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drghostwrite · 1 year ago

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Two hearts collide

pairing: pregnant!JJ jareau x fem!reader

Summary: alternate reality where will leaves jn after a bad case and she’s pregnant. After working with reader for awhile she’s become a support system that Jj finds herself falling for, one late night during a case feelings collide resulting in a long night.

TW: mentions of abandonment, pregnancy, smut.

******************************************************** You all walked into the hotel dragging bags behind you ready to crash, 16 long hours ago you landed in some podunk town in Texas to catch a killer and so far no leads. You looked at the team as they all sat in the lobby, you and Emily walked to the front desk to check in.

“Hi I’m SSA Y/N Avery and this is SSA Emily Prentiss I believe we have a reservation.” You said to the older lady at the front desk, she started flipping through the book and typed something into the computer.

“Ahh yes I see it here though it looks like someone is going to need to share a bed we have room 1 & 2 all upstairs. 1 & 2 each have two full beds and a pull out bed, and one room down here with a king sized bed.”

You quickly counted everyone in your head: You, JJ, Emily, Alex, Reid, Derek, Rossi, Penelope. This was going to be interesting, “is that all you have?”

“Yes unfortunately that’s all we have, you booked every room in this here inn.”

“Oh okay it’s no problem, we’re all adults.” You three laughed as she handed you the keys. You walked over to the team sitting in the lobby everyone ready to just detox from the day.

“Okay so good and bad news,” you chuckled and everyone looked at you, “We have three rooms two of which fit three people who get separate beds, and one room only fits two that’ll have to share a bed, I know no one really wants to do that so I’ll step up and be the first.”

“Good because I’m not sharing a bed with Reid.” Derek laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “Before anyone else protests I was going to put the three guys in one room and three girls in the other.”

“Hey Y/N I’ll stay with you.” JJ stood and moved towards you.

“Jayge are you sure, you’re pregnant and you don’t want your own bed?” Penelope asked concerned.

“No it’s all good and besides I’m pretty sure Y/N isn’t a bed hog.”

“Sure about that?” Poked Derek.

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know hot stuff.” You all laughed as you punched his arm. You all collectively made you way to your rooms and as you walked down the hall you opened the door and let JJ in first, she walked in and set her stuff closest to the bathroom but you didn’t mind.

“Hey Y/N, you wanna grab a shower first? I might be awhile.”

“Nah you’re good I’m gonna get one in the morning but I’ll be up for a little while so don’t think you’re disturbing me.”

“Oh okay.” She grabbed her shower bag retreating to the bathroom, you changed quickly into an old volleyball t-shirt and shorts and sat there on the bed, you pulled your hair up and switched from contacts to glasses as you read the case file you brought.

——— POV jump———

JJ retreated into the bathroom and immediately turned on the hot water, she quickly undressed and jumped in letting the water soothe her sore muscles she needed to kill off these damn hormones.

“God Jayge you’re an idiot,” she said to herself, “horny as all get out and you pick the one person that can make you twitch in your seat wherever she walks into the room.” She stood there letting the water run over her mentally hitting herself, for months she’d been attracted to you almost a two years. After a year and a half of containing the feelings she finally blew up, every time she was with Will it was you she saw and then she got pregnant and knew she was stuck but then Will couldn’t take it and cheated, leaving her alone and pregnant. But then in stepped you helping her with Henry and never once complaining, you basically let them live at your house doing morning carpools and dinners after work, but she never told you how she felt.

She snapped back to reality as the water began to run colder, she ran gentle hands over her 6 month bump, and stepped out wrapping a towel around her body, she leaned forward wiping a circle through the fog in the mirror. “What’re you doing… you need to just tell her how you feel.” She looked back down into the sink brushing her teeth, she quickly realized that she hadn’t grabbed her clothes, in her hurry to the bathroom she left them out there, with you. She slipped out the door not expecting you to actually be up but then she paused at the sight before her, your beautiful brunette hair pulled messily but somehow neatly on top your head, glasses that pulled out the green in your eyes that she loved, an old t-shirt that hugged your arms just right, and tight volleyball shorts that accentuated your butt and the muscles in your legs perfectly, God she thought you were gorgeous, she quickly crossed her legs realizing how turned on she was and tried to proceed back.

“Oh,” you chuckled nervously, “everything okay? just forgot your clothes?”

“something like that.” She decided she was going to be a tease and play her cards at hand, “any chance you brought an extra shirt or something? I forgot a top.”

“Oh uh yea I think I got something.” You tossed her another old oversized shirt, it read Harvard volleyball and had Avery printed on the back.

“Sometimes I forget that you went to Harvard and played at the same time.” She slid into the bed beside you, propping herself up and crossing her legs. You laughed rubbing the back of your neck, “Yea it was definitely a different time then.”

“Oh god Y/N I’m sorry I forgot.”

“No no it’s okay, I got through it.”

“I’m sure your parents would be so happy to see how far you’ve come.” She leaned her head on your shoulder, you lost both parents during your senior year but finished in their honor anyway, you fought hard to build the career you always wanted and knew they’d be proud. You reassuringly rested your hand on her thigh, letting her know you weren't upset. “Can I ask you something super random?”

“Anything Jayge, what’s up?”

“You ever been with a woman?” She was hesitant and you could feel her muscles tense as if she was waiting to exhale. You laughed at first but then looked over and realized she was serious, she tried reading your expression. You cleared your throat, “Once, I had a girlfriend right after I graduated she was from the Boston area but we broke things off, I think she’s in medicine still though.”

“You ever think you’d do it again?”

“Be with a woman, I’m not sure, I haven’t really thought about getting in another relationship, with the unit chief position, and you guys I can't really see it right now.” You looked over at her and realized she looked disappointed, “Wait JJ?” She looked up at you a tear rolling down her cheek, you swiped it away and before you knew it she was crashing her lips into yours. She swung her legs over yours straddling your lap and running her fingers through your hair, you grabbed her hips stabilizing her, while her bump pushed against your core.

“wait.. wait… Jayge technically I’m your boss.”

“God please, Y/N please, I haven’t been touched since Will left me and I’ve been in love with you for two years, two very long years. I’ve spent nights with him thinking about you I can’t get you out of my head.”

“But the baby.”

“Please, Will is gone all I have is Henry and now you and Y/N I can't lose you too.” She whispered in one last attempt placing her forehead on yours and draping her arms over your shoulders as she straddled your lap, silently begging you, willing you to touch her to love her.

“I can’t say no to you, I fell in love with something I couldn’t have when all this time it was sitting in my lap, now literally in my lap. JJ, I can't say no to the woman I fell in love with.” She kissed you again this time sliding her hands under the hem of your shirt. She pulled it over your head revealing the black lounge bra underneath, she started riding your thigh and you quickly realized she wasn’t wearing underwear, pulling your shirt over her head you guided her hips against you.

“Y/N I need you.” You gently laid her back kneeling over her, running your hand down her back trailing kisses down her neck, you grabbed pillows sliding them under her supporting her, you ran your hands over her bump kissing down her neck again, you bent your head down pulling a nipple into your mouth and sucking, she let out a moan.

“naked… I want you naked.”

“whatever you want.” You said quickly jumping off the bed and stripping off your bra, shorts, and underwear. You slid back on the bed and watched as she parted her legs revealing how wet she was, you kissed her lips and went right back to her breast playing with her nipples, you then moved down her body stopping and running your tongue along her bump, this act alone made the knot in her stomach wind tighter, she drug her well-manicured nails over your back and shoulders, leaving marks that you would find in the morning. You kissed down her bump, running your hands up and down her thighs teasing her, you placed delicate kisses from her knee down to her hip skipping where she needed you most.

She let out a frustrated whimper and you pulled a long lick through her wet folds, “You’re so wet for me baby.” She let out another whine that quickly turned into a moan as you slid in two fingers, you started pumping and curled your fingers hitting the soft spot making her melt in your arms, as she was getting close to climax you pulled out. This time though you ran your tongue through, placing delicate kisses on her clit and then sucking it lightly, she was bucking her hips against you trying to get any friction possible, you pushed two fingers back in pumping faster and curling them up, you sucked harshly on her clit hearing her moan, made you moan, the vibrations sending her over the edge, the arm wrapped around her hip holding her down.

You crawled back up placing a kiss on her lips and smiling against her, “you taste amazing.”

She was breathing heavily but it didn’t stop her from flipping you in your back, her demeanor changed from needy to I’ll show you, real quick. Before you could respond, she pushed two fingers in and pulled a nipple into her mouth, you let out a moan and she smirked against you, making quick work of your body moving down and sucking your clit, coaxing you through an orgasm.

“Too bad we didn’t bring any toys,” she smirked her pupils blown with lust.

You smirked back at her as she knelt over you. "Oh I'm sure we can make do, besides I already have experience in all the right areas." she smiled at you kissing you again.

You weren’t sure what your were gonna tell everyone in the morning but right now your only concern was this gorgeous woman in front of you.

#x yn #pregnancy #jj jareau x reader #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #x reader smut #pregnantsmut

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rissarants · 1 year ago

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Farewell, My Favorite Fever Dream

Note: If you're only interested in my final show's recap, scroll down a bit. Obviously, spoiler warning. My Previous History with Sleep No More Before this past Saturday afternoon, it had been about a decade since I last checked into The McKittrick Hotel. What I thought would be my final visit was in October of 2013, my best friend and I attended another Sleep No More show that was promptly followed by Panic! At The Disco's album release party. It was an incredible evening, despite the "give me a vodka cranberry, this time with vodka" incident that resulted in a bartender gleefully sending me into a drunken spiral. It was my fourth show and I assumed it would be my last. After all, how many times could a person justify seeing the same show? (After perusing the Sleep No More subreddit and discord... apparently a lot. How the hell are you all affording this?!)

Content with my experiences and convinced I had seen all there was to see, I put that obsession behind me.... or so I thought.

The mysterious and cryptic world of Sleep No More lingered in the back of my head like a haunting melody that refused to fade. Occasionally I would reminisce about the blue-tinged forest maze, the smell of the hotel lobby, and recall my 1:1 with Hecate. I relished retelling my experiences to people who had never been to the show. During the peak of my obsession, I had recapped a couple of my visits here on Tumblr (Sleep No More and The Third Time's The Charm) and I would return long after this blog had grown dormant just to reread those posts. I had toyed with the idea of returning, but as I grew older and life became more expensive, so did the show. I couldn't justify dropping that amount of money on something I had seen four times already. Then came the closing announcement. Suddenly I found myself pulling up the site, going over current ticket prices, and wishing I could take that leap. But I was no longer the financially irresponsible 20-something without real responsibility. I'm in my thirties, a mother, and have things like preschool tuition to worry about.

After a casual conversation with my in-laws over Thanksgiving dinner, the topic of Sleep No More was brought up. Immediately I was gushing about how much I adored the show, my past experiences, and how I had never reached that elusive 6th floor. As a result, they ended up buying me two tickets as my gift for Christmas. They had sprung for the Oz's Guest tickets, so we were able to get priority entry, a table, and a complimentary coat check. It was an incredibly generous gift, and I was nearly moved to tears. I was finally going back. My Final Show Recap After an excruciating month of waiting and obsessing, the day had finally arrived. I was going with my husband who had never attended but heard my stories and was looking forward to seeing it for himself. I wanted him to go in mostly blind and only gave him the most basic of tips (e.g. if an actor offers their hand, take it. If you hear techno music, run towards it.) He understood that we would not be going on this adventure together, I refused to be one of those obnoxious couples who held hands the entire time. Half of the fun is going with someone, separating from them once you enter the hotel, and then talking about what you both experienced afterward. For myself, I had done a bit of research before this final show and was hoping to follow the loops of characters I hadn't paid attention to before. While I had this initial plan, I also promised myself that I would go with the natural flow of things. I had been warned about the aggressive crowds and didn't want to let anything like that spoil my final visit. We arrived early, were checked in swiftly, and given a pair of playing cards (aces, which meant we would be in the first group.) Before I knew it, "The Man Who Knew Too Much Prelude" was filling my ears as we navigated the pitch-black maze that acts like a portal to the Manderley bar. We had a table waiting for us, but since we had aces there was not enough time for a drink. Our group was called, and Steve and I were separated almost immediately. I ended up on the elevator and he was in another group that went up some stairs.

I was the first person off of the elevator and the doors shut quickly behind me. For a split second, I thought I may have been dumped out on the 6th floor, but unfortunately, it was the 5th floor. I spotted the familiar bathtubs and beds of the King James Sanitorium and began to wander. I weaved through the Birch Forest maze, which was every bit as eerie and confusing as I remembered. I saw Matron Lang hanging out in her wooden hut and watched her through the window for what felt like a long time. Eventually, I grew a bit bored and wandered down to Macbeth's bedroom.

I watched the scene where Lady Macbeth eventually convinces her husband to murder Duncan. It was at this point that I considered trying to follow Macbeth throughout the first loop and chased him to the canopy where a sleeping Duncan lay. I watched as Macbeth smothered him with a pillow, a long brutal scene where we had to stand there helplessly as Duncan fought back angrily, eventually weakening and giving up with a final twitch. Macbeth tried to wash his hands in a basin, only to realize that they were now covered in blood. I still can't believe that I somehow missed this pivotal moment in my previous shows. At this point, a sizeable crowd had gathered around the (quite handsome) actor who played Macbeth and I noticed a few aggressive women were shoving their way to the front. It was then that I decided to hang back with Duncan's dead body to see what would happen next. I believe it was Banquo who came in, found the body, and began ringing the bell. Malcolm and Macduff arrived, and they all expressed their grief, eventually bringing the body down to the crypt. Again, a pushy crowd had begun to gather and I craved space. I went up a flight or two and heard the unmistakable techno beats of the witches' second prophecy/rave/blood orgy thing. I immediately changed course and followed the beats to the long, dark, hallway topped with a neon sign that once read "Hello There" but now simply stated "Hell here." The rave scene is still as impactful as it was the first time I had seen it... complete sensory overload. I ended up in a spot where I was front and center, watching as Hecate whipped the other witches up into a frenzy. The beat dropped and the strobe lights kicked in, causing the scene to be presented in short flashes. The Boy Witch completely nude, on top of a table wearing an animal's head. Macbeth presented with a bloody infant. The guttural screams of the witches' power.

I stayed after the rave to witness the Sexy Witch do her exhausted, eerie dance behind the bar as Hecate watched. Afterward, Hecate and Agnes had a tense moment where the former gathered the latter's tears in a little glass vial.

It was at this point that I decided to follow Agnes back to her apartment, the Tailor made his creepy appearance through her closet, and the loop restarted. I tried sticking with Agnes for as long as I could, getting to see her dance with the Tailor, steal his money, and eventually make her way to the hotel lobby.

It was there that I was reunited with an old character I remembered fondly: the Porter. While I did not have a true 1:1 with him in my previous shows, he did give me the note that eventually led to my cherished Hecate 1:1. That was then followed by a frantic, yet fruitless attempt at finding her ring.

This time I hung back and observed as the Porter had his tea scene with Agnes, followed by a drunken dance as he cleaned up the hotel. I have to say that this actor was incredibly good, mixing a bit of rage, sadness, and silliness as he leaped around the room pulling sheets from lamps. After the Boy Witch arrived to taunt and then cruelly reject the Porter, one of the other white masks (audience members) was whisked away into the Porter's office for a 1:1. At this point, I admit that I was feeling a little confused about what to do next. I was approximately halfway through this final show and had an anxious feeling about wasting the precious moments I had left. I recalled reading how you could gain access to the 6th floor 1:1 by encountering a nurse on the 5th floor. I decided to check it out quickly, hoping that I would get lucky.

Instead, I ran into Nurse Shaw, who was doing an odd dance in the window between the bathtubs and the forest. I followed her through the woods and ran into Matron Lang who seemed transfixed by the Nurse. They both seemed to mirror each other's movements and the Matron started moving through the maze in an attempt to catch up to the Nurse. She was unsuccessful as the Nurse disappeared back through her window, and I decided to follow a slightly dejected Matron Lang back to her hut. She walked up the steps to the wooden hut and turned around, staring right into my eyes. It was at this moment that she extended her hand. I suddenly felt breathless as the sensation of butterflies tinged with fear filled my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized I would be experiencing a 1:1 at my final show. I slowly took her hand, and she pulled me up into the hut.

My 1:1 with Matron Lang She was silent as she shut the door behind me, followed by the window, and then turned to face me. She slowly removed my mask, all the while never breaking eye contact, and whispered something along the lines of "That's better." I tried to say thank you, but the words caught in my dry mouth, my tongue suddenly feeling foreign and useless.

She offered me a seat, went to her desk, and prepared a cup of tea. As she did so, she locked eyes with me in a small mirror. She was not smiling. I wanted to look away, but it was so unnerving that I felt like I had to hold her gaze in fear of seeming rude.

She handed me the cup of tea with a spoon and leaned forward expectantly. I didn't know what she wanted, so after a couple of awkward beats, she gently grabbed my hand to guide the spoon into the tea and then into her mouth. I fed her the tea about three times, slowly and trying not to let my shaking hand spill any liquid onto her face.

The entire time she stared at me. I'm sure she blinked at some points, but I swear it felt like her piercing eyes never moved.

After the tea, she quietly told me a story about a young child who was all alone. "Once upon a time there was a poor child with no mother and no father. Everything was dead, and there was nobody left in the whole world. Everything was dead. The boy went on search day and night and since there was no one left on earth he wanted to go up into the heavens. The moon looked at him so friendly! But when he finally got to the moon, the moon was a piece of rotten wood. And then he went to the sun, and when he got there, the sun was a wilted sunflower. And when he went to the stars they were little golden flies stuck up there like the shrike sticks them on the blackthorn. And when he wanted to go back to earth, the earth was an overturned piss pot. And he was all alone. And he sat down and he cried, and he is still there to this day, all alone." (Apparently, this is from Büchner’s Woyzeck. I had to look it up when I got home.)

As she whispered this story, her eyes began to fill with tears, prompting mine to do the same. She held my palm, tracing the lines and occasionally squeezing my hand. She then leaned far back in her chair, pulling my hand with her so I had to lean forward. Without warning, she flung forward, grabbed my shoulders as I gasped, and whispered "It'll have blood they say, blood will have blood." She got up, put my mask on, and showed me the door. As I left, she shut the door behind her, and I was back in the woods with other white masks who were staring at me intently. I walked past them as I tried to regulate my breathing and figure out what to do next. After that adrenaline rush, the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. I bounced between characters as the crowds grew larger and more unruly. I saw the angry Taxidermist searching for something, finally caught the ballroom party, and helped another white mask catch pregnant Lady Macduff when she passed out. I saw the Bald Witch's transformation, the rave one final time, and then followed the Sexy Witch to the apothecary.

She knelt down, dress still hanging off of her with her chest exposed. She washed the blood off of her skin and hair in a small bowl, then stood and handed me a towel. I helped towel her off slowly, she then fixed her dress and grabbed me close to whisper "Blood will have blood" in my ear.

I followed her out to the last banquet and had a front-row spot for the finale. I'll never be able to properly describe how that scene makes me feel. The slow-motion acting, the allusion to 'The Last Supper", Macbeth's frantic "NO", followed by the snap of the noose. Absolutely chilling.

The wood groaned under the weight of the swinging body, with the creaking eventually drowned out by "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" by Glenn Miller. We were all herded out of the hotel in a haze, greeted by a loud jazz band playing old-timey renditions of current popular songs. It's a jarring switch of moods, which only seemed to exacerbate my post-show disorientation.

The 6th floor still eludes me.

Is that all there is?

#sleep no more #the mckittrick hotel #punchdrunk #sleep no more nyc #immersive theatre #macbeth

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joyfuladorable · 1 year ago

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THE DAY HAS ARRIVED!!!

2k3 KAHOOT STREAM STARTS IN ONE HOUR (8:30 AM HST)!!

Read the Rules & Reminders below and Join in the Fun!

1) TCE$T/PRO$HIP DNI

2) Be aware that the hosts Cuss & can be Very Loud

3) Please match your Kahoot name with your Twitch/Twt/Tumblr Username as best as you can so we know Who's Who!

4) This is a Friendly Competition, so keep it (mostly) civil! Rowdiness may result in a timeout/ban

5) The stream will be Recorded, and Chat is Displayed on the screen. Again, keep it civil.

6) There's a 100 Player Limit, so entry is first come first serve!

7) The Game Starts at 9AM HST or until the Lobby is Full

8) Winner gets Fully Rendered Art! (Within Reason)

Alright, that's it! Here's the Stream Link!! Hope to see ya there! ^w^

#tmnt #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 2003 #sea streams #agahhhahahhaghgh!!! SO NERVOUS BUT LET'S MCFREAKING DO IT!!!

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anotherwvba · 1 year ago

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An Origin Story pt. 1

Two days after the Minor Circuit Fight Night and the history-making fight between Niki Binary and Cutie Hondo, WVBA Headquarters was still buzzing. The monitors in the lobby replayed highlights from the weekend’s card and displayed results on a lower third ticker…

Women’s Circuit Preview: Cutie Hondo TKO3 Niki Binary… Narcis Prince TKO2 Glass Joe… Piston Hondo KO2 Mad Clown… Minor Circuit Championship: Bald Bull (c) KO2 Disco Kid…

Nicole Gordon, Niki Binary herself, was behind the receptionist’s desk. Dressed in a smart business casual outfit, she was answering the phone when one of the WVBA’s Minor Circuit fighters came through the door.

“WVBA Headquarters, this is Nicole, how may I assist you today?”

José Vasse, better known as Glass Joe, approached the desk and smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling with recognition, "Ah, bonjour, Niki Binary!"

Nicole smiled and held up a finger, “Yes, sir, I’ll transfer your call. Please hold.” After tapping a few buttons on the phone, she looked back to Joe, “Hello, José, but when the gloves are off, it’s Nicole.” She tapped her name tag.

"Ah, pardon, Nicole. Um… where is Vonnie? She usually mans the desk."

"Vonnie's out sick today," Nicole explained, "and since I was the only one in I.T. that looked presentable, I got drafted."

José chuckled. "Ah, a woman of many talents and, I must say, you look très magnifique. Congratulations on your fight, by the way. It was quite the spectacle."

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations? I lost, you know."

José leaned on the counter, his expression turning serious. "Ah, but you see, it is not always about winning or losing. It is about the fight itself, the spirit you show, the lessons you learn. I have learned more about myself in my twenty fights, twenty losses, than most people will ever learn.."

"Thank you, José. That means a lot," Nicole said, touched by his words. "I did give it my all, and I learned so much from fighting Cutie."

Just then, the phone rang, and Nicole picked it up. "WVBA Headquarters, this is Nicole. How may I assist you today?" As she listened to the caller, the door opened again, and in walked Cutie Hondo, gym bag slung over her shoulder.

Cutie caught sight of Nicole behind the desk and couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, this is just wrong. You lose your first fight, and they stick you on the front desk?"

Nicole hung up the phone and grinned. "Yeah, my punishment for not being able to hit you with the ‘System Crash.’"

Cutie grinned. "Well, you'll get another chance. But first, they need to fill those six spots left in the Women's Circuit Tournament."

José, who had been listening intently, joined in. "Ah, yes, the tournament. Any ideas on who might fill those spots?"

"I've heard that Mac's girlfriend, Alice, has been training," Nicole said, her hands dancing across the keyboard.

Cutie’s eyes twinkled mischievously, "Yeah, but rumor has it that Mac doesn’t know."

Nicole’s eyes widened, “Seriously?”

“Girl, he’d flip is tank top if he found out,” Cutie chuckled.

José chuckled. "Ah, the secrets we keep for love. What about Sandman's sisters, Sahara and Nanshe?"

“Oh God, I’d hate to fight Nanshe,” Nicole sighed. “She’s dominated Majestic Boxing for a year, as in undefeated, undisputed champion.”

“Yeah,” Cutie said as she adjusted her gym bag on her shoulder. “I bet it’s just like fighting her dad, just with a sports bra.”

“I’ve seen Sahara fight,” Glass Joe spoke up. “She is une frimeuse. How you say? A show-off. I think maybe she’s a bit too arrogant for her her own good.

"Maybe, but she can back it up," Cutie added.

Nicole leaned back in her chair. "Well, whoever they are, they better be ready. Because next time, Cutie, I'm not going down so easily."

Cutie grinned. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"A little bit of both," Nicole retorted, her eyes meeting Cutie's in a playful challenge.

José laughed. "Ah, the fire of competition. It is a beautiful thing."

Cutie picked up her gym bag. "So, Nicole, will I see you in the gym later?"

"Absolutely," Nicole replied. "I'll be off at 3 pm, a couple of hours early as a thank-you for filling in here. So, you better be ready."

Cutie winked. "I was born ready."

Nicole reached under the desk and pressed a button, buzzing them through to the gym. "Alright, you two, go on. Show the gym what you're made of."

José tipped his hat. "Merci, Nicole. Until later."

Cutie gave Nicole a quick hug. "See you in the ring, Niki."

As the door closed behind them, Nicole couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. With a smile, she picked up the phone for the next call, already looking forward to the challenges and opportunities, friends and opponents, that lay ahead.

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justminawrites · 2 years ago

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tell me, why does home taste like you?

AO3

Summary: Souma finds himself wondering what to do after Central decides to shut Polar Star down for good. A one-shot that takes place the night before the shokugeki with Eizan, in season 3.

“I can’t stand it!”

“Yuuki?”

“I don’t want the dorm to close! I want to stay here.. and cook with everyone, just like we used to!”

Yukihira Souma stared out the window of his room in uncharacteristic silence as he pondered the events of the past two days.

A new director, Nakiri Azami, had taken over and imposed a mandatory shutdown of all the clubs and research societies not directly approved by the also new student-run organisation, Central, that had replaced the Elite Ten. That included the Polar Star Dormitory, since it was technically housing students on school grounds. Naturally Tōtsuki students had contested this the way they had contested everything– through numerous declarations of shokugekis, though that might be extremely short-lived if what they’d seen on TV today was any indication.

Biased votes were one thing, but simply refusing to eat the opposing contestant’s food? That was a low blow, even for this pompous, gourmet-worshipping establishment.

Souma let out a frustrated sigh and struck his fist against the window pane with a thump; only ten days left to vacate the place.. no, there had to be something he could do. Surely Isshiki-senpai would have some idea, he was two seats higher on the Elite 10 than Eizan was; not to mention he was more attached to the dorm than any of them, but they hadn’t seen Isshiki Satoshi around at all lately– maybe Central had their claws in him too.

Souma rose and decided to head down to the kitchen; cooking always helped him take his mind off things in the past, maybe inspiration would strike him while he was at it. Turning the key, he slipped out of room 303 and down the staircase, careful not to wake anyone while he was at it- sleep would be a luxury they couldn’t afford soon- but when the entrance to the kitchen loomed in front of him his feet turned the corner and took him out to the lobby instead. Fumio-san had always imposed a 1:00 a.m. curfew for as long as he’d been here, often to deter young delinquent chefs like him from sneaking out to get groceries at the dead of night, but today the front door was unlocked without a care. This dorm business must be getting to her too.

Souma walked out into the cold night air and prayed it wouldn’t rain.

The sky was cloudier today, no doubt a result of the bad weather they’d been having all week, but a sliver of white moon shone brightly in the sky, surrounded by a smattering of tiny stars. He would miss this view. Souma held out his arm like he was trying to catch the faint light in his palm and hold it with him forever.

The memory came to him then, swift and unforgiving.

“Hey.. Pops?”

“What is it, Souma?”

“What did this dorm mean to you anyway?”

Jōichirō had smiled in the way he always did when he didn’t intend on answering Souma’s question.

“It was fun.. A place where we could all freely experience each other’s cooking.”

Souma looked up to find himself wandering Isshiki’s garden, he’d ended up tracing the usual path they took every other morning, navigating his way between the leafy crop and the fenced tomatoes. He crouched down beside the cabbages and stared deeply into the dirt, like he’d find some kind of answer from the worms crawling around.

This was stupid, he thought peevishly as the worm crawled up his shoe; honestly, this whole school was stupid. What kind of dumb, holier-than-thou elitist thought that removing extracurriculars would bring the school closer to better cooking– no correct cooking? The right way of doing things. He reminded Souma of his daughter to the T, but it was actually the other way around now, wasn’t it.

Souma frowned as he flicked the worm off. Erina had internalised her father’s teachings so deeply that she’d probably built her personality around rejecting anything Azami didn’t approve of– but he wasn’t ready to unpack all that. Especially not the previous director, Nakiri Senzaemon, showing up at the dorm in order to beg for his help.

“Pops would know what to do,” he said quietly to no one in particular; it was true. His six-foot-three, ever-aggravating, cooking prodigy of a father always had the solution to any problem, no matter what life threw at him. If only he was around to actually give him the advice he needed.

Souma flicked open his phone screen and pressed the redial button; the phone rang once, twice, and then–

“Hello-”

“Pops?”

“-you’ve reached Yukihira.. if it’s urgent please leave a message. Not you though, Gin.”

Voicemail, as usual. He sighed and made his way to the workshop next.

Though it was technically rented, everyone in the dorm had affectionately dubbed it Shun’s Workshop, since every time Shun disappeared, which was often, there was about a ninety percent chance you’d find him here.

Souma ran his fingers along the grooves and etchings of the handmade table and inhaled the faint smell of smoke. Eizan would probably tear this place down too, the bastard. This, the garden, Ryōko’s lab, Yuuki’s farm pens; and he’d do it without a second thought.

He could see his senior’s smug face in front of him, clear as day. What’s the matter Yukihira.. finally accepted defeat?

Souma pressed his hands against his face and tried his best not to scream. This school may be stupid and skewed but his friends didn’t deserve this. They were all talented chefs who’d worked hard to get to where they were, and if there was one thing good about this backwards institution, it was that they could all come back home and rant about it together.

He blinked away tears.

Home.

How long had it been since he’d called anywhere home?

They used to live in the suburbs near his school, but after his mother died, Souma and his dad had moved into the apartment above Yukihira’s instead. The closest he could come to it was probably the diner itself, he’d spent nearly all his long nights in its kitchens, often sleeping over when his father was away on business trips. Kiyo-san used to come by to babysit occasionally, much to his chagrin, and his middle school friends had loved to watch him cook free food but hardly anyone had seen him out of its four walls.

The Polar Star Dormitory was a strong contender too, if he was being honest. Even though the place was huge, with fifty bedrooms and an endless square footage of land that encompassed even a lake, he’d never really felt alone here.

There was always someone in the kitchens, or the garden. Isshiki-senpai would pop out from the built in Ceiling Area (how did he get up there in the first place?) or whisper suspiciously into the speaking tubes that ran through the whole building; Yuuki’s wild game would escape her room at least once a week and turn the place into NatGeo; and they would receive fire hazard notices on a regular basis because of Shun’s ‘creative directions’.

The noise and laughter was often infectious and Souma had begun to rely on it to get him through the week. They’d barely made it through their gruelling Stagiaires and the Moon Banquet Festival in the last few months, but the dorm had always been here, steady and constant as its matron, ready to welcome them back with open arms and a warm meal.

Souma checked his phone and swore under his breath. A matron who’d most likely locked him out by now. No matter how much Megumi vouched for it, he had no intention of spending the night in the barn.

Souma turned and ran back to the main door, relieved to find it still open, quietly shook off his shoes and padded his way up the polished stairwell.

He was about to go into his room when a small creak caught his attention. The door to the room next to his was slightly ajar - Was Tadokoro awake? - hinges fallen victim to the breeze he’d let into the house when he’d come in.

Souma hesitated before gently nudging it open to find moonlight spilling through the windows and illuminating a room identical to his, save for a figure curled on the bed, her dark blue tresses like ink on the white sheets and eyes that were very clearly shut tight.

He knew he should close the door, knew he should leave her to rest instead of bothering her with his dumb feelings, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. He waited a few seconds and then–

“Tadokoro,” he whispered softly, not moving from the doorway, “Are you asleep?”

“Mmm?” The girl replied, turning the other way and jostling the blanket in the process.

Of course she’s asleep, you idiot, he berated himself, Just like you should be if you’re going to wake up tomorrow and figure out what to do.

“Soum.. Hah.. Souma-kun?” Megumi said, yawning. She’d turned back around and cracked open one eye blearily to find the redheaded boy looking at her guiltily, unable to move from his place at the door.

“Are ya.. alright?”

“Uhm.. yeah. All good here. Sorry I disturbed you. I was just checking to make sure, y’know.. stuff.” He finished lamely, looking anywhere but her eyes.

Megumi blinked a few times, sensing the lie, and then pulled the covers off one corner of the bed to make room for him.

“S’okay..” She patted the empty space beside her like an invitation.

“What’s wrong?”

Souma reluctantly shuffled in but sat at foot of the bed frame instead.

If her mother were here, Megumi knew she’d be on the receiving end of the worst scolding of her life and she’d deserve it too. A boy in her room in the dead of night, it was so far from proper that she might as well be digging herself an early grave, but she was barely awake and her senses had dulled everything into a dream-like quality.

Dim light flickered through the window and highlighted the panes of Souma’s face, the steady curve of his nose, his sharp jaw and the slightly puckered scar on his left eyebrow. Except those eyebrows were now furrowed in a mixture of concern and frustration.

She waited for him to say something but he simply stared at the mattress in front of him intently, like he was burning a hole through it with his eyes. Megumi reached out an arm to pet his hair, but his hand caught it first and unconsciously threaded his fingers through hers as he looked up at her.

“Tadokoro,” he began, looking at their intertwined hands like they were the most normal thing in the world, “I’m scared.”

Megumi opened her eyes a little more. It had been hard to see before, but the red rimmed eyes and the faint spots of wetness on his tracksuit spelled out that he’d been crying.

“S’okay,” she soothed again, trying not to think too much about why the strongest person she knew at this school was holding her hand like he was about to break.

“We all get scared sometimes, Souma-kun. You don’t hafta be strong all the time.”

He closed his eyes like he was absorbing her words, like he was letting them sink into his skin.

“I mean look at me,” she smiled sleepily, her accent running rampant, “Ah’m always scared, panickin’ like a cricket in fishin’ season. But Ah’m still here, aint I?”

Souma snorted, slipping his hand out of hers just as quickly, and clutched his stomach to keep himself from laughing.

“Ah’m.. still.. cricket..” He choked out, unable to form the words as he nearly toppled back. Megumi stopped smiling when she saw his reaction.

“Souma-kun, don’t tease!” She mumbled into her pillow mortified as he snickered again.

“Tadokoro! What do you take me for? I would never,” he vowed as he proceeded to do just that.

“Ah’m as serious as can be– serious as a ‘ard ‘addack.”

“Oh, you’re terrible.” Megumi moped, hiding her face under the covers. The laughter faded and she peeked one eye out to see Souma staring right past her.

It was nothing new, she’d seen him zone out plenty of times, but it seemed different this time. Sadder somehow. He was probably driving himself crazy trying to figure out how to postpone their early eviction, a very Souma-like thing to do, but even she knew that it was too much to hope for a breakthrough. Eizan-senpai had rigged the shokugeki as he would no doubt do again and again, if there was anyone left to challenge him that is. The performance today may have broken most, if not all their spirits.

“Souma-kun?” His eyes slid to her face on cue but they were still a million miles away.

“Don’t worry about the dorm okay.. we’ll figure something out.”

“Mhm.” He nodded vacantly, still lost in thought.

She wished she could bring him back with words alone, but that had never worked with Souma. Apart from challenging him to a shokugeki on the spot, she doubted many things could get through the bubble of pressure he’d locked himself in. Poor, selfless Souma-kun, she thought. It must be hard to constantly be protecting.

Megumi didn’t know when she’d begun noticing the changes but once she had she couldn’t stop.

Souma’s hair grown longer over the summer, the unruliness almost endearing now, and his face had gotten leaner. The shadows under his eyes were darker than she’d remembered, he was barely getting any sleep before, and she’d caught a glimpse of a few more burn marks on his hand than last time. No doubt from the stone oven they’d used at the Moon Banquet Festival. He’d been so insistent about not using gloves too– its gotta to feel authentic, Tadokoro.

She looked up to see that Souma had gone back to glaring at the floor now, brows scrunched together like he could simply will a solution into existence.

Without thinking, Megumi reached out her arm again and this time, gently traced the scar on his eyebrow with her thumb. To her surprise, he leaned into the touch, the fog in his eyes clearing as her warm hand cupped his cheek, and lazily drew over the edges of the wound. The dreamy quality of the night returned and she could feel herself emboldened by its ambience.

“Souma-kun?”

“Mm?” He intoned, his eyes drooping. She paused for a second.

“Your scar is cool.”

“Hm?” He was awake again.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she scolded, withdrawing her hand in absolute shame. She could’ve said anything in that moment but she went with ‘your scar is cool’? Kami-sama– why, why am I like this?

Souma gave her a strange look and then cracked a grin.

“Isn’t it? It’s actually an incredible story.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I got it fighting off a customer actually. He was trying to leave without paying.”

Megumi gave him a disbelieving look and he pretended to sulk.

“You don’t believe me.” he huffed, offended.

“I didn’t say that, Souma-kun.”

“He had a knife, Tadokoro. A knife.”

“A tiny knife?” She asked, suppressing a smile.

“Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you.” He grumbled halfheartedly, turning his back to her.

She watched him, absent-mindedly counting the freckles on back of his neck; one, two, fifteen in total, and resisted the urge to connect them into tiny constellations. A few seconds of comfortable silence passed, and then..

“Tadokoro?” He said, still not looking at her.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you stick around?”

“Souma-kun?”

“At the Moon Banquet Festival.”

“O-Oh,” she felt her anxiety kick in, trickling into her chest like in a steady stream, “I’m sorry if I held you back Souma-kun, I was just.. just trying to help.. I..“

“What! No that’s not what I– Tadokoro. Tadokoro.”

Megumi made a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a sob and tried to bury her head back under the blanket so he wouldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. Souma wouldn’t let her off so easily and tried his level best to pull her back out. After two full minutes of pulling, he admitted defeat and turned back around.

“I meant–” he began, giving the blanket a sideways glance, “–when everything was going wrong, why’d you stay? I didn’t even put your name on the application form y’know. You wouldn’t have gotten expelled, if you left.”

She said nothing.

Just when Souma thought she’d fallen asleep, the weight on the bed shifted and Megumi sat down on the floor beside him, setting the blanket over both of their shoulders as she did so. Her eyes were clear and bright, no sign of exhaustion in them.

“Don’t be silly Souma-kun,” she said matter-of-factly, “I woulda gotten expelled months ago, if it weren’t for you.”

“This isn’t like–“

“–at camp.” She nodded as she drew her knees to her chest and hugged them.

“That was about justice, Tadokoro. You didn’t deserve to be failed over a mistake he’d made.”

“There is no justice in Tōtsuki, Souma-kun.” Megumi looked at him strangely, as though he should’ve figured this out by now. He opened his mouth to correct her but no words came out. She was right. This was a school where students could simply be expelled over a subpar dish and the teachers wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

“And besides,” she continued, looking away, “It wasn’t like that at all. You coulda given up on me too, but you didn’t.”

“If I had been better, we could’ve beaten him,” Souma admitted sheepishly, crossing his arms, “It wasn’t supposed to be your battle to fight.”

Megumi laughed, much to his embarrassment, and subtly scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I wish I’d seen Shinomiya-senpai’s face when you walked into his restaurant,” she said finally, a small smile on her face, “For the Stagiaire.”

Now it was Souma’s turn to laugh as he remembered his mentor’s disgruntled expression.

“Oh man, I thought he was going to strangle me on the spot,” he recounted excitedly, “Hey, remember that time he fired someone at camp for wearing scented shampoo?”

“Souma-kun, you didn’t.” Megumi looked like she was switching between impressed and horrified at his blatant disregard for his own well-being. He flashed her a wicked grin.

“And the best part was–“

“–Souma-kun!” She interrupted, scandalised.

“The best part was-“ Souma repeated, like what he’d done wasn’t pure madness, “- he didn’t even notice, Tadokoro. I’m starting to think that camp was just an excuse for them to have us do free labour so they wouldn’t have to feed all those people.”

“Honestly, I didn’t mind it that much,” she confessed, looking down at her hands, “It made me feel good to know that people were enjoying my food.”

“For free,” he chided, but didn’t try to correct her, “I get where you’re coming from though. Giving out samples was the only part of the Moon Banquet Festival that was actually fun.”

“It reminded me of the time I spent with the old man, back home, before he kept pulling his disappearing act.”

“Oh. Were you alone a lot?”

Souma turned to find Megumi looking at him with something like concern in her eyes and backtracked immediately.

“Uh.. yeah, but not really though. It was all good.. it toughened me up y’know? Now I’m tough as a rock..” He could feel his ears burning and hoped she wouldn’t notice. The last thing he wanted was Tadokoro pitying him when he was supposed to be the one getting them out of this hopeless situation.

“You’re very tough, Souma-kun,” she promised, placing her hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “You challenged the Eight Seat of the Elite Ten to a shokugeki.”

“And a whole lot of good that did us.” He sighed and put his hand over hers. Megumi looked startled by the action, but didn’t pull away.

“Stupid Eizan probably doesn’t even know how to cook.” Souma sulked again, resorting to childish snubs.

“Sure. That’s how Eizan-senpai qualified to be a part of the best ten in a cooking school. Through consulting.” She replied wryly, only half-kidding.

“Yeah you’re right,” he nodded, cupping his chin with his hand, “Still, it feels like he’s got some kind of grudge against this place. You think he didn’t pass Fumio-san’s test or something?”

“Maybe,” Megumi shrugged, pushing away the memory of her initial months of middle school where she herself had fallen victim and slept in the barn, “I do feel bad for Nakiri-san, though.”

“Nakiri?”

He gawked at her like she’d grown two wings and transformed into one of Yuuki’s chickens.

“She won’t have anywhere to hide if the dorm closes,” she explained, much to his bemusement, “She must be feeling terrible about this whole thing.”

“Tadokoro,” Souma turned to her seriously, clasping her arm in his. The one with the scarf, she would’ve noticed, if she weren’t so alarmed. His sudden move took her aback and she found herself pressed against the bed-frame, looking at him with wide eyes as he leaned in closer.

“S-Souma-kun?” He paused, gold eyes flashing.

“Worry about yourself, for once.”

“I’m worried about myself everyday,” she countered, quailing a little under the intensity in his gaze.

“A-And anyway. I can probably find some housing on campus with Yuuki-chan and Ryōko-chan. It might be expensive but if we split the rent I’m sure we can manage.”

“Huh.”

Souma let go of her and crossed his arms again, opting to look at the ceiling instead. He was irritated, that much she could tell. Megumi wasn’t sure what to do at first, in all their time together he’d never really gotten mad at her; so she simply rested her head on her knees and absentmindedly began drawing the ‘person’ kanji (人) on the polished floorboards next to her.

After a few moments she heard him murmur something under his breath.

“You’ve given up too, haven’t you, Tadokoro?”

She stopped mid-way; the words cut deeper than they should have.

He wasn’t wrong. Megumi had spent the whole day helping the Regional Cuisine Research Society pack away their props and recipe books into a school certified lockers; they were forced to donate everything they’d gathered to a local library as soon as possible.

There had been many a breakdown over a paper lantern or a lovingly written essay and whatever little hope she’d hoarded chipped away as the day went by, slowly, steadily; piece by painful piece, until it became clear that there was no way out of this predicament at all. It was either this or guaranteed expulsion, and Megumi didn’t know which one she’d be more ashamed to tell her mother about.

“There’s nothing we can do, Souma-kun.” She said finally, blinking back tears, “Sometimes.. sometimes the world just ain’t right and we just.. we gotta.. get on with it.”

“If that bastard would fight fair, then I know I could take him. We could win.”

His words sounded empty, even to him, like he’d finally run out of confidence and she felt the unspoken question between them grow and swallow her thoughts as the night dragged on– was it still possible to save the dorm?

After an incredibly saturated silence Souma released a puff of breath and adjusted the blanket around their shoulders, pulling her a little closer.

He didn’t want to spend one of his last nights here fighting with his best friend, over something stupid. A delicious warmth enveloped her and Megumi caved into the feeling, resting her head on his chest now, his arm encircling her waist.

“Ryōko-chan said something to me once,” she began, stifling a yawn as the fatigue crept up on her. Souma peeked at her through shuttering eyelids, his own body starting to call it a night.

“She said ‘I didn’t notice it before but Yukihira-kun gets this funny look in his eyes when he’s cooking, like he’s some kind of magician, waiting for you to figure out his trick.’”

“She’s too.. too nice..” He trailed off, trying his best to stay awake.

“Yeah.. but that’s when I realised, Souma-kun.”

“Realised what?”

“Why I liked your cooking so much.”

Souma opened one eye and glanced at her but Megumi had nearly succumbed to sleep, nestled into him like a perfect puzzle piece.

“It’s like.. a little bit of magic.. every.. day..”

It was then that Yukihira Souma made his decision.

Dawn came, quiet and relentless, the first rays of sun washing over room 302 determined to catch the couple in the act, but all they found was a girl huddled under the covers, blue hair spilling out like ink, fast asleep like she’d never been woken at all.

____________________

The next day...

“I’m back!”

The residents of Polar Star Dormitory dropped their makeshift weapons and garden hoses to see a redheaded boy walking through the wrought-iron gates, his smile blinding in light of the evening sun.

Tadokoro Megumi didn’t know when she’d begun crying but as the boy was ambushed by his dorm members with shouts of “You idiot!”, “You left to protect us on your own!” and “That was too reckless, Yukihira.”, it felt like fireworks were going off in her chest every time she took a breath.

“We were all so worried,” she said quietly, the words lost in the general hubbub that surrounded him, but she didn’t mind.

Yukihira Souma glanced at her then, smiling even brighter than before, and for a second it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.

Tadokoro, what did you think of my magic show? His eyes seemed to say, glinting mischievously as a lopsided grin tugged the corner of his mouth.

You won’t ever listen, will you, Souma-kun? She smiled right back, wiping away the leftover tears on her cheeks, and hurrying down the steps.

“Not just reckless, that was stupid and irresponsible and the worst decision you could have made-“

“My bad, my bad,” he laughed, taking their scolding with good sportsmanship, as he held out an arm in surrender. He played it off well, but Megumi could see the tiredness that radiated from him; the slight slump of his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes. Souma had gone in without a plan, with barely a recipe, betting everything he had left on a shot at proving their worth, and it had taken its toll.

“But seriously.. Thank you, thank you, Yukihira..” Yuuki bawled finally, holding onto Ryōko for dear life as the stress of the day finally caught up to her. The shokugeki challenge, fighting off thugs, saving the dorm; this whole debacle was like something out of a manga.

The corners of his eyes crinkled fondly as he watched Ryōko scold her friend and Yuuki in turn scold Marui for breaking his glasses, finally relaxing as the weight he’d been carrying around for a week released its hold on his heart. Polar Star was theirs. Everyone was safe. He’d pulled off yet another trick– out of luck or sheer audacity, this time, he didn’t want to know.

Megumi took another step forward sensing him slip away again, but he didn’t seem to notice- his mind already moving onto the next question, the next duel, the next everything. What would happen now that he’d won? Who was left to help? He hadn’t heard back from Hayama about the seminar either– had his friend run into some kind of trouble?

Souma’s hand involuntarily tightened on the strap of his bag as he thought about all that was left to do, and she watched him carefully, noticing the way his half-smile dimmed in the span of a few seconds. She couldn’t help but recall the conversation they’d had the night before; how he’d looked almost hurt when she’d admitted she’d lost all hope. It was that same look that had spurred her to take a stance against the fifty thugs that had ambushed the dorm.

Megumi wanted to tell Souma about the siege first, or how they’d defended their dorm against all odds, borrowing baseball bats and shields from Polar Star’s collection of Golden Era memorabilia; she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and berate him for taking on the Ninth Seat of the elite Ten to save her, to save all of them– but some tiny part of her inherently knew what the redhead chef had been waiting to hear all day.

“Souma-kun?”

Souma looked up, eyes clearing as he took her in: the helmet in her arm gleaming proudly as the last rays of sunlight bounced against it and illuminated her soft smile. A warm feeling wrapped itself around his chest like a pair of arms, holding tight enough that he wouldn’t fall– promising him that it was finally time to rest.

He blinked as he glanced around at his friends, their faces flushed gratitude, each one of them fired up to take on whatever Central had in store for the future; the faint spark of hope they’d once lost reignited into a roaring flame– and then back to Megumi, her gold eyes shining with something neither of them were brave enough to name.

“Welcome home.”

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memo15g · 5 months ago

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Scholarship/Orphanage Day 3 (7/19) | MiaChanel Nguyen (UCI)

Throwing on my Psyduck team t-shirt and a pair of jeans, I was excited for the day since visiting orphanages had been my favorite program during the earlier week of the mission trip. It was also a little bittersweet since it was our last day of official 15G activities. But, I was happy that 15G was close to being whole - almost everyone had recovered from COVID and was rejoining us from quarantine. I had missed their lovely faces a lot! Unsurprisingly, I had woken up late and, as a result, missed breakfast. But, after meeting downstairs in the lobby, Bao and I decided to each stuff half of a bánh mì from the hotel’s breakfast buffet into a napkin for the bus ride. It was accompanied by the usual daily morning coffee from Highlands provided by Thu (15G’s #1 coffee enthusiast, or perhaps addict…). Thank you, Thu! However, we were so hungry, we ended up devouring our breakfast-to-go before the bus even departed from the hotel…

We arrived at Trường Tình Thương Ái Linh and made our way down a narrow alley to reveal a group of young students sitting in neat rows awaiting our arrival. While waiting in line to hand out the scholarship backpacks, I waved at some students who shyly smiled and waved back. As the principal spoke to them and explained our visit, I was in awe at how well-behaved and polite the students were. I, then, heard something familiar that sent a wave of nostalgia over me. The principal used a call-and-response technique to signal the students to stand up and sit down: “Đất Ta, Ta Ngồi” and “Trời Ta, Ta Đứng”. For most of my childhood, I was a Vietnamese American Girl Scout and those phrases had been ingrained in my memory due to frequent use. I smiled, happy to share something (small but meaningful) with these students; it was a little piece of home felt in a faraway land.

We handed out the backpacks and supplies, and then watched a video that showcased the projects and courses they had completed the past year. It was wonderful to see the students joyfully learning in their STEM classes, gardening, participating in PE activities, and even graduating. I noticed Dr. Mary had gotten a little teary-eyed sitting next to me and I was honestly seconds away from joining her. I was proud and grateful that our annual fundraising efforts had helped support these students in advancing their education.

Afterwards, I immediately befriended a young girl named Tieu Loan as Avery and I sat amongst a circle of students. We did a bag tour, and they played with our sunglasses, lip glosses, fans, and my hand cream. We tied and braided each other's hair while taking plenty of silly selfies together. One of the girls took a liking to my flower hair clip that I had purchased from a temple in Sóc Trăng. She said that she had always wanted one, but never had the chance to buy one for herself. Since I had a matching pair, before we left, I snuck one clip in her hand - we’re now forever friends just an ocean apart. I was sad to say goodbye, but so thankful for all the memories we had made together that morning.

Above: Taking silly selfies with Tieu Loan & some other girls!

Above: Avery receiving a sweet goodbye kiss :(

Next, 15G traveled to Chùa Kỳ Quang. I was in awe at how massive and intricate the temple was as we made our way to greet the orphans and monks. After handing out the toys, I walked around blowing bubbles to the immense amusement of the kids - they LOVED the bubbles. One little boy suddenly clung to me and refused to let go. Due to my unfortunate inability to decipher baby talk, I never knew his name, but I could understand his enthusiastic response whenever I asked him where he wanted me to carry him to next: “ăn kẹo!!” which translates to ‘eat candy!!’. He was obsessed with the Nerds we had brought, specifically the purple flavor. Because of this, I was constantly chasing down Calvin, Keeper of the Nerds, led by a tiny outreached palm. He was a silly boy too; he instantly shared his Nerds with me and other 15Gers, but refused to share with some (really ONLY Anthony) with a firm head shake and a strong “không!” (“NO!”). He happily munched on the remaining Nerds before whining about wanting to blow bubbles with the other boys around him. I asked the boys if they would share their bubbles and to my surprise, they happily complied - even gently and patiently teaching my boy how to blow softly into the wand. Thinking back to my younger brother and me at that age, we probably would have argued mercilessly over who could blow all the bubbles.

Watching paper airplanes fly and hearing delighted giggles ring throughout the room and from my lap, I was warmed by how much love existed in such a small space - from us to the kids & the kids to each other. Hands down, this was my absolute favorite day of all of 15G. It proved perfectly how quickly and easily happiness and smiles can be spread despite a language barrier and a limited amount of time. In my heart, I know this isn't 'goodbye', just a 'see you later' <3

Above: Me and my boy <3

Above: A lovely moment between a child and a monk holding two babies

#scholarship and orphanage

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innocentheart005 · 11 months ago

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newjerseyprelawland-blog · 2 years ago

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Airb 'n' NYC: The Latest Fight For Short-term Rentals In The Big Apple

By Gregory Martinez, Rutgers University–New Brunswick Class of 2026

June 12, 2023

If you’re one of the two-thirds of New York City residents who occupy a rented home [1], your living options may be under fire. A lawsuit filed on June 1 by Airbnb, Inc. against New York City seeks to fight back against new citywide restrictions on short-term (less than 30 days) rentals. Airbnb, as it is colloquially known, was founded in 2008 as a platform where common homeowners could rent out their living spaces for only a few days at a time, allowing travelers living spaces in areas that attract fewer tourists and therefore have less traditional hotels available. The San Francisco-based company has enjoyed tremendous success in its 15 years of life, to the point where it has emerged as a genuine threat to the traditional hospitality industry, with mammoth hotel chains lobbying for greater restrictions on the short-term rentals that make the company what it is, and various cities nationwide complying.

New York City and the Office of Special Enforcement in particular has been longtime foe of Airbnb, having settled with the company in separate lawsuits filed in 2016 and 2018 about short-term rental fines and city demands for Airbnb to share information about its listings respectively [2] [3]. However, the result of this newest lawsuit could have more drastic effects on the fate of the company in the city, with the Big Apple looking to take more forceful and direct action against the company. A city law passed in 2021, set to be enforced in July 2023, required anyone who wished to rent out a property short-term to go through an extensive registration process with the city, on top of the already strict eligibility requirements that include a ban on hosting in a rent-regulated unit [4] [5].

On June 1, 2023, Airbnb finally struck back by filing a 112-page complaint and motion for preliminary injunction with the Supreme Court of New York County [6]. In the complaint, Airbnb called the new laws “[NYC’s] most extreme and oppressive regulatory scheme yet” and a “de facto ban against short-term rentals.” The thorough case against New York City argued that:

The anti-short-term rental laws were “arbitrary and capricious”, and were designed to drive Airbnb out of the market

There was a breach of the contract of the aforementioned 2016 settlement

There was a breach of good faith in the 2020 settlement (which settled the aforementioned 2018 lawsuit)

The anti-short-term rental laws clashed with section 230 of the Communications Decency Act

among other things.

The “arbitrary and capricious” claim is the most blunt of the bunch. New York’s increasingly strict laws surrounding registration make it extremely difficult for hosts to enter the world of short-term rentals, to the point where as of May 2023, the city had only approved nine new registrations for short-term rental hosting, a massive loss in an area that currently has a market of 20,000 hosts. Dan Wasiolek, a senior equity analyst at Morningstar Research Services, says that “A fraction of one percent of Airbnb listings have gotten official verification, which is a sign that the law is extremely restrictive … it’s my understanding the city isn’t explaining to people why their application is rejected” [7]. It can be difficult to keep up with the plethora of laws and regulations on what makes a legal short-term rental property, and many people who would otherwise be inclined to enter the market might not even bother.

These laws, Airbnb argues, actively discourage people from using their platform, threatening their business and “ significantly harming tourism and the New York City economy.”

Understanding the second and third claims requires a deeper understanding of the 2016 and 2018 lawsuits, and the respective settlements mentioned previously. In October 2016, then-governor Andrew Cuomo signed a law that allowed for fines of up to $7,500 for illegally listing a property on rental platforms like Airbnb. New York City banned rentals shorter than 30 days in 2010, and although these bans had been largely ignored by landlords, and properties were listed on platforms like Airbnb anyways, Airbnb argued that the new fines were a step too far in imposing on their business. The complaint filed by Airbnb stated that “In order to be assured of avoiding liability, including potential criminal prosecution, Airbnb would be required to screen and review every listing a host seeks to publish,” a financial burden too great to put on the company [8]. The saga was resolved with a settlement only two months later, under the condition that fines would only be placed on the hosts performing the illegal activity and not Airbnb, Inc. [2]. However, as previously mentioned, the battle between New York City and Airbnb raged on with another lawsuit in 2018. This was yet another response to efforts to crack down on illegal short-term rentals, with the New York City Council voting on a bill in July 2018 that would require online rental companies like Airbnb to provide the addresses, names, and more of every host in its network to the Office of Special Enforcement. Airbnb cited privacy concerns as reason for its opposition to the bill, and after a drawn-out court battle, an eventual settlement in 2020 “limited Airbnb’s reporting obligations to short-term rentals that were rented for more than four days and that either (a) included an entire dwelling unit or (b) were rented to three or more individuals at the same time” [6]. Both these settlements have lied dormant in electronic filings for years, but with the latest action by New York City, Airbnb now alleges that the city is breaking both agreements. The argument is that New York City have broken the 2016 contract by making it more difficult to advertise the Airbnb product, and that the 2020 contract was violated because the newest laws require Airbnb to report every short-term rental, as opposed to the specific ones outlined above.

But the crux of the case possibly lies in the fourth claim, that New York City’s actions violate the famous Section 230. The seminal line, buried in the relatively obscure Communications Decency Act, states that “no provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider”, and is the center of any legal argument surrounding free speech on online platforms [9]. It protects online platforms from being liable for the content posted on them, meaning that if someone slanders another person on Twitter, the victim can sue the slanderer, but not Twitter. This provision allows media companies to exist without an overarching fear of being buried in lawsuits brought on by its users and has been a part of countless court rulings since its passing. Airbnb argues that by imposing on its business in an overarching manner because of the threat of illegal rentals, it is essentially holding the company liable for the activities of its users, clearly a violation of Section 230. In a similar case, Gonzalez v. Google, LLC (2021), the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals dismissed the suit of the family of a victim of the 2015 ISIS attack in Paris who alleged that Google was liable for the attacks due to Google-owned video sharing platform YouTube being used as a recruiting device by the terrorist organization, on the grounds that Google was protected under Section 230 [10]. If the court finds that Airbnb has similar protection, it may prove more difficult for New York City’s lawyers to make a case against the rental platform.

With so many arguments on Airbnb’s side, it begs the question of why exactly New York City has remained determined to fight against the company. Throughout its years of fighting short-term rental, the city has maintained the position that it is all part of the battle against the housing crisis. New York City has struggled to fit its enormous population into proper living conditions for decades, and the problems are only getting worse. Rent is rising, conditions are terrible, and many people face eviction and possible homelessness daily [11]. So when companies like Airbnb make repeated short-term rentals more profitable than long-term ones, it discourages landlords from servicing New York residents looking for a home to make their own, decreasing the supply for the increasing demand for property. Furthermore, studies have shown that Airbnbs have a tangible financial impact on the communities they occupy. A US report published in 2020 suggested that a 1% increase in Airbnb listings leads to a 0.018% increase in rents and a 0.026% increase in house prices, which on average translates to an annual increase of $9 in monthly rent and $1,800 in house prices [12].

Lawyers and judges will be the ones to decide the legal merits of Airbnb’s arguments in this lawsuit, but in the bigger picture there still remains question as to whether or not taking action against Airbnb and the short-term rental industry should be the focus of the housing debate. Airbnb vigorously rejects the housing argument, claiming that the city’s true motives are to protect the hotel industry that the company competes against, to the point where Airbnb once published a list of City Council members and how much the hotel industry had contributed to their respective campaigns [13]. Perhaps Airbnb is just an easy target to blame for rising housing costs and the struggles the city faces, and interfering in the short-term rental business is not going to solve any of the real issues. The short-term rental industry is a highly complex sector that without real federal standards has struggled to move past the complicated world of navigating countless different local ordinances. Because it is so difficult to have a conversation about the industry, it has struggled to counter the narrative that it ruins communities and economies. And even if short-term rentals do ultimately harm communities and average citizens, it begs the question of if governments have the right to drive out and regulate companies operating within the confines of the law once they meet the definition of “harming communities”.

But whether or not governments have the right to do this, they are already taking action. On June 9, 2023, shortly after the latest fight in New York City, French Finance Minister Bruno Le Maire announced that France was actively working to close tax loopholes that often benefitted short-term rental companies like Airbnb [14]. Once precedent is set, other major cities such as San Francisco and Los Angeles that already have heavy restrictions on short-term rentals may follow and crack down even further on the industry. The relatively obscure battle is ultimately further shuffling as lawmakers attempt to find a balance between making housing affordable and available for its citizens and allowing the free market to flow. Whether or not short-term rentals belong in this conversation, or are simply politicians’ attempts to sidestep the real problems, are but small cogs in this grand wheel.

______________________________________________________________

[1] U.S. Census Bureau (2021). American Community Survey

[2] Benner, Katie. “Airbnb Ends Fight with New York City over Fines.” The New York Times, 3 Dec. 2016, www.nytimes.com/2016/12/03/technology/airbnb-ends-fight-with-new-york-city-over-fines.html.

[3] “City of New York and Airbnb Reach Settlement Agreement.” The Official Website of the City of New York, 12 June 2020, www.nyc.gov/office-of-the-mayor/news/432-20/city-new-york-airbnb-reach-settlement-agreement.

[4] Zaveri, Mihir. “Airbnb Sues New York City over Limits on Short-Term Rentals.” The New York Times, 1 June 2023, www.nytimes.com/2023/06/01/nyregion/airbnb-sues-nyc-rentals.html.

[5] “Registration for Hosts.” NYC - OSE, www.nyc.gov/site/specialenforcement/registration-law/registration-for-hosts.page.

[6] New York Supreme Court. Airbnb, Inc. vs. New York City Mayor’s Office of Special Enforcement et Al. 1 June 2023.

[7] Kelleher, Suzanne Rowan. “Why Airbnb Can Survive a ‘de Facto Ban’ in New York City.” Forbes, 8 June 2023, www.forbes.com/sites/suzannerowankelleher/2023/06/07/why-airbnb-can-survive-a-de-facto-ban-in-new-york-city/?sh=3442c17d7570.

[8] Benner, Katie. “Airbnb Sues over New Law Regulating New York Rentals.” The New York Times, 21 Oct. 2016, www.nytimes.com/2016/10/22/technology/new-york-passes-law-airbnb.html.

[9] Ortutay, Barbara. “What You Should Know about Section 230, the Rule That Shaped Today’s Internet.” PBS, 21 Feb. 2023, www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/what-you-should-know-about-section-230-the-rule-that-shaped-todays-internet.

[10] United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit. Gonzalez v. Google, LLC. 22 June 2021.

[11] “In New York City, Housing Supply Continues to Fail to Meet Demand.” Spectrum News NY1, 10 Oct. 2022, www.ny1.com/nyc/all-boroughs/housing/2022/10/07/new-york-city-housing-supply-demand.

[12] Barron, Kyle and Kung, Edward and Proserpio, Davide, “The Effect of Home-Sharing on House Prices and Rents: Evidence from Airbnb.” SSRN, 4 Mar. 2020

[13] Greenberg, Zoe. “New York City Looks to Crack down on Airbnb amid Housing Crisis.” The New York Times, 18 July 2018, www.nytimes.com/2018/07/18/nyregion/new-york-city-airbnb-crackdown.html?action=click&module=RelatedCoverage&pgtype=Article®ion=Footer.

[14] Thomas, Leigh. “France Plans to Close Tax Loophole Benefiting Airbnb.” Reuters, 9 June 2023, www.reuters.com/business/france-plans-close-tax-loophole-benefiting-airbnb-2023-06-09/.

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lucasfights · 2 years ago

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What’s next for the stars of UFC 287?

Our 3 protagonists for this story are, Alex Perreira, Israel Adesanya, and Gilbert Burns. With so many moving parts after this weekend's PPV, we're going to go one by one, breakdown a likely scenario, a plan b, and a more far fetched route, for each guy. I'll give you my opinion on what each route signifies, what each fighter should aim for, and you tell me in the comments what I missed, and where I was wrong. Deal? Deal.

Alex 'Poatan' Perreira, the now former UFC Middleweight Champ (sad face). 205lbs? Izzy 3? Let's dive in. It's February 8th, 2020 Jon Jones is fighting in the main event of UFC 247. The fight goes 5 rounds, and by the time the final bell rings, the challenger is about as confident as i've ever seen a man after an encounter with Jones. Jones steals a decision due to his extreme starpower, and champion status but Dominick Reyes gave him all that he could handle that night. Matching Jon Jones in size, and speed, keeping Jon on the outside, and excluding external factors winning a very close decision. 2 years later Reyes meets Alex Perreira, who is set to take on Middleweight Champ, Israel Adesanya. Below is a photo evidence of that meeting.

This picture set the MMA world on fire! Reyes on the left is in the division above Perreira, and is not small for that division. While Jon Jones the man he fought as an equal, is now the Heavyweight Champion. Dana said it, Izzy said it, and Perreira in the past has said it, he's gotta move up. If he goes up a division he'll still be massive, he'll have an easier path to the title (Jiri Prochazka, and Jamahl Hill), and he sheds the massive weight cut he undergoes every time. That's plan A.

If Perreira decides to stay at 185 their are 2 fights for him, and 1 that makes sense. Let's start with the latter. The dumb fight is Khamzat Chimaev, and for a time the scariest man in the promotion. We haven't seen Khamzat since he was pushed to his limit against the most underrated Welterweight of all-time, my boy Gilbert Burns, and he's been taking shots at Perreira for a little bit. Although this won't be easy fight for Perreira (because Khamzat is a stud), this could solidify Perreira as a force everyone should be worried about, even the wrestlers! However, the upside for Khamzat is much greater then for the former champ, so it might be a silly, prideful move that could bite him in the ass. The other fight that Poatan could take at Middleweight is the trilogy fight which he will probably lobby for! Izzy after the fight stated he wasn't going to give him an immediate rematch, and I am almost certain Perreira is not going to be willing to fight 2 or 3 times to regain a belt from a guy he already beat 3 times before. So unless Israel gets some balls, and decides to genuinely settle the score with Poatan, I am almost certain he's moving up.

Next, but not least, The Champ. What's next for Izzy? As a result of lapping the division, and not many challenges for him in the first place, Adesanya is in a privileged position, in which he can take a 3rd fight, with the consensus #1 contender at Middleweight, Robert Whittaker, who he's beaten twice before. He can fight Alex Perreira in the trilogy, but holding the belt, and being a star in the company, gives him the right to decline what is probably the toughest road for the Middleweight Champion. Or Izzy can take a year off, work on his wrestling, recover, and wait for Du Plessis to beat a top guy and earn his shot.

Adesanya vs Whittaker 3 won't sell, and can only be bad for Izzy. Adesanya vs Perreira 3 will be massive, but is very risky for Adesanya and could lose him his coveted superstardom, so honestly, fighting Du Plessis in 'The Battle For Africa' seems like the most sensible decision. The fan in me wants Poatan vs. Stylebender 3, and I love Robert Whittaker as a human, but if I were Izzy, i'd wait and take Dricus Du Plessis with a fat paycheck.

Last, and certainly not least, my boy Gilbert Burns. Honestly, if the UFC wasn't so short sighted, they should've made the hype on this UFC 287 Co-Main Event much bigger, and waited for the result to name Colby the #1 contender, but that didn't happen. So Gilbert went out there, fought a good disciplined fight, and handled Jorge Masvidal, for what? The backup fighter spot on the Colby Covington vs Leon Edwards match? Yeah, lol. So since he's not next in line, here are a couple routes for Burns to take.

Burns vs Usman 2, if he wins, he's next, no debate. IF he wins, IF. Usman is still a killer my friends, a killer that knocked out Gilbert Burns a couple years ago, and a killer that's going to be hungry to get back to the top of his division, risky. Burns vs Chimaev 2. I personally don't think Chimaev wants another war for possibly no gain, he's in title talks, and there are easier fights he can take, that'll move him closer to his championship aspirations, silly for both parties. The PFL? Gilbert mentioned in his post-fight presser that he 'wants the title shot, or to be released', and I say this because I love Gilbert.. be careful what you wish for. Gilbert is furthest, 2 wins away from a title shot, in a wide open title race, his star is growing, the company is growing, and with the title comes PPV points, and more sponsors then he can handle. Gilbert, be patient with these fools, and keep on knocking down who they give you. If Burns chills, makes weight for Colby vs Leon, he'll be next, and if it's a quick fight, that could be by the end of the year, so stay the course Gilbert, you're so close.

UFC 287 was a massive card, Miami was buzzing, Dana left very pleased, and I think the winners and losers on Saturday are going to benefit from such a spectacular event. Izzy took the deepest breath, Perreira, and Rosas tied for the biggest step backwards, and Burns did his job, as he always does. The great Jorge Masvidal retired, Rob Font got back on the winning track, and next Saturday there's more, so leave your comments, rewatch the fights, and complain about me to your girlfriends. Til' next time.

-FreeHoneyy

#ufc287 #ufc #perreira #poatan #israel adesanya #stylebender #gilbert burns #jorge masvidal #fight

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fatehbaz · 3 years ago

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Hundreds of small rural towns and several whole regions around the country - in addition to those in the South - became newly dependent on an industry that itself is dependent on the continuation of conditions under which "criminals" and criminality can be continually produced ("socially constructed"). Norton offers an interesting case study of a rural prison archipelago that developed in upstate New York based on arguments by local officials that buildings constructed for the 1980 Winter Olympics would serve the prison industry in the future. New York State built thirty-nine new state prisons between 1982 and 2000, all of them in rural counties. But it was the forty-fifth state senate district in the far northern region of the state that built more than any other district, and by the turn of the twenty-first century, there were fourteen prisons located in the district, more than twice any other. Norton shows that a short-term opportunistic argument to win the Olympic bid depended on a vision of a future archipelago of prisons and, indeed, a steady supply of prisoners to fill them. [...]

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[A]t the height of the US prison-building boom in the 1990s, a prison opened in rural America every fifteen days. John Eason studies this phenomenon in detail, documenting the proliferation of prison building in rural America - specifically in poor, rural, southern towns - for the past fifty years. During this time the total number of prison facilities tripled [...].

Moreover, Eason found that from 1980 to 2006, nearly 28 percent of all rural prisons were built in just three southern states, Texas, Georgia, and Florida. [...] Hurling also offered a nuanced, regional examination of southern rural prison town archipelagoes. She followed the development of four such archipelagoes [...] [including] in the West Texas Plains (one out of every five new rural prisons in the 1990s opened in Texas, the state with by far the largest number of new prisons) [...].

Anne Bonds, citing examples from the Pacific Northwest, has documented arguments by local community leaders that prison building is the answer to poverty and resultant decline in social service provision needs. [...] Williams, for example, studied the development of the thirteen-prison archipelago in Florence County, Colorado, starting back in 1871. He shows that state and local governments depended on the lobbying "myth" that prisons would bring economic development in order to find communities willing to accept new prisons, even though the profits of those prisons have accrued to industries outside of the local community. [...]

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It is not only prisoners' labor that is increasingly commodified by work programs on the inside; their bodies and lives themselves can be bought and sold as well. With prisoners, in addition to laboring for abhorrently low wages on the inside of prisons, the profits of which accrue to the state and private entities, many local and regional economies depend on the income generated from the "purchase" of incarcerated bodies from other jurisdictions to continue filling carceral sites that were built during the 1980s and 1990s construction boom.

---

All text above by: Karen M. Morin. “Cattle Towns, Prison Towns: Historical Geographies of Rural Carceral Archipelagoes". Historical Geography, Volume 47, Number 1, pages 141-165. Published 2019. At: doi dot org slash 10.1354/hgo.2019.0004 [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#ecology #landscape #carceral #abolition #ecologies #tidalectics #carceral archipelago #archipelagic thinking #geographic imaginaries #debt and debt colonnies #multispecies

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orithyia-eriphyle · 2 years ago

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Drive

Chapter 1: Muddy Water Previous Drive Masterlist Next

Word Count: 3.1k

Stray Kids x Fem! Reader (Street Racing AU)

Synopsis: Street racing had always been your thing. You used to do it for the cash but slowly got addicted to the adrenaline rush it gave you, making it your number one source of entertainment (and income). Bored with the competition in Busan, you move to Seoul in hope of higher stakes. Thus, resulting in a rollercoaster of events involving 8 unusually attractive men.

Warnings: Cursing, violence, drug abuse (not by the reader or the boys), sexual innuendoes, and alcohol consumption.

"Innie?" You spoke in shock. How the hell did he get your number. Why did he get your number?

"I guess you do remember me. That's good." You rolled your eyes, "Stop being cryptic. Why are you calling?" You spoke, cutting straight to the point.

You heard a sigh from the other end of the line, "I saw you in the book store on Jongno but I wanted to be sure it was you. I didn't know you moved to Seoul." The boy rattled out, awaiting your answer. "That's probably because we haven't spoken in a year, Innie."

You heard the younger boy laugh, "I'm sorry about that. I got caught up in a bunch of stuff right after moving here." You raised a brow at his response, "Better not be anything illegal." Jeongin scoffed, "Like you're one to talk." He quipped back. You furrowed your brows, your tongue poking at the inside of your cheek, "Oh yeah? What do you mean by that, Innie?" Your voice sterner.

You heard the boy gulp, "I know about the street racing, Noona."

Okay well, that was news to you.

You paused before responding, Jeongin waiting on the other line with bated breath. "How'd you find out about that?" You questioned. You never spoke about your secret hobby with the younger boy. Doing anything you could to keep him away from things like that.

"Do you want to talk about this over lunch tomorrow?" Jeongin asked warily. You huffed a breath, mulling over the idea. "Fine. Text me the time and place." You didn't give him a chance to respond, hanging up on him right after you finished speaking. You looked down at your phone before throwing it onto the cushion adjacent to you. You took another swig of beer before getting up.

Tomorrow's conversation will definitely be an interesting one.

***

You woke up early the next morning, looking at your phone to see a text from Jeongin. As you had told him to do, he had sent the time and place.

You made sure to eat a hearty breakfast in order to prepare yourself for the sudden reunion you would be having later. You quickly got dressed, attempting to at least look presentable. You chose a casual outfit: a ratty old Megadeth t-shirt, stressed mom jeans, and your black converse.

You took one last glance out the mirror before grabbing your bag and keys and heading out the door.

You took the elevator down to the lobby of the apartment, stopping in the parking lot once noticing a man gazing at your car. You approached him quietly, the man clearly not hearing the sounds of your footsteps on the concrete.

"You like it?" You said, the man's head shooting up as he turned to look at you. He paused, seemingly contemplating what to say. "Yeah, I was about to leave but had to stop and take a look." He said. You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest, "You a car guy?"

The corner of the man's lips twitching in an almost smile, his eyes flashing with something you couldn't decipher. "You could say that." You quirked a brow, "What's your name?" The man crossed his arms, mirroring your posture, "Usually the one initiating the conversation introduces themself first." He said, a smug smirk painted on his lips.

You scoffed playfully, "You're the one creeping next to a lady's car." The man shrugged, seemingly agreeing with you. "Alright then. I'm Lee Minho." You smiled, sticking your hand out for a shake, "Nice to meet you Lee Minho, I'm (Y/n)." Minho smiled lightly, taking your hand in his and giving it a firm shake.

You let go, glancing down at your phone for the time. "Well if you'll excuse me Minho, I've got somewhere to be." Minho nodded, moving out of your way. You unlocked your car, throwing your purse into the passenger seat. You got in, pausing before closing the door and glancing up at your new acquaintance, "I'll see you later?" You phrased it as a question but already knew the answer. Minho shoved his hands in his pockets, a smirk on his lips. "You can count on it."

You peeled out of the parking lot, failing to notice the attractive Mitsubishi parked amongst the other cars.

***

You pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant that Jeongin had requested you to meet at. Parking next to a black Toyota Supra MK IV. The car looked well-kept. Your dad taught you to park next to someone who looks like they take good care of their car because they'll be the least likely to door-ding you.

You stepped out of the car and slung your purse over your shoulder, shutting the door and locking it as you walked away. You approached the restaurant, pushing open the sleek black doors with both hands. The hostess looked up as you approached her podium, you giving her a polite smile.

"Welcome to Mingles! How many people in your party?" The young woman asked, "Uh actually is there a Yang Jeongin here? I'm supposed to be meeting him for lunch." You said, shifting your weight from hip to hip.

The young woman's eyes shot up, seemingly shocked by what you said. She cleared her throat before continuing, "O-oh! You must be Miss. (Y/n)! Mr. Yang has been expecting you!" You raised a brow at the 'Mr.' You were pretty sure this woman was older than Jeongin.

Your train of thought was cut off when the woman waved you in her direction, "Please follow me!" You obliged and followed her, slowly becoming more skeptical as she brought you to the back of the restaurant. She stopped at a door and knocked, "Mr. Yang, Miss. (L/n) is here!" You heard a faint 'come in' from the other side of the door.

The hostess was going to reach for the handle until you stopped here, grabbing the handle yourself. You smirked at her, "I'll take it from here. Thank you for showing me to my table." The woman gulped before nodding and walking back to her hostess stand.

You pressed down the handle, pushing open the door and stepping into the private room. You closed the door behind you and turned to look at the younger man in the room. "Good to see you, Mr. Yang." You said in a teasing manner. Jeongin threw his head back and stood to greet you, "Aish, Noona! It's Innie to you." He said stepping forward to wrap you in a hug. You contemplated reciprocating the hug but you missed the kid too much to be petty.

"Okay, Innie, why do I feel like I'm meeting with a mafia boss?" You said, quirking a brow in question. Jeongin shook his head as he pulled your chair out for you, which you gratefully took.

"It's nothing like that Noona. I just like my privacy." He spoke. "How have you been doing?" You rolled your eyes at the generic question. "Cut the shit, Innie. I want to know how you found out about my little hobby." You said, your body leaning back against your chair and your hands tucked into your coat pockets.

Jeongin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well it was when you were over at my place one time, you know, the day we binged all the Harry Potter movies?" He said, attempting to lighten the mood. You didn't react, causing the man to frown. "You got up to take a call and went down to my room for privacy." He started, "While you were in there, I got up to go to the bathroom and overheard your conversation."

Jeongin looked down at his interlaced fingers in his lap sheepishly, "I wasn't trying to snoop, Noona. I just wanted to know why you had to leave every night and come home so late." You raised a brow, "What did you hear me say?" You spoke questioningly.

"I heard you exchange a time and address with someone, I couldn't tell who. I figured I would go there that night too, just to check it out and leave." You scoffed at the boy's admission, "That's rather stalkerish of you, Innie." You spoke, a slight frown making its way onto your lips.

Jeongin snapped his head up and waved his hands as if to dismiss your accusation. "No! I swear it wasn't like that!" He paused before sighing and slouching back in his seat. "Honestly, I thought you were out partying at night. You always left dressed nicer than usual and came back smelling like booze and weed. I was worried, Noona. That's all."

Jeongin finished his spiel, not looking up from the wooden table in front of him. Both of you snapped to attention when you heard the rapping of knuckles on wood, looking to the door of the private room to see a waiter enter with a pen and paper in hand.

"Hello! My name is Dae-Hyun, I'll be your waiter today! What can I get you?" The overly cheerful teenager spoke. You and Jeongin quickly ordered and sat in silence for a good few minutes after the waiter left.

You broke the silence with a question. "What did you think of me?" Jeongin looked up at you, "What do you mean?" You blew air out your nose and cracked your neck before elaborating, nervous about what the boy's answer may be. "After you found out what I was doing, what did you think of me?"

Jeongin thought for a moment before a small smile broke out on his face, his dimples on full display. "I actually thought you were pretty badass." You raised a brow, an amused smirk playing on your lips. "Oh yeah? Why's that?" You said, taking a sip of your water.

"I'm not really sure. I guess I thought it was cool that I was roommates with someone who could drive like they were out of The Fast and the Furious franchise." You chuckled, the boy's smile increasing at the sound. "I was also glad you weren't actually getting drunk and smoking pot like I thought you were."

You smiled at him, "Being under the influence while driving isn't safe. You'll never catch me making that mistake Innie, trust me."

"I'm glad to hear that, Noona."

***

"This is seriously your car? What happened to that old beater?" You asked the younger boy as the two of you stood next to his car. Jeongin shrugged in an attempt to play off the questions. "If I tell you the truth will you be mad?" Jeongin replied, causing you to look up at him in suspicion. "Can't make any promises." You replied nonchalantly.

"I picked up street racing, like you. I eventually made enough money to upgrade." He said, looking away from you. You gaped at the man before pausing to mull over the new information.

"You know what? I'm not even mad." Jeongin perked up, "Really?" You shrugged, "Yeah. You're an adult and can do what you want. Plus, it would be hypocritical of me to criticize you." You said as you walked around the Toyota to get a better look. Jeongin chuckled lightly, "Maybe you can come race me some time."

You raised a brow, "I wouldn't want to crush your pride, Innie." You said teasingly. "You might have to work your way up the ladder before you can race me." Jeongin scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You haven't even seen me race yet, Noona. I could be better than you."

You laughed, "I know I'm better than you."

"And how is that?"

"Because you parked on the line."

"Oh my God."

***

You hummed as you stepped out of your car. You had just gotten back to your apartment complex and it was now pouring outside. You threw your hood up and started speed-walking to the entrance.

A distressed mewl caused you to pause in your steps. You looked around until you noticed a ginger puff of fur around the corner of the building. You approached it and noticed it was shivering, its fur soaking wet.

You knelt down next to the cat, reaching your hand out slowly so as to not alarm it. "Hey sweetie, are you cold?" You asked sweetly, trying your best not to scare the cat. Eventually, you were able to scratch behind its ears, the cat somewhat calm now.

You reached around to try and find a collar, coming up with nothing. "Well, you don't have a collar so I can't take you to your owner... but I don't want you staying out here either." You mumbled to yourself quietly. You thought for a moment before coming up with a conclusion. You figured you could take the cat back up to your place and warm it up. You would go around to the other apartments to see if he belonged to anyone.

You reached around the cat in an attempt to pick it up. The feline hissed violently and batted its paws at you. You pulled your hand back quickly, quick to notice the scratch marks and the blood beading along them. "Ow. You're an evil little thing."

Eventually, you managed to wrangle the cat into the entrance and up to your apartment. Not without some scratches that showed evidence of your showdown with the ginger feline.

You set the cat down on your wooden floors, its eyes moving around to take in the new location. "Now, I'm going to go run you a warm bath." You said, not excited for the potential fight that you'll have to go to just to get the cat in the water.

You filled up the tub, but not enough to go past the cat's legs. After checking to make sure it wasn't too hot or too cold, you left in search of the cat. You found him laying on your windowsill, staring out at the city landscape. "Hey, kitty, ready for your bath?" You said, scratching him between the ears. The cat glared at you, almost as if he understood what you were saying. "Don't look at me like that, demon."

You picked up the cat, the feline much calmer now that it wasn't in the freezing rain.

Although you were sure your luck would run out as soon as you tried putting him in the tub.

***

You were right. The cat fought against you for the entire length of the bath. By the end of it, you were just as unhappy as he was.

You hissed as you rinsed your hands under the faucet of your bathroom sink, the warm water causing your new wounds to sting. "This is what I get for being nice." You mumbled, completely done with the demon that is disguised as a cat.

After changing shirts (because the fight with the cat completely soaked your other one) you left with the cat in search of his owner. You held the cat in one arm as you went door to door. Some people said they'd seen him around here before but are not sure who he belonged to.

You had completed knocking on all the doors to the right of your place, planning on now knocking on the ones to your left.

You approached your neighbor's door, raising your fist to knock before the wooden door swung open. "You found Soonie?!" The man spoke. You paused before recognizing him to be the man you had met in the parking lot earlier, Lee Minho.

You coughed awkwardly, "Well, I assume this is your cat then?" You said, holding the cat out to him. Minho eagerly took the Soonie out of your hands, stroking between its ears. "I've been looking everywhere for him. Where did you find him?" Minho asked, eyes locked on yours.

"I saw him outside by the lobby doors when I returned from lunch earlier. He was soaked but I didn't see a collar so I took him back to my place and cleaned him up before looking for his owner." You explained, looking down at the feline who was now snoozing in Minho's arms.

"Well, thank you. I feel like I should compensate you for causing trouble." Minho said, looking about ready to reach for his wallet. You waved your hand in dismissal before crossing your arms. "Nah it's fine. I didn't do it for a reward." You said nonchalantly, Minho smirking at you. "Looks like he got you good." He said, covering his mild worry with a smug smile.

You looked down at your arms littered with cat scratches, sighing quietly through your nose. "I'll have to stop by the store for some band-aids." You breathed out, Minho shaking his head in response. "Nonsense. I have some... If you would like to come in for a moment." Minho said with a quirked brow. You shrugged, "Why not."

***

"I'm sorry about Soonie," Minho said as he wiped at the cuts that littered your arm with an alcohol swab. "It's no big deal. He was an asshole but it was worth it." You said, your eyes following the movements of his hands. Minho chuckled, running his fingers over the bandages one last time before looking back up at you. "All done. Is that feeling better?"

You wiggled your fingers, the feeling of the bandaids between them odd. "Much better. Thank you, Minho." Minho smiled and stood, you following close behind as the two of you exited his bathroom.

Now, Minho definitely is not the most sociable person. At first, he only invited you in because he genuinely felt bad about the trouble you had gone through for his cat. But whilst he sat there talking with you in the bathroom and thinking of your conversation from earlier, he realized he could use a friend. One outside of his... job. And so far he has gotten along quite well with you. You also seemed to like cats so that was a plus.

Minho paused in the hallway of his apartment and turned to look at you, "Would you like to stay a little longer?" He said, a little awkwardly, not used to initiating things like this.

You stopped walking and smiled at the man and smiled, "Sure, I could use a friend."

***

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queer-clippings · 2 years ago

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Southern voice, September 13, 1990, Andrea K. Brown

[Image description: An article from a magazine written by Andrea K. Brown and titled "SODOMY STARTS TO HEAT UP AGAIN", above the title reads "FEATURE" and below "The Georgia Privacy Coalition wants the 'S' word off the Georgia law books." In the center of the article, breaking the page, is an illustration of a torn dictionary definition of the word Sodomy, torn in such a way where the word, it's pronunciation, and "the homosexual proclivities of t-" "1: copulation with a member-" ":noncommittal and esp. anal or oral-" -posit sex" are the only words visible. the main text of the article reads

"Remember sodomy? It was the hot issue in SoVo's pages earlier this year, largely as a result of a controversial sodomy law repeal demonstration and lobbying campaign on the first day of the legislative session. ACT UP staged the demonstration—complete with inflatable, anatomically complete dolls arranged in different "sodomitic" positions —outside the Georgia Statehouse. No doubt you also remember that the repeal effort fizzled when legislation that would have amended the sodomy law to legalize private consensual sexual acts between adults regardless of sexual orientation was defeated 6444. An amended version that excluded gays and lesbians from protection was trounced 87-22 as supporters of the gay inclusive version withdrew their votes. Some blame ACT UP's high-visibility techniques for losing the reform bill's more conservative supporters. But others feel that disapproval of graphic demonstrations is just a rationalization for homophobia, and that the law had no chance of passage this year, regardless of what anyone did or did not do. For most, the issue has cooled. But in the minds and hearts—and other parts—of activists, it still sizzles. "Sodomy" as a criminal term is used to intimidate and harass gays and lesbians, and as a weapon that may be wielded in divorce and custody cases, in criminal trials, and in military and other forms of discrimination. In Georgia, sodomy laws prohibit anal and oral sex regardless of partner gender—but private consensual sodomy is not commonly prosecuted Nevertheless, Georgia has one of the harshest laws in the country: first-time "offenders," committing consensual sodomy may be imprisoned for up to 20 years. Forcible sodomy is punishable with lifetime imprisonment. The good news is that there are places in this country that have made significant progress on legalizing the way we make love. This summer, in both Michigan and Kentucky, Circuit Court judges struck down sodomy laws, using state constitutional privacy protections as grounds for their rulings. These are the first decisions applying to homosexual sodomy since the U.S. Supreme Court's infamous 1986 Bowers v Hardwick case. In Fayette County, Kentucky, the state law— which criminalizes same sex sodomy only—was declared unconstitutional. The decision presently applies to the Lexington area only, but, since the state Attorney General is appealing, it could soon apply to the whole state. A Wayne County, Michigan judge ruled that state laws against sodomy (defined in Michigan as anal sex between partners of any gender) and gross indecency (oral sex and mutual masturbation, also without regard to sexual orientation) violate privacy rights, in the case of non-public consensual sex between adults. The case may or may not be appealed. In Hardwick, the Supreme Court's majority proclaimed that "homosexuals do not have a fundamental right to engage in acts of consensual sodomy" under the due process clause of the 14th amendment, on which activists had challenged the punitive Georgia law. The high court cited "millennia of moral teaching" as grounds for its decision. The existence of sodomy laws in 26 states (and D.C.) makes clear the government position that engaging in sodomy is a heinous and abominable "crime against nature." In some states, the statute is actually titled with those words, or with a variety of equally offensive terms. Generally speaking, there are laws on the books which prohibit anal and often, mutual masturbation —whether they all fall under each state's definition of sodomy or not. Seven states prohibit only same sex sodomy. All around the country, advocates of sodomy repeal and/or reform are organizing to make changes at the state level. There is some visible movement in Oklahoma, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Maryland and Minnesota. Attempts at repeal have been and/or are being made in Mssouri, Texas, Tennessee and the District of Columbia. In Tennessee, the law has been reformed—reducing sodomy from a felony with a possible 15 years in the clink to a misdemeanor with a $25 fine. Some consider reform of this sort a victory —a step in the right direction. But others feel that reform will only make repeal more difficult. Members of the Georgia Privacy Coalition (GPC) are among those for whom the issue of sodomy remains hot. The GPC was formed in April of this year to lobby for and create awareness about the upcoming repeal effort. The strategy in '91 is, first and foremi to get the word "sodomy" off Georgia's law books. Aggravated sodomy and solicitation of sodomy are to be covered elsewhere: the first, under a new "aggravated sexual battery" statute being introduced alongside the repeal bill—Georgia's rape law does not presently cover forcible sodomy; the latter by the amending the solicitation for prostitution statute to include a description of the deed(s). In an effort to activate interest in repeal of Georgia's sodomy statute the National Lesbian & Gay Law Association and the Lesbian/Gay Rights chapter of ACLU Georgia will sponsor a Sodomy Track Day, October 8, as part of the Lavender Law Conference, to be held in Atlanta. Workshops, organized by Sue Hyde, Director of the Privacy Project of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, will include information on post-Hardwick state court challenges and legal strategies, penal code revision and recodification, and legislative repeal/reform. Registration info for the Conference is contained in an ad on page 3 of this issue. The Georgia Privacy Coalition meets the fourth Wednesday of every month. Networking is essential to eventual sodomy repeal; contacts outside of Atlanta are particularly needed. Call the GPC at 286-2358 /end id]

#queer history #magazine #queer magazines #magazine clippings #queer rights #sodomy #lgbt rights #politics #georgia

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

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Paygo, false consciousness and the IRS

John Steinbeck diagnosed an important American pathology in 1966 when he called the US a nation of “temporarily embarrassed capitalists” — people who see themselves as the wealthy-in-waiting and therefore fight policies that reduce the power that comes from wealth.

It’s a restatement of Engels’ idea of “false consciousness,” and it’s the result of a deliberate strategy on the part of wealthy people — many of whom believe that they were literally genetically destined to be wealthy — to convince the rest of us that “anyone can succeed.”

Part of the false consciousness program is the money story that goes like this: the US government takes away “taxpayers’ money” from “makers” to fund “programs,” the bulk of which go to the “lazy takers,” who experience the “moral hazard” of subsidized unemployment.

But of course, that’s not how money works. Money originates with the federal government (and its fiscal agents, the banks). In order for the public to have money to pay off its tax liabilities, the government must first spend that money into existence.

The IRS doesn’t take our tax dollars, pile them up, and give them to Congress to spend on programs. When the IRS taxes our money, they annihilate it, removing it from circulation. When Congress spends, new money comes into existence.

The US government can’t run out of money any more than Apple can run out of Itunes gift cards. It can spend too much money — so much that prices go up because too many dollars are chasing too few goods — but it can’t run out of money.

Fed spending is constrained by resources (what’s for sale in dollars) not money (how many dollars there are). If the ratio of dollars to resources gets out of whack, there’s a risk of inflation.

There are many ways to fix this ratio. For example, the government usually issues T-bills (savings bonds) whenever it spends more than it taxes. When you buy a T-bill, you take dollars that might circulate around the economy, chasing goods and labor, and you sequester them.

A T-bill is just a dollar you’re not allowed to spend. In exchange for surrendering the right to spend your dollars for 1, 5, 10 or more years, the government offers you interest, trickling out that money over a long period.

That way the government can buy things today without bidding against your dollars.

But that’s not the only way to fight inflation while spending new money into existence. The other major way is taxation: simply removing money from the economy and annihilating it.

Taxation fights inflation. When the government runs a deficit, that means that it created more money this year via spending than it destroyed via taxes. The “government deficit” is the “public surplus” — the money left in the economy for all of us to spend on stuff.

Likewise, when the government runs a “surplus” that means it taxes more money out of existence than it spends into existence. In a year where the government runs a surplus, it means that the power of the private sector — you and me — to buy stuff has decreased overall.

This is fine if there was too much money to begin with — if inflation was kicking off — but if there’s not enough money in circulation (e.g. if there’s a recession), it just makes things worse…but not for everyone.

When the economy is starved of money, banks go to work creating new money through loans. These loans pay interest (to rich people like bank shareholders and people who securitize and buy debt).

That’s the one-two punch of spending cuts during a downturn:

I. The real economy is starved of the capital it needs to pay workers and make things for workers to buy;

II. The financial economy grows as desperate real-economy firms borrow from banks to keep the lights on.

Despite all their talk of “spending taxpayers’ money,” the wealthy understand how money works. That’s why they were totally indifferent to the running $1t/year deficits created by the Trump tax-cuts (and likewise about the Obama finance bailouts).

Giving money to rich people causes asset-bubbles (driving up the prices of houses), but not inflation (a sustained rise in the price of all goods). That’s because rich people can’t buy enough stuff (fridges, cars, oranges) to drive up prices.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/08/howard-dino/#payfors

After you’ve bought three houses and three SubZero fridges and filled them with the beef of three Kobe cows and three cases of Moet, there’s still a LOT left over (even if you’re Jeff Bezos and buy a superyacht with its own, smaller superyacht).

Those leftovers go to socially useless things, like buying houses to turn into rent-generating slums (Wall Street is fast becoming America’s biggest landlord, and single family homes are sold for cash to investment funds instead of families).

And they go to influence campaigns designed to make regular people defend massive cuts to the IRS and opposition to public spending on infrastructure, education, health, and other necessities.

This isn’t just about Republicans. For years, the Democratic leadership has supported “balanced budgets” (spending so little that no new money is left in the economy after all taxes are paid).

The “paygo” rule (which requires all new spending to be matched with cuts or tax-hikes) is religion for the likes of Pelosi and Schumer. That’s why the Democratic caucus is mired in stupid arguments about “how we will pay for the stimulus.”

As bad as the paygo rule is, though, Republicans have made it worse, by demonizing and starving the IRS. Paygo means that the US government operates under the artificial constraint of only spending if it can make cuts or raise taxes.

Raises taxes is really unpopular, for obvious reasons.

Now, raising taxes on the 1% — who have a lot of excess money that’s fueling political corruption and asset bubbles — is one way around this.

Theoretically, taxing the 1% should have a 99% approval rating.

But canny Republicans have figured out how exorcise temporarily embarrassed capitalists about the “unfairness” of taxing their bosses, in part by just flat-out lying about who new taxes would implicate.

But there’s yet another way to satisfy paygo’s artificial constraint, without changing the a single word in the tax-code: simply fund the IRS so that it can collect the trillions that the ultra-wealthy illegally avoid in tax-payments every year.

But this strategy is also a bust. The GOP campaign to destroy the IRS has been too successful.

It’s a longrunning campaign, but it achieved liftoff in 2013 when the Tea Party baselessly accused the IRS of discriminating against conservative groups seeking nonprofit status.

The work-the-ref strategy paid off, providing political cover for deep cuts to the IRS and putting IRS staffers on notice so they green lit every dark money group that applied for nonprofit status, no matter how obviously corrupt they were.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/investigations/fallout-from-allegations-of-tea-party-targeting-hamper-irs-oversight-of-nonprofits/2017/12/17/6403c1c0-c59e-11e7-a441-3a768c8586f1_story.html

After the cuts, the IRS grew easier to discredit. Understaffed and under siege, the agency’s behavior grew erratic, then indefensible. There were runaway automated processes that sent out erroneous property-seizure notices that no one could rescind:

https://theintercept.com/2019/01/14/irs-shutdown-federal-government-shut-down-irs-asset-seizures/

Then there was the aftermath of the Equifax breach, where the IRS first told Americans that it didn’t matter because they’d already been doxed by other bad companies:

https://thehill.com/policy/cybersecurity/355862-irs-significant-number-of-equifax-victims-already-had-info-accessed-by

Then came news that the IRS couldn’t cancel Equifax’s no-bid, $7.5m anti-fraud contract because it didn’t have the resources to do its own fraud prevention (Equifax eventually lost the contract because it served malware from its anti-fraud site).

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/equifax-irs-data-breach-malware-discovered/

The rich waged a successful all-out war on the IRS. Take the Global High Wealth unit. For every hour an auditor from GHW worked, they brought in $4500 in taxes the super-rich had dodged. Even by the topsy-turvy logic of “government as a business,” this was good business.

After a concerted harassment and political influence campaign, the GHW abandoned the super-rich and switched to the merely wealthy, bringing in less money and pissing off a lot more people.

The other shoe dropped in 2019, when the IRS admitted it had switched to preferentially auditing poor people because it was too politically and legally fraught to audit rich people, even the most flagrant cheaters.

https://www.propublica.org/article/irs-sorry-but-its-just-easier-and-cheaper-to-audit-the-poor

That was the first year that America’s 400 highest earners paid a lower tax rate than the average American worker:

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/10/06/opinion/income-tax-rate-wealthy.html

The IRS’s transformation into a facilitator of illegal wealth retention by the super-rich and petty harassment of the rest of Americans made them very easy to hate.

To that, add the concerted corporate campaigns to use the IRS to rip off workers.

For example, for 20 years, Intuit lobbied the IRS not to make tax-filing automatic, painless and free, ensuring that Americans would continue to pay billions to send data to the IRS that it already had:

https://www.propublica.org/article/inside-turbotax-20-year-fight-to-stop-americans-from-filing-their-taxes-for-free

Reading the IRS’s internal emails from this battle reveals an agency in retreat, where demoralized and ineffectual government employees simply rolled over for one of the greatest ripoffs in American history:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-irs-tried-to-hide-emails-that-show-tax-industry-influence-over-free-file-program

Intuit wanted to rip us off with taxes. Microsoft, by contrast, just wanted to break the law. Working with KPMG, the convicted monopolist created a “transfer” scheme of breathtaking illegality, using its tax-savings to bankroll its war on the IRS:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-irs-decided-to-get-tough-against-microsoft-microsoft-got-tougher

Which brings us to today, where Democrats are held hostage to the “payfor” rule and trying to figure out how to mobilize the trillions Biden has pledged for infrastructure, health, and care.

Republicans — pushing the big lie of “taxpayer money” — are dogwhistling hard. Senator John Thune, responding to Biden’s proposal for $80b for the IRS, says any tax enforcement efforts “must strike an appropriate balance between taxpayer responsibilities and taxpayer rights.”

Meanwhile Senator Chuck Grassley takes the nonsensical position that funding the IRS won’t help it do its job (“simply throwing money at a problem doesn’t necessarily yield a solution”).

https://thehill.com/policy/finance/553704-lawmakers-bicker-over-how-to-go-after-tax-cheats

Then there’s Rep Kevin Brady, warning that a fully funded IRS would “unleash tens of thousands of new IRS agents on families, farms and businesses.”

But the Democrats own the paygo rule, not the Republicans, and their leadership have added their own special touch to make funding the IRS impossible.

https://prospect.org/politics/infrastructure-at-a-crossroads-biden-public-investment/

According to the rules Congress gives to the Congressional Budget Office (which calculates the cost of government programs), the CBO isn’t allowed to factor in the projected additional revenue from funding the IRS, only the cost of doing so (!).

Which means that they must factor in the salaries that IRS Global High Wealth auditors will draw — but they are forbidden from counting the $4500/hour they generate when they puncture the tissue-thin financial lies of the super-rich.

The payfor and “taxpayer money” are lies.

It’s a shuck sold to the rubes, not economics. Because it’s a shuck, it doesn’t have to make any sense — and it doesn’t. We shouldn’t run government like a business, but if we must, let’s at least count revenues as well as costs.

Image: Mike Licht/notionscapital.com https://www.flickr.com/photos/notionscapital/48857033957/

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

#pluralistic

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socalwriterbee · 3 years ago

Text

Confessions Part 3

Catch up on Confessions

Part 1 Part 2

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Marie Castro (MC) x Jordan Le x Sam Dalton

Rating/Warning: Teen, Angst, Some Adult Language

Word Count: 1,660

Characters Belong to Pixelberry

“It’s not something you want, it’s something I need.”

Sam’s words kept playing over and over again. Marie had watched Sam disappear behind the elevator doors, with an expression she can only describe as cowardly. Whatever they had was gone. Gone all because of a kiss. What kiss ended their relationship? Was it hers with Jordan or was it Sam’s with Lana, like Jordan had confessed to her.

“It’s not something you want, it’s something I need.”

He was leaving, without a fight. His promises of their relationship worth fighting for were all a lie. The quietness of the lab was deafening, everything her and Sam went through kept appearing in her head. The laughter shared, the arguments, the moments they spent in each other’s arms, it was all gone just like that. It wasn’t worth fighting for.

Marie didn’t remember how she made it back to the lab, it had gone by as a blur. Space, it was something he needed. Space. Their relationship was still in the dark to the world, a secret they couldn’t share and now there was nothing to share. Now, she was just the woman who spared Sam from marrying Sofia.

Tears began streaming down her face, the droplets landing on reports sitting on her desk. Her sobs slowly becoming uncontrollable.

“I’m just a fool, How could I possibly think he would want forever with me.” She tells herself, wiping away the tears that keep falling down her face.

She laughed at her situation, one she agreed to. She wanted anything and everything to with Sam, she foolishly fell in love with a man who kept their relationship in the dark. A man who hired a publicists to fool the world on how they met and fell for each other.

Sam had done all that because he didn’t want history repeating itself with her, wanting to protect her from the things he couldn’t protect Addison from. What she should have been protecting herself from was Sam. She had thrown caution to the wind in accepting the position at Dalton Labs without letting anyone know. Putting what she and Sam had accomplished at risk, but she didn’t regret it, if given the chance she would do it again. Because she believed that their love would be strong enough to handle whatever came their way.

Taking a deep breath, she was determined to come out of this ahead. It was her who impressed Evan in the interview, she earned this job. Hell, she even impressed Sofia. She was doing her best in helping the environmental lab succeed, even if after it all, it meant Sofia becoming CEO over Sam. She would work hard to prove to everyone who doubted her and just saw her as a nanny wrong. Packing her things to call it a day, Marie stood a bit straighter with renewed vigor and made her way out of Dalton Labs.

****

Letting out an exhausted breath, it had sounded like a great idea to walk home but halfway through the busy, noisy, chilly streets of New York she began to regret that idea. Pulling her jacket a bit closer to her body as the cold wind nips at her exposed skin, a familiar face catches her eye through the glass doors of the lobby.

“What are you doing here? Haven’t you caused enough damage.” Marie grits through her teeth.

“I came to apologize.” Jordan smiles at her, lifting a pizza box. “I come with a peace offering.”

“You can’t expect me to forgive you just like that.”

But the smell of greasy, delicious pizza wafts in the air, making her stomach growl.

“Please?” He gives her the saddest eyes that he can possible muster. “I think you could some food. It must have been hours since you last ate.”

Every possible reason that she should say no comes in a rush “I..uh..yeah..Ok.” Marie says against better judgement.

“I’m not inviting you up because I’ve forgiven you, but you did bring a pie from my favorite place. The least I can do is hear you out.”

A sincere wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes light up with hope. “I’ll take it.”

They step into the elevator together, Jordan watches as Marie passes her card to access the penthouse. The ride and walk to her apartment is complete silence. After unlocking the door and stepping inside she locks the door behind them.

“Make yourself at home. There are drinks in the fridge. I’ll be right back.” Marie tells him, making her way to her bedroom kicking off her heels.

After changing into an oversized t-shirt, one she had taken from Sam once upon a time, and black shorts. She didn’t want to give Jordan a wrong impression, Marie made her way back to the main room of her apartment, where Jordan had already set up everything for them to enjoy the pie he brought.

“That smells delicious.” She smiles, taking a plate from Jordan and grabs a slice.

“I’m happy that I could bring a smile out. You should always be smiling.”

“The smile comes from having food. Don’t take too much credit.”

“Right. Sorry.” He says as he takes a bite. “Oh my god.. I can see why this is your favorite.” He follows with a mouth full.

Marie chuckles at the facial expressions Jordan makes as they continue enjoying their dinner and swapping stories of pranks, experiments and everything in between that Mason and Mickey have done and gotten into.

“I can’t believe they tried the syrup experiment in your shampoo too.”

“I’m pretty sure it had the same result.”

“A sticky mess!” They say in unison.

“I still can’t compete with you. It’s always Marie was so fun or Marie would do this.” Jordan tells her with a soft look on his face, not of jealousy but she knew it was something more he wanted.

“Jordan, you shouldn’t compete to recreate with what I had with them. They love having you as their nanny. You should know that they talk about all the cool and fun stuff you do with them.” She tells him, reaching for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, well. I’m probably out of a job anyway. After what happened. Sam won’t keep me after I kissed his girlfriend.”

She doesn’t correct him about being Sam’s girlfriend, Marie begins to pick up the plates they used. Walking towards the sink, she places them down and turns to face Jordan, her back pressing against the marble counter. Everything that happened today comes flashing back, Jordan’s kiss, Sam walking in on them, Jordan’s accusation of Sam being with Lana. And the one that hurt the most, Sam leaving, her eyes began to water. She blinked back trying to fight the tears from falling, her new resolve beginning to crack slightly. Sam’s scent filling her senses, maybe wearing his shirt had been a bad idea.

“Hey..hey..” Jordan comes up to her about to take her into his arms but stops just short and caresses her arm, trying to bring her some comfort. “I don’t know what I can say, sorry doesn’t begin to cover what happened, what I may have caused, the argument and all.”

Marie side steps away from him “It was more than just an argument. He wants space. It’s easy to blame you right now and I do.”

Neither one saying anything, only their breathing can be heard in the quietness of her home. Jordan looks at the woman he has been falling in love with since meeting her. But she wasn’t looking at him, her attention somewhere else, with someone else.

“He just gave up and pushed me away. It was just a matter of time for this day to come.”

The smile on her face masked her true feeling, Jordan could see the hurt he caused her. He wanted her and he didn’t care how he would get her. The first step in winning her had been more effective than he had hoped for and he would be there for her, whenever and however she would want him.

“Marie, I don’t know if you’d believe me or you’d take this with a grain of salt. I’m here for whatever you need. A shoulder to cry on, someone to talk too. I’ll be here.”

“I..uh. Thank you Jordan. I think, you should.. you know, it's getting.”

“It’s getting late. I should head out, pretty sure I’ll be packing my things.” He grins as he makes his way towards the door. “Goodnight Marie.”

“Goodnight.”

She watched him go, turning and waving at her, Marie closed and locked the door after seeing him disappear behind the elevator doors. For the first time in her life she felt empty.

Marie hated that feeling. She wasn’t going to wallow in what could have been. It was her from this day forward and no one would get in her way especially not Sam Dalton.

******

His grip tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles becoming white with rage. His jaw clenched, his heart rate increased as he watched as the boys nanny walk out of the building. A smirk on his face, a fucking smirk.

He knows one thing can cause a look like that, Marie. The look of being the luckiest guy on earth, countless times she made Sam feel that way, after spending their stolen moments in each other’s arms.

Reaching for the handle of the Audi, he was going to confront him. Sam didn’t care if he caused a scene. As he opened the door, a honk of a taxi makes him instantly reconsider what he was about to do.

Jordan turns towards the noise, spotting a familiar car pull out and drive away, he watched the taillights disappear. A wide grin spreads across his face. He knew who it was, a satisfying feeling warmed him, knowing he was closer of making Marie his.

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