitoring his vitals, as if you could will them to show even better numbers.

“you remember the storm?” you prompted, sitting back down beside him and holding his hand tightly.

buck nodded, his brow furrowing. “yeah. i was on the ladder… the flames were bad. i remember hosing them down, and then…” he paused, his eyes growing distant. “a loud crack. bright light. and then… nothing.”

your grip on his hand tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “buck, you were out for a week. a week. they weren’t sure if you’d–” your voice cracked, and you quickly shook your head, brushing away a tear. “but you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

buck’s lips twitched into a small smile, his hand weakly squeezing yours. “you’ve been taking care of me, haven’t you?”

you scoffed lightly, brushing it off. “of course i have. someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like this again.”

he chuckled softly, the sound weak but warm. “you don’t have to worry so much, you know. i’m okay.”

you froze, staring at him in disbelief. “don’t have to worry? buck, do you even realise what just happened to you? you almost died! you were in a coma! and now you’re telling me not to worry? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

as you ranted, your free hand gesturing animatedly, buck just lay there, watching you with an amused smile.

“what?” you snapped, though there was no real anger in your tone.

“nothing,” he said, his voice soft and laced with affection. “just… you’re cute when you’re like this.”

your face heated, and you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself. “you’re impossible, buck.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, his smile growing.

you shook your head, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“yeah, looks like you're stuck with me, buckley.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[astrolynnworld]

warmhearted reveals

pairing: matt x reader

summary: you tell matt that you’re pregnant

warnings: fluff! love, romance, confessions, reassurance.

word count: 656

i prepared a nice dinner for when matt comes home so i can tell him the big news.

i can’t tell if he’ll be excited, shocked, or anxious. this is a big step in our lives, and i just hope he supports it

we have talked about wanting kids in the past, but we haven’t discussed goal, time, or plan.

i anticipate his arrival at the door as i let the food simmer on the stove for a little longer.

“baby? i’m home” matt says as he walks in through the front door

i go to greet him with a kiss and hug

“someone’s in a good mood today” he smiles as he sets down his stuff into the nearby office room

“you hungry? i made your favorite!” i gleefully share as he follows me to the kitchen

“duh!” he joking says, “it smells so good bae”

i prepare a plate for him before we sit across the dinner table

“how was work today?” i question

“it was great actually..”

“really? how so?” i follow up

“sucks to say but, one of the head managers of the inquiries office had gotten fired today because he violated one of the company policies, right?” he starts

“mhm” i acknowledge

“so they needed someone to take his job, and the head boss had put in a good word for me because he sees my progress in the job and says that i’ve been working hard for the last few months now.” he continues

“oh my god!! really? that’s so good baby. so what’s gonna happen?” i further ask

“well. today they had discussed it over a board meeting and went over some of my latest work to decide if i would be a good fit on the team and .. they all agreed.”

“BABY!!! that’s such great news oh my godd!! i’m so happy for you!! so you basically got promoted to the higher ups of the office right?” i proudly support

“yeah! and they’re raising my pay my 50%” he shares

“i’m so so happy for you matt!! great news all around. more money to go towards us and the baby!!” i quickly slip out

“what?” he questions

a smile plasters across my face

“i’m pregnant baby.”

he pauses and looks quickly takes a glance down at my stomach

“a- are you serious?” he anxiously stutters out

i nod my head slowly as i start to tear up

he comes around the table and kneels in front of me

“you’re not joking baby?” he says as the tears start to well up in his eyes

i shake my head no as i chuckle softly; tears starting to fall down my cheeks

he takes my hand and stands me up before embracing me into his own

“baby. we’re having a kid” he says as he tries to process his shock

“you’re pregnant with my baby right now, princess” he says as he pulls back from me

i see the tears starting to drip his face

“i can’t believe this baby. you’re really not lying to me?” he questions one more time

i grab his face and start to wipe his tears, “you’re gonna be a father, matt”

he lets his face fall into my hands as he brings his forehead to mine

“i can’t believe i’m about to start a family with you baby. it’s all i’ve ever dreamed of, since we were teenagers” he confesses

“i just can’t believe you’re really mine.” he says before kissing my forehead, “all mine.”

“i love you so so so so much, matt.” i speak out

“i love you so much more baby.” he kisses my lips, “both of you” he says as places his hand on my stomach

“why don’t you hop into bed, i’ll clean up dinner. there’s so many plans we have to discuss” he eagerly says

i laugh at his enthusiasm as i head back to the bedroom.

———————————————————————- taglist: @lenna-77 @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: idol!jeonghan x idol!reader, fluff, smut, afab reader, paris fashion week, established relationship, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

a/n: this is kinda a non-chronological continuation to this, but can be read as a standalone!

wc: 1433

masterlist

idol!jeonghan and idol!you who had been dating for a while and were now both scheduled to appear at paris fashion week together as ysl ambassadors.

after pining for each other for a few months (and very unnecessarily waiting for each other at the elevators every morning in hopes of seeing one another), the both of you had finally confessed your feelings, now discreetly dating accordingly to the company's policies.

you had followed their rules; kept your hands and eyes off each other in public spaces, and even keeping a distance around any staff or idols who were not privy to your relationship.

although you had the best imaginable situation in the world of idol dating (same industry, same company, same building, same friend groups and such), you and jeonghan still were unable to lead a regular relationship. your constantly clashing schedules left much to be desired when it came to seeing each other past those elevator rides whenever you were both in korea (yes, you still made it a point to see each other at the elevators every morning).

busy with comebacks, individual schedules, overseas performances, promotions, brand deals, and many other things, you and jeonghan hadnt been able to see each other for a few weeks now, going insane at the lack of contact.

it wasnt until paris fashion week that you found your schedules finally aligning, with both of you receiving invitations to attend paris fashion week under ysl's sponsor, even promoting together due to being part of the same company. with no legal conflicts about brands or companies, you and jeonghan basically had free reign over how much time you spent together in the public eye while in paris. this was a once in a lifetime opportunity for you to parade around with each other without any public scrutiny, knowing you could chalk up any interaction between you to being in the same company and sponsoring the same brand.

after having attended the main event, you and jeonghan went out to eat with your managers, followed by a romantic walk in paris under the watchful eye of your bodyguards (hey, at least you were in paris with your boyfriend!). after a few hours you finally ended up heading back at the hotel.

despite having booked separate rooms due to your relationship still being a secret to the public, you and jeonghan found yourselves running to his room, wanting to get your hands on each other after weeks of not even sharing a bed together.

that is how he now had you in your designer dress, panties ripped off, pressed up against the wall. him on his knees as he attempted to pull a second orgasm out of you with his skilled tongue.

"you looked so pretty today, angel. everyone had their eyes on you," his speech was muffled as he pressed endless kisses and licked at your thighs, keeping his lips close to where you wanted him most.

"no ... you."

he chuckles at this. "yeah? me? okay, whatever my pretty angel says."

"hannie .. more, please ..." you begged, feeling your core pulsing against his tongue as he lightly licked at you, slowly grinding yourself against it.

"okay, pretty. let me take you to bed, yeah?," he unglued himself from you, making you whine petulantly at the interruption of the stimulation on your clit.

once he led you to bed, he undressed you and laid you down, wrapping your legs around his figure as he leaned down to kiss your kips softly.

"pretty, let me see those eyes. keep them open for me, baby. wanna see you. wanna see my angel."

his words always made you melt. he treated you like the biggest luxury one could ever afford, always letting you know how good you were for him and how beautiful you were to him.

despite the difficult task, you opened your eyes to meet the look of adoration he always reserved only for you. his hair disheveled due to your hands pulling at it desperately earlier.

you used all the strength in your legs around him to get him to press himself even further against you, feeling his bare length press up against your stomach, the thought of it inside you after so many weeks making you cry out.

you tried to grind your hips against him from below, but the angle didnt allow for any friction between you in the places you needed him the most, making you annoyed at his lack of trying.

"please .. want it so bad. missed you so fucking bad," you closed your eyes again and threw your head back, frustrated at the lack of friction.

"aigoo .. does my poor angel want me? want me to make you feel good, pretty? tell me. tell me what you want from me," he swiped his thumb under your chin in a mocking way, enjoying your desperation for him despite knowing he wanted you just as bad.

before you could even answer, he readjusted himself above you and positioned his dick at the perfect angle to rub against your clit as he lightly dragged his hips against yours.

"fuck me, hannie. please. thought about you every night. wanted you so bad ..."

you continued your whining as he gave you the barest minimum of pleasure, wanting nothing more than to be filled by the handsome man who had just been stealing the hearts of anyone walking the parisian streets alongside you just a few hours ago.

growing frustrated of his own teasing, jeonghan separated himself from you once more and gently positioned you on your knees and elbows, adjusting himself behind you.

he felt you up and rubbed his hands all over your back and ass before entering you, wanting to worship the body he hadnt had the chance to hold in his hands for weeks due to your cursed schedules.

before long he entered you, letting out a breath of relief at the feeling of your tight walls enveloping him while you threw your head back at the pleasurable intrusion. he kept a slow and deep pace for the first few minutes, wanting to enjoy your warmth for as long as he could.

"god .. fuck, baby, you take it so good. so fucking good for me. my angel," he rambled, losing all composture as he began to sped up, bruising your hips with his tight grip on them.

you continuously pushed back against him, wanting to pull even more and more pleasure from him.

soon, you felt jeoghan's voice become high pitched as he neared his high, slapping his hips against your ass at an even faster speed, eyes rolling back at the pleasure you provided him by just giving yourself to him.

his pretty angel, he thought. so good and pliant for him. letting him do whatever he wanted as he let you know how much of a sweet thing you were for him.

he came before you, but swiftly flipped you around to shove his fingers inside you, rubbing at your clit rapidly as he chased your second orgasm of the night. you cried as he lowered his head to your breast and licked around it before lightly pulling at it with his teeth, alternating breasts as he fingered you.

"h-hannie fuck i'm- i'm gonna cum. dont stop. please!"

"dont worry, angel. cum for me. be good for me and give me another one," he breathed against your chest before pulling away to look into your eyes once more. "cum for me and i promise ill give you more and more until they have to drag us back to seoul. gonna steal you and keep you, angel, all for me."

his possessive words of affirmation were what finally did you in, wanting nothing more than to relive this weekend away with him over and over again, imagining a future where you and jeonghan would never have to be away from each other.

after allowing you to catch your breath, jeonghan left the room to get tissues to clean you up, proceeding to tuck you under the covers before joining you. with his arms wrapped around you, you turned to him and kissed his nose, playing with his hair as you both attempted to fall into peaceful slumber together

"missed this too," whispered jeonghan.

"missed what?"

"this. holding you in your sleep. cant sleep right without you anymore."

you felt your heart soar, knowing how much of a picky sleeper jeoghan was and feeling touched at knowing he missed your touch as much as you did his.

"wish i could stay here with you like this forever," you pouted as you pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in.

"one day, angel. one day."

a/n: not proofread! this is just word vomit atp

[sixlane]

@croptopjames submission | 1.5k words | NSFW - dom/sub, praise, degradation, spanking, gagging

Dedicating this to euge @ecstarry for brainrotting with me and lune @sommerregenjuniluft because we talked about dancer james once. Love you guys <3

Regulus walks the length of the studio assessing the attire of his dancers. He has a strict policy of professionalism that he makes no exceptions for, and James has been pushing his luck recently. 

He had hired James as an apprentice only a few months ago, but he was already regretting the decision. Not because of James’ abilities, but because of his utter lack of respect. 

James is a brilliant dancer, don’t get him wrong. He came from the most prestigious modern dance conservatory in the country, and Regulus had managed to sign him right out of school. 

He’s inclined to say James wasn’t worth the work, but that wouldn’t be completely true. He may make Regulus’ life a living hell, but he’s fucking gorgeous on stage, all lean muscles and strong lines. It’s captivating to watch, even more so when he gets to see it up close. 

As Regulus makes his way across the room, he catches sight of James in the back sporting gray joggers and— he has to take a minute to register what he’s seeing. Is that a fucking crop top? 

James just flashes a knowing smirk, staring Regulus down. He’s been called out for wardrobe infractions at least three times this month, and it’s starting to get old. 

“Sirius,” Regulus calls out to his brother, but more importantly, his rehearsal director. “Can you start the warm up? I need to have a word with Potter.”

A few snickers sound throughout the studio because his employees can be fucking children sometimes, and Sirius nods, getting up from his spot on the floor. 

Regulus turns toward the door, knowing James will follow him, and makes his way to his office down the hall. 

He only has to stand behind his desk for a minute, arms crossed, before James waltzes in, closing the door behind him. 

“This is grossly unprofessional, you do realize that,” Regulus deadpans. 

“I do realize that,” James responds innocently, batting his lashes. 

Regulus runs his eyes over the man standing in front of him, something he didn’t want to do in front of everyone in the studio. 

The top hits a few inches above his navel and exposes the soft lines of his abs and a stripe of dark hair that trails beneath his joggers. 

“Eyes up here,” James says, bringing Regulus’ attention back to the matter at hand. 

He gives James a stern look and leans forward on his desk.

“How many times do I have to tell you this won’t be tolerated in my company?” he asks. 

James’ eyes darken and he leans forward to mirror Regulus. “Not sure. Will you tell me again?”

The audacity of this man… Well, Regulus thinks, maybe it’ll stick this time. 

He reaches across the table casually, stroking a hand across James’ face. The dancer leans into it, fluttering his eyes shut for a moment, before Regulus reaches around his head to grab a fistful of his hair.

James opens his eyes and a slanted smile pulls at his mouth.

“Keep your hands on the table,” Regulus says before pushing James’ head down onto his desk. “Don’t move.”

James goes willingly, bending in half over the desk like a dream.

Regulus walks around to stand behind him, admires the curve of his ass and the ridges of his spine where they’re exposed under his shirt. He runs his fingers over them, eliciting a small shiver from James.

Regulus dips his hands into the waistband of James’ joggers, sinking his nails into the soft skin, before roughly pushing his pants down around his ankles.

James’ breathing picks up, his anticipation getting the better of him. Regulus would love to draw this out, but he’s afraid he hasn’t got the time today.

He smacks James’ ass once, causing the other man to jolt and let out a soft whine.

“Stay quiet,” Regulus commands.

James nods in confirmation. A lie, most likely.

Regulus lets a finger wander through the cleft of James’ ass, circling his rim in slow and deliberate movements. He keeps his eyes on James’ face where it’s pressed against his desk. His eyes are shut, mouth open. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Regulus says. “When you’re not talking back to me.”

James makes a needy noise pressing his hips back onto Regulus’ finger, searching for a fullness he knows is coming.

Regulus smacks him again across the same spot as before. “Don’t get greedy. You know how this works.”

James nods again looking at Regulus now. His pupils are absolutely blown and it’s all Regulus can think about. The desperate want in his eyes.

“Tell me,” Regulus instructs.

James rolls his eyes back as he starts to lightly circle his rim again.

“Words, James.”

“You’re in charge,” James breathes.

“And I can do whatever I want with you,” Regulus adds.

“Whatever you want.”

“Good boy.” Regulus pulls his hand away again, but James doesn’t get a chance to protest before it’s being pushed into his mouth. “Now suck.”

James moans around his fingers, hollowing his cheeks and making a show out of it. He knows this undoes Regulus every time, watching as he listens so well, follows every command. It’s a high he’ll be riding for the rest of rehearsal.

“That’s right baby, get them nice and wet for me,” Regulus praises, bringing his other hand up to grab at James’ hip, keep him from moving too much.

When spit starts to drip down his chin, Regulus pulls his fingers away, and the noise James makes is fucking filthy. A keen he’s sure the whole company just heard, and that just won’t fly. 

Regulus moves his hand from James’ hip up into his hair, yanking him back until he’s hovering above the desk.

“James, what did I fucking say,” Regulus hisses. “Do you need something in your mouth? Hm? Such a slut for it you can’t follow simple directions?”

James moans loudly, a please falling from his lips somewhere in there.

Regulus releases him and he falls back onto the desk with a whine. 

Going back around his desk, Regulus fishes through his bottom drawer with his clean hand, finding what he’s looking for. A dress code appropriate t-shirt he keeps for times like these, when James just can’t help himself. He shoves it in James’ mouth harshly then pats him on the cheek. 

“There you go baby. Now you can tell me just how much you like it.”

And James does without a second thought, immediately filling the room with muffled noises.

Regulus resumes his position behind the dancer, running his spit-slick fingers against James’ hole.

“Ready?” He asks.

James is a mess, barely there at this point even though Regulus hasn’t even done anything, but he nods anyway, and Regulus pushes a finger in slowly.

“Always so tight for me baby.”

“Mmph,” James moans around the shirt. He tries to fuck his hips forward into nothing, desperate for some friction against his neglected cock, but Regulus holds him still. He should know by now that he’ll stay untouched until Regulus allows it.

Once he feels James is ready, he adds another finger, leaning down to spit into the place where they slide into James. He increases the speed, crooking them to brush the spot that reduces James to a moaning mess. 

He sees James’ eyes roll back again as he makes a muffled sound, so debauched and fucked out already. 

For the first time, Regulus notices his own wetness pooling in his briefs, but he ignores it. This isn’t about him.

“Can you be a good boy and take another,” Regulus asks, and James nods enthusiastically. If he wasn't gagged, Regulus knows he’d be begging, has heard it enough times to memorize the sound.

Regulus pulls out completely, watching James’ hole flutter briefly around nothing, before pushing three fingers back in.

James balls his fists against the desk, barely moving his hips, trying so hard to be good. Regulus decides to cut him some slack.

“Fuck yourself on them baby, it’s okay.”

James obeys immediately, pushing his hips back wildly and making ungodly sounds that he wishes he could hear unobstructed. 

Caught up in the image of James losing control, Regulus reaches around to touch his neglected cock where it’s been leaking onto the floor. He collects the precome beading at the tip to soften the slide, and pumps James slowly in time with the movement of his hips.

“You close? Gonna come for me?” Regulus asks, sugar sweet.

James barely responds, but the crease between his eyebrows gives him away. Regulus knows it means he’s heading toward the edge of the cliff.

Quickly, before it’s too late, Regulus pulls his hand away, pulls his fingers out, leaving James empty and neglected once again.

He smacks James’s ass roughly, then digs his fingers into the flesh, punishing.

Leaning forward, he puts his mouth right up against James’ ear, “Only good boys get to come, James. I expect you back in rehearsal in five minutes wearing that shirt in your mouth.”

James sobs into the fabric, ruined and undoubtedly aching, and Regulus leaves him there to clean himself up.

Maybe this time he’ll finally learn his lesson.

[whentherewerebicycles]

I am not really an avid Purchaser of Objects but periodically I like to take stock of things I’ve bought that turned out to be excellent quality or worth investing in. here are my favorites:

thousandfell’s women’s lace-up sneakers. vegan leather and insanely comfy. took them as my only pair of shoes on a very walking-intensive trip to japan and south korea and ended up exclaiming aloud many times “god I can’t believe how comfy these are!!” they’ve lasted two full years of heavy wear and are still going strong.

the LL bean women’s mountain classic anorak. this is the only jacket I have ever needed in the PNW. it’s insanely lightweight so it’s perfect for brisk but not too cold days (and also amazing for travel as it folds down so small), BUT it’s also roomy enough that you can layer a sweatshirt under it and comfortably wear it outside in temps as low as 35 degrees. it also has SO MANY HUGE POCKETS which means I can carry everything I need for the dogs and the baby in just my jacket lol. like literally i can fit a bottle and diapers and wipes in it. I own it in two colors and wear it every single day.

able’s mamuye leather tote. I believe this was a rec from sasha? I had been searching high and low for a bag that looked professional for work but was still casual enough to use as an everyday or travel tote too. I wanted something simple, durable, and high quality enough that I could use it for a really long time. I splurged for the kind with a zipper and it was worth it! the one change is I wish it came with an organizer or had a bit more built-in structure. I got a cheap one off amazon which works fine and gives it a nice shape, but idk I might eventually buy the one they sell specifically for this bag. I love this bag so much that every time I see it I gasp inwardly at how beautiful it is and how fancy yet low-maintenance it looks. I think your favorite objects should be so beautiful to you they make your heart happy when you see them and this bag definitely qualifies.

karina dresses. the prints can be hit or miss and sell out pretty fast so you have to jump on the new collection releases when they email you. but almost every work dress I own is from this company and I love them so much. they’re super well made, flattering, and cut in a way that makes them very forgiving if your body (like mine) tends to fluctuate up and down in weight a lot. they are so forgiving that I didn’t have to buy any new maternity clothes for work—I just wore these through my whole pregnancy. the one thing that might not work for everyone: they’re made from a synthetic fabric, which means they never wrinkle and hang-dry very quickly, but also idk I do prefer the feel of cotton or linen or another more breathable natural fiber.

speaking of natural fibers: I also purchased a few skirts and a dress from pact (organic cotton basics) and I really like them so far but don’t yet know how they’ll hold up over time! so they get an honorary mention for now.

the thomasville tisdale sectional. this is the greatest couch ever made. I evangelize for it every opportunity I get. it’s so comfy and so gigantic. you can rearrange the modular pieces to form a very comfortable queen-sized bed if you don’t have a spare room or if you just want to have a really cozy movie night. I’ve had it for three years and it gets a lot of wear and tear with the dogs but it still looks and feels SO nice. plus it’s costco and their insane return policy means that if it falls apart in five years (it won’t) I could almost certainly still take it back and get a full refund. best! giant! couch! ever!!!!

ok that’s it lol everything else I own apart from art and quirky sentimental objects is kinda junk, or is just Fine but not worth writing home about. do you own high quality objects or clothing that you love recommending to other people? if so I want to hear about it.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Podcasting "Microincentives and Enshittification"

Tomorrow (Oct 25) at 10hPT/18hUK, I'm livestreaming an event called "Seizing the Means of Computation" for the Edinburgh Futures Institute.

This week on my podcast, I read my recent Medium column, "Microincentives and Enshittification," about the way that monopoly drives mediocrity, with Google's declining quality as Exhibit A:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

It's not your imagination: Google used to be better – in every way. Search used to be better, sure, but Google used to be better as a company. It treated its workers better (for example, not laying off 12,000 workers months after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years). It had its users' backs in policy fights – standing up for Net Neutrality and the right to use encryption to keep your private data private. Even when the company made ghastly mistakes, it repented of them and reversed them, like the time it pulled out of China after it learned that Chinese state hackers had broken into Gmail in order to discover which dissidents to round up and imprison.

None of this is to say that Google used to be perfect, or even, most of the time, good. Just that things got worse. To understand why, we have to think about how decisions get made in large organizations, or, more to the point, how arguments get resolved in these organizations.

We give Google a lot of shit for its "Don't Be Evil" motto, but it's worth thinking through what that meant for the organization's outcomes over the years. Through most of Google's history, the tech labor market was incredibly tight, and skilled engineers and other technical people had a lot of choice as to where they worked. "Don't Be Evil" motivated some – many – of those workers to take a job at Google, rather than one of its rivals.

Within Google, that meant that decisions that could colorably be accused of being "evil" would face some internal pushback. Imagine a product design meeting where one faction proposes something that is bad for users, but good for the company's bottom line. Think of another faction that says, "But if we do that, we'll be 'evil.'"

I think it's safe to assume that in any high-stakes version of this argument, the profit side will prevail over the don't be evil side. Money talks and bullshit walks. But what if there were also monetary costs to being evil? Like, what if Google has to worry about users or business customers defecting to a rival? Or what if there's a credible reason to worry that a regulator will fine Google, or Congress will slap around some executives at a televised hearing?

That lets the no-evil side field a more robust counterargument: "Doing that would be evil, and we'll lose money, or face a whopping fine, or suffer reputational harms." Even if these downsides are potentially smaller than the upsides, they still help the no-evil side win the argument. That's doubly true if the downsides could depress the company's share-price, because Googlers themselves are disproportionately likely to hold Google stock, since tech companies are able to get a discount on their wage-bills by paying employees in abundant stock they print for free, rather than the scarce dollars that only come through hard graft.

When the share-price is on the line, the counterargument goes, "That would be evil, we will lose money, and you will personally be much poorer as a result." Again, this isn't dispositive – it won't win every argument – but it is influential. A counterargument that braids together ideology, institutional imperatives, and personal material consequences is pretty robust.

Which is where monopoly comes in. When companies grow to dominate their industries, they are less subject to all forms of discipline. Monopolists don't have to worry about losing disgusted employees, because they exert so much gravity on the labor market that they find it easy to replace them.

They don't have to worry about losing customers, because they have eliminated credible alternatives. They don't have to worry about losing users, because rivals steer clear of their core business out of fear of being bigfooted through exclusive distribution deals, predatory pricing, etc. Investors have a name for the parts of the industry dominated by Big Tech: they call it "the kill zone" and they won't back companies seeking to enter it.

When companies dominate their industries, they find it easier to capture their regulators and outspend public prosecutors who hope to hold them to account. When they lose regulatory fights, they can fund endless appeals. If they lose those appeals, they can still afford the fines, especially if they can use an army of lawyers to make sure that the fine is less than the profit realized through the bad conduct. A fine is a price.

In other words, the more dominant a company is, the harder it is for the good people within the company to win arguments about unethical and harmful proposals, and the worse the company gets. The internal culture of the company changes, and its products and services decline, but meaningful alternatives remain scarce or nonexistent.

Back to Google. Google owns more than 90% of the search market. Google can't grow by adding more Search users. The 10% of non-Google searchers are extremely familiar with Google's actions. To switch to a rival search engine, they have had to take many affirmative, technically complex steps to override the defaults in their devices and tools. It's not like an ad extolling the virtues of Google Search will bring in new customers.

Having saturated the search market, Google can only increase its Search revenues by shifting value from searchers or web publishers to itself – that is, the only path to Search growth is enshittification. They have to make things worse for end users or business customers in order to make things better for themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

This means that each executive in the Search division is forever seeking out ways to shift value to Google and away from searchers and/or publishers. When they propose a enshittificatory tactic, Google's market dominance makes it easy for them to win arguments with their teammates: "this may make you feel ashamed for making our product worse, but it will not make me poorer, it will not make the company poorer, and it won't chase off business customers or end users, therefore, we're gonna do it. Fuck your feelings."

After all, each microenshittification represents only a single Jenga block removed from the gigantic tower that is Google Search. No big deal. Some Google exec made the call to make it easier for merchants to buy space overtop searches for their rivals. That's not necessarily a bad thing: "Thinking of taking a vacation in Florida? Why not try Puerto Rico – it's a US-based Caribbean vacation without the transphobia and racism!"

But this kind of advertising also opens up lots of avenues for fraud. Scammers clone local restaurants' websites, jack up their prices by 15%, take your order, and transmit it to the real restaurant, pocketing the 15%. They get clicks by using some of that rake to buy an ad based on searches for the restaurant's name, so they show up overtop of it and rip off inattentive users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

This is something Google could head off; they already verify local merchants by mailing them postcards with unique passwords that they key into a web-form. They could ban ads for websites that clone existing known merchants, but that would incur costs (engineer time) and reduce profits, both from scammers and from legit websites that trip a false positive.

The decision to sell this kind of ad, configured this way, is a direct shift of value from business customers (restaurants) and end-users (searchers) to Google. Not only that, but it's negative sum. The money Google gets from this tradeoff is less than the cost to both the restaurant (loss of goodwill from regulars who are affronted because of a sudden price rise) and searchers (who lose 15% on their dinner orders). This trade-off makes everyone except Google worse off, and it's only possible when Google is the only game in town.

It's also small potatoes. Last summer, scammers figured out how to switch out the toll-free numbers that Google displayed for every airline, redirecting people to boiler-rooms where con-artists collected their credit-card numbers and sensitive personal information (passports, etc):

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/phone-numbers-airlines-listed-google-directed-scammers-rcna94766

Here again, we see a series of small compromises that lead to a massive harm. Google decided to show users 800 numbers rather than links to the airlines' websites, but failed to fortify the process for assigning phone numbers to prevent this absolutely foreseeable type of fraud. It's not that Google wanted to enable fraud – it's that they created the conditions for the fraud to occur and failed to devote the resources necessary to defend against it.

Each of these compromises indicates a belief among Google decision-makers that the consequences for making their product worse will be outweighed by the value the company will generate by exposing us to harm. One reason for this belief is on display in the DOJ's antitrust case against Google:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/press-release/file/1328941/download

The case accuses Google of spending tens of billions of dollars to buy out the default search position on every platform where an internet user might conceivably perform a search. The company is lighting multiple Twitters worth of dollars on fire to keep you from ever trying another search engine.

Spraying all those dollars around doesn't just keep you from discovering a better search engine – it also prevents investors from funding that search engine in the first place. Why fund a startup in the kill-zone if no one will ever discover that it exists?

https://www.theverge.com/23802382/search-engine-google-neeva-android

Of course, Google doesn't have to grow Search to grow its revenue. Hypothetically, Google could pursue new lines of business and grow that way. This is a tried-and-true strategy for tech giants: Apple figured out how to outsource its manufacturing to the Pacific Rim; Amazon created a cloud service, Microsoft figured out how to transform itself into a cloud business.

Look hard at these success stories and you discover another reason that Google – and other large companies – struggle to grow by moving into adjacent lines of business. In each case – Apple, Microsoft, Amazon – the exec who led the charge into the new line of business became the company's next CEO.

In other words: if you are an exec at a large firm and one of your rivals successfully expands the business into a new line, they become the CEO – and you don't. That ripples out within the whole org-chart: every VP who becomes an SVP, every SVP who becomes an EVP, and every EVP who becomes a president occupies a scarce spot that it worth millions of dollars to the people who lost it.

The one thing that execs reliably collaborate on is knifing their ambitious rivals in the back. They may not agree on much, but they all agree that that guy shouldn't be in charge of this lucrative new line of business.

This "curse of bigness" is why major shifts in big companies are often attended by the return of the founder – think of Gates going back to Microsoft or Brin returning to Google to oversee their AI projects. They are the only execs that other execs can't knife in the back.

This is the real "innovator's dilemma." The internal politics of large companies make Machiavelli look like an optimist.

When your company attains a certain scale, any exec's most important rival isn't the company's competitor – it's other execs at the same company. Their success is your failure, and vice-versa.

This makes the business of removing Jenga blocks from products like Search even more fraught. These quality-degrading, profit-goosing tactics aren't coordinated among the business's princelings. When you're eating your seed-corn, you do so in private. This secrecy means that it's hard for different product-degradation strategists to realize that they are removing safeguards that someone else is relying on, or that they're adding stress to a safety measure that someone else just doubled the load on.

It's not just Google, either. All of tech is undergoing a Great Enshittening, and that's due to how intertwined all these tech companies. Think of how Google shifts value from app makers to itself, with a 30% rake on every dollar spent in an app. Google is half of the mobile duopoly, with the other half owned by Apple. But they're not competitors – they're co-managers of a cartel. The single largest deal that Google or Apple does every year is the bribe Google pays Apple to be the default search for iOS and Safari – $15-20b, every year.

If Apple and Google were mobile competitors, you'd expect them to differentiate their products, but instead, they've converged – both Apple and Google charge sky-high 30% payment processing fees to app makers.

Same goes for Google/Facebook, the adtech duopoly: not only do both companies charge advertisers and publishers sky-high commissions, clawing 51 cents out of every ad dollar, but they also illegally colluded to rig the market and pay themselves more, at advertisers' and publishers' expense:

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

It's not just tech, either – every sector from athletic shoes to international sea-freight is concentrated into anti-competitive, value-annihilating cartels and monopolies:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

As our friends on the right are forever reminding us: "incentives matter." When a company runs out of lands to conquer, the incentives all run one direction: downhill, into a pit of enshittification. Google got worse, not because the people in it are worse (or better) than they were before – but because the constraints that discipline the company and contain its worst impulses got weaker as the company got bigger.

Here's the podcast episode:

https://craphound.com/news/2023/10/23/microincentives-and-enshittification/

And here's a direct link to the MP3 (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive; they'll host your stuff for free, forever):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_452/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_452_-_Microincentives_and_Enshittification.mp3

And here's my podcast's RSS feed:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

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/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

[agentmarvel]

Hiiii! Could I please request 🖤 for Keegan with “marriage of convenience!” Thank you!!! <3

i had a lot of fun with this one! thank you for sending one, nonnie!🖤

keegan russ x fem!reader

cw: obsessive!keegan

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Hesh doesn’t ask favors lightly, so when he asked Keegan for a solid, he was happy to oblige. He didn’t get much in terms of specifics from the elder Walker brother, just that a really sweet thing needed some help, and Kee was the man for the job.

Marriage wasn’t quite what he had in mind when he agreed. He understood that you needed insurance, but there had to be a better way to find it. It’s quite a commitment, even if it’s hollow, and his conspicuous absences would definitely be glaring. You know nothing about him and vice versa. Would you hinder him from getting his dick wet under the guise of emotional trauma from infidelity? The military would rule in your favor in a divorce, especially if you weren’t fucking someone else. Would you whine and nag about the length of his mission? Would he bitch and moan about the way you decorate or your cooking when he’s home? There are too many variables. Enough that he almost considers turning Hesh down.

But then he met you, and all those thoughts went out the window.

Keegan isn’t one for love at first sight, but the second you walk into that coffee shop, he’s hooked on you. He takes his time memorizing every detail of your gorgeous face, each curve of your body in that pretty dress, the cadence of your voice, the sound of your cute giggles. Your little habits don’t go unnoticed; the way you cover your mouth when you eat, the way your nose scrunches when you’re talking about something that you think is gross (Keegan notes that you don’t like tomatoes, that precious little scrunch deepening as your mouth turns downward in disgust).

You seem to be equally taken with him, listening with rapt attention as he answers all your questions. When he walks you back to your car, you loop your hand through his arm. He must look startled, because you immediately retract and apologize. No, no, that’s not what he meant! He was just surprised that you felt the same. To comfort you, he casually slips an arm around your waist, settling on your hip to pull you closer.

It all goes quickly. Within a week, he finds himself at the courthouse, signing a marriage license with his free hand tucked into yours. Days later, he’s in the base admin office, adding you as his next of kin and beneficiary and adding you to his insurance policy. Over the weekend, he moves you into his off-base home. All standard to make the marriage look real, he tells you, no one will question it.

No one will question if your marriage is real because it is. No longer is this simply “doing Hesh a favor”. No, you’re his wife now. You’re his. His to hold, to kiss, to absolutely ruin, to love. And Keegan does love you. Everything about you. You’ll warm up to it pretty soon. While you’re still a little skittish about how real this has become overnight, hiding from his affection and trying to remind him this isn't real, he knows you’ll come around. Before long, he’ll be coming home to your bright smile, smothering him in kisses. You’ll be begging him for a baby when he fucks you stupid after not getting to touch you for weeks or months at a time to keep you company while he’s away. He can’t wait to come home to your big, round belly, swollen with his child, bouncing a chubby little baby on your hip while you prepare for another. You’ll be such a good wife and mother; you just have to come around to the idea.

pick your prompt here!💌

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 8 : (Caramel Apple) Jack Torrance

Welcome everyone to the final day of week 1 of Bubz's Fictober 2024 seasonal menu! Thank you all so so much for your support on this week and I hope you stay tuned for what's to come for this Fictober! Notes: Minors DNI, Canon typical anything to do with the character, movie or game. This is another one without a really fleshed out plot, just a bit of domestic stuff . For this fic you take the place of the tour guide.

Support Me: KO-FI

(This is my one of the favorite gifs like period so I used it anyway lol)

"Hello Mr. Torrance! Welcome to the Overlook hotel!"

This man had a certain aura surrounding him. You've experienced a lot of caretakers in your time but never one quite like this one. He smiled at you genuinely before speaking.

"Hello, It's great to be here, and a pleasure to meet you."

You smile at him before turning to lead him down the first hallway and can't shake the feeling of his eyes on you. As if he's drinking in your every move.

You lead him down a hallway into the kitchens.

"As you can see here Mr. Torrance these are our state-of- the-art kitchens, a few weeks ago they were freshly stocked with everything we will need for our next season that you are entirely welcome to help yourself to. There's something for every craving and plenty to last you entirely through your time with us."

"You really know your way around this place huh?"

"Oh! Yes of course!, I have given a tour of our premises to many caretakers over the years, it's basically muscle memory at this point."

"How long have you worked here?"

"A few years now, I started out as a receptionist but was able to work my way up to a management position."

"I like a person with a little fire under their ass."

A sensation runs up your spine at that, the professional facade you can feel slowly deteriorating but still try and keep it up.

"Oh well thank you, Mr. Torrance, it's nothing really just doing my job."

"Oh come on, there's "just doing my job" and there's going above and beyond, and you my dear, I can tell, go above and beyond."

"I appreciate that Mr. Torrance, now please, allow me to show you to the caretakers quarters"

After a bit of navigation the two of you arrive.

"Here we are, This is where you're permitted to stay Mr. Torrance. Though if you find any issue or really must relocate you are welcome to use any of the other rooms in our hotel."

"You ever stay here yourself?"

"Oh no not personally, I spend so much time here that when it's time for a vacation I'd much rather go elsewhere."

"Well that's a shame, I'll be all alone up here for months."

"I'm sure that'll help with your writers block Mr. Torrance."

"Oh I don't doubt that, but I'm sure it'll be nice to have some company on some nights."

"Mr. Torrance I don't know what your implying-"

"I'm not implying anything." He laughs "Simply...extending an invitation."

"To me? Mr. Torrance I'm flattered but I really don't-"

"Oh please, I saw how you were looking at me at the meeting, don't act coy now."

You're face turns hot with a blush.

"Mr. Torrance...I- That would be against policy and our professional code of ethics."

"No one would know. They'd all just think you left to go on vacation."

"Mr. Torrance if you excuse me I must be going."

As you walk off, Jack starts to laugh. You turn around and look at him as if he grew three heads.

"No sweetheart, I don't think you understand me."

You huff and turn back around and head toward the exit. When you get to the front door of the hotel it's locked. You thought it was weird since you were sure you left it unlocked on your way in.

"I told you sweetheart, I want you to stay with me for the season."

You whip around to see Jack, leaning against the reception desk with a sinister smirk painted across his face. A cold shiver ran up your spine as it hit you what he truly meant.

"C'mon sweetheart, we have all season to get to know each other."

[bipolarmango]

I returned to a corporate office after 1,5 years WFH (and 6+ years spent in small companies) and these two weeks have been a nightmare from a neurodivergent (ADHD/autism) pov. Let's recap:

Open office with no dividers or walls. You can hear everything. You can smell everything. You can see everything. People are speaking louder and louder to hear each other because so many other people are speaking. People are on calls. People are watching videos. People are eating at their desk. People are walking by your desk. It's just too much.

Open office with no dedicated seats. For someone who needs structure and habits and follows those certain ones to a tee to feel comfort, this is really anxiety-inducing. I want my own seat. I don't know how to underline this enough.

Clean desk policy. You're not allowed to leave anything on the desk, have anything on the walls of the office, or decorate the space in any way. For someone who feels safe with their own things, in their own place, that has become their own little nest, preferably in a little nook somewhere, this combined with open office and free seating is an absolute nightmare.

No headphones/headset allowed unless on a call. This is apparently to boost collaboration and make sure we don't look passive to clients etc. who might come to the office but it's absolutely ridiculous and a full-on nightmare for someone with really bad concentration issues AND to someone who's one primary ways of self-soothing (that can be done in public without looking weird) is listening to my "safe" music on a repeat. Not allowed.

Times when breaks can be taken are scheduled. I want to underline that I work in a management/senior position as an industry specialist. My work is not linework white collar office work. I can do it in the middle of the night if I feel like it. This is the company wanting to control people, nothing else. It's horrible because when I reach the point where I need a break, I just have to take it. But I can't. I need to keep pushing through until it's that time a'clock and I can go for my break and have the meltdown.

No remote work allowed. Remote work is a perk you earn when promoted to a senior manager. Us lower level people come to the office all day every day, no matter what.

Strict set working hours. You come to the office between 8am and 9am and leave between 5pm and 6pm. No exceptions. Except for senior managers and up. They do what they please.

I am not even joking when I say that there's been several days when I've been in the bathroom crying because of sensory overload has pushed me into a full-on anxiety attack and then I have had to aoldier through it and get back to work because it's been hours until my break or til the day has been over. I have already scratched the skin off my ankles and not a day goes by without being so overwhelmed that I just want to walk out and never come back.

It's sad and unfair that you have to spend a massive amount of your mental energy in dealing with things like this (plus dealing with other things, like attention deficit issues and social/communication issues). You're at work to deliver work results and somehow it's just one massive survival of the fittest course that never ends. How are you supposed to deliver results like neurotypicals?

The company of course prides themselves being inclusive and supporting neurodivergent people but this is the reality.

(Yes, fair question, why do I work here if it sucks? 1) I didn't know, the HR painted a different picture. 2) The reality is that at the moment, the market is very difficult and you gotta take what you get while you keep searching.)

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - eighty-four | meeting ONiiX

You were ready. You felt pretty ready. Yeah, you were ready.

Today was the day that ONiiX was coming in to meet with you and the rest of Crom3r, to talk about becoming trainees at Wonderland. You had prepared some stuff for Yujin, though you weren’t sure if you’d be able to give it to her and you obviously wouldn’t be teaching at all today.

You sat next to Maddox, your leg bouncing furiously as you went over your list of teaching songs over and over in your head: should you have taken some off? Would the amount scare her? She didn’t have to do them all at once. Maybe you should have made two lists, like an “easy” and “hard” or something. Maybe you should have broken it down more? Should you go back and revise the lesson plan again? Neither the list nor the lesson plan were in the folder you had, but you still worried.

You felt a hand on your knee and looked up. 

Maddox smiled. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Joke’s on you, there’s everything to be worried about.” You widened your eyes at him.

He laughed softly.

“Are you teaching their guitarist?”

“Oh no, I’m still taking lessons so there’s no point in teaching someone to be mediocre.”

You pressed your lips together and flattened your expression.

“You look like a Muppet.”

You shook your head with a laugh.

“Listen, you’re a crazy good bassist, you’ll be a perfect teacher.”

You side-eyed him. “Yeah… the CEO said you and Joong mentioned that.”

He smiled. 

The door opened, and Hongjoong peeked his head in. “We’re moving down to one of the conference rooms; they all have their parents with them.”

You and Maddox nodded and stood.

As you walked into the conference room, Hongjoong saw the folder of stuff in your hand.

“What’s that?”

“Uh… pre-class stuff? I don’t know if she’d want it now.” You shrugged.

He nodded and smiled.

The three of you walked into the conference room where the group who wanted to become ONiiX, their parents, and their lawyer were gathered around the table. You introduced yourselves and, in turn, they all introduced themselves: Bibi, the singer, who looked like any disaffected 90s goth kid from a slasher movie; Theo, the guitarist, who had a kind of college slacker look; Soul, the drummer, who looked like someone shook the pages of Fruits Magazine and he fell out; and Yujin, your maybe-bass-student, who looked like a quintessential 80s punk. Quite the grouping of fashion statements, and yet all of their parents looked like normal, average, middle class korean parents. You tried to suppress a smile at the contrast.

“I’m glad you took the company’s advice and brought a lawyer to our meeting today. Are you meeting with the CEO afterwards?” Hongjoong asked.

The lawyer answered yes.

Hongjoong explained, in great detail, the album release cycle, the minimum and maximum of promotion periods (depending on how much they were comfortable with promoting, how well an album was doing, etc), tour periods, and other work the group would have to do were they to sign with Wonderland.

“... Debut won’t happen until the last member has turned 20, as Wonderland is one of the few companies that prefers not to debut minors.”

“Why not? The boys would have more time to make money before they have to enlist.” One of the parents said.

“There’s always the opportunity for pre-debut content, so they can make some money while they’re still training, but as far as the grueling schedules from the album cycle and music show circuit, it’s better that they’re able to finish their childhood without having such pressure. There is no real data to look to for this policy, but given the amount of physical and mental health problems many idols tend to have - and that many of them debuted young - it makes more sense to us, the company, to wait until they’re adults.”

The parents turned to each other and to their kids and spoke in hushed voices. 

“The person we talked to on the phone said that lessons were on the table, if our kids wanted them?”

“Absolutely. Wonderland prides itself in having talented artists who are well taken care of, and lessons would be a part of that.”

Soul raised his hand. “Do we pay for the lessons?”

Hongjoong shook his head. “The company pays for them, they’re an investment in your future.”

“Are they part of the debt we start with when we’re debuted?” Bibi asked.

Hongjoong shook his head again. “Wonderland doesn’t debut people with debt. Your betterment is an investment in the company’s future, and you are not personally responsible for it.”

The teens straightened up in their seats and looked at each other. It seemed that, despite knowing enough about Wonderland to send in a demo, they didn’t know one of the company’s most popular facts: they were one of the companies whose idols weren’t on the hook for all the lessons the company made them take before debut.

“But we’re a band,” Yujin said, “Wonderland only has idol groups, are you sure you can even teach us to play better?”

Hongjoong looked at you for a moment and turned back to her. “Well… for Bibi, we have plenty of vocal teachers on staff already, it’s more of a matter of which ones can teach the techniques you want. For Theo and Soul, we’re in the process of signing permanent guitar and drums teachers. And Yujin, your bass teacher is right here.” He gestured to you.

You waved.

“You brought my teacher?” She asked incredulously.

He laughed. “T/n is our newest producer, though she started off auditioning as a studio bassist.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down.

“Do you not think she can teach you?” Maddox asked.

“She looks like she’s my age. And I don’t know how much a producer would know about bass.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, trying to discern how offended you felt. You couldn’t tell if you were annoyed or flattered that she thought you looked so young--

“Get your bass.”

You turned.

“Get your bass.” Hongjoong said again.

You questioned him silently and he nodded.

“Be right back,” you said, as you stood and left the room.

A few minutes later, you came back with your bass and a small amp, and plugged them in.

“What are you going to play?” Maddox asked.

“Come On My Selector by Squarepusher.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

You smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you going to play it with a track?” Hongjoong asked.

You remembered that the song - despite having almost no words - had a swear in it, and figured it would probably not endear the company to the parents if they heard it.

“Nah, just the bassline is fine.”

You started playing. It was a drum and bass song, so it was a little awkward without the drum part, but you improvised the percussion as best as you could. Soul’s face lit up in realization, and he started drumming on the table with his fingers in excited accompaniment. The bassline itself was short, but even so, it was filled with slaps and pops that were much faster than other songs normally had; quarter notes in a song that was already 190 BPM. You didn’t look up as you played, concentrating; you hadn’t played it in a while and were trying not to fuck up. You were a little surprised to hear Soul keeping up with you, changing the beat signature to match the changes in the song, and even doing sound effects with his mouth to mimic the electronic noises he couldn’t drum. If you had the brainspace to think, you would have laughed.

You came to the end third of the song, where the most interesting part of the bassline was and prayed that Soul didn’t swear. You paused for the drop the words were in. He didn’t. You thanked him internally for not saying it and played the two of you played the rest of the song in drum and bass peace until it ended and you let the last note ring in electronic fuzziness.

Bibi and Theo looked genuinely impressed and started clapping, Soul stood and whooped as he clapped and his dad pulled on the hem of his shirt to make him sit back down, Yujin looked somewhere between impressed and confused before clearing her throat and flattening her expression.

You hoped you hadn’t hurt her pride.

“Brainswap successful!” Soul laughed.

You pointed at him with a smile; he had seen the music video. You unplugged everything and sat them out of the way next to the wall. As you sat back in your seat, you saw Yujin looking at your bass out of the corner of her eye. You smiled at her, she noticed you looking and looked away.

“I guess you’re pretty good.”

Before you could respond, Maddox asked: “Good enough to teach you?” Holding his hands around your face like you were the prize on a gameshow. 

You swatted at his hands.

“Yeah.” Yujin said and stared at the table.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have shown off like that. She hated you.

The rest of the meeting was very much a meeting, and to your surprise, Yujin pushed for signing with Wonderland.

“Alright,” Hongjoong said. “Maddox will take you over to HR where you’ll get your emails and get put in the pay system and everything, and the next time we’ll see you, you’ll all be students.” He smiled.

The teens and their parents and lawyer all thanked him and talked amongst themselves as they left the room.

“Hey.”

You turned. It was Yujin.

She spoke without looking at you. “Um, so… that was pretty cool. The way you played.”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

“Can you really teach me to play like that?”

“I can try.”

She nodded.

“Here, I brought this for you.” You handed her the folder.

“What is it?”

“Just some stuff to assess what you already know so we can start at the level you’re comfortable at. Like a self-test.”

She nodded.

“Are you nervous?”

She looked up at you. “Ah-- yeah.”

You smiled. “Don’t be.”

She looked at you for a moment and nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll email the work email you’ll get and we’ll figure out when we’ll have lessons, okay?”

She nodded. “I don’t do after school shit, so,” she shrugged, “I can come in any day of the week.” 

You chuckled. “That makes it a lot easier.”

“Honey, we were about to leave without you.” Her mom said as she came back in.

“Oh-- sorry.” She turned to you and bowed. “Please take care of me, teacher.”

“You’re in good hands,” Hongjoong said as he walked over. “You should both catch up with the group.”

Yujin and her mom nodded and ran to catch up with everyone else.

“I have to go talk to IT about a soundboard I got that’s not working right.” Maddox said. “Meet you back at the studio?”

“Sure thing,” Hongjoong said. You nodded.

He left.

You went to collect your bass and amp.

“I’ll carry that,” Hongjoong said as he picked up the amp before you could.

“I can carry it back.”

He shook his head. “I’m the one who told you to get it, so it’s only fair.”

You laughed and shouldered your bass.

The two of you walked down the hall back to the studio.

“Are you still nervous?” He asked.

“About teaching?”

“Mhm.”

“Not really. Or, not as much as before.”

He nodded.

“When I saw her expression after I was done playing, I thought I scared her away.”

He laughed. “You almost pulled a Me by accident.”

“Ha, at least we can laugh about it now.”

The two of you fake-laughed at each other before real-laughing.

“I thought I fucked up so hard.”

“You picked a wild song to show off with.”

You laughed again. “I wanted to show her what she could possibly hope to play, you know? The way I felt about the bass when I first heard wild basslines.”

“Something to aspire to.”

“Yeah.”

“Hopefully she felt the same way.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

He nodded and opened the studio door for you. “Maybe she’s a little nervous.”

“Yeah, hopefully that’s just it and I didn’t make her hate me.” You walked through and sat your bass down, and took the amp from him and plugged it into the wall. 

“You know…”

You looked up from where you were crouched on the floor.

“That bassline gave me an idea, could you play it again?”

You laughed at him for a second and plugged your bass in.

“Well,” you said as you opened the door to find Yunho standing there with a delivery bag filled with several boxes of dumplings. “If it isn’t the man with the mandu?”

He held up the bag. “Mandu Man is here to save the day. Or-- night.”

You laughed and gestured for him to come in. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Wow,” he said, looking around at the many basses, guitars, mandolins, and other members of the guitar family you had on the floor and hanging from the walls. 

Each one painfully scrimped and saved for-- at least the ones from before you got your Wonderland job were. The couple new ones were much easier labors.

“You have a lot of instruments.”

“Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

“Umm… no, it probably would be weirder if you didn’t.” He chuckled and put the boxes of dumplings on the table.

“That’s a lot.”

“I got you a plethora of dumplings. And I’m hungry too, so…”

“You always did eat a lot.”

He smiled. “Mhm.”

You got the plates and utensils. 

“So how was work?” He asked.

“You really are domestic.”

He laughed. “I mean, I used to ask you how classes were all the time when we were younger.”

You laughed. “Then you’ve always been domestic.”

“Hey, my mom raised a good boy.”

You laughed again as you set everything on the table. “It was good. That kid I’m going to teach? Her band and their parents came in and Hongjoong went over what would be expected of them if they signed.”

“Oh, really? Did they end up signing?” He got to work opening the dumpling boxes so you could see what he got.

“Yep. They decided to sign right there and went to HR afterwards to get everything set up.”

“Wow, he must have really sold them on it.”

“Hardly,” you laughed. “He was honest about how much work it would be. But if they wanted to be musical artists, there was no better label to sign with. You know… in terms of treating their artists well.”

“Mhm.”

“Then I guess this is a celebratory dinner of dumplings.” “So many dumplings.” You laughed.

“That’s a lot to celebrate! There’ll be a new band in a bit, and you’ll have your first student even sooner-- she is your first student, right?”

“Yeah. Wow, that feels so weird to have a student.”

“Why?”

“I never even thought about it, you know? Not after… you know… being one.”

He looked at you, his face wrought with concern.

Unlike CEO Ji, Yunho knew exactly what you were talking about. The weekdays he’d call you and you’d rant over the phone. The weekends where the pressure your violin teacher put you under had accumulated so much that that you’d spend the first hour of seeing him crying on his shoulder or in his arms when you just wanted to hang out and play games or do something fun. He never made fun of you or judged you for a single second of it all, being your sole place of safety in a toxic and abusive childhood. Sometimes you couldn’t understand why he understood you so well; he had never been judged or tormented by the adults around him - everyone loved Jeong Yunho, that smiley, golden retriever-like boy who helped everyone and cheered everyone up, everyone except your mom, that is - and somehow he was stuck with you as a best friend; a kid who was treated like a malignant tumor of a human being by the adults who were supposed to be protecting and nurturing her, but who was really a wreck who was being slowly ground down under her mother’s boot almost since the day she was born. And yet, despite his never experiencing what you had to go through, he was so empathetic and compassionate towards you and stood by you through all of it. What an emotional charity case you were back then.

You laughed softly to yourself.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. You hadn’t realized that your internal thoughts were starting to manifest outside of your head like that.

“Nothing. You didn’t tell me which one was which.”

He gave you the rundown on which box had what dumplings; one being discerned only after he ate one. 

“Mmm!” He said, mouth full. “That’s samgyeopsal.” 

“Ooo!” You took two and put them on your plate. As you reached for the dips, you saw him smiling at you.

“...Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shook his head but before he could answer, you said:

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He chewed and swallowed. “Are you more excited now? To teach?”

You nodded slowly as you thought. “Yeah, I guess I am. Though um…”

He looked at you as he chewed a new dumpling.

“...She made me a little envious.”

“How?”

“I mean, I don’t know for sure, but like… she was playing an instrument she loved-- about to learn more about it, she made a band with her friends-- she had enough friends to make a band, she was about to sign that band with a label, her parents were supportive…” 

You took a dumpling and dipped it, turning it over to make sure it was covered before picking it back up. 

“I couldn’t help but feel this teeny tiny little gremlin in the back of my head like ‘she has everything you ever wanted at that age. You hate her.’ I only thought it for a second but I felt like such a bitch.” 

You popped the dumpling in your mouth and chewed.

Yunho nodded. “I can see feeling that way, but I don’t think it makes you a bitch.”

You nodded as you chewed.

“And you only thought it for a second, so as long as you don’t think it again and you don’t act on it, I think it was okay to have just a tiny bit of envy at… at…” he looked for the words.

You swallowed your food. “Seeing someone have the life I would have loved to have?”

He looked at you sadly for a moment and nodded.

You nodded too. “Ahh… I just felt like such an asshole for that one second though.”

He exhaled a laugh as he put some more dumplings on his plate.

“What?”

“It’s funny that feeling like that for one second makes you feel bad, when your mom didn’t feel bad at all for the many years she was trying to control your life. You two couldn’t be more different.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I guess. Instead of apples not falling far from trees, she made a mountain I could never hope to climb and I rolled right off.”

He laughed, almost choking on his food. 

“Are you okay?”

He nodded. He recovered, sipping his drink and looked at you for a few seconds.

“...What?”

He shook his head and put a dumpling on your plate. “I think… that you recognized that the feeling was envy and realized it was not okay to feel that way towards someone who is going to be your student means you’ve already dealt with it. I mean,” he gestured at the basses on the wall, “if she saw all this, don’t you think she’d turn completely green?”

You laughed loudly. “I guess you’re right. And there’s no point in getting mad at her when I’ve got what I wanted back then. Well,” you shrugged, “most of it.”

He looked back at you, confused. “What’s missing?”

“I really wanted to be in a band back then… but after being in a few since I moved here, maybe I like producing better.”

“Dreams can change over time.”

You nodded. “Yeah, they can.”

He put another dumpling on your plate and smiled.

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: Do you think t/n fucked up with her potential work children? And how about Yunho bringing her food? 👀

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@luvvvx • @iamthehotdemon • @hrts4hanniehae • @rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​

[cookinguptales]

Something I always think about a lot during disability/chronic illness/rare illness pride months is like... It is wild how often people will come up to me and want me to listen to some guilty secret they have re: disability and expect me to tell them it's okay.

Like... once I was waiting for my dad to bring the car up at the airport, and this guy approaches me and starts telling me why he'd never want to date a disabled woman. (I'm gay and completely uninterested in men, which made this whole interaction even more awkward.) And after talking about all the reasons why people like me would not make a good partner he turns those sad eyes on me like, "But that doesn't make me a bad person, does it? I'm not doing anything wrong. Like, you get it, don't you?"

You get it, don't you?

I hear that one a lot.

Like when the grad student teaching one of my classes at my university was chatting to me after class and told me that once she and her friends went to Disney World and pretended to be disabled to get onto the rides faster. I recognized the nervous laughter, the entreating look. The you get it, don't you?

I understand what these people are asking me for. They want absolution. They want this disabled person, maybe the first real disabled person they've ever talked to, to listen to their guilty secret and tell them they're okay. They're not a bad person. I don't mind. I don't judge them. I get it.

But frankly... I don't get it. These people often tell me that they've done things that make disabled people's lives actively worse. Disney has changed their policies re: disability because so many able-bodied people were abusing them. Companies and organizations walk back accommodation policies all the time because they're being abused. That grad student who pretended to be disabled actively made disabled people's lives harder.

And I don't really give a shit if one asshole dude doesn't want to date disabled women (probably better for those women, tbh) but I know how bad it feels to be ghosted on a dating app when you talk about accessibility, even when your profile is explicit about your disability. I know that I felt like I was not worth loving in spite of my disability for years because I knew that people like that guy would only see all the ways I'd slow them down.

Guys like that actively make us hate ourselves.

But like... it's wild how these people don't see how the only thing crueler than harboring these feelings and doing these things is making some random disabled person listen to their stories. My day was going great before some guy practically gave me a powerpoint about why I should never expect to have a relationship. I really enjoyed that class before I found out that my teacher had participated in the exact kind of ableist theft of accommodations that was currently making it difficult for me to get accommodations at that school.

They took this weight they were holding on their shoulders and then forced it onto mine -- and then expected me to comfort them. To tell them it was okay. To throw my fellow disabled folks under the bus.

And -- both of these times in particular, I was in situations where I was not really free to speak my mind. Alone with a big guy in a parking garage? Alone with the woman who would ultimately decide my grade for the class? The power differential there was huge. And whether they were consciously doing it or not, they were leveraging that power differential to try and force me to give them absolution.

I made noncommittal noises. Really, what else was I supposed to do? And even then, I could see the spark of disappointment and anger in their eyes. I was supposed to tell them it was okay that they'd hurt me and people like me. I was supposed to tell them they were still good.

But I didn't want to offer them absolution, and I was angry that they'd asked for it in the first place. I can't offer you forgiveness for something you know is wrong -- and that you've done nothing to fix. Moreover, I won't. You should feel bad that you hurt us. You should feel guilty. It's a shitty thing to do.

If you want to feel better about yourself, stop doing shitty things!

And I knew these people were still doing shitty things because dumping all this on me when I was just minding my own business was in and of itself a shitty thing. Trying to transfer their burden to me. Reminding me about the discrimination I have to face every day just so they could feel better. Expecting me to do emotional labor on command for strangers because it doesn't matter if I hurt so long as they feel good.

That's shitty! Don't do it! I already have to use physical crutches, don't try to turn me into an emotional one!

[mariacallous]

Thousands of Airbnbs and short-term rentals are about to be wiped off the map in New York City.

Local Law 18, which came into force Tuesday, is so strict it doesn’t just limit how Airbnb operates in the city—it almost bans it entirely for many guests and hosts. From now on, all short-term rental hosts in New York must register with the city, and only those who live in the place they’re renting—and are present when someone is staying—can qualify. And people can only have two guests.

Gone are the days of sleek downtown apartments outfitted for bachelorette parties, cozy two- and three-bedroom apartments near museums for families, and even the option for people to rent out their apartment on weekends when they’re away. While Airbnb, Vrbo, and others can continue to operate in New York, the new rules are so tight that Airbnb sees it as a “de facto ban” on its business.

Short-term rentals can bring noise, trash, and danger, and they can price local residents out of their own neighborhoods. Some landlords in New York are prolific and have hundreds of Airbnb listings. But other New Yorkers who have listings on Airbnb are trying to make ends meet, either leasing their place while they’re out of town or renting half of a duplex to help cover their mortgage costs.

Airbnb is also popular with some of the 66 million visitors a year looking for accommodations that are cheaper and sometimes larger than hotels. In 2022 alone, short-term rental listings made $85 million in New York. The city might be a relatively small slice of Airbnb’s global market, but the new rules show how local governments can effectively stamp out short-term rentals overnight and lessen their impact on dense residential areas. And New York is just one of many cities around the world trying to calm the short-term rental gold-rush.

And everyone is taking a different approach. Dallas has limited short-term rentals to specific neighborhoods to avoid disruptive and dangerous parties. Elsewhere, the Canadian province of Quebec and Memphis, Tennessee, among others, now require licenses for short-term rentals. In San Francisco, the amount of time someone can list their entire residence for rent on Airbnb is limited to 90 days each year; Amsterdam puts that limit at 30 nights per year, Paris at 120 days. Berlin previously banned nearly all Airbnbs but walked the decision back in 2018.

Airbnb’s attempts to fight back against the new law have, to date, been unsuccessful. The company sued New York City in June, but a judge dismissed the case in August, ruling that the restrictions were “entirely rational.” Airbnb did not comment on whether it would appeal the decision. Hosts are also fighting for the right to list their apartments as short-term stays by meeting with city officials to try to change the law.

The rules “are a blow to its tourism economy and the thousands of New Yorkers and small businesses in the outer boroughs who rely on home sharing and tourism dollars to help make ends meet,” says Theo Yedinsky, global policy director for Airbnb. “The city is sending a clear message to millions of potential visitors who will now have fewer accommodation options when they visit New York City: You are not welcome.” Yedinsky says Airbnb has a goal of working with the city on “sensible” home-sharing rules, but he did not elaborate on the company’s next steps.

The change will make short-term rentals “a lot less attractive” for many people coming to New York, says Sean Hennessey, a professor at the New York University Jonathan M. Tisch Center of Hospitality. And in a city where hotel rooms are small and expensive, it could “make the city a little less accessible.”

There are currently more than 40,000 Airbnbs in New York, according to Inside Airbnb, which tracks listings on the platform. As of June, 22,434 of those were short-term rentals, defined as places that can be booked for fewer than 30 days. Many Airbnbs are concentrated around downtown Manhattan, along the Upper East Side, and in Williamsburg and Park Slope in Brooklyn. While the number of rentals may be small compared to New York City’s population of 8 million people, Murray Cox, founder of Inside Airbnb, says some desirable neighborhoods are overly burdened by short-term rentals, which can result in housing shortages and higher rents. The new law, in theory, could open these homes to local residents. New York City is facing a housing shortage that has increased rents and rates of homelessness.

The implementation of the law shows “very clearly you can cut down on short-term rentals,” says Cox, who was part of the Coalition Against Illegal Hotels, a group that advocated for the registration law. “You can make these platforms accountable.”

There’s an older law on the books that prevents short-term rentals of entire apartments for less than 30 days in New York, but it’s been difficult to enforce without the registration mandate that takes effect Tuesday in place. Compounding the sudden shortage of Airbnbs in New York is another piece of the new law that allows landlords to ban entire buildings from short-term rental platforms. As of July, nearly 9,000 buildings across New York City were on the list. New York’s laws on short-term rentals exempt certain entire apartments on rental platforms that are zoned as hotels and boarding houses, meaning there will still be some entire units advertised on rental platforms.

Some small-time hosts feel the law unfairly loops them in with professional landlords. Margenett Moore-Roberts rents out a two-bedroom apartment in her Brooklyn brownstone; she lives in the home’s other unit with her husband and teen daughter. She says she doesn’t want to rent the apartment to a full-time tenant and lose the flexibility to host family and friends there, or, as she did during the pandemic, use it as a home office. But because her family doesn’t occupy the second two-bedroom unit, it can no longer be listed on Airbnb for stays of less than 30 days.

Restore Homeowner Autonomy and Rights, a group of homeowners in New York, is advocating for amendments to the regulations that would allow owner-occupied one- and two-family homes to register their units with the city and do away with capacity limits. They believe people like Moore-Roberts should be able to rent out units, and that they don’t fall into the same category as bigger landlords.

Moore-Roberts says she isn’t against the rule change entirely, but she wants to see the law reworked with more nuance to protect renters with just one property, like herself. “They’ve used a very blunt object when they should have used a scalpel,” Moore-Roberts says. She is currently out of work, and she says a drop in income from the short-term rental compounds that financial stress. “Putting us all in that same bucket of players is really unfair and not helpful.”

Airbnb says it is canceling and refunding reservations in unregistered accommodations from December 2 onwards, but those up until December 1 can remain in effect to lessen the impact on hosts and guests. Guests won’t be penalized if they book and stay in an unregistered rental, but hosts and the platforms they advertise on could be as of September 5.

Airbnb also says unregistered stays were blocked from future bookings past September 5 as of August 14, but a search showed dozens of entire apartments for more than two people still available to book beyond September 5. These listings should not pass New York’s registration requirements for short-term rentals. Airbnb did not comment on why these are still on the platform. Vrbo declined to comment for this story. Booking.com did not return a request for comment.

There are 3,250 short-term rental hosts who had submitted applications for registration by August 28, according to Christian Klossner, executive director of Office of Special Enforcement in New York City. More than 800 applications had been reviewed, and the office had granted 257 registrations, returned 479 to seek additional information or corrections, and denied 72. As of Tuesday, the office will focus on working with booking platforms to make sure they are using the verification system for registrations and that they are not processing unverified transactions, Klossner says.

A growing number of cities might be trying to clamp down on Airbnb rentals, but the company continues to grow. It made $2.5 billion in the second quarter of 2023, up 18 percent year-on-year, with the number of nights and experiences booked on the platform growing by 11 percent in the same period.

[transarsonist]

the future of union activity is not in heirarchal or strict organizational methods, although those are Equally important to what i am going to suggest: the future of union activity is Wildcat Strikes and Widespread Social Consiousness employers can suprress wage transparency as long as its not common knowledge that wage transparency is a legal right in the USA, your co-worker may not choose to disclose their wages to you but you May disclose your wages and budget if you so feel and no company policy may preclude that, punish that, or discourage that. employers can fire people for being sick as long as you are unwilling to fight for your fellow employee. when your boss says "we had to let cheryll go, she was sick too many times this last month" you and all of your co-workers need to say "fine then boss, we're fired with her, good luck with that" and Walk Out and make him BEG you to come back. take anything that you legally can, destroy anything you legally can get away with. ruin that business. [in any event where aforementioned coworker has a viable case for discrimination, dont do this, extract pension check when company goes under] or if you're a customer: this is your express consent to have a Class A Karen Moment at the fast food restaraunt. if an employee is visibly sick or showing visible signs of sickness you need to throw a hissy fit about "they're probably only here because youll fire them if they're not and so im gonna call OSHA and the Health Department RIGHT NOW" and start fucking calling basically exactly how we got minimum wage raised: just dont tolerate less than you deserve. if a company makes you come in sick, you should text your friends about it and have them come in and throw fits

if a company does wrong, dont wait for structure, begin punishment immediately.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Wall Street Journal goes to bat for the vultures who want to steal your house

Tonight (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Tomorrow (June 6), I’m on a Rightscon panel about interoperability.

The tacit social contract between the Wall Street Journal and its readers is this: the editorial page is for ideology, and the news section is for reality. Money talks and bullshit walks — and reality’s well-known anticapitalist bias means that hewing too closely to ideology will make you broke, and thus unable to push your ideology.

That’s why the editorial page will rail against “printing money” while the news section will confine itself to asking which kinds of federal spending competes with the private sector (creating a bidding war that drives up prices) and which kinds are not. If you want frothing takes about how covid relief checks will create “debt for our grandchildren,” seek it on the editorial page. For sober recognition that giving small amounts of money to working people will simply go to reducing consumer and student debt, look to the news.

But WSJ reporters haven’t had their corpus colossi severed: the brain-lobe that understands economic reality crosstalks with the lobe that worship the idea of a class hierarchy with capital on top and workers tugging their forelacks. When that happens, the coverage gets weird.

Take this weekend’s massive feature on “zombie mortgages,” long-written-off second mortgages that have been bought by pennies for vultures who are now trying to call them in:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/zombie-mortgages-could-force-some-homeowners-into-foreclosure-e615ab2a

These second mortgages — often in the form of home equity lines of credit (HELOCs) — date back to the subprime bubble of the early 2000s. As housing prices spiked to obscene levels and banks figured out how to issue risky mortgages and sell them off to suckers, everyday people were encouraged — and often tricked — into borrowing heavily against their houses, on complicated terms that could see their payments skyrocket down the road.

Once the bubble popped in 2008, the value of these houses crashed, and the mortgages fell “underwater” — meaning that market value of the homes was less than the amount outstanding on the mortgage. This triggered the foreclosure crisis, where banks that had received billions in public money forced their borrowers out of their homes. This was official policy: Obama’s Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner boasted that forcing Americans out of their homes would “foam the runways” for the banks and give them a soft landing;

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

With so many homes underwater on their first mortgages, the holders of those second mortgages wrote them off. They had bought high-risk, high reward debt, the kind whose claims come after the other creditors have been paid off. As prices collapsed, it became clear that there wouldn’t be anything left over after those higher-priority loans were paid off.

The lenders (or the bag-holders the lenders sold the loans to) gave up. They stopped sending borrowers notices, stopped trying to collect. That’s the way markets work, after all — win some, lose some.

But then something funny happened: private equity firms, flush with cash from an increasingly wealthy caste of one percenters, went on a buying spree, snapping up every home they could lay hands on, becoming America’s foremost slumlords, presiding over an inventory of badly maintained homes whose tenants are drowned in junk fees before being evicted:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

This drove a new real estate bubble, as PE companies engaged in bidding wars, confident that they could recoup high one-time payments by charging working people half their incomes in rent on homes they rented by the room. The “recovery” of real estate property brought those second mortgages back from the dead, creating the “zombie mortgages” the WSJ writes about.

These zombie mortgages were then sold at pennies on the dollar to vulture capitalists — finance firms who make a bet that they can convince the debtors to cough up on these old debts. This “distressed debt investing” is a scam that will be familiar to anyone who spends any time watching “finance influencers” — like forex trading and real estate flipping, it’s a favorite get-rich-quick scheme peddled to desperate people seeking “passive income.”

Like all get-rich-quick schemes, distressed debt investing is too good to be true. These ancient debts are generally past the statute of limitations and have been zeroed out by law. Even “good” debts generally lack any kind of paper-trail, having been traded from one aspiring arm-breaker to another so many times that the receipts are long gone.

Ultimately, distressed debt “investing” is a form of fraud, in which the “investor” has to master a social engineering patter in which they convince the putative debtor to pay debts they don’t actually owe, either by shading the truth or lying outright, generally salted with threats of civil and criminal penalties for a failure to pay.

That certainly goes for zombie mortgages. Writing about the WSJ’s coverage on Naked Capitalism, Yves Smith reminds readers not to “pay these extortionists a dime” without consulting a lawyer or a nonprofit debt counsellor, because any payment “vitiates” (revives) an otherwise dead loan:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/06/wall-street-journal-aids-vulture-investors-threatening-second-mortgage-borrowers-with-foreclosure-on-nearly-always-legally-unenforceable-debt.html

But the WSJ’s 35-paragraph story somehow finds little room to advise readers on how to handle these shakedowns. Instead, it lionizes the arm-breakers who are chasing these debts as “investors…[who] make mortgage lending work.” The Journal even repeats — without commentary — the that these so-called investors’ “goal is to positively impact homeowners’ lives by helping them resolve past debt.”

This is where the Journal’s ideology bleeds off the editorial page into the news section. There is no credible theory that says that mortgage markets are improved by safeguarding the rights of vulture capitalists who buy old, forgotten second mortgages off reckless lenders who wrote them off a decade ago.

Doubtless there’s some version of the Hayek Mind-Virus that says that upholding the claims of lenders — even after those claims have been forgotten, revived and sold off — will give “capital allocators” the “confidence” they need to make loans in the future, which will improve the ability of everyday people to afford to buy houses, incentivizing developers to build houses, etc, etc.

But this is an ideological fairy-tale. As Michael Hudson describes in his brilliant histories of jubilee — debt cancellation — through history, societies that unfailingly prioritize the claims of lenders over borrowers eventually collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

Foundationally, debts are amassed by producers who need to borrow capital to make the things that we all need. A farmer needs to borrow for seed and equipment and labor in order to sow and reap the harvest. If the harvest comes in, the farmer pays their debts. But not every harvest comes in — blight, storms, war or sickness — will eventually cause a failure and a default.

In those bad years, farmers don’t pay their debts, and then they add to them, borrowing for the next year. Even if that year’s harvest is good, some debt remains. Gradually, over time, farmers catch enough bad beats that they end up hopelessly mired in debt — debt that is passed on to their kids, just as the right to collect the debts are passed on to the lenders’ kids.

Left on its own, this splits society into hereditary creditors who get to dictate the conduct of hereditary debtors. Run things this way long enough and every farmer finds themselves obliged to grow ornamental flowers and dainties for their creditors’ dinner tables, while everyone else goes hungry — and society collapses.

The answer is jubilee: periodically zeroing out creditors’ claims by wiping all debts away. Jubilees were declared when a new king took the throne, or at set intervals, or whenever things got too lopsided. The point of capital allocation is efficiency and thus shared prosperity, not enriching capital allocators. That enrichment is merely an incentive, not the goal.

For generations, American policy has been to make housing asset appreciation the primary means by which families amass and pass on wealth; this is in contrast to, say, labor rights, which produce wealth by rewarding work with more pay and benefits. The American vision is that workers don’t need rights as workers, they need rights as owners — of homes, which will always increase in value.

There’s an obvious flaw in this logic: houses are necessities, as well as assets. You need a place to live in order to raise a family, do a job, found a business, get an education, recover from sickness or live out your retirement. Making houses monotonically more expensive benefits the people who get in early, but everyone else ends up crushed when their human necessity is treated as an asset:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Worse: without a strong labor sector to provide countervailing force for capital, US politics has become increasingly friendly to rent-seekers of all kinds, who have increased the cost of health-care, education, and long-term care to eye-watering heights, forcing workers to remortgage, or sell off, the homes that were meant to be the source of their family’s long-term prosperity:

https://doctorow.medium.com/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom-bfad6f3b35a9

Today, reality’s leftist bias is getting harder and harder to ignore. The idea that people who buy debt at pennies on the dollar should be cheered on as they drain the bank-accounts — or seize the homes — of people who do productive work is pure ideology, the kind of thing you’d expect to see on the WSJ’s editorial page, but which sticks out like a sore thumb in the news pages.

Thankfully, the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau is on the case. Director Rohit Chopra has warned the arm-breakers chasing payments on zombie mortgages that it’s illegal for them to “threaten judicial actions, such as foreclosures, for debts that are past a state’s statute of limitations.”

But there’s still plenty of room for more action. As Smith notes, the 2012 National Mortgage Settlement — a “get out of jail for almost free” card for the big banks — enticed lots of banks to discharge those second mortgages. Per Smith: “if any servicer sold a second mortgage to a vulture lender that it had charged off and used for credit in the National Mortgage Settlement, it defrauded the Feds and applicable state.”

Maybe some hungry state attorney general could go after the banks pulling these fast ones and hit them for millions in fines — and then use the money to build public housing.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in London and Berlin!

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/2023/06/04/vulture-capitalism/#distressed-assets

[Image ID: A Georgian eviction scene in which a bobby oversees three thugs who are using a battering ram to knock down a rural cottage wall. The image has been crudely colorized. A vulture looks on from the right, wearing a top-hat. The battering ram bears the WSJ logo.]

[porterdavis]

All in the family

I finally broached the subject of Fox News and the Big Lie with my Trumper sister. As I suspected, being a Fox-only viewer, she had never even heard of the Dominion lawsuit and exposure of Fox and its 'talent' as bald-faced liars. Here's what I wrote her in response:

I know it must be hard to realize there is a TV network that to all outward appearances is a normal news outlet but is in actuality a sophisticated propaganda operation. Trump, as Joseph Goebbels before him, knew that if you repeat a lie enough times people will believe it because...well...they've heard it so many times it just must be true. Fox follows the same strategy.

Trump's inauguration had the biggest crowd ever. Remember that? The lying started on the first day. Crime is rising and out of control. Cities are too dangerous to go out at night. Lies. NYC is safer than Tallahassee and Atlanta. You'd never know that watching Fox News. Convoys of criminals are swamping the border. False. In any event, the US needs immigration. Who will clean the pools and pick the strawberries?  Yes, current laws are a mess, but that's because the GOP torpedoes every attempt to fix them. Why solve a problem that provides such a juicy cudgel to beat your opponent with?

The US is a broken system right now and I'm not sure it can be fixed. One side is trying to conduct business as usual, even if they are flawed humans and make mistakes. Bridges and roads are finally getting repaired. LGBTQ+ problems are being addressed instead of condemned. Do I agree with every policy the Dems have? Christ I don't even understand some of them. I have to stop and do a mental walk-through to get it straight in my head what a trans woman is. But the other side is destruction and division. Marginalize the poor. Restrict women's right to control her own body. Banning books? The people in history who have done that never come out as the good guys. 

Turn away the refugee, despite what their Good Book says. Look the other way when thousands of innocent children are mowed down into grotesque chunks of meat by weapons of war in the hands of other children. It's not 'mental health', it's not 'too soon' to talk about it. It's too many guns of a kind that should never be in civilian's hands. 

I have to include one chart, but it pretty much explains why the country you and I grew up in is no longer. The ability to raise a family, buy a house, send your kids to college, and take a vacation every year on one income is long gone. Why? Here's your answer:

Yes, the chart ends in 2010 but the damage had already been done. What it shows is that the profit made by producing goods and services was diverted away from the people producing them and taken instead by the 'rentier' class -- the owners. How? Well, Reagan broke the unions in his first months in office. (Air traffic controllers strike). The SEC bowed to pressure and for the first time allowed stock buy-backs, meaning companies could direct profits straight to the owners, bypassing the workers. The new oligarchs discovered they could buy the lawmakers and the courts and cut taxes drastically. The gap between the two lines in the chart represents trillions of dollars that were diverted from the workers to the owners. They should have just stuck to share-and-share alike and not gotten so greedy.

I could go on for a long time. There has been so much damage done...

As Jon Stewart said -- I guess I'm woke. I just thought I was good in history.

She basically replied "both sides are dirty" and told me to fuck off.

Oh well.