#Cash paid for vehicles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

batboyblog · 1 month

Text

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #15

April 19-26 2024

President Biden appeared along side Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Senators Ed Markey and Bernie Sanders to announce major climate action. Biden announced a program, Solar For All, 7 billion dollars aimed at supporting low income house holds install solar power in their homes. The program will support 900,000 households across the country getting solar. Lower the average energy bill for a family by $400 a month and avoid more than 30 million metric tons of carbon pollution over the next 25 years. The boost in solar installation will help create 200,000 new jobs across the country. The President also announced the launch of the Climate Conservation Crops. modeled on FDR's Civilian Civilian Conservation Corps and JFK's Peace Corps, Biden's Climate Conservation Crops will be a program where young people can connect with climate projects across the country and be paid to help protect the planet. The Corps will be 20,000 strong, with 2,000 openings listed right now on their webpage across 36 states DC and Puerto Rico.

The Department of Labor finalized a new rule on overtime. Currently employers are only required to pay overtime to workers making under $35,568. Under the new ruling that will be raised to workers making $43,888, and in January 2025 raised again to workers making $58,656 and under. This will bring overtime pay to 4 million more workers and transfer $1.5 billion from the pockets of companies to workers. It also fixes to raise the level with inflation every 3 years starting in 2027.

The EPA announced a $1 billion dollar program to help replace heavily duty vehicles with clean energy versions. There are currently 3 million class 6 and 7 vehicles, school buses, box trucks dump trucks, street sweepers, delivery trucks, bucket trucks, and utility trucks, in use. 70% of the funds will go to replacing School Buses with Clean energy buses and the remaining 30% will go to replacing Vocational Vehicles like dump trucks and street sweepers. Heavy Duty vehicles on top of green house cases release harmful nitrogen oxide and fine particulate matter and replacing them will not only combat climate change but improve public health.

The Department of Interior took actions to protect 13 million acres of Alaska wild land is protected and to secure the livelihood of Alaska Native peoples who rely on this land. The Administration refused oil and mining rights on the vast areas of Alaska land as well as a 210 miles road through the northern wildernesses. This area represents valuable habitat for caribou and endangered polar bears, as well as millions of migrating birds.

The Department of Transportation announced finalized rules requiring airlines to give automatic cash refunds for canceled flights and other inconvenience. The refunds will be automatic meaning passengers will not have apply for them, prompt the airlines are required to refund a credit card purchase in 7 days, and require repayment in full and in kind, airlines can not substitute travel vouchers for cash. The DOT also announced new rules to protect airline travelers from junk fees, airlines and ticket agents must now clearly tell travelers upfront about all fees so no one is surprised by a hidden fee.

The EPA announced finalized rules on emissions standards for fuel burning power plants. The new rules include a tightening of Mercury and Air Toxics Standards, requiring a 70% reduction in mercury. It also had rules protecting ground water, new rules will require coal powered plants to remove 660 million pounds per year of pollutants discharged through wastewater, and for the first time federally regulates the dumping of coal ash, requiring safe dump sites that will not leak into ground water. Finalized rules require coal fired and new natural gas-fired power plants to capture up to 90% of their carbon pollution

Security of Transportation Pete Buttigieg attended the ground breaking of a new high speed rail project to connect Los Angeles and Las Vegas. The Biden Administration announced 3 billion to support the project 5 months ago. At 218 of all electric green rail the project promises to be the fastest way to get from LA to Las Vegas. Planned to open in 2028 just in time for the LA Olympics it is the first of many planned high speed rail projects. The Biden Administration has promised $66 billion for high speed rail and the largest single investment in Amtrak ever.

The FCC announced a new rule restoring Net Neutrality. Net Neutrality requires internet service pervaders to treat all websites equally and not slow certain ones now or speed others. In 2015 under Obama the FCC passed a rule requiring Net Neutrality. However in 2017, the FCC spread headed by Trump appointed Chair Ajit Pai repealed the rules. A patchwork of Democratic controlled states, lead by California passed state level laws requiring Net Neutrality forcing ISPs to de facto keep it in place. Late last year President Biden got the opportunity to replace Pai on the FCC, giving the FCC a 3 to 2 Democratic majority which voted this week to return to the Obama era rules and protect Net Neutrality nationwide.

The FTC passed finalized regulations to ban noncompete agreements in nearly all cases. These agreements, which cover 18% of American workers, about 30 million people, prohibit workers from joining or creating competing companies for a certain period of time. The FTC estimates that workers will earn an average of $524 dollars a year more and up to 8,500 new businesses will be created each year. The new rule will still allow noncompete for senior executives who make up less than 1% of the work force. Like with the FCC, two out of the 3 FTC commissioners who voted for the new rules are Biden appointees.

The Departments of Health and Human Services and Interior have announced a joint, $1 billion project to connect tribal communities to safe drinking water. Roughly half of Tribal households lack access to clean drinking water or adequate sanitation.

At the White House The Biden Administration announced plans to protect, restore and reconnect 8 million acres of wetlands and 100,000 miles of rivers and streams. This effort will include state, local and tribal government as well as private efforts along with the federal government to protect and restore the nations freshwater environments.

The Department of Health and Human Services announced a new rule boosting privacy protection for abortions. Republicans in states like Alabama, Texas, Oklahoma and Idaho have tried to make it a crime to leave the state to seek an abortion in a state where it is legal. The new federal rule would make it illegal for health information to be shared in these cases

Vice-President Harris announced a new rule requiring staffing standards at Nursing Homes across the country. The new rules will require registered nurses on duty 24 hours, seven days a week. This represents the first time the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services have required specific numbers of nurses and aides in Nursing Homes that get Medicare and Medicaid funding.

The Biden Administration Announced a $6 billion deal with tech giant Micron to bring high tech manufacturing to New York. The deal is expected to see Micron invest $100 billion in Syracuse New York area as well as build a factory in Boise, Idaho. The deal will create 70,000 new jobs. It is part of the Biden Administration's effort to bring high tech chip manufacturing to America.

The Department of Education finalized the most comprehensive federal protections for Trans and other Queer students in the nation's history. The rules also overturn Trump era rules on how colleges should handle sexual assault and harassment.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #climate change #trans rights #abortion rights #overtime #net neutrality #high speed rail #green energy #electric vehicles #busy fucking week #sorry for formatting change #so many things

523 notes · View notes

calumfmu · 3 months

Text

spread thin

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades-long relationship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie

2.9k+ words

The boy in front of you was beautiful. He was everything that you had pictured in a man, yet nothing of the sort that you imagined yourself to be with. He was handsome, charismatic, funny-- every good thing that could come with a boy.

But he wasn't yours.

Steve was everything and everyones before the label of yours could be applied.

"yn?"

His voice sounded throughout the fluorescent room, it's white walls allowing you to be caught in the midst of your thoughts. You met his eyes, his dark brown searching for clarification in the color of your own.

"Sorry, just..." your hands tightened around the broom, glancing down at the foot of tile you hadn't realized you were sweeping repeatedly for the last ten minutes. "A lot on my mind, graduation and all."

He stood there for a second, nodding as his hands graced the cash register in front of him. He had a hint of something on his face, something you couldn't recognize from his normal expressions. He suddenly shrugged, shaking his head to himself as he paid attention to the machine.

"Well... I'm just about done here," he supplied before closing the drawer. "Whenever you're done, I was thinking that we could head to mine? Movie night, drinks?"

You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was normal between the two of you. You have been best friends since kindergarten, it was always SteveandYn and YnandSteve.

He smiled back at you, walking around the corner.

"Well, let's get out of here, then." He took the broom from your hands, placing it in its respective supply closet. "I found a copy of that new horror movie on VHS, and you're going to love it."

As you two closed up shop, you made your way through the mall. His car was parked in the back of the lot, giving you ample time to think of what had been plaguing your mind lately. These feelings for Steve hadn't came out of nowhere, they had been building for the last couple of years as he became more popular. King Steve as they called him. You held back the eye roll of the remark, knowing that people didn't understand the true character of the man.

Calling him something like that only emphasized his woman-user ways, but did not touch on the sweetness he had to him. He was painted as a player, someone that did not care about women. Deep down, you knew that wasn't true.

His shoulder bumped into yours, shaking you of your thoughts. Steve opened the passenger door, holding his hand out as he did a faux bow.

"M'lady."

Giggling, you rolled your eyes and settled in the car as he made his way over to the driver's seat. As he got situated and started the vehicle, he glanced over at you.

"What's going on? You've been so... distant lately."

Sighing, you turned your head towards the window.

"'S nothing, Steve."

He pulled out into the main road, leaving the mall further and further into the distance. "You've been so weird, it can't be nothing."

"I'm fine." You smiled through your teeth, covering the true gnawing at your heart that plagues you. He spared a glance in your direction, huffing as he knew you were lying.

"Sure."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, only the sounds of the radio quietly buzzing some song in the background. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat as you focused on the drive in front of you, cars passing as he made his way to his house. With every block, the dim street lights hit your face, exposing more and more of the true emotional state that you were in. It was becoming too much to hide now.

You hadn't noticed as he pulled into his driveway, a dark house with no one home in front of it. Your passenger door suddenly opening startled you.

"Jesus, Steve," you mumbled, getting out as you smoothed down your work uniform. "Give a girl a warning, yeah?"

"Oh, quiet. 'S not like you would've heard it anyways," he had a grumpiness to his voice, something that only confused you even more. What was wrong with him?

You followed him through the front door, lights turning on as he made his way to the kitchen. A beer was placed in your hand, and you looked down to inspect it. The cheap kind, PBR. So it was going to be one of those nights.

Steve loosened the collar of his uniform, letting it hang open as he cracked open his own drink. He was still staring at you, as you leaned against the counter.

"You're really not going to tell me?" His brown eyes were huge at this point, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted in your direction. "Please, yn?"

You took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.

"'M just stressed about graduation," you answered, twirling your drink around as you focused on the exposed part of his chest. A tuft of hair poked out there, you imagined what it would feel like between your fingers.

"What about it?"

You broke the focus, walking closer to him so you could take a seat on the counter beside him. He turned his body towards you, forearms leaning on the white tile as he looked up into your eyes. This angle allowed you to see into the deep brown of his irises, the overhead light hitting in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. They were the same eyes you remember from childhood, his long lashes that framed them always so right.

You took another sip of the drink in your hand, thumb playing with the tab at the top of the aluminum. His hand reached out, touching the top of your thigh where your navy blue shorts ended.

Nervousness settled over you as his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin.

"Come on, you could tell me. Anything, remember?"

The look in his eyes and his begging was hard to resist. You had always told Steve your secrets, your worries, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to be.

You sighed, ready to let this burden off of your chest. Now or never, yn, what's the worst that could happen?

"I'm just worried about what's coming next," you said, finishing off your drink this time. The empty can hit the tile next to you, ringing throughout the kitchen. "Things changing, people growing, leaving."

His brow furrowed, confusion crossing hit features. He stood up, settling in closer to you. His eye level was right below yours this time. You could smell his cologne mixed in with the faint smell of ice cream. So enticing, yet you had to ignore it.

"Are you talking about us?" His hand left your thigh, moving to place his hands on either side of your waist. His waist sat in front of your crossed knees, body leaning slightly as he looked into your eyes. Heat settled into your core, your body reacting to the proximity of him between your legs. "You know, nothing's ever going to change between us. We've always been best friends, always will be."

And there it is. The pit of your stomach gnawing as that realization settled over you. Best friends.

A familiar sting hit your eyes as you began to blink it away. You thought you were being inconspicuous, but he noticed.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice was a whisper now as he stepped closer, pushing your thighs apart. His hand reached up to touch the side of your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

Concern was etched all over his features. He searched your eyes for an explanation, his calloused hands rubbing over the delicate skin of your face. He was so close now, you could lean in and kiss him. Feel the true pout of his lips against yours.

"...Steve," you muttered, shaking your head. "I was just hoping tha- you know, what, nevermind."

He was patient, waiting for your words to come out as the two of you sat in silence. Your mind was racing, thoughts of King Steve with a million other girls floating around. Why tell him when he can whoever? You've been friends for years, why would he want to hear this now when there has been years where something could have happened.

"Tell me."

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. It was easier to think with them shut, the beautiful boy in front of you no longer being a distraction.

"I was hoping things would stay the same between us," you blurted out. Your heart was racing, word vomit on the tip of your tongue. "Things would stay the same in college, but I know they won't because you're going to be focused on the next interesting person, the next beautiful girl who's not me and is so much better than me."

He didn't answer, but you felt his hand leave the side of your face. The pit at the bottom of your stomach growing more. You kept your eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

You chose to continue, "I just hear everyone talking about King Steve this and King Steve that, and I just can't help but think about how much worse it will be once you're no longer forced to be friends with me."

Suddenly, you felt a mouth on yours, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours quickly. Your eyes flew open, staring at the boy in front of you.

Steve had a smile on his face, eyes drifting over your shocked face. Your mouth opened and close as you find yourself at a loss of words. You found the words, a single syllable escaping your lips before he shushed you.

His hand returned to his cheek as his lips found yours again, moving with a fever that was missing previously. He seemed more urgent, needy in this moment as his hands began to explore your body.

Before you knew it, your legs were opening wider, inviting his body even closer to your core. You felt drunk, despite the single drink running through your veins. It was intoxicating, feeling his mouth against yours and his fingers in your hair.

Is this real life? You couldn't help but think you were imagining it all.

Steve breaks the kiss, fingers dancing at the bottom of your shirt, threatening to lift the hem there.

"Can I-?" He began to lift it as you nodded vehemently, lifting your arms. It came off your frame, exposing you in your white bra. The cool air hit your body, quickly replaced with the heat of his body.

His lips finds your jaw, slopping making his way down your neck. Pants escape your mouth, your vision becoming blurred as his fingers find your waistline. His thumb dipped into the band of your pants, teasing to expose your edge of your panties.

"S-steve, please."

All you saw was a flash of his hair as you were pushed back slightly, the pants beginning to slip down your hips. You adjusted the way you were sitting, allowing Steve the ease to free you of the restriction. He leaned down slightly, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses to your chest bone, hands returning to their residence of your hips.

You placed a hand in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips. He smiled through the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even closer as you felt his bulge rub against your heat.

You muttered a fuck as he began to rub against you, cock hard against the restriction of his own pants.

"Want more, baby?" He whispered, hand coming up to grab at your breast, squeezing in all the right places. You threw your head back in ecstacy, hips shooting up to rub against him even further. Your hands found his own waistline, pulling as you struggled to get them off.

"Patience now, my love."

His sweet words made you ache even more, grinding your heat against the shape of his cock. The free hand remaining on your hip moved, brushing over the wet spot you were making in your panties. A small shout escaped you, nerves throbbing at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit over the thin cloth.

You looked at him, all his glory as he stared hungrily down at your panties. This thumb was brushing over your clit through your underwear, watching as the wet spot increased.

"Is it that, baby," he breathed, glancing up at your spent face. Nodding, you spread your legs further, mewling as his index finger dipped them to the side. He brushed over your fluttering hole, paying attention to the way you arched your back.

Eyes closing involuntarily, your breath hitched as you felt his two of his fingers playing at your entrance. Your thoughts jumbled, focusing only on the feeling of his digits slowly pushing in. You mewled, white heat crossing over your body as they pushed in further, beginning to slowly pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck Steve, m-more." You couldn't hold back anymore, your hand reached up to grab his at your breast. Blinking your eyes slowly, you stared into his hooded ones, watching as he removed himself from you. He fumbled at his waistline, pushing his pants low enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping with need.

You reached out to it, pulling him closer. Your lips met again, a desperate connection of the moment as his fingers rake through your hair. He tasted like spearmint and the remnants of his beer, breath heavy against yours as his cock rubbed against your center.

He pushed your white panties to the side, his cock in hand as it rubbed against your wet entrance. You couldn't get enough, arching your hips so you could feel him closer, hard and firm.

He guided himself within you, stretching you wide. You couldn't tell if it was him or you at this point, throbbing with desperation as your hips bucked wanting to feel him closer.

Steve stopped at the hilt, hips flush against yours as your legs locked behind his thighs.

"Good?" He asked, breath heavy at this point and words incoherent. He went back and forth between squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stare into yours. Your tightness throbbed around him, clouding his thoughts with the feeling of wanting to take you fast and rough.

"Yes, baby, more."

You pulled him even closer to you, the hook of your ankle rubbing against his pants bunched up at his thigh. Only now did you realize, he was still wearing his uniform, wrinkled and bunched up, exposing only his groin and the bottom of his stomach. The desperation of this moment fueling him to see you in your glory, wanting to have access to you as fast as possible. You watched as he reared his hips back only to push into you once more, slowly but feverish in their movement.

He began to roll his hips, urging moans and pants out of your mouth. He kisses them away, swallowing them as you become louder with each thrust of his hips. The pleasure fills your body, drawing you closer and closer towards that breaking point as his hips continue.

His hands are at your hips, fingers gripping your ass as you sit on the counter, sliding back and forth with each movement he makes. His nails leave little half moon marks as his knuckles grow white, fucking into you relentlessly.

Ah, fuck and yes, baby and you like that escapes his mouth, mouth agape as he watches you unfold in his grasp.

You're almost pissed off at him, at yourself, for not doing this sooner. But the thought escapes your mind, the feeling of euphoria dripping over you as he brushes over something deep inside you. Shock waves took over you as a white heat came over you, exploding and tingling throughout your spine.

Your mind was clouded as you rode through the shock waves, pulsing around him as he thrusted deeper, closer towards his own peak. A low, guttural noise escaped him as you felt him release deep inside. His chest heaves as he rides through it, burying his face into your shoulder. A bite mark was left in its place, the feeling of stickiness between your thighs as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a small moan.

He brushed over your slit one more time, over stimulation coursing through you with a small yelp.

Steve's face was buried into your shoulder, nipping and kissing at the bitten skin there as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. His skin was slightly damp from the high, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"Can I tell you something, yn?" His voice was in a whisper.

You nodded, losing all words. He chuckled, leaning his head back so he could look you in your eyes.

"I knew you felt that way," he supplied, coy smile on his face. Your eyes widened as you hit his chest, laugh erupting out of him. "I felt the same."

"Steve!"

"I was just waiting for you to make the first move. I can't be King Steve when I'm with you."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #drabble turned fic #my writing #I've been thinking how much I love this man #and I had to put it down in words #hope you enjoy #kisses

495 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months

Text

No, Uber's (still) not profitable

Going to Defcon this weekend? I'm giving a keynote, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse," on Saturday at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

Bezzle (n): 1. "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it" (JK Gabraith) 2. Uber.

Uber was, is, and always will be a bezzle. There are just intrinsic limitations to the profits available to operating a taxi fleet, even if you can misclassify your employees as contractors and steal their wages, even as you force them to bear the cost of buying and maintaining your taxis.

The magic of early Uber – when taxi rides were incredibly cheap, and there were always cars available, and drivers made generous livings behind the wheel – wasn't magic at all. It was just predatory pricing.

Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar they brought in, lighting $33b of its investors' cash on fire. Most of that money came from the Saudi royals, funneled through Softbank, who brought you such bezzles as WeWork – a boring real-estate company masquerading as a high-growth tech company, just as Uber was a boring taxi company masquerading as a tech company.

Predatory pricing used to be illegal, but Chicago School economists convinced judges to stop enforcing the law on the grounds that predatory pricing was impossible because no rational actor would choose to lose money. They (willfully) ignored the obvious possibility that a VC fund could invest in a money-losing business and use predatory pricing to convince retail investors that a pile of shit of sufficient size must have a pony under it somewhere.

This venture predation let investors – like Prince Bone Saw – cash out to suckers, leaving behind a money-losing business that had to invent ever-sweatier accounting tricks and implausible narratives to keep the suckers on the line while they blew town. A bezzle, in other words:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber is a true bezzle innovator, coming up with all kinds of fairy tales and sci-fi gimmicks to explain how they would convert their money-loser into a profitable business. They spent $2.5b on self-driving cars, producing a vehicle whose mean distance between fatal crashes was half a mile. Then they paid another company $400 million to take this self-licking ice-cream cone off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Amazingly, self-driving cars were among the more plausible of Uber's plans. They pissed away hundreds of millions on California's Proposition 22 to institutionalize worker misclassification, only to have the rule struck down because they couldn't be bothered to draft it properly. Then they did it again in Massachusetts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/15/simple-as-abc/#a-big-ask

Remember when Uber was going to plug the holes in its balance sheet with flying cars? Flying cars! Maybe they were just trying to soften us up for their IPO, where they advised investors that the only way they'd ever be profitable is if they could replace every train, bus and tram ride in the world:

https://48hills.org/2019/05/ubers-plans-include-attacking-public-transit/

Honestly, the only way that seems remotely plausible is when it's put next to flying cars for comparison. I guess we can be grateful that they never promised us jetpacks, or, you know, teleportation. Just imagine the market opportunity they could have ascribed to astral projection!

Narrative capitalism has its limits. Once Uber went public, it had to produce financial disclosures that showed the line going up, lest the bezzle come to an end. These balance-sheet tricks were as varied as they were transparent, but the financial press kept falling for them, serving as dutiful stenographers for a string of triumphant press-releases announcing Uber's long-delayed entry into the league of companies that don't lose more money every single day.

One person Uber has never fooled is Hubert Horan, a transportation analyst with decades of experience who's had Uber's number since the very start, and who has done yeoman service puncturing every one of these financial "disclosures," methodically sifting through the pile of shit to prove that there is no pony hiding in it.

In 2021, Horan showed how Uber had burned through nearly all of its cash reserves, signaling an end to its subsidy for drivers and rides, which would also inevitably end the bezzle:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/10/unter/#bezzle-no-more

In mid, 2022, Horan showed how the "profit" Uber trumpeted came from selling off failed companies it had acquired to other dying rideshare companies, which paid in their own grossly inflated stock:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/05/a-lousy-taxi/#a-giant-asterisk

At the end of 2022, Horan showed how Uber invented a made-up, nonstandard metric, called "EBITDA profitability," which allowed them to lose billions and still declare themselves to be profitable, a lie that would have been obvious if they'd reported their earnings using Generally Accepted Accounting Principles (GAAP):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Like clockwork, Uber has just announced – once again – that it is profitable, and once again, the press has credulously repeated the claim. So once again, Horan has published one of his magisterial debunkings on Naked Capitalism:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/08/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-thirty-three-uber-isnt-really-profitable-yet-but-is-getting-closer-the-antitrust-case-against-uber.html

Uber's $394m gains this quarter come from paper gains to untradable shares in its loss-making rivals – Didi, Grab, Aurora – who swapped stock with Uber in exchange for Uber's own loss-making overseas divisions. Yes, it's that stupid: Uber holds shares in dying companies that no one wants to buy. It declared those shares to have gained value, and on that basis, reported a profit.

Truly, any big number multiplied by an imaginary number can be turned into an even bigger number.

Now, Uber also reported "margin improvements" – that is, it says that it loses less on every journey. But it didn't explain how it made those improvements. But we know how the company did it: they made rides more expensive and cut the pay to their drivers. A 2.9m ride in Manhattan is now $50 – if you get a bargain! The base price is more like $70:

https://www.wired.com/story/uber-ceo-will-always-say-his-company-sucks/

The number of Uber drivers on the road has a direct relationship to the pay Uber offers those drivers. But that pay has been steeply declining, and with it, the availability of Ubers. A couple weeks ago, I found myself at the Burbank train station unable to get an Uber at all, with the app timing out repeatedly and announcing "no drivers available."

Normally, you can get a yellow taxi at the station, but years of Uber's predatory pricing has caused a drawdown of the local taxi-fleet, so there were no taxis available at the cab-rank or by dispatch. It took me an hour to get a cab home. Uber's bezzle destroyed local taxis and local transit – and replaced them with worse taxis that cost more.

Uber won't say why its margins are improving, but it can't be coming from scale. Before the pandemic, Uber had far more rides, and worse margins. Uber has diseconomies of scale: when you lose money on every ride, adding more rides increases your losses, not your profits.

Meanwhile, Lyft – Uber's also-ran competitor – saw its margins worsen over the same period. Lyft has always been worse at lying about it finances than Uber, but it is in essentially the exact same business (right down to the drivers and cars – many drivers have both apps on their phones). So Lyft's financials offer a good peek at Uber's true earnings picture.

Lyft is actually slightly better off than Uber overall. It spent less money on expensive props for its long con – flying cars, robotaxis, scooters, overseas clones – and abandoned them before Uber did. Lyft also fired 24% of its staff at the end of 2022, which should have improved its margins by cutting its costs.

Uber pays its drivers less. Like Lyft, Uber practices algorithmic wage discrimination, Veena Dubal's term describing the illegal practice of offering workers different payouts for the same work. Uber's algorithm seeks out "pickers" who are choosy about which rides they take, and converts them to "ants" (who take every ride offered) by paying them more for the same job, until they drop all their other gigs, whereupon the algorithm cuts their pay back to the rates paid to ants:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

All told, wage theft and wage cuts by Uber transferred $1b/quarter from labor to Uber's shareholders. Historically, Uber linked fares to driver pay – think of surge pricing, where Uber charged riders more for peak times and passed some of that premium onto drivers. But now Uber trumpets a custom pricing algorithm that is the inverse of its driver payment system, calculating riders' willingness to pay and repricing every ride based on how desperate they think you are.

This pricing is a per se antitrust violation of Section 2 of the Sherman Act, America's original antitrust law. That's important because Sherman 2 is one of the few antitrust laws that we never stopped enforcing, unlike the laws banning predator pricing:

https://ilr.law.uiowa.edu/sites/ilr.law.uiowa.edu/files/2023-02/Woodcock.pdf

Uber claims an 11% margin improvement. 6-7% of that comes from algorithmic price discrimination and service cutbacks, letting it take 29% of every dollar the driver earns (up from 22%). Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi himself says that this is as high as the take can get – over 30%, and drivers will delete the app.

Uber's food delivery service – a baling wire-and-spit Frankenstein's monster of several food apps it bought and glued together – is a loser even by the standards of the sector, which is unprofitable as a whole and experiencing an unbroken slide of declining demand.

Put it all together and you get a picture of the kind of taxi company Uber really is: one that charges more than traditional cabs, pays drivers less, and has fewer cars on the road at times of peak demand, especially in the neighborhoods that traditional taxis had always underserved. In other words, Uber has broken every one of its promises.

We replaced the "evil taxi cartel" with an "evil taxi monopolist." And it's still losing money.

Even if Lyft goes under – as seems inevitable – Uber can't attain real profitability by scooping up its passengers and drivers. When you're losing money on every ride, you just can't make it up in volume.

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

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 bring back 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/2023/08/09/accounting-gimmicks/#unter

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #bezzles #hubert horan #uber #rideshare #accounting tricks #financial engineering #late-stage capitalism #narrative capitalism #lyft #transit #uber eats #venture predation #algorithmic wage discrimination

1K notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 10 months

Text

MY NAME IS WHATEVER YOU DECIDE | A WORK IN PROGRESS

Sure enough, you turned the corner to hole eight to see a group of young men talking and laughing around their own golf cart. You saw some familiar faces, all known for being young, handsome and rich.

Billy Hargrove of Hargrove’s Vintage Motors. Crude, sharp witted, too flirtatious, he was the next in line to take over his father’s company and fortune, selling refurbished vehicles for prices that made your eyes water.

Jonathan Byers was there too, a young mogul who was up and coming in the art world. Once a critic, his photography had shot to fame after some black and white nudes of his then girlfriend were ‘leaked’ to the paper he once worked for. His family paid it all off as some sort of art nouveau exhibition, a look into scandal and sex in 30mm film. He lost his girlfriend but landed a gallery in the downtown neighbourhood of San Francisco.

Eddie Munson, someone you actually knew from high school. A decent guy, there because he worked for it, illegally, sure - but didn’t they all? One way or another? Selling weed and who knows what else to the majority of the population of Hawkins made for a popular man, but Eddie brought in bank when he started selling to the elite, the rich kids of Hawkins High who preferred powder at their parties. He got into The Lake House with cold, hard cash instead of his family name and he stayed in the background of it, usually.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic

449 notes · View notes

oftenwantedafton · 5 months

Text

New Year’s Eve - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings for sexual content, prostitution, daddy kink, sexual roleplay, spanking

Also on AO3

Summary - You may be young, but you’re already wise to the way the world works. You’re good at what you do; a sex worker with intuition and an uncanny understanding of each client’s deepest desires.

When the middle aged career counselor pulls up to your street corner the night before New Year’s Eve, you think it will be an easy job for a decent amount of cash.

You’re about to discover this customer is unlike anyone you’ve ever met.

You hear it before you see it: the luxury sedan a vintage model from the late seventies, its engine throaty. Modern cars don’t sound like that; you know the difference because one of your first boyfriends had been into cars.

The dark vehicle pulls neatly along the curb and halts and you shift from the street lamp post you’d been leaning against, grateful that some perverted asshole has taken notice and was going to get you out of the cold.

The driver’s side window eases down—crank, you think, this was before power controls, luxury or not—and you have your first sight of the man. Middle aged, a few lines here and there, salt and pepper hair, neatly trimmed beard. Aviators seated in front of wide set pale blue eyes. He’s wearing a long sleeved dress shirt and tie, you note; it’s a good sign, maybe you’ll be making some decent cash tonight and get a bonus because it’s the night before New Year’s Eve and gratitude stretches on the holidays.

You grin, a cherry red stretch of painted lips, toying coquettishly with the hem of your black skirt, worrying at a rip in the matching fishnet stockings. “Hey there. You looking to have some fun?”

The man’s face is expressionless, and for a moment you wonder if he’s not undercover. Fuck, you really didn’t need this kind of trouble.

“Get in,” he says, his voice a rough scrape of sound.

“Sure, as soon as we talk prices, just so we’re both on the same page. It’s—”

You never get to finish, your eyes widening when he holds out several large bills pinched between two long, slender fingers.

“Consider it an advance.”

You reach for the money and fold it tightly

into your palm. “Okay.” You loop around the front of the car, seeing him leaning over to pull the tab up to unlock the door for you and you slide inside onto the vinyl seat, dumping your oversized purse on the floor between your feet.

The car’s interior is blessedly warm and you resist the urge to hold your hands in front of the vents. The stranger still isn’t speaking and the awkward silence drags on. You’re clearly going to have to direct things here. Maybe it’s his first time with a sex worker. “So, what are you into? I’m pretty good at roleplay if that’s your thing. You know, like a police officer and a criminal or a father and daughter or a school teacher and a student or—”

“—Wait. The second one.”

Of course he’d pick that. So many men did.

“But not looking like that.” He frowns, his eyes roving over the leather jacket and halter top disapprovingly, then down to the skirt and fishnet stockings before snapping back to your face. “And not wearing all that makeup. Clean faced. Hair natural. You understand?”

You blink, then nod. Okay, he was particular. Not everyone wanted a quickie. You didn’t really mind either way as long as you got paid, and this guy was already paying you well.

He digs in his pants pocket, extracting a small plated case with business cards in it. He selects the topmost one and tucks another pair of bills beneath it, handing it to you. “For your time tonight. Be at this address tomorrow at nine.” He pauses, eyes flicking down to your legs again. “Maybe a schoolgirl uniform. Regular stockings.”

“Yeah, I get you.”

He turns his attention back to the road and you feel like you’re being dismissed. You grab your bag and shove the door open, stepping up onto the curb and back out into the cold December air.

You watch the sedan’s narrow rectangular tail lights fade as the man drives away, the money and business card curled tightly in your palm.

Easiest money you’ve ever made.

***

The office building’s parking lot is nearly vacant, save for the car you recognize from the night before.

You direct the taxi driver towards what looks like the main entrance, wondering if it will even be unlocked, but as the cab pulls closer you realize there’s a tall figure standing just inside the doors, and you know it’s your customer.

You hand money to the driver and walk towards the glass doors. One folds inward and you step inside the opening.

“Hi.”

He doesn’t respond, turning and walking towards an elevator. You trail after, following him inside. He punches the button for the fourth floor and you stand across from him. He hasn’t looked at you since you’d first entered the building and you’re unsure of what to think. You’d been careful to follow his instructions from the previous evening, wearing a plain white blouse and navy cardigan over a gray plaid skirt that ends a few inches above your knees, thigh high white tights tucked into platform Mary Jane’s, everything demurely covered, your face clear of makeup and your hair free of product, the picture of innocence.

The elevator halts and the doors chime before sliding apart. You’re guided through a series of corridors before you reach an unmarked wooden door, the nameplate mounted on the wall beside it matching the one on the business card he’d handed you the night before: Steven Raglan, Career Counselor.

You enter the room and hear the door close behind you with a soft click. The office is illuminated by a solitary desk lamp casting a soft yellow glow over the space. There’s one solitary window, the gray blinds covering it drawn tightly closed. A map and a photograph of some nature scene decorate two of the walls, the rest covered with framed accolades — degrees, awards—this guy is good at his job, apparently. Everything is neatly organized, from the books and binders slotted on the shelving unit behind the desk to the items on the desk itself, the desk blotter covered by a calendar clear of paperwork, the cursive writing on several squares neat and precise, the stack of blank paper next to the electronic typewriter pristine in the box it lays in.

Steve settles into the swivel leather office chair behind the desk, pulling open one of the drawers of the nearest filing cabinet and withdrawing a folder. He spreads it open over the calendar, reaching for the pen resting beside it, still seemingly ignoring you.

You’ve dealt with a variety of personality types in your brief time working the streets, but this blatant disregard is something completely new, throwing you off your game. You sit in one of the chairs across from him, pondering what it was the man expected, watching one of the more prominent veins in his pale hands shift as he begins writing.

“What are you working on?”

“Something important. Don’t interrupt me.”

You shift a little in your seat. What the fuck was with this guy?

A few more minutes pass and you find yourself growing more impatient. You were going to have to make him pay attention. You stand, fingers wrapping around the arm rest of the chair before dragging it around the desk so it’s beside the seated man. He pauses mid pen stroke, the only acknowledgment of what you’ve just done before he resumes writing.

You cross your legs, working on the buckle of one of your shoes, repeating the process for the opposite foot. You see the hesitation last longer this time and you smile inwardly. Yeah, he’s noticing. This was the game he wanted to play.

You subtly inch the chair closer, then casually let one stockinged foot slide up the leg of his pants. You’re rewarded with a little hitch of breath. You reach his knee before he halts your progress, his hand closing warmly over your foot.

“I told you not to interrupt me.”

You smirk, slouching down further and raising your other leg, skimming along shin and stroking against calf before your foot shoots across his thigh and rests against his crotch.

He drops the pen. “What did I just…”

Your foot teases along the fly of his pants and the rest of the reprimand dies and he releases his hold on you. You feel the hard outline of his cock, massaging, toes curling and stretching, sole and arch and heel stroking and grinding.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I can’t help it.” You bite your bottom lip, continuing to rub against his clothed erection.

That does it.

His eyes snap to your face, pupils dilating with desire. You can hear every coarse, desperate drag of air he pulls into his lungs.

“Come here.”

You draw your legs back and sit up, stockings sinking into Berber carpet.

He pushes back to make room for you on his lap. “Bend over.”

You obey, your breasts mashing into his thighs as you rest your body weight over his legs. You feel the hem of your skirt lifting, inverted and dropped onto your lower back, exposing the plain white panties you’re wearing. The older man massages one cheek, then the other, kneading each globe with equal attentiveness. You squirm and he halts, reaching for the waistband and tugging the undergarment down, just enough to reveal what he wants access to, your underwear now bunched mid thigh. He traces the lace pattern of your stockings, dragging a thumb against the inside of one thigh but stopping well short of where you want him. You feel your arousal leaking out of you, a slow trail of clear fluid dripping down.

This detail clearly hasn’t escaped his attention.

He lets his fingers glide through it briefly, then his hand disappears and you whimper in disappointment.

That’s when his hand returns, this time a hard slap against one cheek.

Fuck.

He follows through with several more strikes that are firm enough to sting and you imagine your ass is quite red already. His fingers dip between your narrowly spread, trembling legs and a pair of them punch easily through your dripping entrance, curling and stroking you inside.

“Daddy…it feels so good.”

“You like that, baby girl?” It’s the first time he’s spoken in awhile and his voice is even dryer and rougher than you’re accustomed to. He sounds almost raw, like the words are being torn from somewhere deep inside of him.

“Mmm-hmm.”

He continues fucking you with his fingers but abruptly withdraws them when he feels the muscles inside tightening, preparing for release.

“Not yet. I want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your pussy throbs and you stand just long enough to be repositioned, this time laid on your back over the desk. You can smell ink and paper and the fragrance of your own arousal.

He pulls your panties off the rest of the way and spreads your legs apart and his tongue thrusts inside without preamble. It’s long, the muscle stretching and curling inside your canal as his nose presses against your clit so he can get in deep.

“Daddy,” you gasp helplessly, reaching for whatever you can get ahold of, fingers curling into the soft waves of his hair. He replaces his tongue with his fingers again, sucking at the bundle of nerves below your mound. “Please make me cum, Daddy.”

He moans against you, the fingers inside of you working fervently, his tongue a blur of motion against your clit and you feel yourself shatter, coming apart warm and liquid against him, your thighs shaking violently, struggling to snap closed when the sensation becomes too much but he’s relentless, savoring the quivering of your flesh for a few more moments before he finally pulls away, easing back against the padded chair.

You struggle to recover, the pleasant tingling spasms still snapping through your body as you push yourself up on your elbows and then use the palms of your hands to lurch upright. You can feel whatever papers he’d been working on plastered beneath your bare, damp skin.

The client looks absolutely wrecked. His beard is wet with your juices, glasses askew, the tidy part of his hair mussed, sending a dark tendril across his forehead. You slide off the desk and kneel down, removing his glasses and setting them gently on the desk behind you, then reaching for the belt at his waist. He watches your movements with dark, hungry eyes. The leather strap releases from its metal entrapment and the button and zipper of his fly surrender next. The purple boxer briefs are the final obstacle, the waistband smacking with an elastic snap somewhere at the base of his cock after you wrench them down. You let your fingers drag through the trail of precum ozzing down the shaft, teasing him, watching his reaction.

“Open your mouth, baby.” His large hand is heavy against your cheek, thumb pressing on your bottom lip, encouraging you to cooperate. You open for him, watch the languidly draped form straighten, bringing his hips forward, his fat prick stretching your lips. He’s one of the larger men you’ve been with; probably even the largest. The kind of dick that porn stars are blessed with, and fuck if he isn’t testing your ability right now, pushing himself in further along your tongue, the head hitting the back of your throat. “Good girl. You can take all of it, baby. You’re doing so well.”

He knots a hand in your hair and tugs your head back, easing the rest of the way inside that moist cavity, then holding himself there, studying the flare of your nostrils and the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes before he finally relaxes, withdrawing, and you cough, gagging, his member now slick with a thick layer of your saliva.

You grab a few quick lungfuls of air, preparing yourself for the next push. “I love your fat cock, Daddy.” You stroke over the shaft, the wet sounds lewd.

“”I know you do, baby. Suck it again.”

You let him fill your mouth again and again, allow him to direct how quickly your head moves back and forth as he fucks into your mouth, the lazy pace picking up speed as the pleasure mounts and his urgency grows. “You’re such a good girl,” he praises. “You’re going to make me cum.” His eyes are so, so black, so far above you because he’s so tall, watching you raptly, a hawk studying its prey. A tremor wracks the thigh you’re clutching and he groans as he spills directly onto your tongue.

You swallow the bitter liquid down as his grip in your hair relaxes, surprised when he offers a hand to pull you to your feet. His thumb is back at your bottom lip again, his eyes focused on your mouth. The first lesson you’d ever been taught was never to kiss the customer. It was too personal, too intimate; when you’re willing to sell every piece of your self, it’s the one thing you get to cling to that’s untarnished and untouched.

You are so tempted to break that rule right now; wish he’d just do it for you. Instead his hand drops and he begins straightening his clothing. You hike your panties back into place, smoothing down your skirt while he tucks his shirt tails back into his pants and draws up the zipper. You sit in the chair you’d dragged over earlier in your session, reaching for your shoes, the man surprising you again when he kneels down, helping you slide each foot in and fastening the buckles, the touches oddly tender.

You murmur your gratitude and stand, allowing him to guide you to the restroom across the hall. He’s standing by the door when you exit, more cash waiting for you crushed in his fist.

The money is warm, like he’s been holding it for awhile. You follow him back to the elevators, the ride back down to the first floor silent and swift. You eye the phone on the receptionist’s desk, thinking you’ll use it to call for another cab when his voice interrupts you.

“I can give you a ride home.”

Rule number two: don’t invite the client back to your place, or go to theirs; keep the meetup somewhere public. Followed by the next: once you’ve completed the transaction, go your separate ways. Don’t linger. Time was money. It was strictly about business.

You hesitate.

“Or wherever you want to go,” he adds, as if sensing your reluctance to accept the original offer. “We could get some champagne. Toast in the New Year.” His eyes are still dark, the hunger not nearly sated, his fingers twitching as if he wants to touch you again.

You know right then you’re going to break the commandments you’ve been given.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #william afton #steve raglan #dividers credit @ saradika

160 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist · 1 year

Text

@oakfern replied to your post “it's going to be fun to watch the realization...”:

i feel like this is going to play out very similarly to voice assistants. there was a huge boom in ASR research, the products got a lot of hype, and they actually sold decently (at least alexa did). but 10 years on, they've been a massive failure, costing way more than they ever made back. even if ppl do think chatbot search engines are exciting and cool, it's not going to bring in more users or sell more products, and in the end it will just be a financial loss

(Responding to this a week late)

I don't know much about the history of voice assistants. Are there any articles you recommend on the topic? Sounds interesting.

ETA: Iater, I found and read this article from Nov 2022, which reports that Alexa and co. still can't turn a profit after many years of trying.

But anyway, yeah... this is why I don't have a strong sense of how widespread/popular these "generative AI" products will be a year or two from now. Or even five years from now.

(Ten years from now? Maybe we can trust the verdict will be in at that point... but the tech landscape of 2033 is going to be so different from ours that the question "did 'generative AI' take off or not?" will no doubt sound quaint and irrelevant.)

Remember when self-driving cars were supposed to be right around the corner? Lots of people took this imminent self-driving future seriously.

And I looked at it, and thought "I don't get it, this problem seems way harder than people are giving it credit for. And these companies show no signs of having discovered some clever proprietary way forward." If people asked me about it, that's what I would say.

But even if I was sure that self-driving cars wouldn't arrive on schedule, that didn't give me much insight into the fate of "self-driving cars," the tech sector meme. It wasn't like there was some specific deadline, and when we crossed it everyone was going to look up and say "oh, I guess that didn't work, time to stop investing."

The influx of capital -- and everything downstream from it, the trusting news stories, the prominence of the "self-driving car future" in the public mind, the seriousness which it was talked about -- these things went on, heedless of anything except their own mysterious internal logic.

They went on until . . . what? The pandemic, probably? I actually still don't know.

Something definitely happened:

In 2018 analysts put the market value of Waymo LLC, then a subsidiary of Alphabet Inc., at $175 billion. Its most recent funding round gave the company an estimated valuation of $30 billion, roughly the same as Cruise. Aurora Innovation Inc., a startup co-founded by Chris Urmson, Google’s former autonomous-vehicle chief, has lost more than 85% since last year [i.e. 2021] and is now worth less than $3 billion. This September a leaked memo from Urmson summed up Aurora’s cash-flow struggles and suggested it might have to sell out to a larger company. Many of the industry’s most promising efforts have met the same fate in recent years, including Drive.ai, Voyage, Zoox, and Uber’s self-driving division. “Long term, I think we will have autonomous vehicles that you and I can buy,” says Mike Ramsey, an analyst at market researcher Gartner Inc. “But we’re going to be old.”

Whatever killed the "self-driving car" meme, though, it wasn't some newly definitive article of proof that the underlying ideas were flawed. The ideas never made sense in the first place. The phenomenon was not really about the ideas making sense.

Some investors -- with enough capital, between them, to exert noticable distortionary effects on entire business sectors -- decided that "self-driving cars" were, like, A Thing now. And so they were, for a number of years. Huge numbers of people worked very hard trying to make "self-driving cars" into a viable product. They were paid very well to do. Talent was diverted away from other projects, en masse, into this effort. This went on as long as the investors felt like sustaining it, and they were in no danger of running out of money.

Often the "tech sector" feels less like a product of free-market incentives than it does like a massive, weird, and opaque public works product, orchestrated by eccentrics like Masayoshi Son, and ultimately organized according to the aesthetic proclivities and changing moods of its architects, not for the purpose of "doing business" in the conventional sense.

Gig economy delivery apps (Uber Eats, Doordash, etc.) have been ubiquitous for years, and have reported huge losses in every one of those years.

This entertaining post from 2020 about "pizza arbitrage" asks:

Which brings us to the question - what is the point of all this? These platforms are all losing money. Just think of all the meetings and lines of code and phone calls to make all of these nefarious things happen which just continue to bleed money. Why go through all this trouble?

Grubhub just lost $33 million on $360 million of revenue in Q1.

Doordash reportedly lost an insane $450 million off $900 million in revenue in 2019 (which does make me wonder if my dream of a decentralized network of pizza arbitrageurs does exist).

Uber Eats is Uber's "most profitable division” 😂😂. Uber Eats lost $461 million in Q4 2019 off of revenue of $734 million. Sometimes I need to write this out to remind myself. Uber Eats spent $1.2 billion to make $734 million. In one quarter.

And now, in February 2023?

DoorDash's total orders grew 27% to 467 million in the fourth quarter. That beat Wall Street’s forecast of 459 million, according to analysts polled by FactSet. Fourth quarter revenue jumped 40% to $1.82 billion, also ahead of analysts’ forecast of $1.77 billion.

But profits remain elusive for the 10-year-old company. DoorDash said its net loss widened to $640 million, or $1.65 per share, in the fourth quarter as it expanded into new categories and integrated Wolt into its operations.

Do their investors really believe these companies are going somewhere, and just taking their time to get there? Or is this more like a subsidy? The lost money (a predictable loss in the long term) merely the price paid for a desired good -- for an intoxicating exercise of godlike power, for the chance to reshape reality to one's whims on a large scale -- collapsing the usual boundary between self and outside, dream and reality? "The gig economy is A Thing, now," you say, and wave your hand -- and so it is.

Some people would pay a lot of money to be a god, I would think.

Anyway, "generative AI" is A Thing now. It wasn't A Thing a year ago, but now it is. How long will it remain one? The best I can say is: as long as the gods are feeling it.

#oakfern #ai tag

447 notes · View notes

cheriematt · 3 months

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 — 𝒎. 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis — y/n gets car troubles in the parking lot of a book store and matt offers her a ride on his bike content warnings — use of 'y/n' , biker!matt , pet name (sweetheart) wc — 1357

Y/n joyfully walked Barnes & Noble, carefully reading the backs of books, selecting ones she would like to purchase. Her headphones filled with her favorite songs, filling her more joy.

As she was reading the back of a dark romance book when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. Y/n removes her headphones, slinging them around her neck, her brows furrow as she looks at the man in front of her.

He lowered his arm, “Hey, I just wondering if you could direct me towards the, uh, journals?” The girl smiles warmly, setting the book down on the shelf before turning back to him, “Of course!” Y/n begins to weave through the different aisles of books, finally stopping at the stationary section, which was more of a space for anything that isn’t a book.

“Here you go, hope you find what you need.” She smiles once more, turning around on her heel, going back to the section she was previously in. Y/n continues to scan through books, finding a few more before deciding to stop herself. As she browsed the book store, she couldn’t help but thinking about the boy she’d encounted not too long ago.

As she walked to the cash register, she couldn’t help but purposely walk past the journal section, hoping she’ll see him. Y/n frowned when the brunette boy was no where to be found, she shook it off, knowing that her actions were pointless and her getting worked up over it was ridiculous.

The girl paid for her books, walking out into the parking lot. As she stalked closer to her car, she grabbed her keys out from her purse. Unlocking the black vehicle, she opened the door and sat herself in the driver’s seat. She sat her paper bag filled with books in the passenger seat, proceeding to close the driver’s side door.

Y/n retrieved the keys that she had temporarly discarded to the cup holder, fiddling with the ring before landing on her car key. She inserted the key into it’s slot, when she turned the key to start the vehicle, nothing happened. Her brows furrowed as panic flooded through her body, the girl tried once more, but got the same disapointing result.

She got out of the car, popping the hood. Y/n looked around the guts of the car, she knew nothing about cars but still looked to see if anything looked out the ordinary. As she blindly looked around the car’s mechanics, a voice appeared behind her.

“You alright?” Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin, quickly turning around to face the voice. Of course, it was him. The beautiful boy from the book store, “I— Um, yeah.” The brunette smirked, his head cocking to the side as he watched the girl try to form a audible sentence.

“Car troubles, sweetheart?” Her throat bobbed before she nodded, “I’ll be honest, I’m not too knowledgeable on cars, but if you need a ride..” Y/n’s brows furrowed, “Accepting rides from strangers is ‘How to Die: 101’.” The boy laughed, shaking his head playfully.

“Smart girl,” he responded. “I don’t even know your name, you don’t even know mine.” The boy couldn’t help the smile appearing on his face, “Well, that’s not a hard thing to learn, sweetheart.” Y/n’s cheeks redden, she looks down to the asphalt than up to the man. “Are you gonna keep calling me that?” He nods, “Til you tell me to stop.” She smiles, leaning against the car.

“It’s Matt,” he states abruptly. “What— Oh, yeah. I’m Y/n.” Matt simply nods, looking around at the dark setting. “Well, I think we’ve met your requirements—knowing each other’s names and all—so are you now willing to accept my offer?” The girl frowns, knowing that saying yes isn’t smart, but it’s just as dangerous as getting into an Uber.

Y/n bites the inside of her cheek, “What about the car?” She looks at the currently useless vehicle, then to Matt. “I can get it towed,” he suggested. “I’ll get it towed,” she corrected. Matt nodded, a small smirk apparent on his face. “C’mon, get your stuff.” The girl looked at him in confusion, “I—” He turns back to her, “I have a place for you to put your things, c’mon sweetheart.” Y/n sighed in defeat, proceeding to grab her things.

Once she’s gathered her small collection of personal items, she begins to follow Matt through the parking lot, the street lights illuminating the contours of his beautifully sculpted face.

They soon arrive at Matt’s motorcycle, Y/n freezes in her tracks. “Matt,” she whispers timidly. He turns around immediately, “Yeah, sweetheart?” The girl looked from the bike to him, “I’ve never backpacked before,” The boy smirked, “Well you’ve seem to got the lingo down,” Y/n scowls at him, “It’s not funny, Matt.” The grin was quickly erased from Matt’s face, “It’s not that bad, sweetheart. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, just lean when I lean and you’ll be good. Okay?” She bites her lip nervously, “Matt, I’m scared.” This made Matt frown, he didn’t want her to be scared, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I won’t let you get hurt, okay?” He placed his slender hands on her arms, trying to offer her comfort.

“O—Okay.” Matt rubs her shoulder soothingly, slowly walking her closer to the bike. He sets her things in the pouch he had on the side of the vehicle. Y/n stood by the side as Matt got onto his seat, “You’re up, sweetheart.” She swallows nervously, nodding her head as she walked closer to the bike. The girl did as Matt instructed, putting her right foot on the peg before slinging her left leg over. The boy grabbed his spare helmet, sliding over her head.

“Good job, baby. You did great, now where am I dropping you off?” She told him her address, waiting for him to pull directions before they set off. Y/n held her breath as he started to drive, clinging onto him for dear life. At their first red light, he informed her that she was okay. “I’m just scared, Matt.” The boy smiles, though she couldn’t she it through the helmet.

“Green,” Y/n commented simply. His head whipped around, quickly removing his left foot from the ground to continue their journey to her house.

Y/n rested her head against his back, closing her eyes and trying to not let her nerves get to her. His body warmth comforted her slightly, she shivered at the frigid air, cursing herself internally for not putting on more layers.

Matt felt this action, at the next red light, he lifted his helmet shield, “You cold, sweetheart?” She nodded, her teeth clashing against each other as a reaction to the bitter weather. “You want my jacket?” Y/n shook her head, lifting her shield as well. “I don’t want you to be cold,” she pointed out. He quickly shook his head, “I have a sweater under this, I’ll be fine, sweetheart.” The girl sighed and Matt knew she had given in, “Fine, but hurry because this light is gonna turn soon.” He smirked and quickly removed his jacket and gave it to her. Y/n slid her arms into the sleeves and wrapped her arms back around Matt.

They continued to her house, about five minutes later they arrived in front of her home. Matt stopped the vehicle and put up the kickstand, “Here we are,” he removed his helmet, shaking out his hair. Y/n took hers off as well handing it to him, grabbing her things out of his pouch.

“Should I pick you up tomorrow, to get your car?” She nodded, “That would be great, but don’t feel like you have to,” He smirked, “I’ll be here at noon.” The girl blushed and nodded, getting off of the bike.

“I’ll see you tommorrow then,” she smiled before walking over to her house. Y/n looked back and Matt was sat on his bike, watching her. The girl walked in and then looked out the window, watching him drive away.

Y/n smiled the rest of the night, she had never been more excited for the next day.

taglist ⸻ if you would like to be added please dm me or go to my inbox ! @frankdelreyy , @mattsnymphette , @mattsneezing , @islalovesmatt

#angel writes #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

121 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 4 months

Text

Midnight | Chapter 16 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you travel to South Dakota with Spencer for his next target which leads to a surprising confession of feelings. The BAU make strides in discovering your whereabouts.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - Spencer is trying, drinking, swearing, murder, drink driving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

WC - 4.9k

Chapter 16 - Dangerous

Hal’s Used Car Lot, located just outside of Roanoke and only three and a half miles from where the burnt out Volvo was found, was the fourth place of its kind Luke Alvez and Matt Simmons had visited that morning.

It was late when Penelope had dropped the information on them so they’d spent last night compiling lists and calling hospitals which didn’t yield anything. First thing this morning Emily sent Luke and Matt down towards Roanoke to check out several car dealerships and rental places.

JJ and Rossi’s trip out to the Franklin County crime lab hadn’t shed any more light on the situation. No usable evidence was found in the car, all they’d ascertained was that petrol had been used as an accelerant and the crime scene techs had concluded it was arson and not an accidental fire.

Luke stretched his back and rolled his shoulders as he exited the car again, all this driving around aching his muscles. Matt didn’t seem phased as he started across the lot, Luke following behind.

It wasn’t hard to work out who they needed to speak to, the owner Hal Mitchum plastered his face across all the billboards around the lot and it wasn’t like it was a particularly nice face. He was a huge man, at least six six and almost as wide, his broad shoulders barely contained in the suit jacket he wore.

Luke and Matt exchanged a look as they headed to where he was schmoozing a customer on the far side of the lot, throwing out his charm in the hopes of a sale. He looked up at them as they approached, the way his brow furrowed told them he wasn’t pleased about being disturbed.

“Hal Mitchum?” Matt spoke as they neared him.

“Give me a minute fellas, I’m already with a customer.” He smiled at them, a slightly smarmy smile.

“Not customers,” Luke retrieved his credentials. “SSA’s Luke Alvez and Matt Simmons with the FBI.”

Hal straightened up and scrutinised them for a moment or two, clearly perturbed by their presence. He turned to the lady he’d been showcasing one of his cars to and smiled at her.

“Why don’t you head inside and one of my guys can give you some more information on this little puppy. I’ll be right there.” He patted her shoulder and she nodded happily, albeit slightly confused, before heading towards the building.

Hal stepped out from behind the car and folded his thick arms over his chest, eyebrow cocked at the two agents.

“What can I help you with?”

“We’re investigating a possible missing person. We have reason to believe he may have purchased a used car from you in the last couple of weeks.” Matt began.

“He would have paid cash, probably didn’t look around much, he would have been happy with something cheap and reliable. He didn’t have another vehicle to trade.” Luke continued.

“Boys,” Hal clucked. “This here is one of the busiest used car dealerships in Franklin County. You gotta be more specific.”

Luke and Matt exchanged a look and Luke pulled out his phone and brought up a photograph of Spencer, turning the display towards Hal.

“He look familiar to you?” Luke asked, holding his breath while Hal inspected the photo with a furrowed brow.

“You know what, I think he does.” He nodded slowly. “Come inside, I’ll see if I can find his paperwork.”

Luke felt a small weight lift from his shoulders as he and Matt hurriedly followed Hal across the lot. He led them to his office and slid in behind the desk. Luke and Matt took a seat while he rifled through a filing cabinet. Several long minutes passed before he settled on a particular file which he pushed across the desk to the SSA’s.

“Here you go, Andrew Burnett. Brought a little blue Nissan.”

Luke picked up the papers and Matt glanced at it over his shoulder. He looked at the copy of the driver’s licence with a concerned frown. The photograph was most definitely Spencer, however the name was wrong and the licence was issued in the state of Colorado. He looked up at Matt who was frowning too.

“Wasn’t there a couple who checked into Heartland with that name?” Matt lowered his voice but of course Hal could still hear.

“Yeah, Andrew and Rose Burnett.” Luke nodded.

“Oh she was a sweetheart.” Hal spoke up and they both turned to look at him.

“Excuse me?” Matt questioned.

“His wife, Rose. She was a nervous little thing but she had a kind smile.” Hal nodded wistfully.

Luke retrieved his phone again and pulled up your picture which he showed to Hal.

“Was this her?”

“Yeah that’s her.”

“You’re sure?”

“I never forget a pretty face.” Hal gave them that smarmy smile.

“Any idea where they were heading?” Matt asked him now.

“No idea, but he kept saying he needed a car that would do a lot of miles. The Nissan was old but it had been well maintained. It was cheap and reliable, just like he wanted.” Hal leant back in his chair.

“And Rose, did she have any say in it? What was her involvement?” Luke was more keen to get to the bottom of where you fit into all of this.

“She didn’t talk much. You know now I think about it, she seemed like she didn’t want to be here. Kept checking the time, hurrying her husband along. Is he abusive?” Hal raised an eyebrow at the agents and Matt and Luke briefly exchanged a look.

“Why would you say that?” Matt’s brows furrowed.

“I don’t know, she just seemed…scared I guess, followed him around like a stray dog being promised food. Seen it before in abusive relationships.” He shrugged. “You want me to make you a copy of those?”

Ten minutes later Luke and Matt were hopping back into Luke’s SUV with copies of the paperwork and driver’s licence. Luke started the engine but didn’t drive away.

“None of this makes any sense.” Matt was still staring at the licence that bore Spencer’s image. “Fake names, Colorado licences, a burnt out car?”

“If he’d set the fire himself, theoretically, why would he do that?” Luke turned in his seat to look at Matt.

“Because he has something to hide.”

“So pair that with the fake names and licences and the call I got from Y/N from the middle of nowhere and the fact that she’s been calling me from a burner phone. If it weren’t Y/N and Spencer we were talking about, what would you think?” Luke ran his hand over the back of his neck as he spoke.

Matt exhaled, chewing on his bottom lip and looking between the paperwork and Luke.

“I would think they were on the run. I would think these are two people who have committed a crime and are trying to get the hell out of dodge.” Matt admitted with a shake of his head. “We’ve gotta be wrong.”

“I want us to be wrong.” Luke agreed. “But my gut has been telling me since day one that something was off, that there must be something big at play here. I’m really scared that Y/N and Spencer have done something irreparably stupid.”

“We should get back and tell the team what we found.” Matt exhaled again, pulling on his seatbelt.

Luke did the same before putting the car in drive and peeling out of the lot. He did not have a good feeling about this, but unbeknownst to him, it would only get a whole lot worse.

***

When you awoke the next morning, you were alone in bed and honestly you weren’t surprised. Spencer had been the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him last night and you knew from experience that he would most likely have put his walls back up even higher than before. You were prepared for the cold shoulder, maybe even a fight. You at least hoped you could get some coffee in your system first.

Still dressed in yesterday's clothes which you’d slept in, you padded down the stairs towards the kitchen. As you reached the bottom of the steps the smells of strong coffee and sweet syrup and smokey bacon wafted your way through the partially open kitchen door. You rubbed your eyes as you continued forward and tentatively entered the kitchen.

Spencer was standing on the other side of the island, unboxing an array of hot and fresh food on the counter. He glanced up at you and offered you no more than a meagre half-smile before continuing his task.

“McGill’s does take out.” He shrugged. “Figured it would be better than anything I could cook.”

You moved closer, sliding into one of the bar stools and smiling to yourself as you picked up one of the take out coffee cups.

“I also had no idea what you’d want to eat so I pretty much got everything.” He focused on laying out the food and wouldn’t look at you again.

“That was really kind of you.” You dared to speak, taking a sip of the glorious McGill’s coffee.

“S’ok. We don’t need to make a big deal out of it. I was hungry too.” He shrugged, sitting in the chair next to you and started piling food on his plate.

You knew it was a peace offering of sorts. Spencer didn’t have the words to apologise for now he’d been treating you and of course he knew one breakfast wasn’t simply enough but he hoped it was a start.

You ate in silence and Spencer wouldn’t look at you and when he was finished he was quickly slipping out of the chair again. He smoothed out his shirt and swallowed thickly when he finally looked across at you.

“I’ve gotta go up to South Dakota. It’s a really long drive so I was gonna head out soon and I probably won’t be back until tomorrow.” He awkwardly scuffed the toe of his converse on the wooden floor.

“Oh, sure.” You tried not to sound as downtrodden as you felt.

“I mean, I guess you can come. If you want to. Don’t feel like you have to, if you have plans with whatshisname or whatever. It’s your call.” He looked the picture of nerves and you thought it was extremely cute. It was amazing how one small gesture always managed to erase all the bad he'd done.

It probably made you an idiot but you would cling to these moments when you caught a glimpse of the old Spencer as much as you could.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be seeing too much of whatshisname anymore, so I have a free day.” You shrugged, trying to hide the smile from your lips.

“Ok. Cool.” He nodded. “We need to leave in the next half hour so, uh, yeah.”

“Ok.” Your lip involuntarily turned up at the corner as Spencer started backing away.

“Ok. I’m just gonna…” he trailed off, pointing over his shoulder and then he walked into one of the stools. He scrambled to set it right before it fell over and you saw a light blush spread to his cheeks. He shook his head, casting his eyes at the floor, no longer able to look at you. “I, uh, got you some stuff, it's on the couch.”

“Some stuff?” You frowned, getting to your feet as he made it to the door.

“Again, don’t make a big deal out of it, I’m just sick of hearing about you being cold.” With that he slipped through the door and disappeared.

You frowned to yourself as you headed to the living room, knowing you had not once mentioned to Spencer how cold you’d been. You always had a feeling he could read your mind though. On the couch was a large brown paper bag with the Milky Way logo on the side. Your excitement took over and you were quickly diving inside.

You found two large wool knit sweaters, one in a pastel pink colour and another in violet, Spencer’s favourite colour. There was a pair of thick knitted gloves, a scarf that was about four foot long and beanie hat all with matching patterns of stars and moons stitched into them. But that wasn’t all.

At the bottom of the bag sat a small yellow jewellery box which you plucked out with a shaking hand. You ran your fingers over the lid a few times before daring to open it. Nestled inside on a little velvet cushion was a handmade necklace of a rose gold heart hanging on a thin chain. Picking it up from the box and turning it over in your hand, you soon found the etching on the back of the heart.

It was a little crudely done, clearly not something Milky Way usually offered, but you imagined Spencer had been insistent on having them engrave it for him and had probably paid a lot for the privilege. It was just three simple words but words that had to mean so much to you.

Partners in Crime.

Your heart swelled as you held the necklace in your hand, a token of Spencer’s feelings towards you. It meant more to you than he would ever know. You couldn’t wait to put it on and show him that you felt the same. You were a little lost in the gift, and didn’t notice you were being watched until Spencer cleared his throat, startling you out of a reverie.

“Can you stop fawning and get ready now please? We really need to go soon.” He spoke from the doorway.

“Spencer,” you looked up at him, eyes full of tears. “This is so-”

“Don’t,” he shook his head. “It was nothing. Please don’t make it into a thing.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes, putting the necklace back in its box. “Can I at least say thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” He muttered under his breath, turning away from you. “Now seriously, hurry up or I will leave without you.”

You watched him leave again in amusement. You felt like maybe you and Spencer had built a bridge, like this could be the start of a whole new chapter for the two of you. Hopefully he didn’t prove you wrong again. But maybe you shouldn’t hold your breath.

***

Rapid City, South Dakota was an exhausting ten hour drive from Crested Butte. But Spencer didn’t seem all that phased by it, in fact he’d seemed more rattled when you’d joined him at the car wearing the necklace he’d gifted you.

Had he expected you not to wear it? Why would he buy it if he thought you wouldn’t? It had clearly flustered him though and he’d averted his eyes and quickly hopped in the car.

Talk had been minimal on the drive. He’d told you about his target, serial murder Jason Durand and the crimes which cops couldn’t pin on him. He’d stopped for gas once and brought you back a burger from the grubby roadside van nearby which you ate as he continued the drive.

You were about an hour outside of Rapid City when he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, landing on the necklace he’d bestowed upon you.

“You didn’t have to wear it, you know.” He spoke quietly, like he didn’t want you to hear him.

“Why wouldn’t I wear it? You brought it for me, presumably for the purpose of me wearing it.” You couldn’t contain your smirk.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “If you didn’t like it or thought it was corny or something.”

“It’s not corny.” You smiled at his obvious nerves. “And I love it.”

“Right, good. That’s good.” He nodded. “But if you don’t want to wear it…”

“If I don’t want to wear it, I won’t.” You finished his sentence for him.

“Good.” He focused back on the road but it was only a few minutes before he spoke again. “What did you mean when you said you don’t think you’ll be seeing too much of mountain man anymore?”

“We’re, uh, it wouldn’t have worked out.” You fiddled with your hands in your lap.

“Did you sleep with him?” He asked, his jaw tightening.

“Yes.” You shrugged. “But you slept with Mary.”

“I did.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But I don’t want to again.”

You narrowed your eyes on the side of his face, trying to work out the things he wasn’t saying but he always was so hard to read.

“Spence, if you have something to say, just say it. I can’t read your mind.”

He clutched the wheel more firmly, his back straightening in his chair as he tried to get his words in order in his head.

“I don’t want her or anyone else. So maybe we can just agree that we won’t…sleep with other people anymore.” He was more nervous than you’d ever heard him but after everything he’d put you through you weren’t letting him off so lightly.

“I’m not sure I understand.” You lied, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Goddammit,” he growled under his breath.

Suddenly he was pulling the car to the side of the interstate and slamming on the brakes, causing you to jerk forward in your chair. He turned to look at you, eyes wide.

“Spencer?” You chewed on your lip, your stomach churning.

“I only want you, ok?” He spat out. “I don’t want us to keep playing these stupid games. If you’re going to wear my ring, my necklace, then you’re mine and no one else’s.”

“Spencer…” you furrowed your brows and he sighed loudly and over dramatically.

“I love you, is that what you want to hear?” He spoke so fast as though he didn’t want you to understand him. “I love you and I think you love me too and we should…be together.”

He looked so frightfully unsure of himself, so much the Spencer you’d known. It made your heart double in size and all the bad things he’d done just slipped away.

“Ok.” You nodded.

“Ok?” He frowned.

“Ok. I don’t want anyone else but you either. I’m yours, Spence. Always have been.” You offered him a meek shrug.

“Ok.” He nodded, turning back to the wheel. “Good. Ok.”

He was soon pulling back onto the road and continued driving without saying another word. You smiled to yourself as you toyed with your necklace.

Maybe you shouldn’t be in love with Spencer, shouldn’t have let him off so easily. Love does make people do crazy things, but following Spencer to the ends of the earth was probably one of the craziest.

***

The twenty four hours that followed were an adrenaline and scotch fuelled blur. The death of Jason Durand had been fast and bloody, and when you’d sliced his throat and felt the hot, sticky substance spurt on your skin, you’d had the biggest grin on your face. Looking up at Spencer, he’d been smiling too.

“That was the hottest thing in the whole world.” He praised you and managed to refrain from jumping your bones in the puddle of Durand’s blood.

You cleaned up, got his body in the trunk and left the house how you’d found it before jumping back in the Nissan in your blood soaked clothes. You found an almost full bottle of scotch on the backseat and turned the radio right up, tilting your chair back and sipping from the bottle as the euphoria consumed you.

Spencer drove at a slightly manic pace, reaching over and taking the bottle from you before having a hefty sip. He drove for no more than twenty minutes along a deserted strip of road west of Rapid City before he was pulling the car to a stop on the grassy verge. When he turned to look at you, his eyes were frantic, a smile on his lips larger than you’d seen on him in a really long time.

He swigged from the bottle again before using his free hand to undo his seatbelt, then yours and then grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you over the centre console and into his lap. His fingers toyed with the gold heart around your neck as you took the bottle from him and sipped it. His hand then trailed down over your stained shirt and you felt him quickly grow hard.

“I can’t wait any longer. I need you.” He bucked against you.

“Then have me.” You shrugged, taking another sip of the scotch.

No sooner had you swallowed, Spencer was kissing you, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand was already working on the buttons on your jeans and helped you out of them which was no easy feat in the small car.

You continued to kiss him while helping him free his erection. His fingers edged your panties aside before running between your legs. He hissed when he felt how wet you were already. He moved his thumb to your clit and started rubbing but you were shaking your head, moving to grip the base of his cock and move it between your legs.

“Can’t wait.” You panted against his lips. “Need to feel you.”

Spencer didn’t complain as you started lowering yourself on his member, feeling himself disappear inside of you inch by inch. His head rolled back against the headrest and he moaned deeply once he bottomed out.

You gripped his shoulders and used them as leverage to start moving up and down. The radio was still blaring, masking your moans and it was only seconds before the windows of the car steamed up with your heavy breaths.

Spencer groped your breasts through your shirt soaked in blood as you rode him, keeping eye contact with him as you did so. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this turned on in his life, he’d missed this, missed you. Mary didn’t hold a candle to you and the way you felt.

He knew as he felt you clenching around him that he never wanted to be with another woman as long as lived. Your rings might be fake, but the symbolism was real. He loved you as though you were his wife and he would until his dying day. You were his everything. Nothing could mess with the two of you, nothing could ever bring you down.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened and he knew you were close. He started rocking his hips up to meet you, desperate for you to reach the peak of pleasure.

You screamed his name into the void as you fell over the edge, practically crumpling in his arms. He held you steady while he continued to thrust up into you until he spilled his seed inside of you.

You stayed like this for a while, Spencer still inside you while you panted against his shoulder. He held you gently, almost lovingly while you caught your breath. After a while he took hold of your jaw and tugged you back to look at him.

“Partners in crime.” He mumbled with a smile.

“Partners in crime. Forever.” You nodded in agreement.

What you didn’t know at the time was that after tonight the two of you really would be bound together forever. That night in a haze of adrenaline brought on from your latest kill, in the front seat of that little Nissan, you and Spencer had created something that would tie you to each other forever. But it would be a while before you knew what happened that night, before you discovered the life you had created on the side of that road.

Spencer kissed you softly before helping you back into your seat. You got back into your jeans while he tucked himself away, taking another sip of the scotch before starting the engine and continuing on his way.

He continued for another half hour before he pulled into the parking lot of the Gold Country Inn in the aptly named Deadwood. Being that he wasn’t covered in blood like you, he secured a room for the two of you for the night.

You showered together, the dead body of Jason Durand still in the trunk of the Nissan for disposal tomorrow. You drank well into the night, exchanging sexual favours until the sun came up.

In the morning you drove out to Nebraska National Forest where he dug a grave and buried your kill before starting the five and a half hundred mile drive back to Crested Butte. Spencer held your hand for the entire drive. And for the first time since you left DC some two weeks ago, you felt at peace, like you’d finally found where you were always meant to be.

It was a classic case of folie à deux, a delusion shared by two people in close association. You’d started to believe what you were doing was justified, that you weren’t doing anything wrong. Spencer’s unwavering faith in his cause had rubbed off on you and there was no going back.

You were Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, Rosemary and Fred West. You’d go down in history like those who came before you, right by his side.

You’d had a taste and you’d never be the same. Spencer had awoken a dangerous side of you that could no longer be contained. You felt untouchable.

But the one thing all those couples had in common was that they got caught, and you were stupid in thinking that you and Spencer could be any different. Because as the two of you drove back towards your new home, back at Quantico, Penelope Garcia had made a discovery.

She ran down the hall on her too high heels, almost tripping multiple times in her rush to find the team. She shoved open the bullpen door, causing it to swing on its hinges and everyone looked up at her as she fought to catch her breath.

“What’s wrong?” JJ jumped up from her desk and ran to her side. “What have you found?”

“I…I…” she panted, trying to control her breathing. “I put out the APB on the blue Nissan Spencer brought from Hal’s.”

Luke was on his feet, coming closer to Garcia with a frown on his face.

“And?” He encouraged her.

“It’s been spotted a few times here and there but since last weekend it has mostly been in one place. It comes and goes but it’s been picked up on the same camera multiple times.” Her eyes were wide, partly through excitement and partly through fear.

“Where, Garcia?” Rossi was on his feet now too.

“A place called Elk Avenue in the tiny little mountain town of Crested Butte, Colorado.” She spat out.

The team all exchanged glances with one another, Emily who was standing in her office doorway included. It would make sense given the Colorado licence Spencer had used to buy the car but why that particular town?

“We need to check it out.” JJ spoke on behalf of everyone, but looking at Emily.

“We can’t all go, we have cases.” Emily shook her head, looking amongst her team and trying to make a quick decision. Her eyes stayed on Luke longer than the rest while she sighed.

“Alvez?” She cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Yeah?”

“First thing tomorrow, wheels up.” She nodded at him before turning on her heels and storming back into her office.

You and Spencer had no idea the wheels that were currently in motion, like a train off its tracks hurtling towards you and there was no way to slow it down or to move out of its way.

But you wouldn’t go down without a fight, no matter what happened. The BAU couldn’t stop you, not when you’d woken up feeling this dangerous.

This is really my night, gonna take it right now,

Yeah, I'm feelin' like a Mack truck goin' downhill.

The people on the sidelines screaming "Slow down",

But you can't kill my vibe.

I'm a head case, and I'm leading the parade,

Rounding up the maniacs, let 'em out to play.

Once you get a taste, no, you'll never be the same

Bring the creatures to life.

My hand out the window just riding the wave,

My cares in the mirror just fading away.

Yeah, I'm superhuman, don't need to be saved,

Don't press your luck, I woke up feelin' dangerous.

Woke up feelin' dangerous.

(Ba-da-da, da).

Woke up feelin'.

This one's for the misfits,

And all the people on your shit list.

And now we're blowing you a big kiss,

'Cause we don't need you now.

I'm the little thorn hangin' outta your side,

You're digging me a grave 'cause you wish I'd just die.

Turn me to a ghost, now I'm flyin' too high,

And you can't kill my vibe.

My hand out the window just riding the wave,

My cares in the mirror just fading away.

Yeah, I'm superhuman, don't need to be saved,

Don't press your luck, I woke up feelin' dangerous.

Woke up feelin' dangerous.

(Ba-da-da, da).

Woke up feelin'.

They can't mess with us,

We woke up feeling dangerous.

They can't mess with us,

We woke up feeling dangerous.

They can't mess with us,

We woke up feeling dangerous.

They can't mess with us,

We woke up feeling dangerous.

This is really my night, gonna take it right now,

Yeah, I'm feelin' like a Mack truck goin' downhill.

All the people on the sidelines screaming "Slow down",

But you can't kill my vibe.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #unsub spencer reid #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

102 notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 11 months

Note

i NEED to see a street racer ellie x grid girl reader fic IM ON MY KNEES FOR THIS🙏🏾🙏🏾

OHHHHHHHHHHH WEVE DONE IT AGAIN IMPULSIVE HCS

wc;cw: 800 or sum, streetracer!ellie, gridgirl!oc, ellie being a car nerd and hot, mentions of sex MDNI, mentions of ciggies and illegal shit

streetracer!ellie…… passes out

she always loved cars :3 her dad owned a mechanic shop and used to watch him repair all the damaged cars that showed up

when she was thirteen he finally let her help him replace the tires

and then change the oil

and then fix the ignition

eventually taught her how to drive stick😝😝

and 2 years later she knew the anatomy of vehicles like the back of her hand

she was on her dads payroll 💯💯 shout out to mechanic!ellie😞

when she found out ab street racing she got obsessed with it. 2 fast 2 furious is her favorite movie of all time

her youtube history was wild😞😞 30 hours of devon aoki edits saved

so when she got invited to a race by one of her friends when she was a junior for her birthday she almost passed out

the screech of the tires on the pavement and smell of gas gave her heart eyes

she swore she was going to participate in a race after they both left that night

SIKE she thought everyone laughed at her when she showed up the next day in her dads beaten up family van LMFAO

the bullying was devious fr😞 she cried a little when she got home

but ofc her friend helped her ass out and high jacked his brothers old nissan

the overseers allowed her to participate but nobody bet on her except her 2 friends. that $20 pitch didn’t help her confidence much but she loved them😞

she was nervous and filled with adrenaline and tried so hard not to gawk at the hot girls that waved their grids around

when they waved their flags and signaled for the racers to go….

ellie was out that bitch fr😞😞 SKKRTED ON THEY ASS BIG PURRR

VVRRRROOOOOOOM LIKE BFRRR

she hit every sharp turn every curve every bump like it wasn’t shit

she made everybody eat they words that night. HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUEENIE😝😝

some overseers gave her $300 outta pocket that night and she wasn’t even on the list to race

her and her friends went every weekend. would leave campus and go straight to the tracks fr

she started getting a little fan base after a month of racing😞😞 girlies from school would come just to see her

but she didn’t pay them any mind💯💯 she payed them a little mind

n 5 years later…. most betted on racer in the city YUHHHH

she makes racks every weekend… and she brings it all home to her dad so she can take care of him 🥺🥺

he doesn’t question where she gets the cash from but he always feels nervous when she leaves the house🥺🥺 poor old man he just wants his baby to go to college

she owns one mclaren senna but never takes it anywhere😞😞 it just sits in her garage lol she paid for that shit in cash tho big bags big stacks

drives a fucked up supra when she races😂😂 she tries to cover up the scratches and large dents with cute little spray paint jobs of fire and sparkles and shit😂😂

she named it renee and slaps the trunk like she slaps ass every time she gets behind the wheel :3 thinks it’s good luck

smokes cigarettes mmmm fuuuck

such an aggressive racer like omgg she gets so competitive and pissed she's so hot

tatted to hell. full sleeve

TERRIBLE RECORD!!!!! arrested twice and was on parole :/

but at least all the grid girls got a little crush on her 😳😳 titties out ass out bc they want her attention

all the male racers hate her bc of it… she don’t care tho suck her dick💯💯

she’ll never say it but…

she definitely stares too long at one grid girl whenever she shows up in her little croppies and booty shorts😞 she’s fine as hell ITS NOT HER FAULT💯💯

too bad gridgirl!oc doesn’t pay ellie any mind anymore :((she had the prettiest smile and such good pussy

that ooey-gooey. that sloppy. THE WORLD'S BEST CREAMER💯

did i mention they're ex's? YEAAAH CLOCK THAT TEA

every time ellie fills up her tank she can’t stop thinking about the time she bent her ex over the trunk and railed her from the back

she may never feel that pussy again 😞😞 it makes her wanna cry

when she met gridgirl!oc for the first time two years ago her world changed for the better

her zits disappeared, her hair got softer, her crops were watered

they fell in love immediately…. like instantly

they were inseparable. up each other's ass. in each other's cars. in each other's guts. so so happy

until they weren’t

their breakup was soooo fucking messy.

cheating accusations. screaming contests. EVEN A PREGNANCY SCARE???😳😳😳

a hot mess. and their relationship ended in flames :(

but that doesn’t mean ellie can’t peep every once in a while😛😛 that ass is still fat as fuck regardless of the beef >:)

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams hcs #streetracer!ellie #gridgirl!oc #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #lesbian

270 notes · View notes

musclemanveryregular · 3 months

Text

Anyway read this please

Mordecai is unphased when Shazzan magics up them some ice cream flavored like his happiest memory but rigby is amazed at how quickly the magical man can do it. Mordecai insists that, "dude, I've already seen that trick a hundred times."

"Yeah, whatever, man. It's just cool! He uses magic, how many other people do you know who can do magic?!"

Behind him in line three other magical characters (Winnie Witch, The Great Gazoo, and Magic Rabbit) all scoff while mordecai and rigby just walk away.

They get back in their golf cart and begin digging for the food. Right as they're about to open their to go bags to grab their ice cream (both in convienent packages to keep back at the House), they get a call from their boss benson over the phone and as mordecai answere it the talking gumball machine man greets them with, "you guys better get back here and clean this awful mess you made in the kitchen or youre both fired," loud enough for them both to hear him off speaker phone, extra emphasis on the word fired.

"Ugh, okay benson we're already on our way, sheesh!!" Rigby says as he holds his ears shut while approaching the phone.

"Good, you better be." A click sound is heard and mordecai also closes his phone.

They buckle in and rigby retorts, "guess we better step on it then.

They're speeding down the road with abandon until they come to a stop at the light. There next to them a talking buggy approaches their vehicle, he sputters at them, "Been checking out your ride there slick, how'd you like to make some cash in an underground racing ring?"

"How much cash you talkin?" Rigby asks as Mordecai punches him in the arm.

"Dude you can't be seriously be listening to this car can you?? He said it's underground! As in illegal man, we can't enter that benson would kill us!"

"Ugh fine! Whatever mordecai! I won't enter just don't hit me!!"

They turn down the buggy and he gives him their card with his wheel, telling them to call him.

They race back home and there they report to benson. He yells at them more about how late they are and not to do that again and they get to work after putting their ice cream away in the freezer.

Later that night after mordecai and rigby lay down to go to sleep, rigby sneaks off to join the race with the golf cart. He finds himself in a racing ring that is actually underground and appears to be completely legal because even the mayor is there.

And then he finds out it's for charity, with a small prize for the winner. And it really is actually on the books legal.

Rigby, who has just been paid an actual paycheck, up front for entering the race, is now racing in an actual on the books race.

He's taken back at first, with several opponents such as Doggy Daddy and his daughter in a mini van, and jabber jaw and loopy in the company car, this race had some fierce competition.

But the little raccoon knew he could make even more money by winning.

So he raced.

And he won.

And then he found himself there every night. He couldn't stop himself from going.

---

One night a noticeably upset Mordecai greets him outside the door as he's attempting to slink off. Mordecai has found out that rigby is moonlighting as a world famous thrill seeking racer. In Mordecai's bed, to Rigby's curious reveal, is several pillows and a basket ball.

Rigby sighs and reluctantly cuts mordecai in on a deal, that they'll both go 50/50 on the driving and the winnings. They each get to take home $25.50 each night.

Their combined skill invites the curiosity of more and more racers. They find themselves up against titans on the track like the world famous Penelope Pitstop, a fashion mogul who is wearing the latest trend and driving an incredibly high tech fancy car.

The cart manages to hold its own and even take home the gold in the end if by a hair.

But their victory dancing was cut short by thunderous clapping as the sky opens up and out comes the god of racing. A Zeus like glowing figure with a steering wheel for a head in a souped up car that looks like it was built for premeditated vehicular manslaughter. And they challenge mordecai and rigby to a race.

"Play you punchies to determine who gets to race this loser?" Mordecai smirks at Rigby. But rigby turns him down, "no mordecai. Rock paper scissors, you always win at punchies!"

They begin their showdown, "best 2 out of 3?" Mordo says to rigby, as he readies his fist.

Rigby has his hand locked and loaded, "on three." He retorts, the question was retoracle as he planned to win twice.

He throws down rock and beats the scissors in the first round. They stare off for another two seconds then throw again and mordecai hits him with the scissors and the rigbone's paper does nothing to protect. Rigby finds himself staring down mordecai again. This time they both pause as the weight of the situation bears down upon them. Another second goes by and they both throw down and rigby's rock crushes mordecai's scissors into dust.

And as that dust settles.

The race is on.

----

#long post #jellystone #regular show

63 notes · View notes

itsravenbitch · 10 months

Note

I'm done. I'm done with the struggle, I'm done being afraid of my own power. I'm getting in the void today and living the life of my dreams.

I scripted it already. I just want to slide right into my new life with ease. Investments have paid off. I have millions. My financial paperwork will be tucked in the safe in my closet along with some 10k stacks of USD, EUR, GBP, and CNY...30 gold bars and stacks of nicely stored Silver Coins. Throw in some Copper Couns and Titanium Bars for diversity. Self storage cause I'm a Dragon.

In this safe the paperwork will be for my equity portfolios in Blackrock and Fidelity as well as my automatic Treasury Bill portfolios which churn about $10million of liquid USD in interest generated income (currently 600k a year). I'll also have the check books for my 10 liquid cash bank accounts/money market accounts, which always have 250k in them each...my independent financial advisor in NYC makes sure of it...also my tax guy. I visit with them once a month and take a long weekend to enjoy NYC and New England.

I haven't bought any houses yet. Still shopping. Still wondering where I want my routines to be set. But I will be in the process of buying my Mother and Sister properties...also setting up some cash transfers for my friends...anonymously ofc. They'll know I'm good, but I'm keeping all my shit private.

I'm gonna be a dragon. One unified by light and dark. A witch. A curator. An explorer of the multiverse. I will spoil TF outta my family and friends. Live by example and inspire others. Explore all studies of this reality concept and make my life a masterful piece of art. I'm not a gaudy rich person, I'm intentional and tasteful. Luxury that is feng shui.

I've been here all along. And I'm now getting in the vehicle that will ground me into this reality.

ain’t gon lie you kinda lost me.. but i love to see ppl finally be done w the bullshit of the same cycle

202 notes · View notes

chloe-caulfield94 · 6 months

Text

Chloe's reaction to Rachel's and Frank's photograph

Chloe's angry reaction to finding Rachel's and Frank's photographs, especially her angry tirade how everyone in her life keeps letting her down, is brought up as an example of Chloe being self-absorbed and demanding. "Selfish", as she herself would put it in her darkest moment.

But I think her anger in that moment is not only understandable, it is justified.

When I played the game for the first time, I thought that her anger in that moment was caused by jealousy. She found out that the girl she was in love with not only didn't love her back, but was sleeping with (and possibly in love with) someone else.

But now I think her anger was caused by something else. It was anger at seeing the foundations of her life unraveling again, through no fault of her own.

Before William's accident, Chloe was a daddy's girl, straight-As student from the suburbs. Before her father's death it was easy for Chloe to believe that putting effort into building her life made sense and paid off. She tried to be a good daughter, good friend and good student. And those efforts gave fruit - her close relation with her parents, her strong friendship with Max, her academic achievements.

But then William died and Max's parents moved her to Seattle. Despite Chloe's best efforts, her life collapsed, through no fault of her own. The two pillars of her life - family and friendship - were torn down by forces outside of her control. So she didn't bother fighting to keep the last pillar - her academic achievements - standing. Why would she bother? What's the point of building anything if it can be torn down at any moment? She became resigned. She thought her life ended before it even properly began.

But then she started to build again. Her future with Rachel. A fresh start, far beyond Arcadia Bay. How enticing the prospect of beginning anew must have been to someone who thought their life was already over?

When Chloe first floated the idea of skipping town, she didn't really mean it. She just said it to express her negative attitude towards the town that treated her with disdain. But when Rachel took it seriously, Chloe quickly warmed up to the idea too. And soon, that idea became the only thing allowing her to go on. The only thing that she was willing to put effort into. The only thing she was willing to build.

In two days, she fixed up a broken wreck into a working vehicle. She kept tinkering with it, even though it took considerable amount of effort and money (that she never had in abundance, to say the least). Just look at the repair bills in her room. She did that so she and Rachel had the means to leave town.

To leave town and begin anew, especially in a large, expensive city, Chloe and Rachel needed money. Chloe was willing to do anything and everything to scrounge money for their new life together. When Frank offered her a job collecting Drew's debt, Chloe's first thought was that it would be 100 dollars towards skipping town with Rachel. From conversations Chloe has with Max in Season 1 it seems pretty clear that she did many more such jobs for Frank over the years (she said she hung around with Frank for money, but also emphatically denied he was ever one of her "bad boys"). Chloe was willing to become an accomplice to a violent criminal who treated her like shit, just to earn some cash for her escape with Rachel.

It is never clearly explained how her 3000 USD debt to Frank came to be. Perhaps he captured her in a debt spiral, balooning an initially small sum of money by adding outrageous "interest", as criminals like to do. Maybe Frank used the fact that Chloe's depressed mind and body craved weed, a natural anti-depressant, so he kept giving her "little somethings" and putting them on the tab, until it accumulated to a sum large enough he started using his switchblade in attempts to collect.

But given that the bill for Chloe's truck's repairs is almost exactly 3000 dollars, it is possible, if not probable, that she borrowed the money for that exact purpose. Keep in mind that Chloe's truck is fully functional in Season 1. It doesn't look like a vehicle needing 3000 dollars in essential repairs anymore, which would probably render it inoperable.

And Chloe was even willing to pretend to be interested in Nathan, someone who always treated her with disdain and hostility, even when she saved him from bullying and played the matchmaker between him and Samantha. She was willing to pretend to be interested in him just for an opportunity to swipe a couple hundred bucks from his wallet. She bet on Nathan getting drunk. How far would she go if he didn't?

Chloe was willing to put any and all effort to build her future life with Rachel. She fixed up a broken truck specifically so that the two of them would have an escape vehicle. She did odd jobs for a violent criminal to scrounge up money for them. She possibly went heavily into debt with said violent criminal, just to keep the car they needed to escape operational. She was willing to debase herself by pretending to be interested in Nathan, just to swipe a little bit of cash for her and Rachel. And from her perspective, she almost got date raped because of that.

Chloe's commitment to fulfilling Rachel's dream of skipping town was absolute. Her life was based around that dream.

To discover that Rachel never actually intended to leave town with her must have been crushing for Chloe. The dream that she worked so hard for, that she suffered for, that she swallowed her pride for, turned out to be a lie. Rachel would never skip town with her. The chance for a new life, for a fresh start somewhere else, turned out to be a mirage. Once again, her life collapsed. The construction she had put great effort into once again was torn down, through no fault of her own, because of actions of other people that were outside her control.

When Chloe asks why didn't Rachel tell her about Frank, Max responds "because she knew how you would react". Max doesn't know the ins and outs of Chloe's and Rachel's friendship. She probably also thought, like I did initially, that Chloe was just being jealous about a girl she had a crush on. So Max thought Rachel kept quiet about Frank, because she didn't want Chloe to throw a jealous fit.

But that's not what Chloe meant. Chloe didn't ask why Rachel didn't tell her she was taken. Chloe asked why didn't Rachel tell her she wasn't actually going to leave town with her. Why did she keep her hanging on? Why didn't she realease her from the mesmerizing promise of a better tomorrow if she knew it was a lie? Why did she allow Chloe to live in a lie for years?

Chloe's anger is not jealousy. It's the anger of someone who just found out that the only thing keeping them going on was a lie. That once again, everything she'd built was torn down by someone else. Yes, if Rachel ever told her about Frank, Chloe would've been angry. Because Rachel should've told her that she wasn't actually going to leave town. Not with her. She should've released Chloe from the hold she had over her, instead of letting her build something condemned from the start.

Chloe's words about Rachel "betraying her" and "not being much of a friend, just another person shitting on her" are harsh. But how would you call promising someone hopeless a better tomorrow, a future together and then taking such a gift back?

I don't think that Rachel wanted to hurt Chloe. Just like I would never think Max wanted to hurt Chloe by not writing letters, not calling and not responding to texts. I think that for the first few months after William's death Max had no idea how to comfort a friend with a dead dad. And after that she was ashamed of her silence and assumed Chloe had moved on.

But sometimes people end up hurting others even if that wasn't their intention, especially if they hurt them with indifference. Maybe Rachel thought Chloe would get the hint and realize their joint escape from town was no longer on the table on her own. Maybe she thought it was none of Chloe's business who she was dating. But no matter what motivated her, she did hurt Chloe. Unfortunately, unlike Max, she never got the chance to make up for that hurt to her friend.

#chloe price #max caulfield #pricefield #rachel amber #life is strange #lis #frank bowers

72 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 10 months

Text

Ko-fi prompt from @thisarenotarealblog:

There's a street near me that has eight car dealerships all on the same lot- i counted. it mystifies me that even one gets enough sales to keep going- but 8?? is there something you can tell me that demystifies this aspect of capitalism for me?

I had a few theories going in, but had to do some research. Here is my primary hypothesis, and then I'll run through what they mean and whether research agrees with me:

Sales make up only part of a dealership's income, so whether or not the dealership sells much is secondary to other factors.

Dealerships are put near each other for similar reasons to grouping clothing stores in a mall or restaurants on a single street.

Zoning laws impact where a car dealership can exist.

Let's start with how revenue works for a car dealership, as you mentioned 'that even one gets enough sales to keep going' is confusing. For this, I'm going to be using the Sharpsheets finance example, this NYU spreadsheet, and this Motor1 article.

This example notes that the profit margin (i.e. the percentage of revenue that comes out after paying all salaries, rent, supply, etc) for a car dealership is comparatively low, which is confirmed by the NYC sheet. The gross profit margin (that is to say, profits on the car sale before salaries, rent, taxes) is under 15% in both sources, which is significantly lower than, say, the 50% or so that one sees in apparel or cable tv.

Cars are expensive to purchase, and can't be sold for much more than you did purchase them. However, a low gross profit margin on an item that costs tens of thousands of dollars is still a hefty chunk of cash. 15% gross profit of a $20,000 car is still $3,000 profit. On top of that, the dealership will charge fees, sell warranties, and offer upgrades. They may also have paid deals to advertise or push certain brands of tire, maintenance fluids, and of course, banks that offer auto loans. So if a dealership sells one car a day, well, that's still several thousand dollars coming in, which is enough to pay the salaries of most of the employees. According to the Motor1 article, "the average gross profit per new vehicle sits at $6,244" in early 2022.

There is also a much less volatile, if also much smaller, source of revenue in attaching a repairs and checkup service to a dealership. If the location offers repairs (either under warranty or at a 'discounted' rate compared to a local, non-dealership mechanic), state inspections, and software updates, that's a recurring source of revenue from customers that aren't interested in purchasing a car more than once a decade.

This also all varies based on whether it's a brand location, used vs new, luxury vs standards, and so on.

I was mistaken as to how large a part of the revenue is the repairs and services section, but the income for a single dealership, on average, does work out math-wise. Hypothesis disproven, but we've learned something, and confirmed that income across the field does seem to be holding steady.

I'm going to handle the zoning and consolidation together, since they overlap:

Consolidation is a pretty easy one: this is a tactic called clustering. The expectation is that if you're going to, say, a Honda dealership to look at a midsize sedan, and there's a Nissan right next door, and a Ford across the street, and a Honda right around the corner, you might as well hit up the others to see if they have better deals. This tactic works for some businesses but not others. In the case of auto dealerships, the marketing advantage of clustering mixes with the restrictions of zoning laws.

Zoning laws vary by state, county, and township. Auto dealerships can generally only be opened on commercially zoned property.

I am going to use an area I have been to as an example/case study.

This pdf is a set of zoning regulations for Suffolk County, New York, published 2018, reviewing land use in the county during 2016. I'm going to paste in the map of the Town of Huntington, page 62, a region I worked in sporadically a few years ago, and know mostly for its mall and cutesy town center.

Those red sections are Commercially Zoned areas, and they largely follow some large stroads, most notably Jericho Turnpike (the horizontal line halfway down) and Walt Whitman Road (the vertical line on the left). The bulge where they intersect is Walt Whitman Mall, and the big red chunk in the bottom left is... mostly parking. That central strip, Jericho Turnpike, and its intersection with Walt Whitman... looks like this:

All those red spots are auto dealerships, one after another.

So zoning laws indicate that a dealership (and many other types of commercial properties) can only exist in that little red strip on the land use map, and dealerships take up a lot of space. Not only do they need places to put all of the cars they are selling, but they also need places to park all their customers and employees.

This is where we get into the issue of parking minimums. There is a recent video from Climate Town, with a guest spot by NotJustBikes. If you want to know more about this aspect of zoning law, I'd recommend watching this video and the one linked in the description.

Suffolk county does not have parking minimums. Those are decided on a town or village level. In this case, this means we are looking at the code set for the town of Huntington. (I was originally looking on the county level, and then cut the knot by just asking my real estate agent mom if she knew where I could find minimum parking regulations. She said to look up e360 by town, and lo and behold! There they are.)

(There is also this arcgis map, which shows that they are all within the C6 subset of commercial districting, the General Business District.)

Furniture or appliance store, machinery or new auto sales - 1 per 500 square feet of gross floor area

Used auto sales, boat sales, commercial nurseries selling at retail - 5 spaces for each use (to be specifically designated for customer parking) - Plus 1 for each 5,000 square feet of lot area

This is a bit odd, at first glance, as the requirements are actually much lower than that of other businesses, like drive-in restaurants (1 per 35 sqft) or department stores (1 per 200 sqft). I could not find confirmation on whether the 'gross floor area' of the dealership included only indoor spaces or also the parking lot space allotted to the objects for sale, but I think we can assume that any parking spaces used by merchandise do not qualify as part of the minimum. Some dealerships can have up to 20,000 gross sqft, so those would require 40 parking spaces reserved solely for customers and employees. Smaller dealerships would naturally need less. One dealership in this area is currently offering 65 cars of varying makes and models; some may be held inside the building, but most will be on the lot, and the number may go higher in other seasons. If we assume they need 30 parking spaces for customers and employees, and can have up to 70 cars in the lot itself, they are likely to have 100 parking spaces total.

That's a lot of parking.

Other businesses that require that kind of parking requirement are generally seeing much higher visitation. Consider this wider section of the map:

The other buildings with comparative parking are a grocery store (Lidl) and a post office (can get some pretty high visitation in the holiday season, but also just at random).

Compare them, then, to the "old town" section of the same town.

There are a handful of public parking areas nearby (lined in blue), whereas the bulk of the businesses are put together along this set of streets. While there is a lot of foot traffic and vehicle passage, which is appealing for almost any business, opening a car dealership in this area would require not only buying a building, but also the buildings surrounding it. You would need to bulldoze them for the necessary parking, which would be prohibitively expensive due to the cost of local real estate... and would probably get shot down in the application process by city planners and town councils and so on. Much easier to just buy land over in the strip where everyone's got giant parking lots and you can just add a few extra cramped lanes for the merchandise.

Car dealerships also tend to be very brightly lit, which hits a lot of NIMBY sore spots. It's much easier to go to sleep if you aren't right next to a glaring floodlight at a car dealership, so it's best if we just shove them all away from expensive residential, which means towards the loud stroads, which means... all along these two major roads/highways.

And if they're all limited to a narrow type of zoning already, they might as well take advantage of cluster marketing and just all set up shop near each other in hopes of stealing one of the other's customers.

As consumers, it's also better for us, because if we want to try out a few different cars from a few different brands, it's pretty easy to just go one building down to try out the Hyundai and see if it's better than a Chevy in the same price group.

(Prompt me on ko-fi!)

#economics prompts #marketing #zoning laws #ko fi prompts #ko fi #auto industry #automotive dealerships #car dealerships #phoenix posts

110 notes · View notes