#economic relief for middle class

[tomorrowusa]

Trump Republicans always have a spare trillion or two for their wealthy oligarch contributors. But heaven forbid that we should improve the skills of the American workforce by raising its education level.

#student debt forgiveness #joe biden #biden administration #higher education #economic relief for middle class #colleges and universities #trump republicans #tax breaks for the filthy rich #hypocrisy #maga oligarchs #mike luckovich

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

I Want To Kill Her

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 2

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink.

Word Count: 6,773

Growing up in America was a constant uphill battle for me. Every day, my family's lower middle class status weighed heavily on our shoulders, dragging us down and suffocating any sense of hope. Despite my parents' relentless efforts, we were always one step away from financial ruin. At school, I was painfully reminded of my economic disadvantage as I trudged through the halls in threadbare clothes and drove up in a battered car that served as a target for cruel jokes and vicious teasing from my more privileged peers. But amidst the constant struggle, I found refuge in my studies. The world of academia offered a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of my daily life, where I poured all my energy into excelling and proving my worth to a society that seemed determined to keep me down.

Life in our small town was like a broken record, repeating the same monotonous routine day after day. That is, until Teddy waltzed into our midst like a breath of fresh air. His tall frame stood out amongst the sea of ordinary faces, and his crisp British accent was music to our ears. The local coffee shop suddenly became a buzz of excitement as he charmed everyone with his wit and sophistication. And when he extended an invitation for me to join him in London, it was like a fairytale come to life. Leaving my predictable life behind and starting anew in the bustling city seemed intimidating, but I couldn't resist the allure of adventure and passion that awaited me with Teddy by my side.

My hand shook as I clutched the small, worn suitcase. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye to my family and familiar life. But deep down, a sense of determination propelled me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plane bound for London. As the engines roared and the wheels lifted off the ground, a knot formed in my stomach and my heart raced with a mix of emotions - fear of the unknown, excitement for new adventures, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, double-paned window and watched as familiar buildings and streets grew smaller and smaller. A sense of relief washed over me, lifting the weight of my past struggles and hardships with every mile we flew away from them. Little did I know, the journey ahead would be filled with new challenges and lessons that would shape me into the person I was always meant to become.

As we soared higher into the sky, thick clouds began to spread like a blanket over the vast expanse of blue. The world below disappeared from view, hidden by layers of white. But as we descended towards London, small patches of land began to peek through - rolling hills covered in lush green fields and charming villages nestled along winding rivers. My heart fluttered with excitement and curiosity at this glimpse of a foreign land.

The wheels touched down on the runway, jolting me out of my daydreams. I took a deep breath as we taxied towards the terminal, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life in a place that felt both unfamiliar and full of endless possibilities.

The bright lights of London beckoned me, a stark contrast to the small town I left behind. Teddy, my generous host, had spared no expense to make me feel at home in his lavish house. Each morning, I woke up to stunning views of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The enticing scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled my nostrils, reminding me that this was a life of luxury that I never could have imagined.

But what truly amazed me was the fact that I no longer had to work. Teddy's successful business ventures meant that money was no longer a worry for me. This newfound wealth allowed me to indulge in all the things I could only dream about before. My wardrobe was now filled with designer clothes, fancy dinners were a regular occurrence, and luxurious vacations were just a plane ride away.

However, amidst all this extravagance and joy, there was always a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Growing up, every penny counted and financial struggles were a constant source of stress for my family. Now, with my newfound wealth, I couldn't help but feel guilty for having so much while others back home still struggled to make ends

I fiercely pushed all doubts and apprehensions aside, determined to fully surrender myself to my newfound life. And by all appearances, I succeeded. Teddy whisked me away on dazzling tours of the city, revealing hidden gems and indulging in the finest cuisine known only to elites. He also opened the door to his elite circle of friends – powerful individuals who radiated confidence and wealth wherever they went.

At first, I felt like a mere observer among them. While they boasted about their latest investments and business ventures, I could only offer anecdotes about my humble beginnings in a small town. But as weeks turned into months, they welcomed me into their exclusive inner circle. They even included us on extravagant trips abroad where we mingled with A-list celebrities and attended VIP events.

I couldn't believe how rapidly my life had transformed since meeting Teddy. Where once I was ridiculed for not fitting in with the wealthy crowd, now I lived among them, basking in their luxurious lifestyle.

But amidst all the glitz and glamour, a persistent voice gnawed at the back of my mind. It started one afternoon while Teddy was tending to the front yard. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary chore for a homeowner, but something about it felt insidious and unsettling.

Despite the hired help we had to maintain our lavish property, Teddy insisted on taking care of menial tasks himself. At first, I thought it was just his need to be hands-on, but as the days turned into weeks, I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on the woman next door. Every time she stepped outside in her form-fitting gardening attire, he would drop whatever he was doing and watch her with an unbridled hunger. Her movements were like a sensual dance, each step oozing with an irresistible seduction that captivated him. She seemed to know exactly how to entice him, bending over suggestively in her garden while his eyes greedily took in every curve of her body. But when her husband's luxury car pulled into their driveway, she would become a picture of innocence once again. It was a tantalizing game of desire and secrecy, leaving me wondering what they truly did behind closed doors.

Rosie, the woman of the house, was a force to be reckoned with, her love and dedication to her garden rivaling that of a mother's fierce protection for her child. Harry, her husband and successful entrepreneur, exuded a confident aura as he walked through their flourishing gardens, the beauty brand he created known by all as Pleasing. Despite our similar ages, their maturity and put-together appearance made me feel inadequate in comparison. Our own home seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to theirs, always offering an unobstructed view of Rosie's constant tending to her bountiful gardens, a sight that also caught my husband's wandering eyes. But it was impossible to deny the allure of their well-manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant hues and intoxicating scents that enveloped us in a hypnotic trance. 

Each passing week brought a new wave of torment as I watched Teddy's eyes dart towards Rosie's garden, his gaze lingering on her while she tended to her roses. My stomach twisted with jealousy as he made excuses to be outside, his every move calculated to catch her attention.

I couldn't bear the thought of him longing for someone else, and my heart shattered into pieces with each stolen glance towards her. Desperate for answers, I confronted him about their relationship, but he dismissed my fears with a cold indifference and insisted they were just innocent neighbors. But deep down, I knew there was something more between them, and it consumed me with a fiery rage that threatened to consume us all.

As I relaxed in the comfort of my home, the noise from outside suddenly jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped to the window overlooking the busy street below, and there I saw Harry's sleek black Mercedes screeching into their driveway, its engine roaring wildly. Rosie appeared in the doorway, her movements frantic as she planted a forced kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside with an urgency that made my heart race. The door slammed shut behind them, and a foreboding sense of dread settled in my gut as I realized that something was seriously wrong between them. Whatever was happening, they were clearly trying to hide it from prying eyes.

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread as I made my way downstairs, my curiosity burning like a wildfire. The front door slammed behind me, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind my back. My feet carried me across the short distance between our homes, anticipation building with each step. As I approached their front step, muffled voices drifted through the open window above me, a sinister soundtrack to my racing thoughts. I could make out Harry's tense tone and Rosie's pleading replies, but not the words themselves. Their hushed argument went on for what seemed like an eternity before falling silent, leaving me standing frozen in shock. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what was happening. Had my suspicions been correct after all? Were Rosie and Teddy entangled in a secret affair that Harry had finally uncovered? The weight of the truth hit me like a sledgehammer, filling me with a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear for what would

My thoughts were racing as I tried to decide what to do next, but before I could make a move, the front door swung open with a loud bang. My heart jolted in my chest as Harry stormed out, his face contorted with either seething anger or burning embarrassment - it was hard to tell which was more intense. He didn't even spare me a glance as he brushed past, heading straight for his car.

Just then, Rosie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock when she saw me standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a wild mess, betraying some sort of frantic activity behind closed doors. "Oh...I-I didn't realize you were home," she stammered, her voice trembling with unease. She attempted a smile, but it fell short and I could see the fear in her eyes.

Before I could ask what was going on, Teddy burst out of our house and called out my name. He sprinted towards us from across the street, his brows furrowed with concern as he took in the sight of Rosie and I standing together. The tense atmosphere was thick between us all, and I knew something serious was about to go down.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern as he eyed us both suspiciously.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, feeling like a pawn in their complicated game. "Do you?"

Teddy and Rosie exchanged a tense look that spoke volumes about their troubled relationship. I could sense the weight of their secrets and lies pressing down on me, suffocating me with their toxic grip. Without another word, I turned and fled back inside, trying to escape the tangled web of deceit and betrayal they had woven around me. My once glamorous new life now felt tainted with suspicion and heartache.

I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with rage and disbelief. My worst fears have been confirmed - Teddy and Rosie were having an affair all along, right under my naive nose. A surge of hot tears fills my eyes as I collapse onto the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. How could he do this to me? After all we've built together, all the love and trust we shared. 

My mind races back through the past few months, dissecting every encounter between them that I had brushed off as innocent. His lingering looks at her, her secret smiles directed only at him, their hushed conversations that would abruptly end whenever I appeared. The pieces finally fit together, a puzzle of betrayal and deceit that I was too blind to see. How long has it been going on? Was it when he started staying late at work for that promotion? Or when our once effortless conversations turned into strained silence over dinner? My world is shattered, and I can't help but wonder if it was ever truly as perfect as I believed it to be.

My body curls in on itself, a protective barrier against the pain that radiates through me. My mind is stuck on replay, the tense exchange between them echoing endlessly in my head. Rosie's desperate pleas, Harry's explosive anger - it all points to betrayal. 

The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks as I realize I can no longer ignore the truth. My heart aches with every beat, but I know I have to confront Teddy. Pretending everything is okay between us is no longer an option. 

As I stand up and make my way to the front window, I catch a glimpse of Teddy crossing back over to our house, his defeated posture screaming guilt. The anger and hurt fueling my determination, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable confrontation. 

When Teddy steps into our living room, the air crackles with tension like static electricity before a storm. The unspoken truths between us hang heavily, suffocatingly thick like a dense fog. 

"Why don't you just admit it, Teddy?" My voice trembles with a mix of rage and despair.

He responds with words sharp as shattered glass, "Admit what? That you're so blinded by your own insecurity that you'd accuse me without any proof?" His betrayal cuts deep, adding more pieces to the already broken shards of my heart.

My hands balled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I struggled to contain the raging storm inside me. "Don't you dare try to twist this around on me! I saw you, Teddy. I saw the way your eyes linger on her, like she's the only thing that matters."

Teddy's jaw clenched and his calm façade cracked, giving way to a simmering anger. "You're being paranoid. Rosie is just a friend, nothing more."

I took a step closer, my voice dripping with venom. "Oh please, spare me your excuses. I've seen how you look at her when you think I'm not looking."

Fury burned bright in his eyes, his voice rising in a challenge. "How dare you accuse me of cheating? I would never do that to you!"

Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head in disbelief, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "It's not just about today, Teddy. It's been building up for months. The way you ignore me and shower her with attention... It's like I'm invisible to you now."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh please, stop playing the victim here. You knew what you were getting into when we moved here.You want me to make you feel like you exist? Do you want me to fuck you? What do you want? You’re so needy you put your issues onto other women."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure in the face of his callous words. "I thought I was getting into a life with someone who loved and respected me. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back to screw the neighbor."

The tension in the room reached its breaking point as Teddy's mask slipped completely, revealing the raw emotions seething beneath the surface. "Maybe if you were more exciting, more adventurous, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere for some excitement in my life!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in disbelief and pain. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, an invisible barrier that seemed impossible to breach.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered hoarsely, the finality of those words echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once again with resolve. "Fine then! Maybe this is for the best. Actually, yeah it is. Bitch." he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

And with those parting words echoing in my ears like a curse, I turned away from him and headed towards the door, leaving behind our shattered dreams and broken promises in a trail of fractured memories.

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Harry sat in his sleek, black car, parked precisely outside of his modern fortress. I approached cautiously, trying to mask my trembling steps on the pavement. With a gentle tap on the window, I could feel his intense gaze burning through me from within the tinted glass. His phone slipped from his hand as he rolled down the window, revealing a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity. A commanding voice cut through the silence, "Get in." Without hesitation, I made my way around to the passenger side and sank into the plush leather seat next to him, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

As we drove away from the chaotic scene behind us, the tension in the car was suffocating. Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to be coiled with a fierce determination, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. I stole a quick glance at him, noticing how his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a dangerous edge, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.

A heavy silence hung in the air of the car, suffocating me as I struggled to catch my breath. Harry's voice pierced through the tension like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my racing thoughts. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression etched with genuine concern.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt constricted and choked. Finally, I managed to whisper, "I don't know." My mind was reeling from the events that had unfolded only moments ago.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his words heavy with understanding. "Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us," he mused, his tone grave and contemplative. "But it's how we handle them that defines who we are."

I turned to look at him, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos raging inside me. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For being here for me."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, but there was a glint of steel in his gaze. "You don't have to thank me," he replied firmly. "I'm here because I care about you and because your husband is sleeping with my wife." His reassurance was met with a sense of relief and gratitude amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume me.

The stillness between us was palpable, a fragile thread holding back a storm of emotions. The road stretched out before us, winding through fields and forests, as if it were leading us towards a new beginning.

My heart felt heavy with the weight of our shared past, but in this moment, with Harry by my side, I could feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Together, we drove into the unknown, leaving behind the pain and hurt that had consumed us.

But as we reached our destination - a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere - the tension returned. Harry's exhaustion and frustration were etched on his face as he turned to me.

"I know neither of us want to go home right now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "For fuck's sake, they're probably sexing each other up as we speak.." A surge of anger and betrayal rose within me at his words. "Let's just stay here for the night, maybe two. We can regroup and come up with a plan." His proposal hung in the air like a dark cloud, reminding us both of the uncertain future that lay ahead. But one thing was certain - we wouldn't have to face it alone.

My voice caught in my throat, unable to form words as I simply nodded, a tight knot of fear and anger coiling in my stomach. My body trembled with the intensity of the situation. We both knew that any misstep could cause everything to spiral out of control. The motel seemed like a fitting backdrop for our strained emotions, its dilapidated exterior reflecting the state of our relationship. The neon lights flickering ominously, casting a sickly glow over the peeling paint and broken windows. But even this rundown place offered some respite from the suffocating chaos and turmoil surrounding us.

Panicked and unprepared for the situation I found myself in, I regretted not packing a change of clothes as my heart raced and my mind spun with fear. The events that had just unfolded left me gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of chaos. As we rushed into the rundown motel, I couldn't help but scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. The flickering lights and musty smell only added to the ominous atmosphere. Harry snatched the key from the grimy front desk man and led us down a dimly lit hallway to our room. My anxiety spiked when they informed us that the only available room featured a single king-sized bed. My nerves were on edge at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Harry, his intimidating presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension between Harry and me was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.

"I'll take the floor," Harry offered gruffly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a heavy blanket.

I shook my head, unable to accept his sacrifice. "No, we can share the bed. It's fine," I replied softly, trying to ease some of the strain that weighed on us both.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. "Alright then."

The room felt suffocatingly small as we settled in, the walls seeming to press in on us from all sides. The shadows danced ominously in the dim light, casting eerie shapes across the worn carpet.

"I never thought we'd end up here," I mused quietly, breaking the somber stillness that enveloped us.

Harry's voice was gruff as he responded, "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect it."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Seems like we're both striking out lately."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our complicated situation hanging heavily over us. The sound of distant traffic seeping through the thin walls served as a reminder of the world outside our little bubble of chaos.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry you're going through this. You deserve better."

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since we had arrived. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that caught me off guard.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold despair that had settled in my heart. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's company. 

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of our circumstances still heavy on our shoulders but somehow more bearable with each other's presence. The flickering lights outside cast fleeting shadows across the room, adding a sense of fleeting impermanence to our shared moment of respite.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice genuine and heartfelt.

Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between us in the midst of turmoil. "Me too," I whispered, feeling a sense of hope blooming in my heart despite the challenges ahead.

And so we sat together in the dimly lit motel room, two souls seeking solace in each other's company amidst the chaos that threatened to tear us apart.

My phone began to buzz incessantly in my hand, Teddy's name flashing on the screen. I couldn't bear to see his name or hear his voice, so I forcefully shut off my phone and flung it across the room with a violent toss. As it clattered against the wall, Harry's quiet voice pierced through the air.

"She called me too," he seethed, his fists clenched at his side. "In this moment, I could kill her."

I nodded in agreement, my blood boiling with rage. "Teddy had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous and then suggest that if he just fucked me, my jealousy would disappear," I spat out, feeling both hurt and incensed by his words.

Harry's voice dripped with desire as he turned towards me, his gaze burning into my skin. "Would it?" His words were a challenge, daring me to answer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he leaned in closer.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Would what?"

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he spoke the words that sent a shiver down my spine. "If he fucked you, would you still be so jealous?"

My heart raced at the vulgar question and I let out a nervous laugh. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Harry. Nothing could change how I feel."

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in his voice. "The timing of this is fucking terrible. I've always thought you were stunning, wondered what you saw in a guy like him. And I know I could give it to you so much better."

Our eyes locked in a heated moment and I couldn't deny the sparks that flew between us. But as tempting as his offer was, I knew I couldn't betray my feelings for another man.

I glanced up at him through my lashes and saw the raw intensity in his gaze. It was clear that he wanted me. But we both knew it could never be more than a forbidden fantasy.

“What if we had our own affair, you know, to get back at them.” He said with a smirk.

My heart pounded in my chest like a wild animal in a cage at his words. An affair? The thought sent waves of scandalous delight and sinful anticipation coursing through my veins.

"An affair, Harry?" I repeated tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch in my throat. The charged silence that hung between us was as intoxicating as the raw desire smoldering in his gaze.

Leaning closer, Harry's lips brushed against my earlobe as he whispered huskily, "Yes, an affair, just like what they did. Us, sneaking around, feeling each others bodies." His hot breath fanned over me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

The room seemed to shrink around us as Harry moved impossibly closer, his hand finding its way to my knee. I watched as his fingers traced patterns along my thigh, desire flooding me with each small movement.

Harry's thumb traced a line up towards the apex of my thighs, igniting sparks wherever it made contact with my flesh through the thin material of my skirt. My body instinctively rose to meet him and I let out a soft gasp.

"You want this," he murmured heatedly against my neck before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my core clenched at his actions. 

"I...I..." I stuttered, struggling for words as heat pooled low in my belly. He chuckled darkly at my loss for words before returning his attention back to where his hand had slowly began creeping upwards again. His warm touch was like an electric shock, leaving behind a trail of molten desire.

Without another word, Harry pushed up my skirt and slipped his hand into my panties. His fingers brushed lightly against me and I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to my core. He grinned wickedly at me and slowly began to stroke me, his skilled fingers setting my senses ablaze.

"Harry," I moaned out, clutching at his arm as he expertly worked me into a bundle of nerves. His low chuckle did nothing to ease the escalating tension.

His finger easily slipped inside me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion. Harry pumped his digits inside me slowly at first, but quickly sped up when I let out a needy gasp. The pleasure was overwhelming and soon enough, I clenched around him, a shuddering orgasm ripping through me.

I fell back onto the bed, panting heavily as aftershocks still tingled throughout my body. Harry wiped his glistening fingers on my skirt before smoothly pulling it back down. He then lay next to me on the bed, his smirk evident in the dim light.

"That's just a taste," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes. 

"I can't wait to claim you as mine," Harry whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart raced as he trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to suckle a tender spot just below my earlobe. His hands moved sensually over my body, teasingly tracing patterns on my skin before gripping me tighter.

Desperate for more of his touch, I moaned and arched into him. He took that as an invitation and gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head roughly. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he saw me bare-chested for the first time. I blushed at his appreciation but internally preened at his reaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled lowly before capturing one of my nipples between his lips and sucking hard. My back bowed off the bed as I let out a keening whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He had a way of making me feel wanted and desired like no one ever had before.

He moved lower, kissing and licking his way down my stomach until he reached the hem of my skirt. With a swift movement, he yanked it up over my hips, baring me completely to him. His eyes darkened even more when they met mine again, full of lust and possession.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded softly yet authoritatively. I hesitated for only a moment before complying with his request, feeling incredibly exposed but also powerfully aroused by the thought of pleasing him in any way possible.

Harry took advantage of this vulnerability by thrusting two fingers deep inside me without any warning or preparation. I gasped at the intrusion but didn't stop him from exploring deeper within me. Instead, I clenched around his fingers instinctively while moaning out his name in ecstasy. He chuckled softly against my inner thigh before reaching between our bodies to stroke himself in time with his rhythmic fingering of me.

"You're so tight," he groaned approvingly. 

As Harry thrust his fingers deeper into me, I couldn't help but moan louder. His fingers curled inside me, searching for my sweet spot while his other hand gripped my hip firmly. My body shuddered with pleasure as we moved together in this intense rhythm.

"You feel so good," I whispered between breaths. "Please don't stop."

He chuckled darkly before biting down softly on the lobe of my ear, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His hips picked up speed, grinding against me as he groaned in approval.

"That's it, baby girl," he growled. "Take what you want."

His words ignited something deep within me, making me even more hungry for his touch. I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer still. Our skin slapped together in sync with each swift thrust and retreat as we moved together like two bodies meant to be one.

"Oh fuck, you're driving me wild," he whispered into my ear before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back sharply. The sudden sting shot straight to my core, intensifying every sensation tenfold. He released my hair just as quickly and crashed his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss that left me panting for air.

We moved from the couch to bed floor where he pushed me down onto all fours before kneeling behind me. One hand gripped the base of my spine while the other caressed its way up my inner thigh towards my core again. He teased me mercilessly with his fingers as he trailed hot kisses down my spine and back up again, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

"I know I'll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before," he muttered darkly into my ear just before slamming himself deep inside me from behind in one powerful stroke that made me cry out loudly at both surprise and pleasure. In response, he gripped both sides of my face roughly yet tenderly and claimed my mouth once more in a fiery kiss that went on forever or at least it felt like it did until our bodies became entwined.

I could feel his cock hardening in his pants and I needed it no matter how wrong it was.

He gripped my hair tightly and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You're mine to fuck however I want." Wanting more than anything to feel his cock deep inside me, I moaned in agreement.

Pushing me against the bed, he roughly lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his free hand, he pushed his hard and heavy cock into me. I cried out at the intense pleasure shooting through my body as he began to thrust slowly yet powerfully in and out of me.

"Say you want it," he growled against my ear. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Please," I whimpered. "Fuck me hard."

His answering groan sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins as he slammed into me with all his might, claiming my mind and body as his own. The force of each thrust sent jolts of electricity through every nerve ending i body, leaving me breathless and begging for more.

As he continued to pound into me, I couldn't help but moan his name. His thick cock stretched and filled me, hitting my sweet spot with each powerful thrust. I felt my walls start to quake, ready to explode with pleasure as he took control of our encounter.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at my earlobe. "Just let go."

I clung to him tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the intensity of our lovemaking. Every muscle in my body was on edge, waiting for the release that felt so close yet so far away.

He changed positions again, lifting me up and pushing me against the wall. His other hand gripped my hair tightly as he claimed my mouth roughly in a deep, passionate kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he began to thrust even harder into me. It felt so dirty yet so good to be taken like this.

"You are mine," he whispered harshly between breaths. "Only mine. I bet your husband would be fucking dumbfounded when he sees you filled up with my babies."

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement as he took control completely. This was exactly what I needed - someone strong who would make me feel wanted and taken care of. 

As we moved together in sync, lost in the heat of passion and desire, I whispered back to him between gasps for air, "Please...don't stop."

He replied by grabbing hold of my ass cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he thrust deeper into me. His rough skin rubbed against mine, sending tingling sensations all over my body. With every push and pull, our hips collided, echoing throughout the room.

I could feel him growing harder inside me, straining against the thin fabric separating us. The anticipation was killing me - I needed him to release that cock and fill me up completely. As if reading my mind, he pulled away from me suddenly and spun me around so that I was facing the wall again.

"Not yet," he growled into my ear before reaching down and teasing my entrance with his thumbs. He pushed one finger inside me slowly, then another, stretching me open until three fingers were buried deep inside me. I arched my back involuntarily as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my veins at his tender ministrations on my most sensitive spot.

“Where is your damn phone?” Harry demanded, his voice dripping with urgency. I struggled to lift my head off the bed and weakly pointed to the device lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and strode over to it.

A sinister grin spread across his face as he unlocked the phone and shoved his thumb into my mouth, ordering me to suck on it. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he flipped the phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the tattoos inked on his arm for identification. His next move was ruthless as he pulled up my text messages and sent the photo to Teddy, effectively sending a clear message of dominance over me.

"I'll make sure that bastard knows what he's missing out on," Harry growls, his eyes filled with possessive rage. "You're too good for him, love. A fucking goddess like you deserves to be worshipped and adored, not tossed aside like a used toy." I feel a mix of anger and satisfaction as I realize that I don't need Teddy anymore, not after the wild and passionate night I just had with Harry. He makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

Harry threw the phone back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I could see the fire in his gaze, the intensity of his desire for me. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, gently tugging on it as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, but his touch was firm, demanding. I responded eagerly, meeting his kiss with equal passion.

As we kissed, Harry's hands began to wander, exploring my body with a familiarity that set my skin on fire. He traced the curve of my waist, the arch of my back, the dip of my hips. I could feel myself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. I needed him inside me again, needed to feel him filling me up, possessing me completely.

But Harry had other plans. He broke our kiss and looked deep into my eyes, his expression serious. "Not yet," he whispered, echoing his earlier words. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He lowered his head and began to kiss a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. He teased my nipples with his tongue, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. I gasped, arching my back as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Slowly, carefully, Harry began to enter me once again. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of me. But as he felt me grow wetter, more responsive, he picked up the pace. He thrust deeper, harder, his hips slapping against mine. I could feel myself losing control, could feel the familiar tightening in my belly as I approached my climax.

"Turn over, want to see that beautiful ass of yours as I fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harrystylesau #harry styles fanfiction #harrystylesfanfic #harrystylesfanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry edward styles #harrystyles #harrystylessmut #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #smutty one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist #one direction #hs live #otra tour #love on tour #ceo!harry

[effortandmore]

tuesday moon | knj (18+)

summary: being “just friends” with kim namjoon sucks

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: fluff, smut

au: university, co-workers to lovers to friends to lovers again (they're oblivious)

warnings: it's mostly fluff i think. they're oblivious. smut: minors should not be interacting/reading, namjoon has a big dick, a lil praise kink, oral sex (f!receiving), penetrative sex, the usual suspects i think. drinking (but not before they sleep together), tae is into new age jazz... and they were roommates!

word count: 7.7k

a/n: so... i had this dream a couple months ago and couldn't get it out of my head, so here you go. thanks, sleep brain. the title is from a neutral milk hotel song (but tbh the '23 album isn't great). thank you to @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over. and then for doing it again when i couldn't even find the mistake you told me was there 🙃

read on ao3

You’ve learned a lot in university—which given how much money you’ve spent to be there is a relief. But amongst business classes and writing workshops and statistics, the most important knowledge you’ve gained is that of small things. 

Of small things and how they can change your life in unbelievably big ways. 

Kim Namjoon isn’t exactly small. But the events that put him right in the middle of your life are. The first day you meet him is a Tuesday. Tuesdays have always been for non-events: for meetings and your least favorite classes… For snagging a coveted dryer on the third floor of the dorm building because Jeongguk saves it for you when he’s finished with his seemingly endless laundry. Tuesdays are for your first real uni friend, Taehyung, to show up to the laundry room unannounced and make you listen to weird new-age jazz on his phone that you hate, but love how much he loves it.

And then your work-study starts. A job in the library is supposed to be easy, has better hours than a lot of the jobs that are available, and pretty much only requires you to understand the Dewey decimal system so you can reshelve things quickly. You can count and read, and those seem to be the only things the head librarian cares about. Cake. 

Your first training day is a Tuesday. It’s a rainy afternoon, and in one of the conference rooms in the back of the law floor are you and three other new employees. Right away, it seems like Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon are already friends. They joke and whisper throughout the orientation videos and absolutely make you feel like a fourth wheel. At your first break, Hoseok extends the invitation for you to sit with them when he notices you still sitting by yourself in the back of the room, and it's then that you learn they for sure already knew each other—music majors and all in the same class even though Yoongi is a little older than the other two. They signed up for all the same work-study assignments hoping they’d be placed together, hoping they could have a chance to work on music during slow times at the slowest work-study assignments. Namjoon, though, who has been quiet the whole time, finally speaks up at this. 

“Well, I also like books,” he says softly, one side of his mouth turned up in a grin. “So, I guess I had an ulterior motive.” 

“Of course you did, Namjoonie,” Hoseok replies. 

Yoongi turns to you, explaining, “Namjoon’s a double major. Smartest guy we know. Literature and music.”

You talk more with them after the ice is broken—Yoongi’s a double major, too, math and music. Hoseok raps and does street dancing in his free time, and around the three of them, you feel like you’re woefully underachieving just at life in general. 

“What about you?” Namjoon prompts after you get some background on all of them. 

“Ah… nothing impressive. Economics major. Just what my parents wanted, you know. But I like books, too. I volunteer at the public library already, but it doesn’t exactly help with tuition.” 

“You volunteer?” Namjoon repeats, looking surprised. 

“Oh, yeah… It’s no big deal. I just read books to kids sometimes.” 

“That’s awesome,” he says, and the look on his face tells you he might actually mean it. Next to him, Yoongi snickers and Hoseok smiles brightly at you. 

“Namjoonie here has wanted to volunteer doing park clean up for a while, but Yoongi and I are always dragging him to the studio on the weekends, so he doesn’t have time.” 

Namjoon shrugs. “It would be nice to feel like I’m helping, I think.” 

“It is,” you agree, sharing a look with him across the table. “The purpose of life is to be useful…” You mumble the quote under your breath, assuming they wouldn’t know what you meant anyway. 

“Emerson?” Namjoon asks. 

“Oh! Uh… yeah, I mean… That’s what people think, but probably not. It’s most likely from a speech someone else gave when they gave Emerson an award, but most people think it’s him—” you cut yourself off when you notice Namjoon’s eyes gone wide.

“Self Reliance is one of my favorites,” he says, leaning forward, excitement playing in his voice. 

“Same! No one ever knows what I’m talking about, but ‘Nothing at last is sacred but the integrity of one’s own mind’ is maybe my whole life philosophy,” you ramble, just happy that someone might finally know what you’re talking about. No one in your economics classes ever shows any interest in philosophy, anyway. Your roommate calls you a nerd every time you bring stuff like this up, and Jeongguk just stares at you with big eyes like he wants to drink every word you're saying but doesn’t understand a drop of it. But Namjoon actually looks… interested in what you’re saying. More than interested, even.

Yoongi elbows Hoseok and smirks. “Namjoon’s in trouble,” he says. 

But before you can ask what that means, the head librarian interrupts to tell you it’s time to get back to training. You have to partner up for training to use the library’s reservation and shelving programs, and Namjoon comes right up to you, grinning shyly, and asks if you want to be his partner while his friends whisper on the other side of the room. You know immediately how this is going to go. Or you think you do, anyway.

And you’re right. By the end of the first week of your work study, you’re in Kim Namjoon’s bed. 

It’s just like it sounds. 

You’re naked, legs bent at the knees and open with his head between them. You noticed his brain first, but it only took that first afternoon to realize that not only was he smart, but stupid hot and kind and sort of funny in the sarcastic way you like, and he seemed to like something about you, too.

On Saturday, you work a slow shift together, both of you using most of the time to catch up on homework, and when it’s over, he asks if you want to come back to his place and keep studying. You agree quickly, but as soon as you get there, you realize you’re both on the same page about being more interested in studying each other than your class work. One thing leads to another, and here you are, moaning into your own palm as he flicks his tongue over your clit in a steady rhythm. 

“Namjoon, I–” You’re pathetic, you think, gasping and barely able to make words come out of your mouth, but fuck if he’s not good at this. Better than you’d thought he would be, actually. He came across as a little on the shy side during work, like he might be one of those guys who needs you to tell him where the clit is. Eager to please, but not quite sure how to go about it. Willing to take direction. 

He is not that.

“Gonna come, baby? You like my tongue that much?” Namjoon lifts his head to ask, and his lips are slick with you and his voice is deep and his fingers just don’t stop moving… It's so much. 

“Yeah, so close…”

At that, Namjoon smirks and ducks his head back down to finish the job. He makes quick work of you, sucking on your clit and twisting one of your nipples with his free hand. The other has two fingers fucking into you in just the right way, just shallow enough to hit your g-spot each time he pushes in. 

The orgasm builds fast, pressure from the inside, pressure from the outside… Everything feels so, so good, and you try to tell him so, but all you can do is whimper through it, clenching your thighs around his ears when you come on his tongue and he tries (bless him) to keep licking your core as your knees shake. 

“Fuck,” you say on an exhale, arm tossed over your own forehead.

“I’m down,” he teases. 

You’re about to say something sarcastic back, but when you lift your arm and look down at him, you lose that train of thought. He looks fucking incredible: flushed, a little sweaty, chin shiny with your orgasm and he’s grinning with those stupid dimples out… How could you not give him everything he wants? Maybe it’s the orgasm talking, the sweet rush of dopamine affecting you when you say, “I want that. Fuck me…” And for emphasis, when he stares at you a little stunned, you add, “Please, Namjoon?” 

He only nods, enthusiastically and a little dopey with it, a little like the boy you saw in the library. But when his cock is out—big… like, really big. Why even have a cock that large, really? What’s even the point of that?—he’s smirking and appropriately (you hope) confident again. 

“That is…” you look down and make a vague gesture in the direction of his dick, which makes him look down, too. 

He shies almost instantly. “Yeah, it’s okay if it’s too much or whatever…”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just… You look good.” You scoot up so you can have level eye contact. “Want you to fuck me. I can handle it, promise. I want to.” 

Namjoon swallows, visibly nervous, but agrees anyway. 

You knew it would be fine. Any partner who makes sure to tell you you’re beautiful, who makes sure you come first, who pays attention to your body the way he has for the last couple hours is probably going to keep doing that, you decide. And he does. He’s careful, even though you think it might actually be killing him a little to not move once he’s over halfway inside you. He checks in with you, makes sure the consent is still there, and then when you ask him to “actually fuck me, Namjoon… want your cock… all of you,” he does. And he delivers. 

You’re essentially sitting in his lap, his palms spread on your hips as he moves you on his cock and it is… Well, it’s unequivocally the best anyone’s ever fucked you. His lips are on your neck, your breasts, the swell underneath them where they meet your ribcage… He keeps talking to you in his raspy whisper, making sure you feel okay, telling you how good you feel to him. There are times when he gets a little porny, telling you how tight you are (you’re sure a cock that big hasn’t seen anything not tight), and then he says, half out of breath, “Knew you would be a good girl. Knew it from the first time I saw you.” And you didn’t even know you wanted to be a ‘good girl,’ but suddenly you very much do. 

Before he comes, he makes sure you do again, too. His thumb finds your clit and his lips are hot against your ear, whispering filth when you tighten around his cock and shudder in his lap. He’s not far behind you, pulling your hips down when he thrusts into you a little harder, sweat beading on his forehead with the effort. He’s quiet when he comes, just a low moan of your name as he stills under you. 

After, it’s the small things he does that you like. It’s nice that he doesn’t try and move right away, just runs his hands up and down your back—soothing, almost. The closeness is nice, his head resting against your collarbone while you stroke your fingers through his hair. It feels intimate, more than a first time or a one night stand with your coworker should. But neither of you make a move to change that, so maybe it’s alright. 

For now. 

You haven’t exactly been the most social university student, but you know how these things are supposed to go. You clean up, you get dressed, you make awkward small talk about your classes or your work study and then you go your separate ways. You go back to your apartment and you don’t talk about what happened. He might look at you like he knows what’s underneath your hoodie next time you see him, but you know it won’t happen again. That’s not how it works. Not for you, anyway.

Kim Namjoon is a good guy, that you’re sure of. He’s a hard worker, he’s smart, he has lots of friends and hobbies and between that and school and work, you know there’s no way he’s looking for a relationship, and you also know he’s going to do his best to let you down easy if he thinks that’s what you’re after. 

But, he’s your friend. And your co-worker, and the sex was great, so you want to at least spare him the effort of all that. So, when he gets up to dispose of the condom and find a washcloth, you get dressed quietly, pack your textbooks, and do your best to look mostly put together by the time he comes back. 

“So,” you start as he returns to his room, “that was great… Really great, Namjoonie. Thank you.” 

He looks… confused. “You’re thanking me for sex?” 

“I uh… yes?”

Namjoon gives you a dimpled smile with an eyebrow raised, clearly amused. “Okay… Well, you’re welcome, then. And thank you.” He gives you a teasing bow, and with it, you feel a little relief. Because he’s obviously ready to move forward and this can just be a fun thing that happened and you don’t have to make him worry about letting you down, and you don’t have to worry about how much you fucking like him already. You can just be friends. 

The problem, you realize quickly, is that being “just friends” with Kim Namjoon sucks. 

It’s like sending your poor, delusional heart through a cheese grater with each of your work-study shifts. It’s swallowing down every dream of happiness when you have to sit next to him at a party and watch him nod along in agreement as Hoseok tells him how hot the new guy in his dance class is. (The guy is hot, with at least a 6-pack, big, pouty lips, and biceps like cannons. So, even you have to agree they have a point.)

Okay, that’s probably dramatic. Incredibly dramatic according to Taehyung and Jeongguk. Which, honestly, says a lot coming from them. 

So, you do your best to forget your crush and just be cool about everything. You both make a frankly commendable effort to never talk about what happened between you, and after a few weeks, things don’t feel quite so weird. Namjoon’s probably relieved you never mentioned it again, didn’t expect him to be your boyfriend or anything. 

You think you’ve done well. 

At one party, halfway through the semester, you meet Namjoon’s friend, Seokjin. He’s quiet at first, polite with a big smile and a nervous laugh. He sticks close to Yoongi and Namjoon, and it doesn’t take long before he’s being shuttled across the large backyard in your direction. 

“Hi,” he says simply. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Oh! That’s good… I think?” 

“Yah, Namjoonie here—”

“Well, that was great!” Namjoon interjects. “Glad you two finally met. We’re late for something, though. So, bye!” And then he’s pulling Seokjin behind him through the yard in the opposite direction. It’s so weird. 

In his protests, you’re pretty sure you hear him say, “You’re ridiculous,” to Namjoon. If you were more sober, you would have recognized it as the first small thing that should have tipped you off. 

The second thing happens right before summer break. Your whole group, consisting of your and Namjoon’s friends, are sitting around at lunch discussing everyone’s plans for the summer. Hoseok and Jimin (the hot dancer he wouldn’t shut up about who is now his new boyfriend) are going to a dance clinic on the other side of the country. Jeongguk is going home, promising you he’ll leave you a list of acceptable laundromats in his absence. Seokjin and Taehyung are working—teaching acting classes to teenagers at summer camp. 

Yoongi’s got an internship, so he’ll be around, but barely since it’s in the city and your university is a little outside of town. It’s a long subway trip, so he’s got a sublet up there he’s moving into for the summer months. 

And then it’s Namjoon’s turn. 

“I’m staying. Not on campus, obviously. But I found an apartment and I’m looking for a roommate.” Everyone nods along except Jeongguk, whose eyes dart from Namjoon to you and back several times. 

“What about noona?” he finally says, hooking a thumb in your direction. “She’s staying, too.” 

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“That’s not a bad idea…” 

Namjoon and you look at one another. He’s flushed, and he’s doing that thing he does when he’s nervous where he rubs his throat. 

“I’m sure Namjoon has plenty of people in mind already,” you say, trying to give him the out he clearly wants. 

“Not exactly,” he mumbles. 

“This is perfect!” Seokjin exclaims. “Don’t you think this is perfect, Namjoon?” 

You lean over to whisper to Namjoon, “You don’t have to, it’s really alright.” It feels like you’re making him nervous, you can feel his muscles stiffen where you’re touching his arm, and the flush he was sporting is spreading to his neck now. 

“Would you even want to?” He asks softly.

You’re not sure, actually. It’s already hard work trying to put your stupid crush out of your mind most days. And now, you only see him a few days a week. Your brain (a logical friend) is telling you that living with him will be terrible for your heart. Your heart isn’t as smart and is pounding faster just thinking about spending more time around your crush. Friend, you correct yourself. 

The problem is that only Tae and Jeongguk know about your feelings, and none of them know you and Namjoon have already slept together. So, if you say no, it might be weird. As far as they know, you’re just friends, good friends. Why wouldn’t you want to live with him?

“Yeah,” you reply brightly, swallowing down your nerves, “it’ll be great, Joonie. I can cook and you can help me study for my summer classes.” You’re nodding along as you speak, trying to convince yourself that what you’re saying is true. 

“Okay… sure. Roommates,” he says, looking a little stunned.

“Roommates!”

You stick your hand out to shake his. You’re the least sexy person to have ever existed, you decide, as he laughs and shakes your hand. 

“It was a terrible idea,” you whine into Taehyung’s lap. “He’s just here… all the time. And sometimes…”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes he doesn’t wear a shirt!” You slump further into your friend, making what you know are pitiful whining noises into his thighs.

It’s not like you’d go as far as saying moving in with Namjoon for the summer was a mistake. But it wasn’t great. Actually, it was really fucking great, and that was the problem. Or part of the problem anyway. 

The apartment is nice—nicer than you’d envisioned when he told you about it. Not too big, but on the corner of the building so you got nice light throughout the day. You each have your own bedroom (thank god) and they aren’t large, but Namjoon gave you the one with the room for a chair by the window, even though you knew he’d been planning to write lyrics there. As promised, you cook for both of you in your small kitchen and Namjoon helps you with your summer classes. 

With all of your friends gone or busy, you two don’t see much of them, and it feels like you build your own little world: late nights listening to the records he brings home, eating simple meals by the window and complaining that you don’t have a balcony, getting dragged out on bike rides when the sun falls and it’s cool enough outside, hunched together on the floor of the living room scrolling webtoons and drinking one too many cheap beers, and the worst (best) of all—falling asleep on the couch together before you wake up with a jolt realizing your head is on him and it’s far, far too much to realize his chest is in your face… so you scramble to your room like a coward and don’t fall back asleep, too keyed up. 

Seokjin, when you do see him, adds in more and more “old married couple” jokes as the summer goes on. He makes fun of your chore lists on the fridge, cutely decorated with whatever doodle has been occupying Namjoon’s mind that week. 

(Jin doesn’t even know that when all the chores are done, you save the little post-it notes, snatching them off the fridge when Namjoon’s not around or not paying attention, and putting them carefully into a little box in your desk drawer with all the other scraps and mementos of your friendship you’ve kept over the almost-year you’ve known him.)

Jin teases you when he lets himself in, late in the mornings, and finds the two of you still asleep, tumbled atop each other on the floor, record-listening session gone too late, the needle still digging into invisible grooves at the center. 

It’s not his fault it doesn’t feel like a joke to you, he doesn’t know that you feel like the 45 and all of the jokes and all of Namjoon’s smiles and all of the little notes he leaves and the way he blushes when you come out of the bathroom in your robe like maybe maybe there’s just a chance you’re not the only one still thinking about that one time… that those are the needles, and you’re here, spinning in place while they poke and prod and dig for a melody that just isn’t there. 

Namjoon, to his credit, is the very definition of a good friend and roommate. He does all the little things. He brings you breakfast sometimes when he’s been out all night and knows you’ll be waking up shortly after he comes home. He cleans, so that even though he’s got so much stuff (endless records and books and figurines and things he just thought were cute), your apartment never feels dirty, just lived-in and homey and a little cluttered. Buys toothpaste when you forget—before you forget, even. Puts your favorite flavor of soju in the fridge every week even though he hates it. 

And it’s not just what he does at home (your home. with him. which you try not to think about because the way the thought makes your heart swell and almost burst is dangerous and confusing, and you hate that you can’t stop thinking about it entirely.) he takes you out, too.  It helps that he’s more social than you: gets you outside in the real world between classes and studying. Makes sure you touch grass. Does stupid dances with you to bad music at worse clubs. Buys you hotteok at 2am because he knows you want it even though you won’t admit it so he says both pieces are for him and lets you argue that it’s bad for his heart and you’re willing to take one off his hands just for the sake of his health… because you care for him. 

You don’t let yourself think about the way it seems like he flushes and his eyes twinkle a little when you say that. It’s got to be in your imagination. 

He doesn’t know that each time he goes out of his way to do something nice for you hurts a little. Doesn’t know that each time he’s a touch too sweet, you wish you’d stayed that one time. Can’t possibly relate to the way you wish that one night turned into a date turned into something more, maybe. 

And you know he can’t relate, because he’s started doing this thing while you’ve been living together: talking about someone. Someone that he likes. 

It’s devastating and you try so hard not to cry on the nights when it comes up. You succeed in never crying in front of him, but if you drip snot onto your pillow trying to hold back your sobs once you’re alone in your room, he doesn’t have to know. 

You don’t know who she is, but you’ve overheard Namjoon on the phone with Yoongi talking about her. She sounds great, if Namjoon’s probably clouded judgment is any indication. He thinks she’s smart and talented, says she sells herself short and he thinks she’s as close to perfect as anyone on the planet. He doesn’t go out without you too often, and you don’t ask where he’s been if he doesn’t offer, but he must be spending time with her because you catch him on a video call with Hoseok saying she can cook and she’s brilliant and she’s everything he’s ever wanted. 

She also sounds like she doesn’t know what she’s got, because Namjoon’s convinced she doesn’t like him back and that she’s out of his league—you finally ascertain that the reason he’s been going to the gym more was because one time she said she thought another guy had nice biceps and he knows they were bigger than his. 

One time, you come home late, catching Tae at a bar near campus after he’s done with classes and drinking a little too much. You’re not drunk, but you’re in that warm space past sober where everything is a little softer and funnier and Namjoon looks dangerously pretty sitting at his desk with headphones on working on a song. 

You plop on his bed, as you do now, and wait for him to notice you’re there. It doesn’t take long. 

“Hey,” he says as he pulls off the headphones. He’s giving you the double-dimple smile, which is especially effective when you’re tipsy like this. Throws you more off-kilter than another cocktail would have. “Have fun with Tae?”

“Hmm… yeah.” You lay back on his bed and don’t let yourself worry about your shirt riding up or your hair spilling around you in a haystack. It’s just Namjoon, and you know he doesn’t think about you like that, know he’s already seen you with more skin showing, hair messier. 

“Need me to get you some water?”

“No,” you sit up on your elbows, “s’okay. Didn’t drink too much. What’re you working on?” 

Namjoon is staring right at you, something indiscernible on his face. He looks almost like he’s in pain or something. “You alright?”

He shakes his head and looks embarrassed. You have no idea why. “Yeah, fine… I’m fine. Just a song, nothing too special.” 

“Can I hear it?” 

“It’s personal… Kind of silly. It’s not done yet… I’m not sure you’d like it,” he says. 

“I like everything you make.” It comes out too honest, you’re not sober enough to hide the tenderness in your voice, to wrap it in something less vulnerable.

There’s no response to that, and you worry you’ve given too much away for a split second before he unplugs his headphones and hits play on the song. And if you thought the sight of him working, bathed in moonlight and neon, was beautiful, this song is truly something else. 

It’s lovely—sweeping melody and building building with layers until it crashes all around you, his voice low and quick, persistent with words of love. It’s a love song disguised as wordplay, or maybe the other way around. It’s him in music: smart and beautiful and selfless and breathtaking… You want to keep it, you want it to be yours, you want the words to be about you or for you or just written with you in the back of his mind. It’s too much, it’s so so beautiful, and you know it’s about her. It’s for her. She’s the one who has his attention and who gets his words and it makes you want to crawl under your blankets and never come out like a petulant child. 

You’re laying down again, so you don’t know what he’s looking at as you listen. When it ends, you’re asking the question even though you don’t want the answer, even though him saying it will make it too real. “Is it about her?” you whisper. 

“Yeah,” he answers, just as quietly. “It’s about her.” 

You sit up quick, make sure you’re turned away from him so he can’t see the tears that are beginning to drip down your cheeks. 

“It’s pretty,” you say as you head toward the door, hopefully not giving yourself away, not looking back in his direction. “Really pretty. She’s lucky, Namjoonie.” 

You don’t see the confusion on his face as your bedroom door closes behind you. You don’t hear him tell you goodnight in a small, concerned voice. 

After song-gate, you do your best to put a brave face on and move forward. It’s more for him than you, you have to tell yourself. Because you, your heart, you don’t want to let him go, can’t stand the idea of watching him be happy with someone else. But you, Kim Namjoon’s best friend, you want nothing more than for him to be happy, even if it’s not with you. And it’s hard, but for the most part, you let that version of you win. 

You give him broad smiles and you keep not asking where he’s going when he leaves without you. You try really hard not to overhear his calls with Hoseok and Yoongi and when you do, you give him a ridiculous double-thumbs up and tell him to go for it, that she’d be a fool to turn him down. You’re pretty sure you’re the only one who ends up looking foolish in that moment though, even if you really, truly mean it. 

One day (of course it’s a Tuesday), you come home from class, and you’re sorting through the mail when you spot a card on the counter that wasn’t there in the morning. Namjoon must’ve left it when he came home, you can hear the shower running from down the hall. It’s rare he beats you home on Tuesdays, always saying he’s got “something” to do “across town” and you just assume it’s with her, so you don’t ask. 

But what’s more interesting than him being home early is what the card is: a temporary driver license issued to one Kim Namjoon. It’s got a picture of him, dimples out and glasses on, dated that day. You hadn’t even known he’d taken the class or the tests. You wonder why he wouldn’t tell you… It’s a big deal to him—he’d always said he didn’t need it, liked taking the bus and the metro. Thought cars were bad for the planet and that there were too many of them in the city anyway. But here’s the card, proof that for some reason he thought it was time for a change. 

“Oh! You… I didn’t mean for you to find that…” 

You look up. Namjoon’s standing by the couch, watching you examine his license, wrapped in a towel because if there’s a god, he only wants you to suffer. 

“You got your license?”

“Ah… the temporary one, yeah. Still need to take the road test.” 

He seems nervous, fidgeting with the blanket on the back of the sofa. You don’t know why he’d be nervous, it’s cool, you think. One more thing to add to the seemingly endless list of things Namjoon can do. 

“Proud of you, Namjoonie. But… why? I thought you didn’t want to drive.” 

He shrugs. “Don’t really, but… I just thought… Well, I thought if I got up the nerve to ask someone on a date, it would be nice to drive her. Just once or twice. Make it special, I guess. It’s probably stupid, but I thought y—” He cuts himself off and pauses. Looks out the window and scrunches his forehead up like he’s scolding himself. “I thought she might like that,” he says, finally. 

“Did she tell you to get a license?” You’re sure you sound as outraged as you feel when you ask. 

“No! She wouldn’t… No. I just wanted to try.” 

“Okay. Okay, good. You shouldn’t change yourself for anyone, Joonie.” And then you do that thing again, where you say too much, where it comes out too fond. “You’re more than enough just the way you are. If she doesn’t know that, she’s not good enough for you.” 

Namjoon smiles softly. “I’m starting to think she does,” he says. 

And the look on his face… It’s happiness and warmth and fuck you wish it was for you. Those nagging feelings of wanting more more more from him are welling up in your chest. “Good,” you say, still too tender as you set the card in his palm and scoot past him to your room, mail forgotten. “That’s the very least of what you deserve.” 

Later that night, you’ve tucked the soft and vulnerable parts of you back inside, showered, ordered food, and sent Namjoon down to pick it up with a stop at the convenience store for soju and beer. You can do this, you tell yourself in the mirror, psyching yourself up for the first time you both will hang out with all your friends in months.

The summer is drawing to an end. Seokjin and Taehyung are done teaching, Jimin and Hoseok got back over the weekend, Yoongi’s internship ended the week prior, and Jeongguk is back from his visit home, everyone returning in time to buy books and settle in for the new semester. 

You and Namjoon have decided to keep the apartment: close enough to campus, affordable enough, and you both bashfully agreed you liked living together, an arrangement sealed with the secret handshake greeting from a drama you’d watched together over the summer. So, you have the biggest apartment out of all your friends (which doesn’t say much), and they’ve all decided in your group chat that the group “welcome home” party would take place in your living room. 

Seokjin and Taehyung arrive first, Jeongguk in tow. They’re pouring through your door play-fighting and laughing and for a minute, you forget your crush on your roommate, you forget he’s pining after someone else, and you just feel so much joy that your friends are back as they pull you into a crushing group hug. 

“We brought wine,” Seokjin says. 

“Ew!” (A twin chorus from you and Jeongguk). 

“Fine, you two have your cheap soju and leave the good stuff for the rest of us.”

“Hyung, that bottle was only six—”

“Shh! Have some respect!” Seokjin says, slapping in the air in Tae’s general direction. 

They file into the kitchen to drop off snacks and cheap wine while you leave to dig around in Namjoon’s room for some records to play. It’s a hassle, finding enough that you like and then having to flip them every fifteen minutes, so you finally give up and resign yourself to just playing a playlist off your phone. Or anyone’s phone except Taehyung’s anyway, because “experimental jazz night” was not a hit last time he suckered you all into it. 

When you come back down the hall, your kitchen is suspiciously quiet. There is whispering and you can’t hear what they’re saying but you know anytime Jeongguk and Seokjin are colluding that it means trouble. 

“What’s going on in here?” You ask as you make it back to the kitchen. 

The three of them are reading the notes on your fridge and they all hop around immediately. Jeongguk and Taehyung have the decency to look guilty, but Seokjin just looks like he’s unearthed the lost city or something. 

“What are these?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Our shopping list? Chore list?”

Seokjin grins. “No, not those… These.” He plucks a sticky off the fridge and starts reading it aloud. 

“...And greet the all auspicious day,

Whose privilege permits my song—”

You can feel your face like a wildfire, hot and persistent, as you snatch the piece of paper out of his hand and tuck it in your pocket.

“That’s nothing. Just a poem” 

“That’s not nothing, that’s a love poem.” 

“We just leave each other quotes sometimes,” you mutter, fussing around the kitchen, opening the bags of snacks and setting them on the counter. “It’s no big deal. Just a small thing.” 

Jeongguk looks at you with wide eyes. “And you sometimes leave each other love poems?” he asks cautiously. 

“I guess… It’s whatever,” you say. 

“What’s whatever?” Hoseok’s bright voice drifts into the room. You snap your head up to see that he’s with Jimin, and they’re followed in by Yoongi and Namjoon, carrying all the food and drinks. 

“Namjoon hyung and Noona leave each other love notes on the fridge!” Jeongguk says brightly. “It’s so cute.” 

Your jaw actually drops, and you see in your periphery, Namjoon’s is doing the same. 

“They’re not love notes!” You protest. 

“They’re poems,” Namjoon adds with indignance.

“Besides,” you add, “he’s got a girlfriend or whatever.” You know you sound a little annoyed, and you don’t want to, but it’s worth it if it gets them off your backs. 

“Wait, what?” Yoongi finally joins the conversation, peeking his head around the corner into the kitchen. 

Six pairs of eyes are on you, and one (Namjoon’s) is anywhere but. You get the offputting feeling that something is happening, but you don’t know what. That the boys staring at you know something you don’t. 

“Namjoonie… He’s got a girl he likes. So, they’re not love notes. They’re just quotes we like.” 

Yoongi stares at you like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, and then Hoseok says, “Oh my god, they are that bad.” 

Seokjin nods. “The worst, actually.” 

“What? What is going on?” You ask. The question is directed at anyone, but you’re looking straight at Namjoon, who still won’t look at you. 

“I’m just gonna open some soju,” Jimin says. “Come on, guys.” 

The statement is clearly directed at Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk, who are all still huddled by the fridge, clearly amused at whatever is unfolding in your kitchen. One by one, they file out. Namjoon tries to follow them, but Yoongi unceremoniously shoves him back into the kitchen with a hissed, “I don’t think so, Namjoon.” 

“I’m so confused,” you say quietly. Namjoon finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and he looks so so nervous. Just like the day you’d agreed to be roommates. You have no idea why, because you’d never do anything to make him feel that way, not on purpose. “Is this about her? I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have—” 

“No! I mean… yeah, it’s about her. Or you, I guess?”

“Me?”

Namjoon nods. He takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets. “You. You and her.” 

“I don’t even know her, Namjoonie.”

He sighs. “You are her.” 

You’re every meme of confused people trying to do math. You think you probably have a literal question mark above your head. You think you heard him right but… but there’s no way that it’s what he meant.

“What?”

Namjoon looks like it’s almost painful to keep speaking, also a little apologetic. “I like you,” he says, shrugging. “I like you so much, and I’m a dick for agreeing to be your roommate when I felt that way, and I thought after that one time… Well, I thought maybe you needed more and that’s why it never happened again, so I started going to the gym more and trying to… I don’t know. Be more?” He runs a hand through his hair and slumps against the counter. “I just like you so much and I wanted you to like me, too. But I—”

“You like me?”

“Oh, fuck, so much.” It’s almost out like a breath, floats through the space between the two of you, waves itself in front of your face. 

“That’s why you thought it would be weird to be roommates…” you say, pieces clicking together. 

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees. “And why I tried to get biceps like Jimin and why I leave you love notes on the fridge, and why I wrote you a whole song about how incredible you are, how you make me feel, and how much I want you even though you don’t want me back…” 

“Biceps like Jimin?” 

“You said they were nice…” 

“Oh my god.” Little details of the past few months since you slept together all start floating around in your head and you see it so clearly now, it all starts to make sense, all the silly little things Namjoon does for you because it’s you, because he likes you… and oh no…

“Namjoon.” 

“Yeah?” He’s painfully cute like this—nervous and a little shy, hair falling into his eyes like it can protect him from looking right at you. 

You take a couple of steps closer to him. “I like you, too.” 

“You what?” 

“I like you, too. Just the way you are. I like all the nice small things you do for me, I like how you think, I like how you smell like soap all the time ‘cause you take a million showers… I like living with you… I like your records and your books and… And it’s stupid probably, but I save all your doodles like a teenager would ‘cause I just like you so fucking much… And I’m the bad friend, the one who moved in with you even though I liked you like this. I thought I would get over it.  I thought… I don’t know. I thought after we slept together you just wanted to be friends, so I’ve been trying so hard, but…”

“It’s awful,” he says, a giant grin on his face as he watches you stumble through your confession. “I thought you just wanted to be friends, too. You left before I could ask you to stay.” 

“Yeah, it is awful. Liked you since that first day in the library.” 

“Fuck, me too. We’re so ridiculous.” 

“Jin was right, we’re the worst,” you whisper. 

“You are!” You hear Jin call from the living room.

You let your head fall forward and bury it in Namjoon’s chest as he wraps an arm (with a perfectly sized bicep, you note, reminding yourself to tell him later) around you and laughs into your hair. 

“You’re listening to us?” you protest. 

“Hard not to,” Yoongi answers, “small apartment.” 

“You fucked?!” Hoseok yells.  

“Oh my god,” you moan into Namjoon’s shirt. 

“I bet they made love,” you hear a dreamy-voiced Jimin chime in.

You can feel Namjoon’s laugh rumble through his chest against your ear. It’s the best feeling you’ve felt in months. 

“So,” you start, pulling your head off his chest, but letting him slide his arm down yours until you’re loosely holding hands. “What now?” 

“Well, we should probably talk.” 

You peek around him to see your friends all staring at you. “Maybe later?” you ask. 

“Later is good.” Namjoon smiles so so big. You love knowing that you’re the one making him feel happy, you think you’re a little ridiculous for being jealous of some other non-existent girl this whole time.

“We like each other,” you say, still a little in shock. 

“We do.” 

Then, because you’re you, and you have not ever once been cool in front of Kim Namjoon, you lift your palm up. And because he’s him, and now you know he probably thinks he has never once been cool around you, he gives you a high five, his palm connecting with yours and then lingering there while you look at each other and you try not to lift up on your toes and kiss the shit out of him. 

“Did they just high five?” Hoseok asks, incredulous. 

“They’re so weird. Do you remember when they shook hands on being roommates when it was so obvious they wanted to jump each other on the couch? They probably kissed no tongue and called it sex,” Seokjin says, unhelpfully. 

“Hey!” you shout. “We can hear you!” 

“The sex was really great, for your information,” Namjoon says, and your face heats immediately. 

“It was,” you agree, if for no other reason than it really really was. And you want to make Seokjin as uncomfortable as possible. “Namjoon really knows wh—”

“This is going to be even worse than them being oblivious, isn’t it?” Yoongi asks no one in particular, cutting you off.

But that night after your friends leave, and you do get the chance to kiss Namjoon again, who is now not only your roommate, but your boyfriend, you know Yoongi couldn’t have been more wrong. This is infinitely better than being oblivious to Namjoon's feelings.

“What do you see in me?” he says into the ceiling, sweaty and a little hazy post-orgasm, after you’d made sure to seal your new arrangement properly. No high fives, no handshakes, just long kisses and nervous touches turning more sure, Namjoon making sure to whisper into your skin how much he cares for you, how sexy he thinks you are, how long he’s waited to have you again like this… 

(And you returning those words, moving your hips in slow circles in his lap, fingernails trailing across his shoulders as you tell him how good he is, how gorgeous he looks, how his biceps are the exact right size for you to squeeze—which makes him laugh while he fucks you, and if that’s not the best thing you’ll ever see in your life, you’re not sure what is...)

You lace your fingers with his and turn to him, thinking about all the things you love about him, how all those pieces layer together to make something so big that it seems to take up your whole heart. “I like all the small things that make you, you.” 

And he kisses you as a reply, lips soft and sweet on yours, and you decide that from now on, Tuesdays are for kissing your boyfriend in the moonlight and making sure he knows exactly how much you like him so that neither of you are ever unsure again. 

#namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfiction #knj x reader #kvanity #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts fluff #bts writing #bts fanfic #bts imagines

[petshopbibliography]

Hate: Neil Tennant on the power of negative thinking. Select Magazine, October 1992.

Text of the essay below the cut:

If not for hatred, I wouldn’t be doing what I do now. I became a pop star because I hated football at school. I hated that whole attitude of being one of the crowd. Becoming a pop star was my revenge. Revenge for being bad at football. For not being athletic. For being mocked.

That’s the thing about negative energy, about hatred. It can be positive. It throws into relief all the things you know you like. It tells you, by elimination, what you’re about. Sometimes you can only define yourself by what you hate. Hatred becomes an inspiration; it makes you think, “What I’m doing now I totally believe in, and I don’t care what other people say.” Guided by hatred, you don’t have to follow the herd.

I hate the way people all like the same things at the same time. I’ve never understood it. When people are told about Coke – “It’s the real thing” – they should think, “No, it’s a hideous soft drink that is fantastically unhealthy to drink, full of sugar that turns into glucose that turns into fat.” They should look around America and think, “God, there are so many fat people here! Why? Because they all eat hamburgers and drink cola.” And they should hate the people who represent that. They should hate Michael Jackson for trying to foist Pepsi onto them, to make them fat victims of their own society. They should hate more. Hate Pepsi, hate Coca-Cola, hate Michael Jackson. Hate George Bush. And think about the alternatives. That’s another good thing about hatred. It makes you think about the alternatives.

Of course, these days it’s more fashionable to be positive. I hate positivity. The problem with positivity is that it’s an attitude that’s decidedly about lying back, getting screwed, and accepting it. Happily. It’s totally apolitical. It’s very, very personal and one-on-one. It’s not about changing society, it’s about caring about yourself. In fact, it’s totally about ignoring one’s economic role in society, and so it works in favor of the system. Just look at work years of personal consciousness theories have given us: those icons of the status quo, George Bush and John Major.

Positivity is fundamentally middle-class. It’s about having the time, the space and the money to sort out where your head is at. Therapy is just another side of positivity. It’s a leisure activity, a luxury for people who don’t have any real cares. It’s new age selfishness, the new way of saying that charity begins at home.

And positivity makes the world stay the same. Hatred is the force that moves society along, for better or for worse. People aren’t driven by saying, “Oh wow, I’m at peace with myself.” They’re driven by their hatred of injustice, hatred of unfairness, of how power is used. That’s as true for pop music as it is for politics. I always feel the reason so much music comes out of Britain is because there’s so much hatred. You see or hear something and grow envious. Whereas if your positive reaction is, “Wow, that’s great,” you just sit back and think how great it is and you don’t do anything. You relax.

Luckily, I’ve never been a very relaxed person. When I look at pop music, I immediately hate things. I look at singers who say they are taking two years off to work for charity when, in fact, they’ll spend two years working on their album, and I hate them. Right now I really hate performers who make a big deal out of playing benefits and donating the proceeds from the sales of their records to charities. They could give plenty of money to charities and not tell anyone, but instead, they cash in on the fact. That’s not charity, it’s marketing. It’s about selling albums under the guise of a moral imperative. They say they’re trying to raise consciousness, as if being a celebrity gives them power and endows them with the answers to the world’s problems. But really they just want to be seen as heroes. I think it’s breathtakingly cynical and I hate it.

Another thing I hate, and another inspiration for what the Pet Shop Boys do, is the way people misunderstand pop culture. It annoys me that after more than twenty-five years, Top of the Pops, Britain’s most important pop-music TV program, changed the rules so that you have to sing live. Why? Because the people in control are the kind of conservatives who think that in the ‘60s, everything was much more talented than they are now. It’s all about Rolling Stone rock culture, which is essentially a fear of the new. Rolling Stone’s idea of a musician is Jerry Garcia, from the 60s. Look at all the ‘new’ artists – Curtis Stigers, Michael Bolton, Lenny Kravitz – all of them living in the past. I think you have to live in the future. Or at least in the present.

The Pet Shop Boys have always hated most of the prevailing attitudes and tried to do the opposite. Our hatred of what other people do has always helped us redefine our actions. To hate a lot of things is tantamount to really caring about others. If you like everything, you deal with nothing. When people hear Chris and me talking, they’re sometimes shocked by how negative we are. We’re constantly critical of everything, including ourselves. But I come from a generation that liked its artists to say what was wrong with our lives. I retain the old-fashioned belief that pop music is meant to be a challenge to society as well as an affirmation of it. And so I consider it my duty to hate things.

#pet shop boys #neil #haterade #magazine

[ladyshinga]

I've never once had a single goddamn DIME in student loans, and I still think debt should be 100% forgiven.

Americans would agree this is a good thing, but there's a massive ethical problem in the US... people hate each other.

And I mean HATE. If you're not from the US, talk to Americans sometime about how much their state hates people from other states. I'm from Texas - either I hear Texans never shut the fuck up about how much they hate other states, or I hear people from other states never shut the fuck up about how much they hate Texans

Hate is an american way of life. Punishment, sadism, making sure everyone suffers as a default is how this country operates. Our economy is a sham held up by poverty and extreme debt. Why won't anyone talk about forgiving said debts? Because they both a. know the ENTIRE COUNTRY is built on people suffering from debt and poverty and we literally won't exist as the same country if we actually idk TAKE CARE of people, and b. they want suffering.

The suffering's IT, actually. Most of these people throwing online tantrums and crying about 10k in debt relief for a MINOR handful of Americans? They don't care about the economic impact, they just WANT. SUFFERING.

America isn't America if its citizens are happy, fed, clothed, and housed.

America isn't America without children signing up to either die in war or be saddled with hundreds of thousands in debt (with out of control interest rates and no bankruptcy relief)

America isn't America if the poor and middle class aren't kicking down at those in extreme poverty, pointing and laughing and saying "well I'm better than that guy so he doesn't deserve ANY help, otherwise it isn't FAIR, what about ME"

America is for the cruel and selfish. Period.

[mitchipedia]

Biden's intent to means-test student debt reduction—violating a promise to make student debt reduction universal—threatens Democrats' election chances in 2022, says Cory Doctorow.

Democrats campaign against universal benefits, claiming they'd be free even to the wealthy. But if college was free in America, only 1.4% of the benefit would accrue to rich kids.

"College debt relief is hugely popular, especially among the voter base that Dems will have to turn out to avoid catastrophic losses in the 2022 mid-terms ," people with fewer economic resources. College debt relief could help close the racial wealth gap and build the Black middle class.

College debt relief won't much benefit the rich because the rich mostly don't pay for college by taking out student loans. If forgiving student debt helped the rich, politicians would have done it already.

Means-testing generates red tape. The rich can always hire people to get around red tape. It's the middle class and poor that get tangled up in red tape to the point of paralysis.

I took out student loans to go to college, I paid them off, and I support forgiving student debt today.

#red tape #means testing #college loans #Cory Doctorow #Pluralistic

[politicalprof]

We have cut taxes on the wealthy literally trillions of dollars over the last 40 years, with virtually none of it “paid for” in promised tax revenue growth as a result of economic growth. Instead, we have transferred trillions of dollars UP the wealth ladder from middle and working class people to an increasing, but still stunningly small, number of fabulously wealthy people — including a few, like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos -- whose wealth beggars description.

But $10,000 of college loan relief? According to conservatives, THAT’S a scandal.

(As an aside, it would take Elon Musk 25,000,000 days to spend his fortune if he spent $10,000 a day and made no further money from any source.)

The things we get mad about …

[elbiotipo]

Thinking about the design of the Mastropiero for Campoestela...

Interestingly, whetever it's a tail-lander (like old-school space opera Heinleinian rockets) or a spaceplane (like the Space Shuttle, but taking off from a runway) is not that much a question of realism, but mostly a question of what's coolest. The setting, by default, assumes that taking off to space, navigating the Aether, and landing on planets is something that is so routine that even A Guy like Beto can learn in a couple years, and it's accessible to civilians, expensive yes, but still accessible. And I have realistic engines and designs that can justify either design.

I'm leaning towards spaceplane because I want to evoke the idea of rugged bush planes landing on remote areas. In fact, that is supposed to be the original role of the Mastropiero class (not the name of the class, just the ship): to deliver heavy machinery, medical and humanitarian relief, key equipment, evacuate people, and so much more, by the cheap and anywhere, even in places where there is no spaceport at all. They were build by the hundreds of thousands in the Machine War, used to build and supply far-away outposts, and since they're so easy to pilot and maintain, you can own one on the cheap.

My inspiration here was the Argentine Antarctic program C-130 Hercules that can land on ice, but in particular I also love the Ilyushin Il-76, which is BIG and was designed with this exact purpose, to deploy whatever it's needed, anywhere, there are some awesome videos of it landing on the middle of nowhere.

This is a BIG plane (though still not outrageously so), and the Mastropiero is supposed to be even larger in volume to fit space for the crew, so one has to wonder what A Guy like Beto is doing piloting a smaller 747 all on his own.. but otherwise, the scale makes no sense, if you can't deliver at least a couple containers what's the point? How does Han Solo (besides trafficking spice) keeps himself afloat when the Millenium Falcon can't even deliver a single container never made much sense to me. Beto does some speculative trade onn his own, but mostly he does chartered deliveries and travel, and you need to have something relatively big for that. Still, there surely are bigger "spaceplanes" and he isn't remotely on the level of the hundred thousand (if not million) ton big space freighters that never land, that take most of the traffic in Campoestela.

Since you need most of the ship to be cargo and passengers, the accomodations are, well... My idea is that crew and passenger cabins are modular "pods" that fit inside any ship, customizable for different species, and with all "conforts". But small. Very small.

This is from a NASA study which is literally "how many people can we fit in a pod for 5 days". Now, this looks awful, but if it's for one or two persons, with a shower and toilet included, electronics for fun, and some other comforts... well, it's a nice deal. I've rented worse places.

Of course Beto does not exactly carry first class passengers (he's mostly with travelling bands, broke students, pilgrims, and such), so for economic travel, a little pod with your own acceleration couch, toilet, shower and more is nice. To fit all this, of course the interior of the Mastropiero is very, very, VERY cramped. Probably the only common area is a tiny mess hall, but I also imagine that the cargo bay is very fun when it's empty.

This must be fun to write, since Ragua (the spoiled girl from an ancient civilization) was used to to big cruise/city ships with all the luxuries one could think of soaring around the stars. To live in the Mastropiero in a tiny little can with no artificial gravity must be like the stone age for her. And of course, Beto is annoyed that he has to give up one of the pods to host her...

#cosas mias #campoestela #science fiction #worldbuilding

[qqueenofhades]

Still waiting for people to understand how student debt relief works. It's not extra taxes being taken to pay for other people's debt, it's just the government saying "you don't have to pay that anymore." That's it. The debt is literally *cancelled*. It's gone. It doesn't exist. It doesn't need to be paid back with taxes on the middle class or whatever fear mongering thing they're saying now--it's just. gone. The debt does not exist anymore! The misinformation kills me.

Reagonomics economic mythology is a helluva drug.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #'we need to help out those poor oppressed billionaires!' #'but giving any help to ordinary people might make them not Pull Themselves Up By Their Bootstraps!' #ronald reagan burn in hell

[tomorrowusa]

There's been another tranche of student debt forgiveness by the Biden administration.

The Biden administration on Friday announced another $5 billion in debt forgiveness for 74,000 student loan borrowers. Why it matters: Although the Supreme Court blocked Biden's signature student loan forgiveness plan, his administration has found alternative ways to provide relief to more than 3.7 million people.

The Republican Supreme Court has tried to block student loan relief, but the Biden administration hasn't stopped looking for legal ways around SCOTUS for specific groups of Americans burdened by such debt.

Since 1981 Republicans have serially backed enormous tax breaks for their filthy rich contributors, but they vehemently oppose loan forgiveness for middle class and poorer taxpayers.

House GOP advances bill to block Biden’s student loan repayment program

Supreme Court, Republicans to blame for lack of debt forgiveness, students say in poll

In general, Republicans oppose higher education. Their base is made up of dumbass morons who believe conspiracy theories and they need more voters like that who won't question the bullshit that comes out of the GOP.

The Republican jones for deregulation since the Reagan-Bush era has led student debt to spiral out of control. The vicious circle of more burdensome loans feeding ever-increasing tuition fits well into the GOP agenda. It's a system that discourages post-secondary education for anyone who isn't rich.

President Dwight Eisenhower was no radical. But he knew what made America strong. The highest federal income tax rate for the filthy rich during most of his administration was 91%. And it was universally regarded as a period of enormous economic growth and prosperity.

A portion of that tax revenue went into the National Defense Education Act which, among other features, provided for grants and loans for post-secondary education – particularly for STEM, teacher education, and foreign languages. That was the impressive start of the federal student loan program. It was never meant to be a permanent chain around the necks of college graduates.

National Defense depends on smart Americans. But certain Russia-friendly Republicans have no interest in standing in Putin's way.

#student loans #student debt forgiveness #biden administration #post-secondary education #national defense education act #national defense #dwight eisenhower #high tax rates on the filthy rich #republicans oppose debt forgiveness #house republicans #the gop us supreme court #election 2024

[manorpunk]

A Brief Materialist History of the Former US in the Mid-21st Century

2030s: the Polycrisis. Unresolved issues of climate and pollution cause more and more intense natural disasters, which wipe out swathes of vital but poorly-maintained infrastructure. The US federal gov't is too hollowed-out at this point to fix anything, and the tangle of middlemen contractors responsible for actually building and repairing that infrastructure all try to deny responsibility, causing a massive growth spurt of federalism as state governments are forced to step in and try to put out the literal and metaphorical fires. All this embarrassing chaos tarnishes the US's economic reputation of stability, causing a feedback loop of economic contractions as more and more foreign investors pull back from US investments, causing stock market drops which make even more investors panic and pull back, etc. The decade ends with the signing of the Qingdao Accords, a sort of reverse Marshall Plan where the newly-formed Global Logistics Network pours money into infrastructure projects in exchange for creating their own tangle of middlemen contractors. The signing of the Qingdao Accords is generally taken as the end of the Second Cold War with a Chinese victory.

2040s: the Sheriff's Insurrection. A loose alliance of small-town sheriffs (as well as small-business tyrants, conspiracy theorists, retvrn types, and various opportunists, all collectively referred to as 'Sheriffs') resist the "Chinese takeover of America" in a 21st century version of the evergreen landowners-vs-industrialists conflict. They are quickly fought off by GLN-hired paramilitary forces (the same forces will go on to form the Surplus Young Men, an Armored Core/Outer Heaven style 'security force' which is technically unaligned but everyone knows they're cashing GLN checks). The Sheriffs flee to the Midwest, creating a decentralized zone of tiny feuding principalities derogatorily dubbed ‘the manors.’ Other former US states begin to unite into new regional nations - Boswash, California, Cascadia, Texaplex, and the Great Lakes Republic. These new nations actually seem like they might be here to stay, but with much less ability to go sticking their nose in the rest of the world's business, and the decade ends with a sigh of relief. Meanwhile, China’s victory in the Second Cold War proves to be a Pyrrhic victory as the death of Xi Jinping (probably of natural causes but who knows) allows the GLN to balloon in wealth and influence. The CCP takes a sharp nationalist turn, re-branding itself as the Chinese China Party and turning party politics into a game of who can dunk on Americans the most.

2050s: Things are… good? The GLN is delivering on their promise of a new economic order, an automated and algorithmic 21st century market socialism with an infrastructure-based middle class of technicians, data analysts, and civil servants. There's still a global underclass of cheap mobile labor to actually go out to the middle of nowhere and build all this stuff but, y'know, it's a smaller global underclass. The manors calm down a little as the GLN supports the formation of autochthonous American nations: the Seven Council Fires of the Lakota and Dakota in the Midwest and the Diné Nation in the southwest, along with the progressive majority-black government of Piedmont in the Atlantic South, make it feel like we might be doing something about that whole ‘foundational white supremacy’ thing (The GLN was, of course, happy to take credit for solving racism forever). The GLN gets to claim even more PR victories as various post-colonial regions peacefully unify as ‘leagues,’ EU-style intra-national coalitions that work together on economic on diplomatic matters while letting individual states largely manage their own affairs. The US nations start to wonder if it might be time to form a league of their own. (Incidentally, by this point the EU has split apart into Frankistan and Mitteleuropa, Spain has exploded again, and Punished Britain is not coping well with their fall from grace.)

2060s: Who knows? Things start getting tense as the global construction boom slows down and the money-hose starts to dry up. 'Minor' regional problems and potential long-term issues are swept under the rug because "we’ve got a good thing going here, don't fuck this up," and the once-radical new visions for the world are already beginning to seem calcified and sclerotic. The newly-formed American League is poised to be little more than a rubber stamp for GLN policy… or is it?

#manorpunk #unreality #lore post #timeline

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

A proposal to add new tax brackets and increase rates for wealthier Mainers was vetoed by Gov. Janet Mills on Friday.

In her veto message, Mills listed multiple reasons for her veto. Because the bill started as a concept draft — a document without substantive text that is often used as a placeholder before the full bill language is drafted — she said the legislative process didn’t have enough transparency or opportunity for public input. She also said the bill wouldn’t provide meaningful relief for low-income taxpayers and fears it would have unintended consequences for the state budget.

The bill, LD 1231, passed in the Maine House of Representatives 88-57 and in the Senate 22-12. The proposal would have increased the income threshold for current tax brackets starting in 2025 and created three new income brackets with higher tax rates for wealthier residents.

It was put forward by Rep. Meldon Carmichael (R-Greenbush) because he said he wanted to specifically help out middle class workers, who he described during the House debate as a “segment of hardworking Maine families that have been continually left behind economically” because of circumstances out of their control.

Carmichael quoted the governor, who in her annual address said “the state of the state is strong,” but, he added, “the state of hard working families is not.”

Under LD 1231, most earners would have seen the same or lower tax rate while those at the top of the pay scale would contribute a greater portion of their income.

Currently, any single individual making more than $58,050 is taxed $3,686 plus 7.15% of excess over that amount. Couples filing jointly making $116,100 or more are taxed $7,371 plus 7.15% of excess over $116,100.

Under the proposal, there would be three new brackets for individuals making $144,500 and more that would be taxed at progressively higher rates.

Mills, a Democrat, said she shares the “worthy goal” of reducing the tax burden for lower-income people, but she said this bill wouldn’t actually achieve that because of the state’s many exemptions, deductions and credits that more people have become eligible for in recent years.

“The cumulative impact of these changes is that low-income individuals in Maine have little or no tax liability,” Mills said in her veto message. “As a result, this bill would have little or no impact on the taxpayers it is intended to benefit.”

In a statement following the veto, Garrett Martin, president and CEO at the Maine Center for Economic Policy, also said there wouldn’t have been much benefit to low-income taxpayers, “but asking the wealthy to pay more was a step in the right direction.”

“When multimillionaires pay the same income tax rate as a Mainer making just $62,000 a year, it should be obvious that change is needed,” Martin said. “The Maine Legislature should continue to work towards a fairer tax code, and Governor Mills should join the bipartisan effort to do so.”

However, Mills said she fears the bill would have had unintended consequences for the state budget by increasing the reliance on less than one percent of taxpayers. She said those taxpayers’ incomes are “disproportionately composed of highly volatile sources such as capital gains and business income.”

“At a time when we are already keeping a close eye on Maine’s budget because of increased spending and flattening revenues, there is concern from budgeting officials that relying on more volatile forms of revenue may inadvertently jeopardize the State of Maine’s fiscal standing,” she said.

#us politics #news #maine #maine morning star #2024 #Gov. Janet Mills #taxes #tax brackets #tax the rich #tax the 1% #tax the billionaires #tax the wealthy #LD 1231 #Rep. Meldon Carmichael #Garrett Martin #Maine Center for Economic Policy #Maine House of Representatives

[transmutationisms]

Do you have any thoughts on Tom’s role in the story & his relation to capitalism/wealth? I think his presence is pretty interesting because while Greg was (originally) supposed to represent the average viewer I actually think Tom does a better job of it. He’s a college-educated social climber from an upper-middle class midwestern family which is in many ways the average “prestige TV” viewer. Greg would not turn on Succession and watch it. Tom would. Tom is an outsider but simultaneously enough of an insider to know he is an outsider and how to compensate for it whereas people like Logan/Greg from true working class backgrounds flounder. Tom doesn’t do a perfect job, but his version of posturing is a lot more streamlined and less awkward (although things like the Patek still give him away).

was greg supposed to represent the average viewer? i never got that sense from how he was written or filmed and i'm not sure succession really uses characters in that way honestly. i do agree tom's background probably resembles that of a lot of hbo subscribers, but i'm not sure whether the show is really doing anything with that on purpose. i mean this is why people call him "princess diana" tongue-in-cheek: the class difference between him and the roys is such a large part of his motivation as a character. the roys are tacky in the sense that they're nouveau riche, but tom is doubly tacky because he's striving for even those aesthetic signifiers. he's certainly not poor and it's suggested that he never was, but he's acutely aware of the difference between making a fat salary at atn (him) and having a trust and family stock in a media conglomerate (shiv). like, tom's position economically is always something that he could lose, like for instance if he got divorced and fired. in regards to logan and greg, i would say logan is perfectly adapted for his own kingdom because he designed it himself, and tom sticks out far more than logan does despite logan's working-class roots. greg obviously does not blend in successfully in the first season especially, though this is partly because he's written primarily with an eye to comic relief.

#sorry idk if this really answered your question lol

[locustheologicus]

This Election is too important to vote based on ignorance.

Project 2025 lays out the Conservatives plan to restructure U.S. government and replace it with Trump’s vision | PBS NewsHour

Know what Candidate Trump is planning with Project 2025.

Please read the article above and the video below to know exactly what Candidate Trump is planning for his second presidency. The top article describes some of the changes to the political system that would usher in a more authoritarian regime. The new administration would be able to fire many governmental staff and gut important regulatory departments. This would be an undemocratic power grab including...

A “top to bottom overhaul” of the Department of Justice, particularly curbing its independence and ending FBI efforts to combat the spread of misinformation. There are proposals to have the Pentagon “abolish” its recent diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives.

Project 2025 was put together by a consortium of conservative think tanks. Their focus has been to promote the corporate agenda by eroding the power of the government, undermining our political system, and supporting massive deregulation. Now they see a new opportunity with candidate Trump.

The bottom video describes the economic plan under Project 2025.

Three economic policies to know:

Taxes would be raised on middle and low-class Americans while cutting taxes for the rich by implementing a two-tiered tax system

Workplace Protections would be stripped away including child labor laws

Eliminate any student debt relief including the public service loan forgiveness program.

Please study this plan and be aware of what we are voting for in November. Republicans were once known for being fiscally responsible, we can no longer assume that. This plan would only serve those who are "as rich as hell." The rest of us will suffer greatly from this economic catastrophe.

Finally, in the Brian Lehrer show, Brian has Scott Waldman, a White House reporter, discuss his article about Project 2025 where he says that the policy on environmental regulations is a plan based on "reversed and scrubbed, reversed and scrubbed." Briam asks him what these words refer to? To which Scott tells him:

Well, they're talking about climate science where they want to basically just root it out from every part of the government and the way it's used.

They would replace the Presidential Climate Advisor with something called environment and energy coordinator. 

They can also hear from the concerns of the industry and what it needs to expand and make more money and react to that and use the levers of the federal government to benefit private industry in these large mega multi-billion dollar corporations like Exxon.

Of course, this is consistent, but it should be very alarming, at least for those of us who recognize the ecological challenge we face and the need to regulate corporations and have the wealthy pay their fair share.

#politics #project 2025

[newstfionline]

Thursday, January 18, 2024

Pacific Northwest hunkers down for ice and freezing rain, while other US regions also battle cold (AP) Parts of the Pacific Northwest were under an ice storm warning through Wednesday morning, threatening to add to the damage brought by a powerful winter storm that hit the region over the weekend. Area of southwest Washington and western Oregon—including that state’s largest cities of Portland, Salem and Eugene—were expecting to see a quarter-inch to an inch (6 to 25 millimeters) of ice, while freezing rain was forecast in the Seattle area. Schools were closed in many places, bus service curtailed and warming shelters opened while officials warned of continued treacherous road conditions and the chance of new power outages, even as crews struggled to restore electricity to thousands who have been blacked out for days.

What the Child Care Crisis Does to Parents (NYT) On a Saturday morning last May, Julia Sachdev, a mother of a 2-year-old and 4-year-old, woke up to an email from her children’s preschool. The school—which her children adored and had been in operation for over 50 years—announced that it would be closing in a month. In the following days, she and her husband scrambled to find an alternative that was a reasonable driving distance from their home. Most of the places they reached out to had long waiting lists. Some said their waiting lists were full. Some never even called them back. The Sachdevs’ experience is far from unique. For years, American parents—regardless of family roles, paid work status, geography or income—have struggled to find and maintain stable child care. Research shows that roughly half of Americans live in child care deserts, meaning that they have limited or no access to care. In September, federal relief funding put in place to support more than 220,000 child care programs during the pandemic abruptly expired. This steep drop-off in investment, which has been termed a child-care cliff, is projected to lead to the closing of thousands of preschools and child care centers around the country. Some families are already feeling the impact, and many more may soon find themselves in situations like the Sachdevs’.

Trump's rise sparks isolationist worries among US allies (Reuters) As Donald Trump strengthens his lead in the race for the Republican presidential nomination, some U.S. allies are worried about an American turn toward isolationism, a shift that would reflect an electorate largely focused on domestic issues. That was shown in polling in Iowa where Trump scored an overwhelming victory, with foreign policy the top issue for just one in 10 participants in the state's caucus. National polling provides a similar picture. When Americans have cited matters involving foreigners as the country's top problem, they most often have referred to immigration and not foreign conflicts, Reuters/Ipsos polling over the last decade shows. While domestic concerns have long dominated U.S. politics, isolationism has grown in recent years—particularly within the Republican Party.

French President Macron uses broad news conference to show his leadership hasn’t faded (AP) French President Emmanuel Macron made a point of showing his leadership hasn’t faded in more than two hours of answering questions at a news conference in which he promised a stronger France to face the world’s challenges. “I still have three years and a half in office,” he said, describing an ambition to both change the daily life of the French and tackle global crises. The 46-year-old centrist president promised “audacity, action, efficiency” in the hopes of strengthening his legacy through a series of reforms, starting with an economic bill meant to boost growth and tax cuts for middle-class households.

Ukraine needs money from the US and Europe to keep its economy running. Will the aid come? (AP) Ukraine’s hard-won economic stability is under threat again as the government faces a large budget hole and its two biggest allies and sponsors—the United States and the European Union—have so far failed to decide on extending more aid. Without pledges of support by the start of February—when EU leaders meet to decide on aid—and if no money arrives by March, that could risk the progress Ukraine has made against inflation. It has helped ordinary people keep paying rent, put food on the table and resist Russia’s efforts to break their society’s spirit. Ukraine spends almost all the money it brings in through taxes to fund the war. That leaves a huge deficit because there are other bills to keep society functioning, like old-age pensions and salaries for teachers, doctors, nurses and state employees.

Putin says Ukraine’s statehood at risk if pattern of war continues (Reuters) Russian President Vladimir Putin said on Tuesday that Ukraine’s statehood could suffer an “irreparable blow” if the pattern of the war continued, and Russia would never be forced to abandon the gains it had made. Putin made his televised comments a day after Switzerland agreed to host a global summit at the request of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy. Putin dismissed “so-called peace formulas” being discussed in the West and Ukraine and what he called the “prohibitive demands” they entailed. “Well, if they don’t want (to negotiate), then don’t!” he said. “Now it is quite obvious, not only (Ukraine’s) counter-offensive failed, but the initiative is completely in the hands of the Russian armed forces. If this continues, Ukrainian statehood may suffer an irreparable, very serious blow.”

NATO official warns West: Be ready for ‘anything’ (Politico) NATO countries need to be on red alert for war and "expect the unexpected," the chair of the alliance's military committee of national chiefs Rob Bauer said Wednesday. "We need public and private actors to change their mindset from an era in which everything was plannable, foreseeable, controllable, focused on efficiency ... to an era in which anything can happen at any time. An era in which we need to expect the unexpected," Bauer said. “The tectonic plates of power are shifting,” he added. “And as a result: We face the most dangerous world in decades.”

Deadly Iranian Strikes in Iraq and Pakistan Inflame Regional Tensions (NYT) Iran hit its neighbors Pakistan and Iraq with missile strikes on Tuesday, prompting strong denunciations from both countries and raising fears that upheaval in the Middle East could spiral out of control. In both cases, Iranian officials said they were going after terrorists they accused of being behind recent attacks on its territory that have badly shaken Iranians. This month, suicide bombers killed 84 people at a memorial procession for a revered Iranian military leader, and in December, an attack on a police station killed at least 11 officers. The Iraqi and Pakistani governments rejected Iran’s justifications. Iran’s actions came amid widespread fears that the devastating war in Gaza could become a broader and deadlier regional conflict.

Gaza keeps losing communications (Washington Post) Israel’s war on Hamas has deprived people in Gaza of food, water, electricity and shelter. It’s also disrupted communications. Gaza’s cellphone network had struggled before the conflict. Now, under Israeli bombardment and the mass displacement of Gazans, it’s failing as people are trying to connect with loved ones and secure resources. Communications blackouts have also stymied aid organizations and emergency workers trying to coordinate with the local population and with each other. And for Gaza’s journalists, the blackouts are an impediment as they try to inform the world about suffering in the enclave. Israeli bombing has damaged cellphone networks, according to Mamoon Fares, director of corporate support for the Palestinian Telecommunications Co., or Paltel, one of two providers in the enclave. Most of the internal fiber connections that link to switches and street cabinets “are damaged and need to be fixed,” he said. Cellphone towers had also been damaged. “We have more than 550 towers inside Gaza,” said Fares, who is based in the West Bank city of Ramallah. “Most of them were partially or completely damaged.”

Qatar and France send medicine for hostages in Gaza as war rages on (AP) A shipment of medicine for dozens of hostages held by Hamas was en route to Gaza on Wednesday after France and Qatar mediated the first agreement between Israel and the militant group since a weeklong cease-fire in November. The medicines arrived in Egypt and were on the way to the border. A senior Hamas official said that for every box provided for the hostages, 1,000 boxes would be sent in for Palestinians. The deal also includes the delivery of humanitarian aid to Palestinians in the besieged coastal enclave. The agreement came more than 100 days into a conflict that shows no sign of ending.

U.S. Strikes Houthi Targets in Yemen for a Third Time (NYT) The United States carried out a new military strike against Houthi ballistic missiles in Yemen on Tuesday, the U.S. military said, but the latest salvo against the Iran-backed group left the White House grappling with how to stop a battle-hardened foe from disrupting shipping lanes critical for global trade. The strikes on Tuesday, the third overall against the group since a U.S.-led air and naval barrage hit dozens of targets last week, destroyed four missiles that the Pentagon’s Central Command said posed an imminent threat to merchant vessels and Navy ships traveling through the Red Sea and nearby waters. But the pre-emptive American strike also came on the third day in a row the Houthis have defied the Biden administration and its allies by firing missiles at passing ships, damaging a Greek-owned cargo vessel on Tuesday. The Houthis damaged a U.S.-owned commercial ship on Monday after attempting to hit an American warship the day before.

China’s population falls (WSJ) Births in China dropped by more than 500,000 last year to just over 9 million in total, accelerating the decline in the country’s population as women shrugged off the government’s exhortations to reproduce. The number of newborns has gone into free fall over the past several years. Official figures released Wednesday showed that China had fewer than half the number of births in 2023 than the country did in 2016, after China abolished the one-child policy. The latest number points to a fertility rate—the number of children a woman has over her lifetime—that is close to 1.0, a level considered by demographers as “ultralow.”

Invasive fire ants form ‘rafts’ as they spread on Australia’s waterways (Washington Post) An environmental group has issued a warning about the invasive threat posed by fire ants, which have been documented forming “rafts” in floodwaters to access new territory amid ongoing heavy rain and cyclone conditions in Australia’s northeast. Reece Pianta at the Invasive Species Council said the insects were “one of the world’s worst invasive species” and were known to be more active immediately before and after rainfall. They can be seen joining together in buoyant clumps pulled along the current in waters in the Gold Coast region of Queensland state this month, in video footage the council shared Tuesday. “They can form rafts and float on floodwaters and land in new locations to reestablish their colonies once the floodwaters recede,” Pianta said in a phone interview. “Quite remarkable, but also quite scary.” Fire ants are capable of a sting that can be painful for an hour and in rare cases can cause a life-threatening allergic reaction. They often attack in a swarm of ants stinging at once.

#headlines #news

[vaya-writes]

eheheheheh ask game ask game

Briar (if it isn't a spoiler or smth: Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

Isen: What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

Adalyn: What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.) 

Slate: What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) 

:D ASK GAME ASK GAME

Briar is an only child. Though most childhood dynamics don't apply to her because she was orphaned before being raised by aunt Stella.

You're really making me characterbuild for Isen um ah errr...... Expensive purchase? Lets say... Castle Riversreach. It was an investment. But his disposable income? Fabrics. This man owns so many shirts he will never wear. Just because he slithers into a clothes shop and gets his grubby hands on the fabrics and is like "shopkeep I must have these things." thankfully he often commissions stuff like bedding and pillows, rather than just clothes he never wears. Dude also has an altruistic streak that occasionally surfaces, and a fair amount of his work budget goes towards helping the people he rules over (importing farming supplies, hiring professors to teach, improving roads and funding better boats, emergency relief, etc).

I don't know shit about antiques or old fashioned stuff, but you know those belts that women used to wear with tools attached? I just looked it up, they're called Chatelaines. Yeah, I think we can give her one of those. It's got a key ring for all of the vaults and chests that Slate owns (he would loose the keys if she didn't organise them) along with her money pouch for when she's down in the valley, and a handful of useful tools.

Slate's tastes run similar to Rin's. He's keen on looking at the local holidays, and dislikes some of the old imperial ones (practically nobody celebrates those anyway - they were mandated by dragons after all). He's pretty much always dragged to the clan reunion every 10 years too, though he has a love/hate relationship with that holiday. I think he's going to enjoy seeing the clearwater valley trade festival for the first time though. Or perhaps the crafts festival.

#the wyvern's bride #serving the serpent #vaya replies #ask game #thank you for the ask!!!!!