I'm totally in support of the writers in theory but I'm trying to understand more of what you're fighting for because I've seen some people on twitter claim writers make more money a week than most of us make in a month so I'm trying to understand what the issue is. Also if that info is accurate. This is a genuine question. Not trying to have a "gotcha moment". I really want to hear from a writer.
people have always had wild misconceptions about how much a writer earns because of their lack of understanding of how the industry actually works. there's so many posts about how "you guys make 5k a week. what more do you want?!" yeah...let's do some math on that.
5k a week for 14 weeks (and that's a long room. a lot of rooms these days are 8-10 weeks. those are the dreaded mini-rooms we're trying to kill) is $70,000. for roughly three months of work. you'd think we're cooking with gas...BUT HOLD UP. that's gross! let's see everything that has to come out of that check:
10% to our agent
10% to our manager
5% to our entertainment attorney
5% to our business manager (not everyone has one but a lot of us do. i do, so that's literally 30% immediately off the top of every check)
most of these breakdowns ive seen downplay taxes severely. someone made one that says writers pay 5% in taxes and i would like to ask them "in what universe?". that doesn't even cover state taxes. the way taxes work in the industry is really complicated, but the short of it is most of us have companies for tax reasons so we aren't taxed like people on w2s/1099. if we did we'd be even more fucked. basically every production hires a writer's company instead of the writer as an individual. so they engage our companies for our services and then at the end of the year we (the company) pay taxes as corporations or llcs (depending on what the writer chose to go with). my company is registered as a "corporation" so let's go with those rates. california's corporate rate is 9% and the federal corporate tax rate is 21%. there's other expenses with running a business like fees and other shit so my business managers/accountants/bookkeepers have recommended i save between 35-40% of everything i make for when tax season comes.
you see where the math is at already??? 25-30% in commissions and then 35-40% in taxes. on the lower end you're at THE VERY LEAST looking at 60% of that check gone. 70% worst case scenario. suddenly those $70,000 people claim we make are actually down to $28,000 as the take home pay. and that's if you're only losing 60%. it goes down to $21,000 if it's 70%.
lets pretend you worked a long 14 week room (that's the longest room ive ever worked btw) and let's also be generous and say you only have 60% in expenses so the take home is $28,000. average rent in los angeles is around $2,800-$3,000. if you're paying $2,800 in rent that means you need AT LEAST $4,000 a month to have a semi decent life since you need to also cover groceries, gas, medical expenses, toiletries, phone, internet, utilities, rental and car insurances, car payments, student loan payments, etc etc etc. and again, this is los angeles. everything is more expensive so you're living BARE BONES on 4k. and these are numbers as a single person. im not even taking having children into account. so those $28,000 you take home might cover your life for 6-7 months. 3 of which you're in the room working. the reality is that once that room ends, you might not work in a room again for 6-9-12 months (i have friends whose last jobs were over 18 months ago) and you now only have about 3 months left of savings to hold you over. we have to make that money stretch while we do all the endless free development we do for studios and until we get our next paying job. so...3 months left of enough money to cover your expenses -> possible 9 months of not having a job. this is how writers end up on food stamps or applying to work at target.
this is why we're fighting for better rates and better residuals. residuals were a thing writers used to rely on to get them through the unemployment periods. residual checks have gone down from 20k to $0.03 cents. im not joking.
they've decimated our regular pay and then destroyed residuals. we have nothing left. so don't believe it when they tell you writers are being greedy. writers are simply fighting to be able to make a middle class living. we're not asking them to become poor for our sake. we're asking for raises that amount to 2% of their profit. TWO PERCENT. this is a fight for writing even being a career in five years instead of something you do on the side while you work retail to pay your bills. if you think shows are bad now imagine when your writer has to do it as a hobby because they need a real job to pay their bills and support a family. (which none of us can currently afford to have btw)
support writers. stop being bootlickers for billion dollar corporations. stop caring about fictional people more than you care about the real people that write them. if we don't win this fight it truly is game over. the industry as you know it is gone.
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feeling generous
words: 1.3k
warnings: 18+ only!, smut, dubcon!!, blackmail!!, blowjob, cum eating???, voyeurism, public sex, car crash but like its in a parking lot lol, pogue!/broke!reader
“shit, shit, shit.” you groan, quickly putting the car into drive and moving a few feet, cringing when you hear the crunch of metal coming undone. you throw the car into park and hop out to see your worst fears actualized.
“are you fucking blind?” the shout makes you jump. you didn't even realize that the owner of the car was sat in the driver's seat.
“im-im so so sorry.” you shake your head quickly, surveying the damage. you caught their back bumper with your own, the red paint from their car flaking onto your silver one. “i-i didn't see how close-”
“no shit you didn't see! jesus fucking christ, do you know how expensive this car is?” he shouts, standing to his full height and slamming the car door closed. you don't know how much the car is, but judging by the look of it and the man driving it, certainly not cheap. “this is a custom paint job too.”
he places his hands on his hips, eyes shifting between glaring at the ruined back end of his car and you.
“insurance and id. now.” he huffs out. “before i call the cops.”
your eyes widen. you have the minimum required insurance, and even that payment is killing you, there's no way you'll be able to afford it if you get an increase for a crash.
“can i pay you out of pocket?” you offer, clearing your throat, trying to keep a level head.
“no way you're able to afford it.” his eyes turn towards your car. it's old, a junker, but gets you around fine enough. and best part, it was free, a hand me down after your grandma bought a newer car.
“i-i probably cant, but i can't afford the insurance increase either and i- we can work something out. please.” you don't care how pathetic it is, you'll get down on your knees in the parking lot if you have to. you're not beyond begging and pleading.
he looks you up and down before grunting, heading back towards his car. your feet spring into action, grabbing onto his wrist, not wanting him to reach for his phone.
“no, please, sir-”
“rafe.” he says, hand twisting so now he's the one holding your wrist. “my name is rafe.”
“oh.” you blink up at him before responding. “my name is y/n”
“you shouldn't have told me.” rafe holds his hand up. “in case i change my mind. you're lucky im feeling generous today.”
“oh my god, thank you so much!” you feel tears well up in your eyes.
“don't thank me yet, darling.” his gaze turns dark as he looks down at you, only now realizing how tall he is, how he towers over you.
“what do you mean?” you question.
rafe takes your hand gripped tightly in his fist, turning it and bringing it down to place it on his crotch. your eyes widen when he moves your fingers back and forth over his shorts, stroking along your length.
“i- what are you doing?” you try to pull your hand away, but he's holding on too tightly.
“it's either this or we can get insurance involved.” rafe looks at you, the shiny lip gloss smeared over your mouth. you may be a broke pogue, but your mouth should be good enough to please him, to ease some of the tension from getting his car hit.
“im not a prostitute.” you say, certainly not meaning this when offering to work something out.
“yet you're gonna get on your knees and suck me off. or i call the cops.”
“right here?” you look around the parking lot. it's pretty empty, but it's the middle of the day, the sun shining down on you, making the illicit act obvious to anyone who looks between where your two cars are parked.
“yeah.” he shrugs, pressing your hand harder into his crotch. he's obviously hard, seemingly almost painfully so.
you look back to the damage, the cherry red color that you're sure isn't stock, and then sink down to your knees. rafe smirks down at you as he drops his hand away from your wrist, light purple bruises already forming.
you gulp and resolve yourself to what you're about to do, tugging at his zipper before undoing the button on his shorts. you open up the flaps, eyes widening when you take in his length through his underwear.
rafe chuckles before pushing the elastic down to pull his cock out, exposing it to the warm summer air.
“suck.” he simply commands.
you open your mouth, taking an experimental lick at his tip, surprised that the taste isn't completely repulsive. you lick again before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.
“come on.” he spurs you on. “do it good or ill cum in your mouth and still make you pay.”
the threat has you moving quickly, sinking down onto his cock, closing your eyes so you don't have to see rafe looking down at you. he may be attractive, but you're still getting forced to do this.
“ahh, that's good.” he groans as you set a quick pace, bobbing your head up and down. you pray no one pulls into this part of the parking lot or looks your way. you'd be absolutely mortified to be seen on your knees for a man in the middle of the day, not even going into his car to suck him off.
rafes hands grip your hair, pulling them into two makeshift pigtails.
he lets you stay in control for a while longer before he gets sick of you sucking him off however you please. he shoves his hips forward, causing you to gag when his cock buries deep in your throat.
rafe doesn't give you time to recover, thrusting while holding your head still by the hair, tears now streaming down your eyes as he pushes in then out, in then out.
“fuck, you're actually good.” rafe chuckles. just his luck the dumb bitch who hit his car gives good head, your throat tightening as you swallow around him with every thrust.
you feel the combination of drool and tears drip down your chin, hoping rafe cums soon so this can end.
you place your hands on his thighs as your knees dig into the pavement. your jeans are going to be completely ruined by the time rafe is done with you, but at least you'll have money to buy a new pair.
you feel rafes cock swell in your mouth, your eyes widening to look up at him, the sun behind his head, illuminating him in a perfect halo, but he's no angel.
rafe pulls his cock out before he can cum. you stick your tongue out, knowing exactly what to expect as rafe strokes himself quickly, moaning as if he doesn't care about being seen as his cock shoots out ropes of white cum onto your face and awaiting tongue.
he taps the tip against your tongue, smearing it through the mess of white. “kiss it.”
it's humiliating, but not any more than what just happened. you pucker your lips and press a kiss to the tip of his cock, seeing that it's already beginning to soften.
rafe tucks his cock back in as you pant on the ground, hands coming to your thighs as you try to gain composure.
“hey.” rafes voice has you looking back up, your eyes widening when you see he's got his phone now, taking a picture of your disheveled state, face still covered in his cum.
“what was that for?” you shout.
“part of your repayment in case you ever try to go back on our agreement.” you understand what rafe means. in case you try to tell anyone he forced you into it.
rafe smiles when the look of acceptance sinks into your features as you resign to your fate. he bends down, looking you in the eye before his tongue presses against your jaw, dragging up your cheek, tracing the trail of your tears, not caring that he also tastes his own cum on his tongue.
“see you around.” he smirks, swallowing your tears dramatically as he gets into his car, speeding away before you even get your knees off the ground.
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On leaving home for the first time:
Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between
Ask the Bitches: “I Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?”
Ask the Bitches: I Want to Move Out, but I Can’t Afford It. How Bad Would It Be to Take out Student Loans to Cover It?
How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety Net
Advice I Wish My Parents Gave Me When I Was 16
Ask the Bitches: How Can I Make Myself Financially Secure Before Age 30?
You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s
Master the Logistics and Etiquette of Moving Out
Season 2, Episode 5: “What Do I Need to Know about Moving into My First Apartment?”
On basic finance:
How the Hell Does One Open a Bank Account? Asking for a Friend.
How Do You Write and Cash Checks? Asking for a Friend.
Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead
You Must Be This Big to Be an Emergency Fund
A Hand-Holding Guide to Getting Your First Credit Card
How to File Your Taxes FOR FREE: Simple Instructions for the Stressed-Out Taxpayer
Dafuq Is Credit and How Do You Bend It to Your Will?
How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year
Dafuq Is Interest and How Does It Work for the Forces of Darkness?
What’s the Difference Between Savings and Checking Accounts, and How Should I Be Using Them?
Dafuq Is a Down Payment? And Why Do You Need One to Buy Stuff?
Dafuq Is Insurance and Why Do You Even Need It?
Investing Deathmatch: Investing in the Stock Market vs. Just… Not
Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One?
Do NOT Make This Disastrous Beginner Mistake With Your Retirement Funds
On managing your household:
How the Hell Does One Laundry? Asking for a Friend.
How the Hell Does One Wash Dishes? Asking for a Friend.
Ask the Bitches: Why Are Painted Mason Jars the Internet’s Only Solution to My Tiny Apartment Woes?
9 Essential Tools for Apartment-Dwellers (and 6 That Are Kinda Useless)
Ask the Bitches: How Can I Survive in an Apartment with No Heat?
How to Save Money on Your Beloved Pets
Bullshit Reasons Not to Buy a House: Refuted
How To Maintain Your Car When You’re Barely Driving It
25 Tricks to Stay Cool WITHOUT Air Conditioning
On feeding and caring for yourself:
You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.
How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss
If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You
I Think I Need to Go the Emergency Room?
Ask the Bitches: Ugh, How Do I Build the Habit of Taking Meds?
On maintaining relationships:
Season 1, Episode 8: “My Mother Demands Information About My One-Night Stands.”
Season 1, Episode 3: “My Parents Have Bad Credit. Should I Help by Co-signing Their Mortgage?”
Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?
Ask the Bitches: My Dad Sucks with Money. How Do I Make Him Change?
You Need to Talk to Your Parents About Their Retirement Plan
Season 2, Episode 1: “I’m Financially Stable, but My Friends Aren’t. The Guilt Is Crushing!”
On starting your career:
22-Year-Olds Don’t Belong in Grad School
High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?
The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career
Your College Major May Not Prepare You for Your Job—but It Can Prepare You for Life
The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships
Your School or Workplace Benefits Might Include Cool Free Stuff
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Our House is Unsafe, Help Us Gain a New Start
Do NOT tag as #d*nation, #m*tual aid, #p*ypal, #c*shapp, etc.
My name is Ross and I'm the oldest child of my family, with whom I currently live with. Our household consists of me, my widowed mother, and my three younger siblings, the youngest being 16. My dad died suddenly in his sleep November of 2021 and since then we have struggled pretty much every day to keep ourselves alive and housed.
Our house, my childhood home, is a 3 bedroom mobile home built in 1990 and for as long as I can remember, it has always been hoarded and falling apart. Over the past few years, we've made significant progress in reducing the hoard and giving us space to live in, but still this is a 30+ year mobile home that is damaged beyond our capability to repair.
Problems that exist currently in our house include:
No working HVAC
Half of the house has no power
Weakened floors due to water and pet damage
Outdoor siding rotting due to plant growth and water damage
Major leaks in the covered porch's roof, causing immense water damage and mold growth
Drywall, ceiling, and flooring damage (our entire kitchen's floor is just plywood now due to damage)
So many other issues that I've honestly lost track
We, of course, originally planned to slowly fix whatever issues had come up, but our plans changed when we came across a deal to purchase a brand new 5 bedroom mobile home for a discounted price. Not only does a new house such as this give us a safe, secure, and clean place to live, but the additional rooms ensure that all of us have our own bedroom and that we have more space to live and work. Currently, me, my mom, and my sister all share the master bedroom, so obviously the concept of all of us having our own privacy is leading us to make this decision more.
Right now, we currently have $2,000 put towards the down payment for the new house, out of a $9,000 down payment. We are able to make payments early and we expected to be able to put money down every month, until my mom's job fucked her over and didn't schedule her for 6 weeks. This greatly put us behind not just on payments for the new house, but also bills and getting my mom's car insured and registered, as it's now a year overdue for both.
I'll do anything for this chance, anything if it means that my family and I can finally have a home we deserve, a home my dad would've wanted for us.
I'm desperate, we're all desperate, for a chance to live normally for the first time in our lives. Living in squalor is all I've known and the opportunity to escape it is honestly the only thing keeping me going right now.
I don't know what I'd do if I'm forced to live in this shithole another year, let alone for the rest of my life. So, please, if you have the means I'd forever be grateful if you donate. If you can't donate, then please share this. It would mean everything to me.
Links:
[PP] [CA]
Thank you if you read this, thank you if you share, and thank you so so much if you donate.
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