#no more bailouts

[sandycheekscockvore]

they should give us laissez-faire capitalism, as a treat

#no more bailouts #let them fail

[wack-ashimself]

2008 Financial crisis dumbed down.

Watched 'The Big Short' (again), and I wanted to sum it up for people who didn't get it (cuz I did NOT the first time around).

About 2 years-ish before this all went down, a super smart guy noticed inconsistencies in what the banks AND (eventually) the government claimed about subprime (another word for weaker credit) home loans. He noticed that the weakest that were most likely to default were packaged up so they seemed more appealing, but they were way worse than the government was rating them at (in the movie, rating approval standards and practices lady basically says if we do not give them good ratings, they'll <the banks> just go down the street to a competitor, which is NOT something you want said by a government sanctioned organization.) The banks & the raters were approving everyone cuz it made them money right then and there. Both the banks and the rating's agency which answered to the government. That means THREE different organizations set up the dominoes. Big banks, the ratings board, and the government for not keeping either in check. Maybe not knocked them down, but set them up.

The smart guy realized: the lower ones rated we will call them a C, were actually closer to E's, and thus, also brought down everything above them. AAA goes to A. AA to C. Etc. (something like that). Loss of rating, loss of money. But with the banks getting higher ratings, they would look like they had stronger assets. Thus more money. More to wager. And how did they inflate this? The casino. They took those low level packages, and took bets on if they would rise or fall. THEN they took bets on THAT bet. Seriously; it is as fucking stupid and crazy as it sounds. As the movie said, it's highly complex and hard to understand BECAUSE they want you to feel like they're the only ones who can operate/navigate it. They make it difficult so you have to come to them.

So smart guy (and a few others) convinced the banks to do the stupidest thing I have ever heard: the banks created this whole new thing for them in which they bet, HARD, that these super low level home mortgage packages would utterly fail (and some mid/top level. Because remember, if the bottom falls out, everything above is then lowered. So you can bet on all of it going down, which is what happened.) Like 25 to 1 odds. And it did take 2 years, but eventually, it did fall, and create new billionaires.

The movie exaggerated a lot, but some of the main themes are:

1-the bankers NEVER cared if they failed cuz they ALWAYS knew they were 'too big to fail' (to which I've always replied: Should have failed. And gone to the locals.)

2-the bankers were not SMART, just greedy and careless.

3-banks are casinos. I mean, the complexity yet stupidity of that whole betting scheme. And then creating a WHOLE NEW casino game without checking the odds? Geez. The House lost. Banks should not be able to gamble with YOUR livelihoods. Clearly, they have nothing to lose, but WE DO!

4-Banks do control the government. Probably the federal reserve too. That's never discussed.

5-Again, how much money was lost AND created from NOTHING but...bets? That is creating nothing.

6-The movie said a fact (I think) that fucks with my head. 2 of the younger ones just got good news about their bet. Cheering, dancing, etc. Brad Pitt's character gets PISSED, and tells them to stop it. He points how many lives are going to be ruined. Jobs lost. Homelessness. Then says 'Did you know for every 1% in the rise of unemployment, 40,000 people die?' WHAT!? Everything should be locally owned and controlled. Every business worker owned. FUCK that shit.

7-The government changed nothing to stop this from happening again. IMO-about to drop hard, same way, but with student loans and car loans. I know more people who have car loans than house loans...you think they learned? Fuck no. It's a casino, and they will never stop playing the game till we check if their games are rigged (they are.)

8-When this all started to fall apart, the shady thing banks did was take these worst of the worst low level packages, sell them off, THEN report the actual numbers they were rated at, fucking whoever just bought them. AND they initially refused payout on the MASSIVE bets they just lost until they could get the money.

I just...what bugged me was for how many people placing billions on the line, losing multi millions in losses in the 2 years till it actually occurred, why NONE of the banks looked into these people's backgrounds, histories, etc? Like, if a guy comes up to me and says 'I want to give you money for two years on a stupid ass bet', if that same guy got stupid rich predicting the market, HE FUCKING KNOWS SOMETHING. Intentional negligence.

Solid movie. A little showy in places it didn't need to be. But I think I just dumbed down banking for you, and we are dumb for allowing this to continue to exist. If we bailed them out, we own em'. That's it.

tl;dr: the banks acted LITERALLY like casinos, and lost big. So the USA government bailed them out and the banks KNEW it was going to happen which is why they could operate like a casino. And still do.

Update. 1-here's the best scene to sum up their scam part 1 (taking bets on their low levels rising/falling, and bets on THOSE bets). This is what started everything. The ratings technically did, but this made that 10x worse.

part 2 on how standards and practices rigged the ratings:

and finally part 3 explaining how it set up, and how to bet against the banks.

ps-fun note. I forgot a HUGE bombshell they GLOSS over practically. Absolutely NO LAWS saying you can't go work at a big bank after working in standard's and practices. In other words, you give them good ratings, they give you a couchy job 5 years later with a stupid big bonus. EVERYTHING IS CORRUPT! But it makes sense. If you run the country and have inside info, you can still operate in the stock market...it's a big circle jerk.

#bank #banks #banking #the big short #2008 #2008 financial crisis #bailout #bank of america #boa #casino #casinos #no more big banking #federal reserve #wall street #Youtube

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

just a little reminder that the revolution wasn’t “just” over taxes. 

#see this sentiment a lot #their issue wasn't just taxation itself #but taxation without representation #but more than that #it was because these taxes were levied to bailout a monopoly #at the expense of the colonists specifically #among many other offenses

[bananonbinary]

Tumblr's debt is a problem of their own creation. The app is buggy, the userbase is flooded with porn bots, nazis roam free, hate speech roams free, trans women have sfw content marked mature, art and posts are stolen for promotion, features are forced down our throats, ads are malicious and often gross or triggering and giving them money will not stop this.

If we give tumblr money they're not going to get rid of Tumblr live or restore the nsfw or remove ads or whatever you think they're going to do, they're going to KEEP DOING THE SAME THING except with more money to blow. Tumblr is a CORPORATION, they can get a government bailout like any other corporate entity can, and while people are throwing money at a dumbass corporation there are people begging to get bills paid and for food and other necessities.

Please open your eyes to the reality of the situation, its not just some guy anymore, David Karp is long gone its a soulless conglomerate now and they do not need our pity

a lot of yall seem to think that i want to like, bake sale save the baseball team. that's not what this is about. i don't think we need to "fix tumblr's debt," i think we need to make the website profitable (and the debt shows it isnt, altho from what i can gather a better word is "deficit" rather than "debt," ie, they are losing that much more money than they take in annually), because as it stands tumblr has no reason whatsoever to want to keep the current user base around. it's trying to attract a different userbase, because yall are PROUD of the fact that tumblr is a failing website and you dont want to pay them. you're loitering inside a store and acting surprised when the store wants you gone. of COURSE they're constantly introducing new features and not listening to what the users want, they don't want you here.

it's not a protest, it's not an attempt to buy good will, it's a simple business transaction: i spend a lot of time here, and i would like to keep spending a lot of time here. so i will buy my shitty internet crab, and tell my fellow loiterers that they can as well if they want. if you dont want to do that, you literally don't have to, but you can't tell me not to.

you people are all like "ohh tumblr isnt your friend dont give it money" but like. yeah. its not my friend. i would like to pay it for a service it provides, instead of expecting it to continue to provide that service out of the goodness of its non-existant heart. i dont think im the one with the parasocial relationship here.

also:

dont tell me to help a poor people. i am a poor people. i am allowed to spend THREE DOLLARS on something i like for myself, and not give literally every single dollar i have to charity and mutual aid. you have NO IDEA how much or if i do for other people, and you won't, because you aren't owed every detail of my life like that. people are allowed to have things they want for no other reason than they want them sometimes.

#disk horse / #also i wasnt even here when david karp owned the place i literally know nothing about him #seriously yall are like 'its a huge corporation it could keep things as they are if it wanted and keep operating at a loss' #but WHY. *why* would it do that? because it cares about you? it does not. it wants money. #corporations understand money. that is all they understand.

[frownyalfred]

You ever think that Bruce must've built in some type of handle/grip into the Robins suits so he'd have an easy way to drag them out of danger? The suit would otherwise be designed to do the opposite, after all any obvious grips/handholds would be a danger in a fight.

So just imagine the most easily hidden spot for a hidden grip. Hidden away in the middle of their back at the top of their uniform and the Bat picking up his tiny colorful child like one would scruff a cat.

It's originally a bailout method so he can grab Dick and get out if he decides it's too dangerous. With Jason he uses it much more to stop fights than to leave them. Lifting Jason completely off the ground until he's holding his twig of a child as he swears like only a crime alley kid can.

Wait anon because I was LITERALLY thinking about Bruce’s suit modifications the other day. The secret ones. The ones he builds in like the paranoid bastard he is.

You know that scene in the first Kingsman movie where Eggsy thinks he’s singled out to be missing a parachute and then Merlin pulls his chute in front of everyone? I want Bruce to have done that somehow.

Jason accuses him of not caring (maybe it’s his Red Hood armor?) and Bruce just walks up and pulls the super secret handle that turns the suit into a protective shell. He cares. He just can’t say it out loud sometimes.

#asks #anon #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfamily #fic ideas #Kingsman

[robertreich]

Why Does Flying Suck so Much? 

You might not believe this, but I’m old enough to remember when flying was fun.

Now I'm sure you've got your own airline horror stories, which I hope you’ll share. But what happened to make flying such a nightmare?

The answer is simple: the same things happening across most industries. In fact, a close look at airlines reveals five of the biggest problems with our economy.

Number 1: Consolidation means fewer choices.

While there were once many more airlines, a series of mergers and acquisitions over the last three decades has left only four in control of about 80% of the market.

This kind of consolidation has been happening all over the economy. For example, four companies now control 80% of all beef production, and two control over 60% of all paper products. This lack of competition has led to:

Number 2: Companies Charging More for Less

Even before recent airfare spikes, air travel was getting more expensive because of new fees for things that used to be free, like in-flight meals, checked bags, or even carry-ons.

Spirit Airlines even charges $25 to print your boarding pass at a ticket counter! It’s just a piece of paper!

One of the ugliest ad-ons is the fee some airlines charge for families to sit together. That doesn’t even cost them anything!

Airlines are leading an economy-wide trend of adding often unexpected new charges to goods and services without adding value.

And you’re getting less in return. Airlines have cut an estimated 8 inches of legroom and two inches of seat width in the last two decades. Doesn’t bother me (I’m short), but many of you may feel the squeeze.

This parallels other industries where you’re paying more for less — just look at how cereal boxes, rolls of toilet paper, and candy bars are all shrinking.

Number 3: Exploiting Workers

While their jobs have become more difficult, many flight attendants haven’t had a raise in years.

And a lot of their hardest work is totally unpaid, because most flight attendants don’t get paid during the boarding process. They’re off the clock until the plane’s doors close.

And if the flight is delayed, those are often extra hours for no extra money.

Again, this mirrors trends in the overall economy, where too many workers are pushed into unpaid overtime or made to do work or be on call during their off hours.

Number 4: The Illusion of Scarcity

Airlines pretend they have no choice but to raise prices, cut services, and limit payroll. But their profits are in the stratosphere. In the five years before the pandemic, the top 5 airlines were flush enough to pay shareholders $45 billion, largely through stock buybacks.

During the pandemic, they got a $54 billion bailout from taxpayers (you’re welcome).

In the years since, they’ve resumed flying high, with nearly $10 billion in net profit expected across the industry in 2023. They can afford to take care of workers and customers.

Whether it’s multi-millionaire movie moguls pretending they can’t afford to pay writers or a grocery chain blaming “inflation” for high prices while raking in record profits, this illusion of scarcity is a sham.

Number 5: Misdirected Rage

Instead of being mad at the people at the top, we’ve been tricked into being mad at each other. Fights have broken out over whether it’s ok to recline a seat or who gets overhead bin space. But reclining’s only an issue because airlines intentionally put the seats too close together. And bin space is only running out because they’ve made it expensive to check bags — and also risky, with the rate of lost bags doubling over the last year.

Airlines are pitting us against each other the same way billionaires and their political lackeys pit groups against each other in society, hoping we’ll blame unions or immigrants or people of other races or religions or gender identities for why it’s so hard to get ahead, and that we won’t notice how much wealth and power is in the hands of so few.

So what do we do?

A lot of these problems could be solved with tougher antitrust enforcement — which we are starting to see. The Justice Dept is suing to block JetBlue from buying Spirit Airlines. We need that kind of anti-monopoly protection across the board.

Another part of the solution is unions. Airline workers are among the wave of American workers organizing to demand better pay and working conditions.

And then there’s your power as an informed consumer. Companies get away with bad behavior when we accept their excuses that there’s just no other way to run a business. They’re counting on us not knowing what’s really going on. So share this video, and share your airline stories in the comments.

Finally, try to be a little nicer to service workers and your fellow passengers — on planes and in life. After all, we’re all on this journey together.

#youtube #videos #video #airlines #flying #travel #economics #politics

[mostlysignssomeportents]

When parties fail, movements step up

This Saturday (19 Aug), I'm appearing at the San Diego Union-Tribune Festival of Books. I'm on a 2:30PM panel called "Return From Retirement," followed by a signing:

https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/festivalofbooks

Does anyone like the American two party system? The parties are opaque, private organizations, weak institutions that are prone to capture and corruption, and gerrymandering's "safe seats" means that the real election often takes place in the party's smoke-filled rooms, when a sure-thing candidate is selected:

https://doctorow.medium.com/weak-institutions-a26a20927b27

But there doesn't seem to be any way to fix it. For one thing, the two parties are in charge of any reform, and they're in no hurry to put themselves out of business. It's effectively impossible for a third party to gain any serious power in the USA, and that's by design. After the leftist Populists party came within a spitting distance of power in the 1890s, the Dems and Repubs got together and cooked the system, banning fusion voting and erecting other structural barriers.

The Nader and Perot campaigns were doomed from the outset, in other words. Either candidate could have been far more popular than the D and R on the ballot, and they still would have lost. It's how the deck is stacked, and to unstack it, reformers would need to take charge of at least one – and probably both – of the parties.

But that's not cause for surrender – it's a call to action. In an interview with Seymour Hersh, Thomas Frank (Listen, Liberal) sets out another locus of power, one with the potential to deliver control over the party to its base: social movements:

https://seymourhersh.substack.com/p/ordinary-people-by-the-millions

It's been done before. The parties are routinely transformed by power-shifts within their internal coalitions: since 1970, corporate Dems have consistently pushed the party to the right, making it the power of white-collar professionals and relying on working people showing up and marking their ballots with a D because they have "nowhere else to go."

Bill Clinton was the most successful of these corporate raiders, delivering the parts of the Reagan Revolution that Reagan himself could never have managed: dismantling tariffs and bank regulations, passing the crime bill and welfare "reform." He came within a whisper of (partially) privatizing Social Security.

This set in motion the forces that made Trumpism possible: when Dems told deindustrialized workers to "learn to code" and blamed them for the destruction of their communities, it opened a space for Make America Great Again, the (empty) workerist rhetoric of the GOP. The Dems' plan of putting "really smart people" in charge and letting them run things was a (predictable) disaster. "Really smart" isn't the same as "infallible" and really smart people can be spooked or bulled into doing the wrong thing – like Obama "foaming the runways" for the banks with the houses of mortgage holders, and leaving the bankers responsible for the Great Financial Crisis unscathed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/15/mon-dieu-les-guillotines/#ceci-nes-pas-une-bailout

"Really smart people" can't get us out of this mess. Instead, we need the kind of muscular political action – the "whirlwind" – that characterized FDR's New Deal: "complete reformation of the banking industry.. just about every other industry as well. Regulation. Social Security. Public works. Antitrust. Soil conservation."

FDR got there by alienating his former classmates and refusing the go-slow entreaties of his cronies. He got there because there was a mass social movement that made him do it ("I want to do it, now make me do it"):

https://humanizingthevacuum.wordpress.com/2014/09/16/i-agree-with-you-i-want-to-do-it-now-make-me-do-it/

Every time in US history where one of the political party duopoly listened to its base, it was because of a mass social movement: the farmers' movement (1890s), labor (1930s), civil rights and antiwar (1960s). As Frank says:

Social movements succeed. They build and they change the intellectual climate and then, when the crisis comes, they make possible things like agrarian reform or the New Deal or the Civil Rights acts of the 1960s.

Today, we see the seeds of those social movements: the new union movement. Black Lives Matter. Neobrandeisians with their "hipster antitrust." These are the movements that are creating "ideas lying around": ideas that, in time of crisis, can move from the fringe to the center in an eyeblink:

https://doctorow.medium.com/ideas-lying-around-33a28901a7ae

They are setting in motion another transformation of the Democratic Party, from its top-down, "really smart people" model to a bottom-up, people-powered one, kept in check by movements, not party bosses. As Frank says, "They require the mass participation of ordinary people. Without that, I am afraid that nothing is possible."

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and make a new, good internet to succeed the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/17/popular-front-of-judea/#speaking-frankly

#pluralistic #sy hersh #theories of change #third parties #us politics #thomas frank #unions #labor #organized labor #civil rights movement #black lives matter #dinos #entryism #occupy democrats

[iberiancadre]

A Brief Critique of the PSL's Program

As Marxists, our most important tool for keeping a true revolutionary analysis is critique and self critique. I am not doing this to dunk on the PSL, but thinking of my usamerican comrades who might be starting out with Marxist analysis. This is not an exhaustive analysis of the program. (they could really do with organizing their chapters into paragraphs instead of one single line of text)

Note: This only deals with part 1 of 2 of their program, The Struggle for Socialism, which consists of their analysis of capitalism in the USA

Because of their economies of scale, marketing muscle and deep financial pockets, huge monopolies have increasingly squeezed out independent small- and medium-sized businesses and farming operations. This has largely eliminated the “free market.”

It seems that petty-bourgeois ideology and mythology is ever present in Marxist circles, unfortunately. They are describing a real process, yes, the proletarainization of the petty-bourgeoisie is a consequence of the tendency towards monopolization which characterizes this stage of capitalism (which the PSL points out, of course), and it is the threat that can make the petty-bourgeoisie so reactionary and even fascistic. While technically correct, it seems strange to point out the negative effect monopoly capitalism on the petty-bourgeoisie in a proletarian program as if it was a concern of our class. This worship of "small independent businesses" is pervasive everywhere in the imperial core, not just the USA

The bank bailouts showed that while the government rules over the people, the banks rule over the government

Not exactly, it is clearer and more impactful to put it that way, but it is more accurate to say the government (and state, I'll talk about this program's confusion between the two later) acts in the interest of the capitalist class, not necessarily because of an explicit "ruling over". The government legislates in favor of the bourgeoisie because that's just who's interests they represent. There doesn't need to be a nefarious puppet master behind congress

The idea that any contemporary economic system can survive without major government intervention has been shown to be a total fallacy. The remaining question is not whether government intervention is necessary, but which class will benefit — the vast majority of society, the working class, or a tiny minority, the superrich?

So many things to talk about, the PSL is putting the cart before the horse here. They are describing how it is necessary for the vanguard party to take control of the state (not the government!) to oppress the capitalist class internally and to make sure that the imposition of socialism and the transition to communism are safeguarded, as well as to ensure the efficient distribution of resources. This is not government intervention in the economy, this is a state-ran economy. They are failing to operate outside the capitalist frame of debate when talking about their plans post-revolution.

This is a personal nitpick but I really dislike the use of terms like "superrich" when you mean capitalist or bourgeois. Say what you mean, stop trying to appeal to petty-bourgeois mythos

The struggle to adapt to and mitigate the impacts of global warming is therefore a class struggle. It is a struggle for power — not a struggle over morality or individual consumer choices.

It's like a breath of fresh air for a usamerican organization to recognize the impotence of individual consumption. No notes

Simply reforming the capitalist system is not enough. For the capitalists, reforms are a threat to the status quo. Reforms for the working class mean something different. They ease the burdens of living under capitalism through the extension of civil rights or other beneficial social or economic policies. While reforms must be fought for, and can be won, they are under constant attack by the ruling class. Capitalism itself cannot be reformed.

It's good that they point out the inherent temporary character of reforms within capitalism. My issue with this quote is stating that [all] reforms are threats to the status quo. This is a half truth. Reforms within capitalism, especially those made through a social-democratic ideology, are not necessarily threats to the status quo, but rather reinforce it by calming the economic-spontaneous consciousness of workers. This type of class consciousness is acquired merely through the worker's experience with capitalist exploitation. It does not necessarily lead to revolutionary convictions, is therefore less robust, and can be calmed or satiated by reforms. I didn't expect a usamerican communist party to achieve this level of nuance given the absolute lack of social-democratic reforms they get.

Political-revolutionary consciousness, however, is achieved through active, deliberate and continuous education of the worker in the unavoidability of class struggle. This type of consciousness is much more robust and cannot be quelled by reforms.

Overall, this is a fine program in need of a deeper analysis which can only come through experience. They should label themselves as Marxist-leninists, not because of any personal fantasies, but because it is clear that their beliefs are fundamentally leninist, although I understand the trouble this could cause them within the legality of the USA.

My biggest gripe, however, is the complete absence of even a mention to democratic-centralism. It appears that's what their internal structure is (I've seen their Central Comitee mentioned sometimes), but it is a glaring flaw for a revolutionary and proletarian program to obviate the only tried and tested successful revolutionary Party structure.

#real marxist hours

[greater-than-the-sword]

Would not the crab idea just be giving money to a company whose decisions the customers don’t like, therefore giving them positive reinforcement to keep making decisions the customers don’t like?

I saw someone bring that up, it sounds like a decent point

This has been discussed a fair bit at this point and my main thoughts at this point are:

1) Tumblr knows that we're not happy with the proposed changes and they know the point of this is not a show of support for the changes. They are the ones directly telling us "we have to make these changes because otherwise we can't make money". This is us calling their bluff. Basically, they're not stupid. They're not dogs that operate solely in terms of negative and positive reinforcement. For good or evil, they are more intelligent than that. They could claim they didn't understand, but that would be a lie if they said that.

2) If they ignore this and go ahead and ruin this site despite the fact that we called their bluff and bailed them out, they can expect never to ever see anything like this happen ever again.

3) "Tumblr wants profit, not just to break even, they might still screw us over for profit." okay that's their problem. After we bail them out and help them break even, they better go above and beyond if they want to turn a profit. They have the entire rest of the fiscal year to do that.

But if they turn around and screw their users over, they need to know they will never get another bailout.

#crab day

[magz]

Am get the criticism about the "global strikes" being made with "little preparation, little fallback, and not much community-strong effort" -

This one being planned on Twitter by a non-palestinian with even less traction and even more disorganized than previous ones - and Bisan and other regular Palestinians saying to do anything Now Now while crying and dying

But to get what we need to do better, would have had to established and prepared *months* - *years* before the genocide against Palestinians got to this stage again.

Which wasn't the case on a worldwide platform with this fervor, even wider than in 2011 and 2014 when we were a kid n started being aware of this stuff.

So with these criticisms - establish as much as possible and make an effective alternative to these strikes made in desperation. Use your knowledge for benefit of the cause, and apply it so it can do change.

Find people with more influence, your unions, your strike funds and bailout funds, the everything that you are able to identify as a weakness in these attempts and strengthen it.

Use that energy for the cause if you're able to, in a reasonable time frame before the damage is too huge (it's already very awful as-is). And don't let it become just repeating discourse on a dying social media platform.

Am multiply disabled with degenerative conditions. Housebound n at-risk in D.R. (not united states nor canada nor u.k.), don't have a real job, don't have these contacts either. so am acknowledging own limits in "truly contributing" that aspect and irl praxis. Am only doing what am able to, because it's the what can do in any way.

#palestine #text post #o post

[thewertsearch]

DAVESPRITE: anyway that sword [...] DAVESPRITE: you were supposed to break it to get it out of the thing [...] DAVE: really DAVE: there was no other way to get it out [...] DAVESPRITE: well i dont know DAVESPRITE: maybe if john was to try with his pure heart and shit it woulda popped out like a champagne cork and fuckin hero confetti woulda blasted him in the face

I think I was on the money about Dave's insecurity. His hindbrain is screaming at him that John is the 'real' hero, and he can never measure up.

DAVESPRITE: but you DAVESPRITE: we DAVESPRITE: we had to break it

He can never measure up, because his whole schtick is that he can't wield a hero's sword. His ability to do so was destroyed - by Bro.

DAVESPRITE: when you wake up DAVESPRITE: ill probably get going [...] DAVESPRITE: ill just sort of DAVESPRITE: release myself DAVESPRITE: go do my own thing DAVESPRITE: after this i dont think youll need me

Well, you're still the most cooperative sprite. Dave might not care about his Quest's lore, but Rose could certainly use a more trustworthy guide.

However, Davesprite seems to be implying he's leaving for good - and I'm trying not to think about the troll sprites, conspicuously missing from their session's postgame...

DAVESPRITE: future yous will get you out of trouble DAVESPRITE: if youre gonna live up to the responsibility of eventually becoming them DAVESPRITE: and by virtue of loop stability it sort of means you cant technically fuck up anymore

I don't think that's entirely accurate. If it was, then Davesprite's future self would have bailed him out, long before his session became a lost cause. Homestuck's loops seem a lot more like traps than bailouts.

DAVE: where will you go DAVESPRITE: dunno DAVESPRITE: fly around DAVESPRITE: up away to the sun like a fucknig piece of gargbage

Dude, you can't say that shit when you're practically sweating death flags! You need to be careful!

DAVESPRITE: see if i can catch up with bro maybe DAVESPRITE: elusive bastard

Yeah, good luck with that. Maybe your advanced sprite knowledge includes Guardian knowledge, so you'll actually be able to talk to Bro on his level?

Can't 8eat John if you're eaten by Underlings! >::::D

Speaking of Bro's activities...

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #2836 #s79

[porterdavis]

It's been a few years since I've posted this

It is a soft day in a small Irish town. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit.

On this particular day, a rich German tourist is driving through the town, stops at the local hotel and lays a €100 note on the desk, telling the hotel owner he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one to spend the night. The owner gives him some keys and, as soon as the visitor has walked upstairs, the hotelier grabs the €100 note and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the €100 note and runs down the street to repay his debt to the pig farmer.

The farmer takes the €100 note and heads off to pay his bill at the supplier of feed and fuel. The guy at the Farmers’ Co-op takes the €100 note and runs to pay his drinks bill at the pub. The publican slips the money to the prostitute drinking at the bar, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer him “services” on credit. The hooker then rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill to the hotel owner with the €100 note.

The hotel owner then places the €100 note back on the counter so the rich traveller will not suspect anything. The traveller comes down the stairs, picks up the €100 note, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves town.

No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now out of debt and looking to the future with a lot more optimism.

And that, is how the bailout works.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Young Americans are piling the blame for their student debt balances on conservatives, according to a poll by Generation Lab provided exclusively to Axios.

Why It Matters: The high court's recent decisions on education, including student loans and affirmative action, could drive young voters to the polls.

• Tens of millions of borrowers in the U.S. collectively owe more than $1 trillion.

Catch Up Quick: The Supreme Court's six conservative Justices recently killed President Biden's historic forgiveness plan — and the coming payment resumption carries significant economic and political implications.

• Under Biden's plan, qualifying borrowers would have been forgiven for loans up to $10,000 if they made under $125,000 per year or $20,000 for Pell Grant recipients. Its announcement last summer incited immediate GOP backlash.

• Republicans drove the lawsuits challenging it, criticizing it as a "bailout for the wealthy," and GOP presidential candidates immediately praised the Supreme Court's decision.

By the numbers: Most respondents blamed SCOTUS and the GOP for student debt going unforgiven:

• 47% said the Supreme Court was responsible.

• 38% said the Republicans were responsible.

• 10% said Biden was responsible.

• 5% said Democrats were responsible.

More than half of respondents did not agree with the court's ruling last month, according to Generation Lab.

• 17% agreed with the decision, and 21% were unsure.

• ¾ of people polled said they were aware of the SCOTUS ruling prior to the poll.

Driving The News: Meanwhile, Biden has begun rolling out his plan B and aims to appeal to young voters.

• The administration said Friday it would alleviate $39 billion of debt for 804,000 borrowers.

The Biden re-election campaign could lose voters who care about student debt forgiveness if it doesn't clearly align with them, said Analilia Mejia, co-executive director of the Center for Popular Democracy Action.

• "They obviously need to ensure that there is high enthusiasm across the voting bloc to secure victory" in 2024, she said.

Of Note: Public confidence in the Supreme Court has been staggeringly low in recent months, particularly since it overturned Roe v. Wade.

• "Young people are right. It's a radicalized Supreme Court," Mejia said.

The Big Picture: The coming student loan cliff is the latest in a string of withdrawals of pandemic-era supports.

• Federal student loan payments will resume in October after years of COVID-related pauses.

• Americans with student loan debt tend to be younger, with lower incomes — they're spending a higher share of their income already, so an additional monthly payment will hurt.

Methodology: The Generation Lab, which measures youth trends and perspectives, polled 783 college students and recent graduates nationwide July 12–17 about who's responsible for student loans not being forgiven.

Go Deeper: Who owes the most in federal student loans

#us politics #news #axios #polling #polls #2023 #scotus #us supreme court #biden v. nebraska #student loan debt #studen loans #student debt forgiveness #student debt #debt forgiveness #Generation Lab #biden administration #president joe biden #Analilia Mejia #Center for Popular Democracy Action #gen z

[usafphantom2]

The U-2

In complete secrecy, a team headed by Clarence L. “Kelly” Johnson at Lockheed’s “Skunk Works” in Burbank, Calif., designed and built the U-2 to fly surveillance missions. With sailplane-like wings suited for the thin atmosphere above 55,000 feet (over 70,000 feet for later models), this single-engine aircraft made its first flight in August 1955. Entering operational service in 1956, early flights over the Soviet Union in the late 1950s provided the president and other US decision makers with key intelligence on Soviet military capability.

Taiwanese U-2 pilot flame out

This post features the incredible story (originally appeared on Air Force Magazine) of Major Hsi-Chon Hua, a U-2 pilot belonging to Taiwan’s Nationalist Chinese Air Force (NCAF) who flamed out at 70,000 feet and glided to a rough landing at the airport of the remote town of Cortez, Colorado, in 1959. Apparently, because his pressure suit and his accented English people thought he was from outer space.

‘It was my seventh training flight in the new, super-secret U-2 reconnaissance aircraft, and it was a night mission. Months before, I had been selected by the Nationalist Chinese Air Force (NCAF) to go to the US for training in the exotic U-2. Everything about U-2 operations was clandestine, even the pilot selection process.

‘We NCAF U-2 trainees had been told only that top fighter pilots were being evaluated for a new mission and that selectees would have to pass rigorous physical and English-proficiency exams.

‘My initial flight, and that of each pilot, was conducted over the wide-open spaces of southwest Texas.

The first night flight

‘For my seventh mission, I was to fly to Ogden, Utah, and back, using celestial navigation. The flight began around 8:30 p.m. on a hot August night. Flying weather was good, and everything was going reasonably well.

Project Blue Book and the story of how UFO sightings were used to cover high altitude U-2 flights

‘It was my first night flight in a foreign country. I recall that, with thousands of glittering stars crowding the clear dark sky, it was difficult to find the precise celestial body needed for a navigation fix.

‘When at last I reached Ogden, I was happy and gratified that I had been able to reach the farthest route point without getting lost. Actually, I was flying above 70,000 feet, but the fictitious altitude was reported as a security precaution. That done, I concentrated once more on celestial navigation.

U-2’s engine flames out

‘Suddenly the U-2’s engine flamed out and died. A quick glance at my clock showed it was 0528 Zulu, or 10:28 p.m. local time.

‘Things got bad very quickly.

‘No try for an engine airstart could be attempted until the aircraft had descended below 35,000 feet. But the speed range between the stall buffet boundary and the Mach buffet boundary of the U-2 is less than twenty KIAS (knots indicated airspeed) at that altitude. I thus could not go into a rapid descent in order to ease the uncomfortable situation.

‘The only way that I could right the situation was to keep the aircraft gliding on course.

Gliding into the clouds

‘The U-2 glided into the clouds below 40,000 feet. The air was bumpy. I struggled to keep the aircraft under control. Upon reaching 35,000 feet, I tried to relight the engine, but failed.’

Hsi-Chon Hua tried to relight the engine two other times but with no success.

‘The altimeter indicated 17,000 feet. I was really in trouble. Lurking unseen in the clouds just below, I knew, were high peaks of the Rocky Mountains, some of which rose to altitudes of more than 13,000 feet.

’My prospects for surviving a bailout over rough, remote mountain areas were low at best. I called out a desperate “Mayday!” to a nearby Air Force base but got no response.

Praying aloud

‘God Almighty, I reckoned, would be the only one to save me now. So I prayed. I prayed aloud.

‘Suddenly, I was astonished at what I saw: lights on the ground at the eleven o’clock position. I had come out of the clouds to find that I was clipping along through a narrow valley, flying between tall mountains. Their sheer black walls rose and disappeared into the clouds above me. Even so, I felt a surge of relief. If there are ground lights, I calculated, there are probably people nearby, and that means that the terrain might be reasonably flat and I might be able to survive a forced landing.

‘I headed toward the lights. Gradually, I discerned alternating white and blue flashes, which I took to be a rotating beacon that normally identified an airfield.

‘As I drew nearer to the beacon, I saw that there were also some runway lights, meaning that I had stumbled on an airfield. How wonderful was that vision!

Project Blue Book and the story of how UFO sightings were used to cover high altitude U-2 flights

Taiwanese U-2 pilot emergency landing

‘On final approach, I put down the U-2’s landing gear and used the speed brake. The aircraft touched down fairly smoothly, but did not stay on the landing gear. The aircraft, with its belly scratching the pavement and its left wing tip striking the shoulder of the runway, went into a ground loop and came to rest in one piece.

‘Quickly, I scrambled from the cockpit and made for the only lighted building around. Inside, I found the airport manager and a radio operator. It took me a little while to fully apprise them of the situation, using my Chinese-accented English. One can imagine their surprise at coming face to face with a Chinese pilot, wearing a pressure suit, having just flown in unannounced in the dead of night in an aircraft of the strangest appearance. They had never heard of a U-2. It would be nine months before the Soviet downing of Francis Gary Powers in Russian airspace was to make the name of the aircraft a household word.

U-2 dismantled and loaded in a C-124

‘As for me, I had never heard of Cortez, Colo. Not even the town, much less its airport, appeared on my map. The airport manager informed me that, due to the cost of supplying electricity, the local city council was debating whether to keep the tiny community’s airport lights on at night. What’s more, he told me, he and the radio operator had been preparing to close the office, douse the lights, and head home for the night.’

After the accident, Hsi-Chon Hua contacted Laughlin Air Force Base (AFB). Next morning the U-2 was dismantled by a 4080th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing team and loaded in a C-124. It was later found that the problem was caused by a broken line but the U-2 was otherwise in good shape.

A Taiwanese U-2 pilot receives the Distinguished Flying Cross

Months later, he was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross by the US Air Force (USAF). The U-2 involved in the accident—No. 56-6721—continued in active research and development use at Edwards AFB for many years.

Hsi-Chon Hua concludes;

‘Though this incident had a fortuitous ending, it was for me a solemn lesson about life. I do not believe that it was mere luck that brought me through the difficult moments. For me, the conclusion is inescapable. My prayer was answered.’

U-2 print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. U-2S Dragon Lady “Senior Span”, 9th RW, 99th RS, 80-329

[preciouslandmermaid]

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - part 10

Note: I have an order for Yearning, table of 1. Also, I love the trope where the man is so in love that it makes him a pathetic loser. I love that shit.  

Warnings/Tags: None 

Synopsis:  It's fourth of July and Richie invites you to come see some fireworks with everyone. You decide to go even if Carmy isn't. Some secrets can only be told the dark, in the space between bursts of color, when everyone else is distracted.

(Read on Ao3) /// (Masterpost)

------------------------

Most businesses were closed for Fourth of July. You, however, were not. You were on custom-orders only, which meant no one could enter without proof of an order slip, but somehow—Richie got in. He swaggered into your office with a big grin, opening his arms like he’d hug you, before dropping them at your cold, serious look.

“What, no love for the guy who beat up your dad?”

You rolled your eyes, pointed to the invoices on your desk with your pen, “I’m working.”

Richie stepped behind and leaned over you while holding the back of your desk chair. It wobbled a little with the new weight and pressure. You resisted the urge to elbow him off.

“Doesn’t look as grim as Carmy’s office.” He said with a snort before pushing away and you caught yourself against the edge of your desk before your chair could roll forward. You frowned at his words. How much trouble was Carmy in? You still didn’t know even after helping him with the IRS situation. All you had were hints and clues and none of them boded well. If only he’d ask you for help, you could probably help him arrange for a first-time business owner loan or a bailout.

He peered at the whiteboard on the wall, grabbing a marker without asking, and wrote ‘I love Richie’ in bold letters. You sighed and reorganized your paperwork into a neat, color-coded folder.

“Are you just here to annoy me because the Beef is closed?” You asked. “Because if so, I’ll put you to work. Unpaid.”

Richie’s laughing blue eyes cut to you, mid-drawing of Fak holding a dick, “Hah! Nice try, but that’s illegal. I’m not here to be your bitchboy.”

“What a shame.” You joined him at the whiteboard and started erasing his artwork. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, folded his lanky arms across his chest and grinned. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring anymore.

“Oh yeah? You into the dom-stuff?” He asked with far too much interest for your liking. Was he trying to flirt with you? Or did Richie still assume you and Carmy were together? You huffed through your nostrils. You and Carmy were friends. That was it. You hoped to pursue something romantic with him, but not now. Everything was too chaotic, too stressful. If you tried a relationship, you’d be a mess, and he deserved someone more put-together, more perfect, more healed.

You said, “I’m into you leaving my office.”

“Rude.” He replied without heat, “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Oh my god! Richie?!” You dropped the eraser and placed your hand over your heart, “Are you asking me out?” You mocked with fake surprise and glee.

“You wish, sweetheart.” His grin widened. “Nah, we’re having fireworks at Seward Park. You know it?”

You nodded and Richie said, “You should come.”

You eyed him dubiously, “You got a permit to launch fireworks?”

Richie laughed.

“Fuck no.” He peered down at you, “I just know the beat cop working the area and asked him to look the other way.”

Richie came all this way just to invite you to an illegal firework celebration. Incredible. Your phone was heavy and silent in your pocket. Why didn’t Carmy tell you about it? Did he think you wouldn’t want to go? Was he going? You tried to imagine it, Carmy in a state of relaxation, and your nose crinkled even as a smile pulled at the corners of your mouth.

“Oh, I know that dopey-eyed look.” He teased.

You lightly shoved him,  “Shut up, Richie, and get out of my office.”

He took a pointed step backward, hands up in surrender before tucking them into the pockets of his track pants.

“Just come, alright? Bring some fucking crêpes or whatever.” He backpaddled out of your office and you heard him yelling farewells to your staff.  The marker left residue on the board, like an echo, a faded ghost of Richie’s shitty drawings, and you chuckled to yourself with a small shake of your head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You decided to go to Steward Park even if Carmy wasn’t there. Because otherwise your evening would consist of take-out and watching re-runs of the Great British Bake Off. It’ll be good to get out of the rut of routine and be social for one night. You could afford it. It would be good for you (or so you hoped).

You trekked across the damp grass toward the cluster of people silhouetted by camping lanterns and the tiny, telltale reddish glows of lit cigarettes. You’ve got a tin of cookies tucked under your arm and a special cupcake with extra frosting for your favorite annoying string bean of a man. You noticed Carmy among them, talking to a blonde woman, and you quashed the unnecessary jealousy that burbled in your stomach.

Marcus was the first to notice you, his smile bright and welcoming, “You made it!”

“I made it.” You placed the tin of cookies onto the white, folded table on the grass. The food laid out is standard Beef affair—hot dogs with toppings on the side, roast beef sandwiches, and a cooler with ice and cans of pop. Eva, clearly up past her bedtime, immediately grabbed for the cookie tin with her mom trailing behind.

Marcus asked, “Did you make these?”

You shook your head. “Dani.”

“I’m sure they’re fire.”

“Try ‘em first.” You replied, shrugging, though your grin is proud and earnest. You recognized nearly everyone here—except for the blonde woman talking to Carmy a few feet away and the dork in the sweater vest. The needle in your chest dug deeper. You ignored it. Tina introduced you to her son. Angel introduced you to his sister. Syd introduced you to her dad. Everyone had someone with them, and you bit the inside of your cheek. Richie didn’t mention shit about bringing guests or dates.

Speaking of Richie….you find him in the crowd.

“Hey! Richie!” He looked to you, “I brought you something.” You announced, holding his cupcake aloft and raising both eyebrows at him.

He chortled.

“Sweetheart! You shouldn’t have.” His hand extended for the treat, and you pulled it out of his grasp while grinning.

“Open your mouth.” You said, giddiness building in your chest, with a desperate attempt to hold back your smile in case he caught onto your plan.

“Wow!” Richie looked to the others with a toothy grin. “All this time you’ve been holding a torch for me, angel? Goddamn.”

He tilted his head, “You know my ex-wife is here, right?”

“Are you going to chicken out because she’s here or are you going to let me feed you this cupcake?” You challenged.

Richie leaned forward, getting to your eyelevel, and you wasted no time whatsoever—you smashed the cupcake into his cheek and only barely hitting the corner of his mouth. The circle of Beef employees that were congregated around you burst in uproarious laughter.

You found Carmy’s laugh, like a frayed thread in a ball of yarn, and held it close to your heart.

“God!” You laughed, tears springing to your eyes at Richie’s shocked expression. “I’ve been dying to do that since the day we met.”

“Oh yeah!?”

Richie wiped some of the frosting and crumbs from his cheek with his fingertips and swiped at your face. You laughed harder and stumbled backward, hitting someone’s chest as Richie smeared icing against your temple, and it caught in the hairs at your scalp.

“it’s actually pretty good though,” He declared while sucking the frosting from his fingers.

You spun, meeting Carmy’s eyes, and realized it was him who you bumped into. Even in the low light, you saw the amusement dancing in his blue eyes, the lines that crinkled around them. Your heart illuminated like a firework, sending phosphorus smoke through your veins.

“Hi.” You couldn’t think of anything more eloquent or witty to say.

“Hey.” He responded softly, “You’ve got—” His fingertips grazed across your temple, dusting away crumbs and icing, and your breath caught inside your chest.

“Yeah, yeah.” You choked out, your mind went haywire at his casual, intimate touch. “Worth it.”

“Hm.” His lips flattened into a thin smile, “Totally.”

The unknown blonde and guy in the sweater vest approached you. You angled your body away from Carmy, forming into a semi-circle, and offered them a neutral smile. Was this Carmy’s date? And if so, who was the guy with her? Maybe the reason Carmy didn’t tell you about the fireworks was because he was bringing someone. Your stomach twisted and you wished you had something to fidget with between your hands.

“Hi, I’m Natalie.” She offered her hand to you.

You were the world’s biggest idiot. It wasn’t his date. It’s his sister.

She gestured to the dorky man next to her, “This is my husband, Pete.”

“Howdy.” Pete said, “Nice to meet you.”

He started babbling about your grandfather, citing magazine articles, and popular restaurants in the area. You rubbed the back of your neck and adjusted the weight of grief on your shoulders. You foolishly thought that no one here would bring up your granddad tonight. You hoped to have a reprieve. Apparently, no such luck existed in the world. You tuned out Pete, listening, instead to snippets of conversation around you: Richie talking to his daughter about Dinosaurs, Syd talking to Tina about mashed potatoes, Ebra explaining to Fak that he doesn’t want to celebrate Forth of July and is only here to see if Richie lights himself on fire.

“Anyway, I guess what I’m really trying to say is that it’s really cool—what you’re doing, I mean.”

You blinked, surprised, “W-what?”

“The bakery.” Pete clarified, albeit sheepishly, “He never tried to do that, right? So, you’re kind of like, trailblazing, huh?” He said while nodding.

“I – yeah? I guess.” The back of your neck tingled. You glanced to Carmy beside you and his smile was light and faintly hidden by his knuckles as he scratched under his nose.

Carmy said, “Hm, he’s right.” The subtle, white glow of camping lanterns softened Carmy’s curls falling across his forehead and painted gentle shadows of his eyelashes across his cheekbones. His golden chain peeked out from the collar of his pristine shirt and your heart somersaulted.

“It’s incredible.” He said with a meaningful look to you. One that made you feel like you were stripped bare, rearranged, and reconfigured like you were a well-loved recipe carved into delicate, coffee-stained paper. All the atoms inside your body electrified and vibrated beneath his stare and your tongue was heavy and wordless between your teeth.  

“Alright!” Richie clapped his hands, breaking the moment, “Get comfortable! The show’s about to start.”

“Yes!” Ebra clapped louder, “Yes! Go white boy!”

Carmy and Pete moved away, leaving you alone with Natalie, an opportunity which she took full advantage of.

“I’m glad he has you.” She blurted before you could join the others on the blankets. You stared at her, wide-eyed, before regaining your composure.

“It’s good that he has friends.” She continued, “Even more so that those friends are people outside of work.”

“I am across the street.” You said, in case she didn’t know, or had forgotten. In full view, you could see the similarities between them now. They carried the same shadow of grief below their eyes. Although Natalie’s eyes were softer, and the faint lines on her forehead that suggested she often furrowed her brow. You wondered how the family dynamic played out now that Mikey was gone. Natalie was the eldest, did she feel responsible to Carmy?

“Yeah but,” She shrugged, “That place is a black hole.” She didn’t even try to hide the sadness or the anger from her voice. “And he needs people—good people—to lean on.”

You smiled. “What makes you assume I’m a good person?”

Natalie doesn’t miss a beat. “I know you were the one to call in the favor at the IRS.” She said, “And believe it or not, it takes a lot for us Berzatto’s to let people in, let alone someone like him and…”

She trailed off, her gaze drifting across the lawn to Carmy sitting alone on a blanket, his arms resting on his bended knees. His hair blew softly in the breeze. You clenched your fingers into fists at your side with shameless longing to walk over and card your fingers through it. Even surrounded by laughter and sparklers, Carmy appeared forlorn and pensive, and your chest rattled with sympathy.

“Anyway,” She cleared her throat, “I’m happy we finally had the chance to meet in person.”

You dug at the grass with the toe of your sneaker, “Maybe you’ll see more of me.”

Natalie reached out and squeezed your forearm, “I hope so.” She said with a quick, friendly smile.

She left you to join Pete and you stood in a weird pocket of space, watching the blankets and lawn chairs fill up, your hands numb and quiet at your sides.

Tina tossed a blanket over her sons’ shoulders and kissed his cheek, muttering something in Spanish, and he groaned—embarrassed—in reply. Tiffany sat on a woven, red lawn chair with Eva in her lap. Pete put his arm around Natalie after opening a can of pop for her. Syd draped a blanket over her dad’s lap, talking low and quiet, before laughing at something Marcus said. Fak and Ebra were at the table, still chatting, while scooping condiments onto their hot dogs—their paper plates balanced precariously in hand.

The word came to mind like rainwater to glass: Family.

Your throat tightened and an itching desire to turn and walk away before anything started buried under your skin. With a strange, magnetic force, your gaze pulled to Carmy – sitting alone. You hesitated at the edge of everything and considered your worthiness to sit among them. You took a cautious step forward.

Richie shouted, “Here we go!”

Carmy’s head turned away from the fireworks and toward you. His profile illuminated in a burst of red, hissing light. His large nose, and greasy curls were briefly set alight, washed in crimson like an ambulance siren. An emotion swelled in your chest, too big and too terrifying to name, as the park erupted in loud golden sparkles and a chorus of ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ echoed through the dark, smoky air.

You were at the precipice of cowardice and desire. You could turn, flee into the shadowed park, and tell Richie something came up. Or you could step forward, into the bright unknown, into the messy future.

The world flashed with color and bright, booming sound.

Carmy’s hand twitched, a quick motion that you almost missed in the erratic light of the fireworks, and you realized with a mind-numbing surprise that he was beckoning you. His eyes met yours, honest and expectant.

A firework whistled, arching across the sky like a shooting star, blue and white and lovely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy’s heart thundered inside his chest. The distance between you was less than ten steps, but it felt like a hundred miles.

Every firework cast a sudden, colorful radiance to your skin. Your eyes glistened and crinkled softly at the edges, like the pages of a worn cookbook, when you smiled at him. He doesn’t use the word ‘beautiful’ often. But there was no better way to describe you. You were beautiful. His beautiful, ambitious, and achingly wonderful friend.

He only came tonight because Richie mentioned he invited you. Now, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that he did. He wanted to remember this moment forever. He ignored everything else—the laughter, the exclamations of delight, the faint smell of smoke in the air and cars drifting down the street.

There was only you, and him, and the footsteps that separated you. A firework blazed green and blue and the tightness in his chest unraveled as you started walking toward him. He scooted to make room for you on the warm, flannel blanket.

Your shoulder brushed against his, but you didn’t move away. The sky sizzled, smoke trailing like the exhaled breath of a great monster, and you tossed the extra blanket over your bare legs.  

You asked, “What truck bed did Richie buy these fireworks from?” During a brief respite of Richie setting up the next round.

Carmy scoffed, “Like he’d tell any of us.”

“Hm. Good point.” Your lips pursed, and he’s never wanted to kiss you more than in this moment. And it’s not just because you slept together in the past. It’s something else. Something newer and scarier and less defined. It would be so easy to incline his head forward and brush his lips against yours.

Carmy tore his eyes away from your mouth before he did something outrageously stupid. He wanted to keep your friendship more than he wanted your affection. He tugged at the edge of the blanket over your legs, adjusting it, so he’d have something to do with his hands.

You said, “I talked to your sister.”

“Oh yeah?” He couldn’t imagine what Sugar would want to talk about after Pete’s weird fanboy moment. Although he could begrudgingly admit that Pete’s admiration of you mirrored his own and he supposed that wasn’t the worst thing to have in common with his brother-in-law. You were amazing. He wanted more people to recognize that, to see you beyond your family, and all the things they accomplished. You deserve to have that.

“She said she was glad we’re friends.”

“Mhm, well, I’m a loser.” He gestured to his chest, “I don’t usually have friends.”

“You have me.” Your voice was soft, and oh-so-gently teasing that his jaw clenched. Yes, he had you. His chest warmed and he peered over at you through heavily lidded eyes. Your front teeth pressed into your lower lip, a tempting sight, and Carmy forced himself to look into your eyes.

He muttered, “Present company obviously excluded.”

A fresh display of brilliant fireworks erupted in the sky, cutting your conversation short, though Carmy only half-heartedly watched them. He kept glancing over to you, seeing your face illumed in a rainbow of colors, brief and gorgeous flashes of pleasure in the relaxed slack to your jaw and the slight widening of your eyes. He savored every second with a subtle, quiet smile affixed to his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The nerves danced in your heart, walked a tightrope across your stomach, but the curiosity would burn you up from the inside-out if you didn’t ask. You leaned into Carmy, pressing your face into the side of his head to speak into his ear, as fireworks boomed overhead. Their noise was your courage and your protection. No one would overhear this. This question was for him and him alone.

“So, no…girlfriends or boyfriends then?” You asked. You could assume his answer, but you wanted—needed—to know for the sake of the future. For when you were healed enough, and less broken, and less messy and you could ask him out properly and do things that couples do. Your breath quieted inside your lungs as you awaited his answer.

Carmy snorted with laughter, shaking his head, “No way.” He paused, swallowing. “You?”

The sky was silent with tendrils of smoke and scattered stars.

Maybe his answer meant he liked you, maybe his answer meant he didn’t like serious relationships, or maybe it meant nothing more and was simply a statement of a fact. Regardless of what could be read between the lines, hope took root inside your chest, twining around your ribs, and refused to let go.

“Nah.” You shrugged. In the gesture, his warm, solid forearm skimmed across yours and your skin prickled with goosebumps. He was so close, yet he wasn’t close enough.

“But…um…that might change in the future.” You admitted softly. “I mean I hope it does. I’d—I’d like it to.”

You searched his face, watching his clear, blue eyes register with shock and his brow crinkle.

He looked toward Richie in the distance setting up for the finale.

This was your confession, your secret, and you offered it to him on a blanket beneath a sky of ghostly fireworks. It’s not that you wanted a random relationship in the future. You wanted one with him. You twisted your fingers in your lap, knuckles popping, as Carmy’s silence continued for an agonizing amount of seconds.

Carmy nodded, “That’s—that’s good.” He said finally.

You blinked, swallowing your disbelief, and tilted your body away from his. You drew your knees to your chest, arms wrapping around them, and joined everyone in clapping for the final display of fireworks. You could feel Carmy’s eyes on you, but you refused to face him, because you were afraid he might see the hurt and confusion on your face.

You were lost in the enchantment of the moment and lulled into believing that he felt something more for you. Especially after how he looked at you when the fireworks began. You crawled back into the protective shell around your heart. It was better like this, wasn’t it? It was better to be his friend than to be nothing at all.

Richie ran across the grass, cigarette dangling from his lips, and barreled onto your shared blanket with Carmy. He nearly headbutted you in the process. You and Carmy shouted with surprise and annoyance as Richie literally shoved himself between you.

You pushed at his shoulder though it was like pushing stubborn stone, “Richie! Fuck off.”

He groaned, “You have the best seats.” He stretched out and puffed smoke around your head.

“Come on, cousin!” Carmy snapped, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t need you sucking face in front of Eva.” He said before Fak lit the fireworks and all conversation was drowned out through the dazzling lights and sound. You stole the cigarette from Richie’s mouth, ignoring his shout of alarm, and took a fortifying inhale of nicotine. He smoked the same brand as Carmy, and your heart fluttered with the memory of his mouth on yours and tasing like this.

You blew smoke to the stars. You took that fragile, rooted hope in your chest and buried it like a promise. A promise to heal, to grow, and learn from this. You would be the best possible friend to Carmy notwithstanding your romantic feelings. You caught Natalie smiling at you from her spot. You smiled back, hearing her words: ‘I’m glad he has you’ repeated inside your head.

You were glad to have him. You weren’t going to lose him.  

“You’re such an asshole.” Richie said, chuckling, when you returned his cigarette back to him.

You smiled. “Takes one to know one.”

Richie squinted, holding the cigarette to his lips, “Hmph. You’re not wrong.”

“She rarely is.” Carmy muttered, casting his gaze heavenward, the smoke from Richie’s cigarette curling around his eyes and obscuring them.

“Cousin, you are so whipped it’s not even funny anymore.”

You and Carmy said, “Shut up, Richie!”

“I rest my fucking case.” Richie stood, flicking ash on the blanket, “G’night, simps. You’re welcome for the whole fucking show. Maybe next time have a little gratitude because otherwise I’m not inviting you to shit. Capisce?”

You rolled your eyes, brushing ash away with your hand. “Dick.” You said once Richie was out of earshot. You caught Carmy’s eyes, “Was he always like this?”

He looked at you questioningly.

“Before…” You let the words hang unsaid in the empty air. Before Mikey.

“Yeah, I – I think so. It was just…” Carmy frowned, “Mikey was always the loud one, you know? Richie’s gotten louder since he’s—he’s been gone.”

You nodded. The voids people left behind are complex and nuanced and hardly straightforward. You only know pieces of Michael through Carmy, and through Richie’s personality, but you have a rough sketch of the eldest Berzatto. You imagined the void Mikey left behind must be massive. Like a black hole, you thought, remembering Natalie’s words again.

You tapped your fingers against the flannel, “Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Walk me to the L?” You asked sheepishly as if he might say no.

He swallowed and you allowed yourself to marvel at the muscles of his throat.

Quietly, he said, “Can I walk you home?” His words were so unbelievable that you wonder if they’re a hallucination. “I know your station, but – um – it’s a holiday and people are crazy and—”

“Okay.” You interrupted before you thought better of it and before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Sure, sure, yeah.” You shrugged, wearing easy confidence and nonchalance like glass armor, and hoping your true feelings don’t shine through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stairwell creaked beneath your sneakers, and you fiddled with your apartment keys. The L train had been one of the fastest in recent memory. You talked about the day-to-day at the bakery, sharing some of the core moments, like Leslie’s ex-girlfriend ordering a wedding cake. He shared with you a story about Mikey, and Richie, an agricultural goddess known as Ceres and featuring guest star Bill Murray.

You held this story close to your chest and recognized it as precious. Any story with Mikey, in your eyes, was to be treasured because Carmy spoke so rarely about him.

“Here we are.” You unlocked your front door and pushed it inward. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to murder me with one of your fancy chef knives.”

You hadn’t anticipated him following you all the way up here. But he did and a very selfish, quiet part of you wanted him to stay.

You looked back at Carmy. He was leaning his temple against the wooden doorframe and gazing at you with his exhausted yet mournful, pretty eyes. You squashed the desire to touch him. Your keys jingled loudly in your grasp, their cold metal teeth bit into your skin. He looked so fucking tired.

Selfish desire won out against rationality and the question fell from your lips, “Do you need a couch to sleep on?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes, with a soft exhale. “No, no, no. I’m good.”

“Damn.” You clicked your tongue, “I was really looking forward to our first sleepover. We could stay up late talking about boys and I could braid your hair.”

Carmy managed a brief, fragile smile. “Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You slowly opened your arms, “Goodnight?”

To your immediate surprise and immense relief, Carmy stepped into your embrace. His arms encircled your waist and his face buried into your shoulder. You clung to him, sank into his warmth, and the faint aroma of cigarettes and sweat. Your body hummed with desire for more even with the knowledge that you’d never have it. You wanted to remain here until sunrise. The temptation to beg him to stay wrestled between your teeth and your heart burned with it.

Carmy sighed, his muscles relaxing, his weight leaning into you a little more. You held him with unwavering strength, rooted to the hardwood floor of your entry hallway, and smiled softly against his warm cotton shoulder.

“’m glad I came tonight.” He murmured. “Almost didn’t.”

“Me too.” Your eyes fluttered close, savoring this, savoring him. His sinewy biceps, his solid chest, and his hair tickling your cheek. His grip lessened. He pulled away, fingertips trailing across your hips, an innocent touch that painfully reminded you of decadent ones. You stopped the low whine in your throat.  

“Goodnight.”

You held the doorframe, “Get home safe.” You didn’t shut your door until you couldn’t hear his footsteps on the creaky, wooden stairs anymore.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus Author’s Note: Reminder, this fic has the tag “lack of communication” LMAO. But this is our last yearning chapter. Promise. The slow burn is almost done.

#carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fic #carmen berzatto #carmy x baker #carmy berzatto x you

[ladylingua]

People always talk about how boomers are shitty parents because they don’t want to take care of their kids past 18 and are dismissive of things like adult children living at home

But I think that misses the crux of the issue

I’m also going to state here too that framing this as generational is a falsity- it’s very race and class oriented. My parents both grew up lower class and were able to launch themselves into middle class without financial parental support, because society was set up to allow that. They had wanted the same for their kids, and were angered and dismayed that that was no longer really possible.

My parents were very clear they did not want to provide financial support to us post 18 and felt frustrated and like failed parents when they had to, but their anger isn’t at us, it’s rage at a society that has made it so impossible for young people to launch

They felt that had we lived in a society with a decent minimum wage, and reasonable rent, and affordable healthcare and tuition, etc, there’s no reason they should have HAD to budget to keep providing assistance to their adult children. They really didn’t have the resources to provide the kind of help we all needed just to survive, and they were frustrated that it was expected of them rather than for basic services to be accessible to young adults. My parents were mad because they’re not fucking libertarians- they wanted their tax money to go towards ensuring a hospitable environment for their children to survive and thrive in, rather than corporate bailouts and endless war.

I know there are lots of boomers out there for whom this doesn’t apply, but sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to reach them if we framed it like “Yeah, you shouldn’t have to support your adult kids, it really should be possible for an 18 year old to eek out at least some kind of a life on their own. Let’s talk about why that’s not happening” vs “Well you’re a parent for life, get over it you selfish asshole”. I do know older folks who won’t be moved from their own generational hate, but I think some people could be swayed by that. I just think that redirecting anger can be more effective sometimes than dismissing it.

But maybe not! I just think this is another example of the fact generational discourse is a distraction and almost always serves to obfuscate the actual problem.