#I promise there are people in cities that are not Portland

[rat-princess]

x

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Middlemen without enshittification

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Enshittification describes how platforms go bad, which is also how the internet goes bad, because the internet is made of platforms, which is weird, because platforms are intermediaries and we were promised that the internet would disintermediate the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

The internet did disintermediate a hell of a lot of intermediaries – that is, "middlemen" – but then it created a bunch more of these middlemen, who coalesced into a handful of gatekeepers, or as the EU calls them "VLOPs" (Very Large Online Platforms, the most EU acronym ever).

Which raises two questions: first, why did so many of us end up flocking to these intermediaries' sites, and how did those sites end up with so much power?

To answer the first question, I want you to consider one of my favorite authors: Crad Kilodney (RIP):

https://archive.org/details/thecradkilodneypapers

When I was growing up, Crad was a fixture on the streets of Toronto. All through the day and late into the evening, winter or summer, Crad would stand on the street with a sign around his neck ("Very famous Canadian author, buy my books, $2" or sometimes just "Margaret Atwood, buy my books, $2"). He wrote these deeply weird, often very funny short stories, which he edited, typeset, printed, bound and sold himself, one at a time, to people who approached him on the street.

I had a lot of conversations with Crad – as an aspiring writer, I was endlessly fascinated by him and his books. He was funny, acerbic – and sneaky. Crad wore a wire: he kept a hidden tape recorder rolling in his coat and he secretly recorded conversations with people like me, and then released a series of home-duplicated tapes of the weirdest and funniest ones:

https://archive.org/details/on-the-street-crad-kilodney-vol-1

I love Crad. He deserves more recognition. There's an on-again/off-again documentary about his life and work that I hope gets made some day:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#putrid-scum

But – and this is the crucial part – there are writers out there I want to hear from who couldn't do what Crad did. Maybe they can write books, but not edit them. Or edit them, but not typeset them. Or typeset, but not print. Or print, but not spend the rest of their lives standing on a street-corner with a "PUTRID SCUM" sign around their neck.

Which is fine. That's why we have intermediaries. I like booksellers (I was one!). I like publishers. I like distributors. I like their salesforce, who go forth and convince the booksellers of the world to stock books like mine. I have ten million things I want to do before I die, and I'm already 52, and being a sales-rep for a publisher isn't on my bucket list. I am so thankful that someone else wants to do this for me.

That's why we have intermediaries, and why disintermediation always leads to some degree of re-intermediation. There's a lot of explicit and implicit knowledge and specialized skill required to connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, and other sides of two-sided markets. Some producers can do some of this stuff for themselves, and a very few – like Crad – can do it all, but most of us need some help, somewhere along the way. In the excellent 2022 book Direct, Kathryn Judge lays out a clear case for all the good that middlemen can do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

So why were we all so anxious for disintermediation back in the late 1990s? Here's a hint: it wasn't because we hated intermediaries – it was because we hated powerful intermediaries.

The point of an intermediary is to serve as a conduit between producers and consumers, buyers and sellers, audiences and creators. When an intermediary gains power over the audience – say, by locking them inside a walled garden – and then uses that lock-in to screw producers and appropriate an ever larger share of the value going between them, that's when intermediaries become a problem.

The problem isn't that someone will handle ticketing for your gig. The problem is that Ticketmaster has locked down all the ticketing, and the venues, and the promotions, and it uses that power to gouge fans and rip off artists:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

The problem isn't that there's a well-made website that lets you shop for goods sold by many small merchants and producers. It's that Amazon has cornered this market, takes $0.51 out of every dollar you spend there, and clones and destroys any small merchant who succeeds on the platform:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can stream most of the music ever recorded. It's that Spotify colludes with the Big Three labels to rip off artists and sneaks crap you don't want to hear into your stream in order to collect payola:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can buy any audiobook you want. It's that Amazon's Audible locks every book to its platform forever and steals hundreds of millions of dollars from creators:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

The problem, in other words, isn't intermediation – it's power. The thing that distinguishes a useful intermediary from an enshittified bully is power. Intermediaries gain power when our governments stop enforcing competition law. This lets intermediaries buy each other up and corner markets. Once they've formed cozy cartels, they can capture their regulators and commit rampant labor, privacy and consumer violations with impunity. That capture also lets them harness governments to punish smaller players that want to free workers, creators, audiences and customers from walled gardens. It also hands them a whip-hand over their workers, so that any worker who refuses to aid in these nefarious plans can be easily fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A world with intermediaries is a better world. As much as I love Crad Kilodney's books, I wouldn't want to live in a world where the only books on my shelves came from people prepared to stand on a street-corner wearing a "FOUL PUS FROM DEAD DOGS" sign.

The problem isn't intermediaries – it's powerful intermediaries. That's why the world's surging antitrust movement is so exciting: by reinstating competition law, we can keep intermediaries small and comparatively weak, so that creators and audiences, drivers and riders, sellers and buyers, and other groups seeking to connect will not find themselves made subservient to middlemen.

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/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

[reidingandwriting]

1989 (Peter Parker’s Version

Chapter One: Welcome To New York

“Welcome to New York! It’s been waiting for you”

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings/Contains: Gender neutral reader (no pronouns, no use of y/n, no descriptors mentioned in this chapter), mild language, likely some OOC moments but whateverrrr

A/N: Going back to my roots and writing some Peter Parker content! I struggled for ages deciding if I wanted to write for Tom’s Peter or Andrew’s and this is based on Tom’s but trust, Andrew’s Peter Parker will get his time in the spotlight. Also for all my Deadpool & Wolverine people, I PROMISE that next installment will be out soon! I’m at 4k words and not even at the Good Part yet so I hope to have her up by the end of this week 🫶🏻

You were lost. So lost it would’ve been comical if it wasn’t your first day of class at Midtown. You clutched the schedule in your hands, looking at door numbers as you passed them. If 305 was right here, 303 across the hall, where in the hell was 304? You turned to look around the hallway, hoping to see someone who could help you and then you saw him.

Warm brown eyes met yours and you set your shoulders back before you walked over. He looked as anxious as you felt, but you hoped he would be able to help. “Hi! I’m so sorry, but I’m so insanely lost right now and you look really nice. Do you know where 304 is? I found 303 and 305 but I can’t find 304.”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, sorry. Can I see your schedule?” You handed your schedule over to his outstretched hand and tried not to flinch when your fingers brushed his. “We have the same schedule, so you can follow me around today.” A pause. “Only if you want to! But it may be helpful. Having someone you can stick with today.” You watched as his cheeks grew slightly more flushed. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, like he couldn’t help but fidget.

“That would be really nice.” You smiled, hoping you came across as grateful as you felt. He ducked his head but you caught the faintest glimpse of a smile before he looked back at you.

“So, 304 is all the way down the hall. I don’t know why they did that, but.” He shrugged and together, the two of you walked down the hall.

“Thank you,” you trailed off and he introduced himself. Peter Parker, he said. You told Peter your name, feeling yourself smile as he said your name. “I’m glad I found you, Peter.” Nothing else was said as you two walked into class and after a moment of hesitation, you took a seat beside him. A minute later, someone else took a seat on the other side of you. Peter introduced him as Ned, Ned introducing himself as Peter’s best friend, and the three of you made light conversation as you worked on a writing assignment.

“Where did you move from?” Ned asked and you hummed.

“Portland. My mom got a new job at the city hospital, and we moved in a few days ago. Thursday, I think? The days have all blurred together at this point.” You chuckled. Your apartment was a labyrinth of moving boxes, having barely unpacked anything over the weekend. You just barely had all of your school things unpacked before you left for school this morning. “I need to finish unpacking, do some actual exploring. I’ve never been to New York before and now I live here.”

“Trust. Stay with us, you’ll be like a native in no time,” Ned said and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Thanks.” You got through the rest of the day fairly well, even if you felt like a lost puppy trailing behind Peter. You felt lucky to have the same schedule as him, and Ned was pretty cool too. You also met a girl, MJ, who kind of intimidated you in the best way. At the end of the day, you parted ways from Peter and his friends, beginning your own walk home.

Hours later, you sat on your fire escape, sketchbook in your lap until a shadow swung past you. Was that…? There’s no way.

-

Peter didn’t mean to see you on his patrol. He had perched on a rooftop, watching over the people on the street below, and he felt a pair of eyes on him. Peter looked around as if his head was on a swivel, and then he saw you. You had a sketchbook in your lap, now dressed down in a simple t-shirt and black sweatpants, and you offered him a simple wave before you returned to your drawing. Peter found himself watching you for a few moments, watching your focus return to whatever you were drawing.

Come on, Peter, get a move on, Peter thought before he was off. He just missed you looking up, watching him with a curious gaze.

Every day for the next week, Peter saw you while on his patrol route. And every day he passed you, he couldn’t help but pause for a moment. He’d perch on the rooftop across from yours, taking a minute to just breathe and watch you. You spent a lot of time on the fire escape, he noticed. Some days drawing, some days reading. Always doing something. Today, he watched as you taped a piece of paper to your fire escape and he tilted his head. Your eyes met his (well, where his eyes are under the mask) and you tapped the paper and waved before climbing back through your window. A few moments passed before Peter moved and he swung over to your fire escape, landing quietly as he took the paper.

Peter smiled as he studied the drawing. You had drawn him as Spider-Man, perched on the rooftop he frequented. You colored the sky to resemble the setting sun, and the drawing looked as if it was glowing. Peter looked up into your window, frowning when he didn’t see you. With a soft sigh, Peter swung off to tuck the drawing into a safe place and continue his patrol route. Later that night, you noticed a sticky note stuck to your window that simply read ‘thank you’ with a drawing of Spider-Man’s mask on the bottom. The sticky note now lived on the side of your bookshelf, it being the first and last thing you saw every day.

-

You had been in the city just shy of a month before you properly met the web slinging hero. You were walking home from the library, and admittedly, you had gotten distracted and now you had no idea where you were. Everything looked somewhat familiar, but it all blended together into vaguely familiar blurs. You had no idea where you were at this point and you had started to panic when a familiar masked hero landed in front of you. You screamed, jumping back a few feet and Spider-Man frantically waved his hands.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I thought you heard me.” Spider-Man sounded as panicked as you felt and you held your hand to your chest as you willed your racing heart to settle down.

“Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man my ass, almost gave me a heart attack,” your sentence ended in a laugh as you composed yourself. “I drew you such a nice picture a few weeks ago and you repay me by scaring me.”

“In my defense, I kind of rely on my stealthiness. Can’t sneak up on bad guys if I’m noisy,” Spider-Man said and you rolled your eyes, the corner of your lips twitching up.

“What can I do for you, Spidey?” You shifted from one foot to the other, studying him. When he was swinging through the air, fighting off muggers or even worse bad guys that you had seen on YouTube, he held an air of confidence. He came up with quips just as fast as he shot webs, blocked hits, and threw punches of his own. Talking to you though? He seemed fidget-y. He rubbed at the back of his neck and rocked up on the balls of his feet before settling back down. And that voice. That voice was familiar.

“Just happened to be in the area, you looked a little lost. I’m near the end of my patrol route for the day, so I thought I’d see if you wanted an escort home.” You obviously couldn’t see his expression, but he sounded sincere- if not a little amused.

“That would be… really nice, actually. I usually know my way home better, but I went to a different library today and I thought I had only lost focus for a second, but.” You gestured around yourself. “No clue where the hell I am.”

“Welcome to New York,” Spider-Man said as he started to walk the opposite you were going. “Come on, you just missed it by a few blocks.” Together, the two of you walked back to your apartment, and you made conversation as you walked. You talked more than he did, understanding there was a lot he couldn’t share with you without risking his identity being revealed. You talked about your homework, a group project you had, and your mom’s hectic work schedule. Spider-Man spoke a little, talking about things he had seen on patrol today, and asking questions where appropriate as you talked. You thought it would feel awkward, talking to the superhero, but it didn’t feel like you were talking to a stranger. It felt as if you were talking to a friend.

Your apartment came into sight soon enough and you were relieved, but also disappointed. You had enjoyed talking to him and you were sad you had to go inside and do physics homework.

“Thanks for walking me home. I’m sure you have more important things to do, so I really appreciate it,” you said and Spider-Man shook his head.

“Like I said, I wrapped up my patrol a little early today. Got some superhero business to attend to.” He saluted and you couldn’t help but laugh. The eyes of his mask squinted and you tilted your head, surprised by how expressive his mask was. “Need a lift to your window?” Spider-Man made little hand motions, resembling how he shot his webs, and you shook your head.

“Maybe next time,” you said and he nodded. “If you’re ever around and have a minute. You know where my fire escape is. Just knock on the window if I’m not already out there. I’m home alone a lot,” you admitted. Your mom was home as often as she could, but as a doctor who worked in the emergency room, she worked odd hours. You were a pro at being alone at this point and you couldn’t fault her for it. Chasing her dream even after having you, it was commendable.

“I’ll be on the lookout for you.” Spider-Man’s head shifted slightly, looking up as if he heard something. “Duty calls. I’ll see you around.” He waved before he shot a web at a nearby building, then he was off. You couldn’t help but stare at where he stood not too long ago, thinking about the interaction you had, before you walked inside your apartment building. Odd.

-

Peter sat on your couch, working on homework when you scared the absolute shit out of him.

“Can we talk?” It only took three words for his heart to stop and he hoped he didn’t look even half as panicked as he felt.

“Yeah! Yeah. What’s up?” Peter struggled to meet your gaze and you ran your hand through your hair, a nervous habit.

“I’m gonna sound batshit crazy, but it’s been driving me crazy for a while now and I have to ask.” A deep breath. “Are you Spider-Man?”

Many emotions filled Peter at once and he picked panic as the primary emotion to feel. His hands shook and he felt frozen, yet the need to run at the same time. You already knew his secret, what was stopping him from jumping out the window and swinging away? He could probably convince May to let him stay home for a few days, avoid you a little. Instead, Peter let out a shaky breath.

“What- what makes you say that?”

“Your reaction for one. But I noticed some similarities, your behavior mostly and your voice. Come on, Peter, you’ve gotta look into a voice modifier. But what really sold me? Welcome to New York.” Peter thought back on how not even a few days ago, you were talking to him about the almost friendship you had developed with the spider hero.

“Is this normal for people here? Being friendly with superheroes?” Peter had snorted in response and said, “Welcome to New York.” You had paused for the briefest of moments, Peter almost missed it, before you laughed in agreement.

“I think that connected the dots for me,” you finished. “So… are you?”

Seconds, possibly minutes passed, before Peter spoke again. “You know you can’t tell anyone, okay?” You nodded quickly before sitting back into the couch, relaxing against the cushions.

“Thank you.” Peter tilted his head. “For trusting me. I promise, you never have to worry about me saying anything.” The two of you fell into a comfortable silence until you groaned dramatically. “Do you get number nine? Because I keep getting the wrong answer.”

“Come here, let me see.” Peter scooted closer to you and looked at your work. “Right there.” As Peter explained what you were missing, you were grateful nothing felt different between the two of you. As if the conversation never happened. You ordered pizza for dinner later than night before Peter had to go home, and you watched as he swung into the distance, waving him off. Friends with a super hero. Only in New York.

[daenysthedreamer101]

Youngest Original ~ TVDU

Ch 4 - Homecoming

Mikaelson!OC

Warnings: descriptions of blood, murder, injury, death, Mikael being a horrible dad, fem oc

Corresponding episode: TVD 3x9

She's finally here!!!

Masterlist

Oh, who is she? A misty memory A haunting face Is she a lost embrace?

Portland, September 2010

Klaus was walking through the woods when his phone rang. It was Stefan. He picked up the call.

"Portland is fantastic, once you get over all the whiney music and healthy-looking people, it's literally a breeding ground for werewolves." He says.

"Your father's dead," Stefan says.

"What did you say to me?"

"Oh, my mistake. Not your actual father, and not dead. Mikael. Daggered. What do you want me to do with the body?" Stefan asked.

"Well, first, I want you to explain to me exactly what happened," Klaus demanded. 

Stefan "explained" what happened. Klaus demanded to see his rotting body. 

"Well, he's here. Come by whenever." Stefan said. 

"I want to talk to Rebekah." Klaus says and Stefan hands the phone to said blonde who tells Klaus that Mikael is dead.

"I miss you. I'm miserable here." She says to Klaus.

"I'll be home soon." He replies softly.

"Good. I'll see you then brother." Rebekah responds and finishes the call. Klaus walks to his car and drives back to the city, a plan forming in his mind.

~

Mystic Falls, Salvatore House

Rebekah was painting her toes in the living room when her father woke up from being daggered.

"Finally. Took you long enough." 

He looks at her wide-eyed. "Rebekah."

"Whatever fatherly rubbish you're thinking, save it. Nothing you say matters to me." 

"I see..." He gets up from the floor. "Where's my dagger?"

"Elena has it. So you can forget your plans to use it on me." 

"You were never the one I was after." Her father said.

"Nik was my family. If you were after him, you were after me." 

"He blinded you, Rebekah. He killed your mother." Mikael said.

Rebekah got up from the sofa. "I know what he did. And he'll pay for it with his life.  But Nik was not born a killer. None of us were." 

"You did this to us when you turned us into vampires...You destroyed our family, not him." She said to her father with tears in her eyes. 

"Rebekah..." He called for her but she was already gone.

~

Klaus's POV

He walked through the halls of the warehouse where he kept his sibling's caskets. He decided that he needed someone he could trust, someone who would never lie to him, and he had only one person on his mind. 

His eyes fell upon a specific casket. Taking a deep breath, he opened it. Inside was his youngest sister and sibling, Kassandra. Daggered, grey, and desiccated, she lay in this casket for almost 15 years. 

Klaus took a good look at her. This was the first time since daggering her back in 1996, that he has opened her casket. It was too painful to look at her while she looked like that. It just reminded him of the promise he broke. 

As Klaus gazed upon Kassandra's desiccated form, a wave of guilt and remorse washed over him. Despite his outward demeanor of strength and ruthlessness, he couldn't deny the pang of sorrow that pierced his heart at the sight of his youngest sister in such a state. He remembered the promise he had broken to her, the trust he had betrayed, and the pain he had inflicted upon her.

Her long brown hair was styled into a classic 90s blowout. She wore a black turtleneck with white lace details on the cuff of her sleeves, black dress pants with a silk string tied into a bow in the front, and on her feet, she had a pair of black leather ankle boots. 

Her usually bright blue eyes were now closed and the only color on her gray face was the dark red lipstick she had. Slightly below her daggered heart, her hands were neatly folded over her stomach. On her right hand was her golden daylight ring. 

He smiled slightly as he caressed her cold cheek with the tips of his fingers. "It's time for you to wake up, little dove." He took hold of the dagger and slowly pulled it out of her heart. 

~

After her conversation with Bonnie, Elena went back to the Salvatore house and argued that Rebekah could not be trusted and that she would turn her back on them. Damon told her that he was making a secret plan and that she should trust him. 

~

At Mystic Falls High, Tyler was decorating a truck with a glitter gun. He told Caroline that he was hungry and they should go and grab a bite. 

"Oh, I have a thermos in my bag," Caroline told him with a smile.

"I mean a real bite. Rebekah knows some people who like to be fed on. They're into it. We don't even have to compel them." Tyler said. 

Caroline refused, saying it was too risky and he should stop hanging out with Rebekah.

"Just keep the claws in tonight at the dance, ok? For me?" Tyler told his girlfriend.

~

Elena's POV

"Getting a head start, huh?" Elena said as she entered the room. Her eyes fell upon Rebekah who was wearing the red dress she chose days ago.

"Embarrassing truth, this is my first high school dance," Rebekah revealed.

"Ever?" Elena asked.

Rebekah said that with her and Klaus always running, she never had time for high school. "Anyway, I didn't want to leave anything to chance." She said as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Rebekah asked if she heard anything from Klaus and if Damon and Mikael had everything prepared. 

"Yes," Elena answered.

"Don't tell me. I just want to go to the dance and leave the rest to Mikael." Rebekah said as she took a golden bracelet and put it on her wrist. 

Elena thanked her for helping them bring Klaus back to town. Rebekah warned her that she was running for a reason. 

"Mikael is not a good person and he definitely can't be trusted. No one in my family can." 

"Are you okay?" Elena asked.

"I've spent my whole life loving and hating my brother with equal measure. I never thought that I'd be the one to help drive a stake through his heart." Rebekah said tearfully. 

The blonde blinked. "No tears. I don't want to ruin my makeup...How do I look?" She asked, looking at herself in the mirror once more. 

"You look amazing." Elena complimented. "But you're missing one thing." She pulled out Rebekah's necklace.

"May I?" Elena asked, offering to put it on. Rebekah nodded and Elena clasped the necklace around her neck.

"Thank you," Rebekah said with a smile. Elena smiled back. She then proceeded to stab Rebekah in the back with the silver dagger.

Rebekah gasped, hunching over in pain. "I'm so sorry. I can't leave anything to chance either." Elena said as Rebekah's body turned grey and fell to the ground.

Elena daggered one Original, not knowing that on the other side of the country, another one was waking up from her long sleep. 

Kassandra's POV

She was sleeping a dreamless sleep. It could've been hours, days, months, years, she wasn't quite sure. For the longest time, there was a stinging pain in her chest that weighed her down, making it impossible for her to move. 

Then, the ache in her chest disappeared. Slowly, she regained feeling. First, her mind cleared. She was no longer sleeping. "I'm waking up." She realized. Then she regained feeling in her extremities - her hands and her legs. 

Then she realized that her heart was beating again. Slowly and painfully, but it was beating. It felt like a certain heaviness was lifted from her. She waited until she was a hundred percent certain that she could move. Once the numbness left her entire body, she opened her eyes.

She took a deep breath and welcomed the air into her lungs. The first thing her eyes saw was a ceiling. Her eyes moved and she realized where she was - inside a casket. "Klaus..." The face of her impulsive older brother immediately came into her mind. 

Slowly, she moved. Her right hand grabbed the edge of the casket, her golden ring shining in the early morning light. She pushed herself up and sighed. The memories of Klaus stabbing her by the edge of Lake Geneva came back to her. Anger and fury flooded her mind, a desire for revenge creeping into her heart. 

"Your sister is awake." She heard someone say. She turned her head and saw a man dressed in a guard uniform. He was talking to someone on the phone.

"Good, you know what to do." A commanding voice said. A voice she instantly recognized - her brother,  Klaus.

Kasandra got out of the casket and carefully stood on her feet. "Where's my brother?" She asked the man, her voice hoarse from not being used. 

"I don't know. I just know what he told me to do." The guard answered, obviously compelled. 

"And what did he tell you?" She asked tentatively. The man proceeded to pull out a knife and cut his arm. Blood poured from the gash, spilling everywhere. 

Only then did Kassandra acknowledge the hunger that had been building up inside her for almost 15 years. The scent of blood hit her nostrils and her eyes instantly turned red. She couldn't help but devour the man on the spot. 

As Kassandra fed on the guard's blood, the primal instinct to survive overrode any semblance of rational thought. Her senses heightened, she could feel the warmth of the blood coursing through her veins, revitalizing her with each swallow.

Once the hunger was sated, Kassandra stepped back, her chest heaving as she fought to regain control of her emotions. The taste of blood lingered on her tongue, a reminder of the darkness that lurked within her.

~

"In the back. Harsh." Damon said as he covered Rebekah's body. Elena defended herself, saying it had to be done.

"Hey, I'm not judging you. It's very...Katherine of you." 

"Not the way to make me feel better about myself, Damon!" 

"It was a compliment! Sort of." 

Elena said that Stefan was right, that someone was going to mess up the plan, and that it was most likely going to be her. Damon argued that she would be fine. 

"Yeah, but I feel bad about it. I care too much. That's the problem, Damon...I'm the weak link." 

Damon told her that he didn't trust Mikael or Stefan and that when everything went down, he didn't want her taking part in any of it. 

~

Klaus's POV

He immediately got into his car once he got the news his sister had awakened. Half an hour later, he found himself inside the warehouse again. He felt something akin to nervousness as he walked through the halls. He wondered how Kassie would react to seeing him again.

He took notice of her empty casket and the dead guard on the floor. 

"Kassandra. It's your big brother. Come out, come out wherever you are." He said in a sing-song voice, the same way he greeted Rebekah.

Walking further down the hall, he found her next to the caskets of their brothers. She had her back turned to him. She had opened Elijah's casket and was looking at him.

"Hello, love. Long time no see." He said with a smirk. But she made no reaction, no effort to acknowledge his presence.

"Is that any way to greet your big brother-" He joked but was cut off by a heavy smack to the face. The ferocity of the slap sent him back by a couple of meters, the skin of his cheek stinging. 

Before he could move, she kicked him in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. He fell to his knees, groaning, not expecting this whatsoever. She put her foot on his chest, pressing harshly against his ribcage. 

Then, she stabbed him in the heart with her dagger. "That's for breaking your promise, traitor!" She spat, her words dripping with venom.

As Klaus staggered to his feet, he couldn't help but feel a mix of astonishment and admiration at Kassandra's display of strength and defiance. Despite the pain radiating from his chest where her dagger had pierced him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him.

"Touché, little dove," he managed to choke out, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips despite the agony coursing through his body. "You always did have a knack for keeping me on my toes."

Kassandra's expression softened slightly at his words, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. She turned her attention back to Elijah's casket, her fingers tracing the edges reverently. "When did you dagger him?" she repeated, her voice laced with accusation.

He sighed. "I wake you up after 15 years and your first instinct is to worry about Elijah? Seriously?"

She turned around and for the first time in over a decade, he could see her eyes properly. Most of the time, there was nothing but pure love and adoration in them when she looked at him. 

Now that love was replaced by a fury Klaus rarely ever saw. "Answer me!" She demanded. 

Klaus would never allow anyone to talk to him in that manner, but he always did have a soft spot for her which gave her leeway to do many things and act in a certain way around him. 

"A couple of months ago. There, are you happy?" She slapped him again. She sighed shakily, her lip trembling as she held back a sob.

Klaus winced as her palm connected with his cheek once more, the sting of her slap a sharp reminder of the pain he had caused her.

He could feel the weight of her anger pressing down on him, a heavy burden that he knew he deserved to bear. He watched as she turned away from him, her gaze fixed on Elijah's desiccated form, and he felt a pang of guilt tighten in his chest.

"Why did you wake me?" She finally asked. 

"Why do I have to have an ulterior motive to wake you? Maybe I just missed my darling sister." 

"Don't lie to me! There's always an ulterior motive with you, Klaus. I'm not stupid." 

He sighed. "Alright, fine. Yes, there is a reason why I woke you. Months ago, I broke the hybrid curse our mother put on me."

Her eyes went wide at that. "You did?" She asked softly.

"Yes, even though our dear brother here tried stopping me." He said as he gestured to Elijah's body. 

"I'm happy for you." She said in her usual soft voice.

"What?" He asked confused at her ever-changing mood. She walked closer to him. 

"You've been wanting to break this curse for centuries, Nik. I know how much you wanted it. I'm happy that you have finally achieved your goal." He couldn't help but smile at her, his dear sister, always so sweet and loving.

"I'm sorry. I really am sorry, for everything I did to you. It was a necessary evil." He told her, unusually sincere.

She smiled lightly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I forgive you, brother." He looked at her, suspicious as always. She took his face into her hands and looked into his eyes. 

"Don't make me regret trusting you, Klaus." She said with a smile on her face, though there was a certain edge to her voice. He took her hands and kissed them. He then pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. 

"Now how would you feel about a homecoming dance?" He asked her with a smirk. 

~

In front of their high school, Caroline watches in disbelief as emergency services block the entrance to the school.

"What happened?" She asked Tyler.

"The gym's flooded. The dance is canceled."

"Excuse me!? Well, what are we supposed to do now!?"

~

Caroline and Bonnie entered the Lockwood mansion, where the homecoming was transferred. Bonnie questioned who all these unfamiliar people were. 

Stefan stood amongst the crowd and watched as the band played. Tyler greeted him. 

"Hey, Tyler. Nice party you got going on here." Stefan commented. 

"Thanks, but I'm not the one throwing it. I'm just doing what Klaus wants." Tyler admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not a party, man. It's a wake."

Then Klaus appeared on stage and thanked everyone for coming here to celebrate with him.

~

Stefan's POV

"Quite the homecoming," Stefan commented as he and Klaus walked outside the Lockwood mansion. 

"I've been planning my father's funeral for a thousand years. Granted, in no version of it were any of these people involved, but you get the idea." Klaus replied. 

"So, what now? You stop running?" Stefan asked.

"Now I reunite my family." 

"Your family? You mean the people you cart around in caskets?"

"Not all of them are in caskets." Klaus pointed out. 

Stefan chuckled. "Right, Rebekah's out of hers. That's one. What about the others? Oh right, they're dead."

Klaus smirked and rolled his eyes. "You seem to forget I have another sister, Stefan." Klaus turned his head at the sound of heels clicking against the ground. Stefan turned as well. 

A tall, slender girl in a tight-fitting, black dress approached. Her long brown hair was curled into loose waves. "Stefan Salvatore. My God, I thought I'd never see you again." 

Stefan furrowed his brows. "...Kassandra? " The girl smiled and her blue eyes bore into his. 

"Hello, Stefan." She greeted, her voice soft and melodious.

Stefan looked at her dumbfounded. "Speaking of Rebekah. Where is she?" Klaus asked, breaking the Salvatore out of his stupor.

"I've no idea. I thought she was coming with Matt." Stefan said. 

"Oh, be honest now Stefan. Where's my sister?" Klaus asked again.

"I said I have no idea. Now would you like me to take you to your father?"

"Well, it wouldn't be a party without the guest of honor, would it? Bring him to me." Klaus replied.

Stefan bargained with Klaus - if he brought Mikael's body to Klaus, he would be free of Klaus's compulsion. Klaus agreed.

~

"Change of plans. Klaus is back. He's at the Lockwood's and he wants your body delivered to his doorstep." Stefan said to Damon and Mikael as he entered the living room of their house.

"I'm afraid he's in for a colossal disappointment," Mikael replied. 

"But you do have a plan? Right? Stefan asked.

"We have a plan. It just doesn't involve you." Damon said.

Mikael then bites Stefan and leaves. Damon looks surprised. He takes his things and leaves as well, leaving an unconscious Stefan on the floor.

~

Tyler's POV

"My mom would seriously freak out if she saw all these people here," Tyler commented as he and Klaus looked at the massive crowd of people in his backyard.

"Your mother won't be a problem. I compelled her to go to church and pray for your friends." 

Tyler laughed, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I want you to look around," Klaus said and pointed to Tyler's friends - Bonnie, Elena, and Matt.

"But who are all these other people?" Klaus asked, feigning ignorance. Tyler said he didn't know half of them.

"That's cause I invited half a dozen friends of my own," Klaus revealed. He then pointed out certain people in the crowd who were hybrids all sired by Klaus.

"They were all sired by me. They wish to serve their master. So if anyone should so much as make a move against me they may feel obligated to retaliate."

"And how could I forget my beloved sister, Kassandra? She's right there, talking to your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline." Klaus said and pointed to a tall brunette in a black dress who was standing next to and talking to Caroline.

"She is my most loyal sibling, so I don't think she would take it lightly if something happened to her big brother." He added

"Feel free to warn your friends," Klaus said and walked away.

~

Caroline sighed as Tyler pulled her into one of the spare bedrooms. 

"What are you up to with Klaus?" He asked her.

She turns to look at him. "Nothing."

"He's onto you, Caroline. Whatever you all think you're about to pull off, he's two steps ahead of you." Tyler said, warning her.

"Ok, I don't know what you're talking about."

Tyler sighed. "That girl you were talking to, the brunette in the black dress, she's Klaus's sister."

"What?" She asked shocked.

"Yeah. I don't know what you told her, but stay away from her, she could be just as dangerous as the rest of her siblings."

"I didn't tell her anything!" She defended herself. "And how was I supposed to know that he had a second sister?"

"Can we just go back to the party?" She asked and started walking toward the door when Tyler pulled out a syringe full of vervain and stabbed her in the neck with it.

~

Kassandra's POV

She sighed as she walked around the estate, looking for Klaus. On their flight from Portland, he explained everything to her.

How there was a new doppelganger, Elena Gilbert, and that she was involved with the Salvatore brothers. He explained how he broke the curse and over the summer had a little adventure with Stefan.

Now they were back in town to kill their father. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face her father, not after everything he and their mother did to her and her siblings. 

She still wasn't sure why he awakened her specifically but just the fact that she was awake after 15 years and not daggered was good enough for her.

As she once again made a full circle around the house, she saw a tall, dark-haired man in a black leather jacket kill one of Klaus's hybrids. "Curious." She thought as she watched him enter the house.

She made her way into the house. As she walked she heard a voice she hadn't heard in centuries.

"To what end, Niklaus? So you can live forever with no one by your side? Nobody cares about you anymore, boy!" Her father said as he held the new doppelganger. 

Kassie listened to how her father insulted her brother and anger spread through her body. 

"Who do you have other than those whose loyalty you've forced?" 

She couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't just stand there and not defend her brother. She walked to the front door where Klaus was facing their father and she stood by Klaus's side.

"He has me!" Kassandra said defiantly as she took Klaus's hand into hers.

Surprise and shock washed over her father's face as he processed her presence. "Kassandra?"

"Father." She greeted coldly.

"What are you doing here?" 

"Nik's my brother. My family. I'm here to help him."

Her father laughed at her words. "You foolish girl. You've always blindly followed him and trusted him. He doesn't deserve your trust or your love, Kassandra."

"I will decide who gains my love and my trust," Kassie responded boldly. She could feel Nik squeezing her hand.

Mikael threated to kill the doppelganger. Nik told him to go ahead. 

"Ah...your impulse, Niklaus. It has and will forever be, the one thing that keeps you from truly being great." Her father said, taunting Klaus.

She looked up at Nik and could see tears falling down his face. She could see the pain in his eyes. She could feel her own eyes starting to tear up. 

"Enough! Stop talking to him like that!" She defended her brother. Her father's eyes fell upon her once again.

"And you, my daughter...He will be the end of you." 

"Then so be it." She responded as a tear ran down her round cheek.

~

Klaus's POV

He looked at his sister and felt his heart tighten at her words. She was always there for him, always there to comfort him and put his mind at ease. 

Even now, she was choosing him, her half-brother, against her own father. Loyal to a fault, she was. And he thanked her by stabbing her and putting her in a casket for 15 years. He had to find a way to redeem himself to her.

His sister's gasp pulled him back to reality. Mikael stabbed Elena in the back, and the girl fell to the ground with a gasp. 

Then, someone yanked his sister away from him and slammed her against the wall. Before Klaus could react this person punched her in the stomach.

Damon Salvatore, he realized, as he got slammed down to the floor. "Klaus!" His sister yelled and tried getting up. 

On the porch, the doppelganger got up. "Katherine," Mikael said, realizing it was not Elena. 

"Kaboom!" She said and threw wolfsbane grenades onto Klaus's hybrids. 

Damon was just about to stake him with the White Oak stake when Stefan appeared out of nowhere and pushed Damon off of him.

Klaus took the opportunity - he grabbed the white oak stake and threw himself onto Mikael. He drove it right through Mikael's heart.

His body started burning in flames and Klaus stood there and watched as the man who tormented him for centuries was finally gone. 

~

"What do you mean he stole them?" Kassandra asked, confused. 

Klaus sighed. "He stole them, Kassandra. All of them." Klaus repeated himself. 

"Why would Stefan steal our siblings?" Kassandra wondered out loud. "What would he gain by stealing their caskets?"

"Leverage. Against me." Klaus replied as he chugged his bourbon.

"You still haven't found Rebekah?" Kassie asked, her thoughts drifting to her sister.

"No. I've no idea where she could be." 

"They daggered her. They must have. How else would they keep her down for so long?" Kassandra theorized.

"Well, it seems we'll be staying in Mystic Falls for longer than I expected," Klaus said as he took a seat next to his sister. 

She was on her laptop. After waking her up, he showed her how to use modern technology and she quickly got accustomed to it. "What are you doing?" He asked her.

"Looking for a house. You said it yourself, since we're staying here might as well stay in a nice place, right?" She responded as she looked up from her laptop.

***

She is finally here in the flesh! We see that Kassie will not put up with Klaus's bs lol and will beat him up if necessary.

Can't wait for the following chapters where she'll interact with her other siblings.

Thank you for reading. ❤❤❤

If you have any opinions feel free to comment.

[evidence-of-the-unknown]

[ID: An illustration of a conspiracy theorist's cork board, with three articles pinned up and connected with red string. Notes attached to the articles read, "recent local events" "Won't take my calls- bought out" and "Never trust a lab coat!" end ID] Full transcripts are available under the read more.

We've made it to our first intermission! Special thanks to my dad, a former journalist, for writing the newspaper articles for me. I gave him a basic outline and he did incredible work.

[Article 1 Transcript: Portland radio jock to call Meteor Flats Home Radio personality will be taking your calls on local station KWTF-AM Cecily Palmer Meteor Flats Gazette (Jan. 6, 2019) Big-city radio jock Barney Hopkins will be bringing his unique brand of news, commentary, and community reporting to Meteor Flats with the premiere of his call-in show, Voices on the Air, on our local public radio station, KWTF-AM. “I want to bring my brand of storytelling to a whole new group of people,” Hopkins said. “Kicking around the Pacific Northwest for a few years I’ve seen a lot of stuff — and I mean a lot — and one thing I’ve learned is that every little town has a big story to tell. And it’s usually a pretty weird one.” Meteor Flats’ airwaves are about to get more than a little weirder, if you judge by Hopkins record in famously weird Portland, OR. While a student at Portland State University he reportedly devoted a week-long series on campus radio to investigating claims of a Sasquatch living in the nearby Forest Park. Sources say he was kicked off the student radio station after a late-night interview that he claimed was conducted with a “moth-man,” although no tapes of the alleged incident exist and students who supposedly heard it said it consisted only of Hopkins asking questions interspersed with a “freaky buzzing sound, man.” “You’d have to be blind to think we’re alone on this big, strange, spinning ball of mud,” Hopkins told this reporter. “I’ve been calculating the vectors and time-tables, and I’m telling you — Meteor Flats is special, and I’m here to give a voice to the side of this community that the suit-and-tie types don’t want you to hear from!” Sources at Meteor Falls Community College & Technical School say Hopkins has been in contact with “certain fringe individuals” in the departments of Conceptual Physics and Speculative Biology, but Dean Alister Frumke has refused to comment on any association with the controversial Hopkins. Voices on the Air premieres at 9:30 p.m. on January 12 on KWTF, 999.9 AM. End transcript.]

[Article 2 transcript: Government project expected to draw traffic to the area, but critics are concerned Hiram McDougal Meteor Flats Gazette (April. 12, 2016) A new government project 15 miles outside our neighboring community of Carrion, NM, promises to bring jobs and business to our quiet corner of the state, but some area residents are worried about the secretive facility. Details are scarce, but the facility will reportedly be known as the Carrion National Lab for Unquantizable Physics Research. Signs visible Tuesday at the construction site credited the Grimke- Yao-Kandinsky Foundation as the funding entity, but the signs had been replaced by Wednesday with generic signage proclaiming “Good Things Coming, Just You Wait!” with a mascot character of a happy dancing atom. Some residents have expressed concern that the exact nature of the research to be conducted ta the facility is unknown. The college was unable to shine any light on the subject. “We have no official connection to the project,” proclaimed Meteor Flats Community College Dean Alister Frumke, “and nothing more to add at this time.” However, sources on the faculty reported that several members of the Department of Conceptual Physics had recently been granted multi-year sabbaticals, and the college itself had apparently obtained additional funding from unknown sources. Local contractors have confirmed that they have been hired to build a new covered parking and faculty pool facility for the school administration. Nonetheless, local business leaders were optimistic about the impacts of the new project. “It’s about time we got our own Area 51,” said Madge Plover, owner of the All Right All Night Diner on the south edge of town. “Get some tourists in here looking for flying whatnots. And all those research guys — researchers — whatever, they’ve got to go some place for a good meal — Lord knows Carrion isn’t exactly burstin’ with five-star eateries.” “I reckon I’ll offer them up a dis- count,” she added. “Ten percent off to anyone in a lab coat!” Access to the site has been limited by a new fence installed sometime between midnight Thursday and dawn Friday of last week. End transcript.]

[Article 3 transcript: Carrion residents claim lights, missing animals linked meteor flats experts skeptical about claims of “mystery lights” Hiram McDougal Editor, Meteor Flats Gazette Scientific authorities at Meteor Flats Community College and the prestigious yet mysterious Carrion National Laboratories are skeptical about claims of “mystery lights” and other phenomena in the skies over the tiny neighboring community of Carrion, NM. “I think if anything was going on in our airspace, we would have noticed,” said Dr. Helena Von Weber, formerly of the Meteor Flats college and currently listed as “director of unspecified research” at Carrion National Labs. Carrion residents have pestered sheriff’s deputies with reports of clusters of lights “flying in formation” over the small desert town for the past several weeks. Adding to the confusion, local rancher Daphne Frick has blamed the loss of a prize mare on the unknown aerial lights. “There was a light out back, bright as day, then it just shut off, like a door slamming shut, and the next morning she was just gone,” Frick said. She described the light as “cold and white, like a magnesium flare, but also kind of warm and purple, you know?” Area veterinarian Dr. Dani Ortega said no “unknown aerial phenomena” are needed to explain the disappearance. “Coyotes are a lot more likely than UFOs,” she said. “Dang things are clever. Hungry too.” “It’s just coyotes,” she repeated, convincingly. — Nov. 17, 2022 Unverified photo of “lights” submitted by a Carrion resident. End transcript.]

[anxious-shapeshifter]

I’ve been thinking about the sheer joy and relief I’ve felt since moving from Salt Lake City to Portland, Oregon. I’ve only been here for like a month, but it already feels so overwhelmingly like home and the place I want to belong, at least for this phase of my life.

Portland is undeniably weird, and diverse, and lived-in. This city belongs, for the most part, to the people who live within it. I walk outside, and I’m also this weird, messy critter of a person, but no one cares! There’s at least 100 more people who are stranger than I am in this city! I can exist in whatever shape I want!

For the first time, I’m independent and free. I don’t have the mormon church breathing down my neck, wishing I’d tone it down or disappear. I am surrounded by people and places who are just as vibrant as I am with all my colors flying!

If my hometown was a cage that I escaped, then SLC was just a step up - a zoo enclosure, a reserve with ample space, but still surrounded by a fence. Room to roam, but only just enough. Portland is the real deal; truly wild, truly free.

It gets so much better, you guys! I promise!

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

BOOTLEGS 2023

The year is winding down, so it's time to look back at the last 12 month's crop of live tapes. Crowd noise, tape hiss, distortion, murk ... and plenty of magic, people! As I do this year after year, I ask myself: "Why do I do this year after year?" I guess it's a habit I can't break. But I do love something about these cloudy recordings — the immediacy, the imperfections, the possibilities. Each bootleg, no matter how lo-fi, contains a glimmer of hope, a potential for beauty and transcendence. The fact that not all of them (few of them, in fact!) really deliver on that promise is part of the deal. The search continues!

Anyhoo, here's a sampling of the Doom & Gloom goods from 2023 to get you caught up ... thank you to the tapers, the archivists, the fans, the innocents.

Sonic Youth - #SonicSummer (Live 1981-2011)

Mazzy Star - The Mint, Los Angeles, California, July 15, 1993

Television - Max’s Kansas City, New York City, August 28, 1974

The Flying Burrito Brothers - Altamont Speedway, Tracy, California, December 6, 1969

Damon & Naomi - Best Video Film & Cultural Center, Hamden, Connecticut, May 12, 2023

Sandy Denny + John Martyn - Sundown Theatre, London, England, October 26, 1972

John Fahey - Carnegie Hall, New York City, Sept. 21, 1973

Neil Young with Booker T. & The MG’s - Los Angeles Sports Arena, Los Angeles, California, September 11, 1993

Prairiewolf - Paradise Found Records, Boulder, Colorado, July 1, 2023

The Band - Wollman Skating Rink, Central Park, New York City, June 30, 1971

PJ Harvey - McCabe’s Guitar Shop, Santa Monica, California, September 25, 1993

Van Morrison - Harvard Square Theatre, Cambridge, Massachusetts, March 14, 1974

The Velvet Underground - The Playhouse, Edinburgh, Scotland, June 1, 1993 (Soundcheck)

Loose Fur - The Double Door, Chicago, Illinois, May 14, 2000

Stephen Malkmus - Mr. T’s Bowl, Highland Park, California, August 13, 1998

Yo La Tengo - The Grotto, New Haven, Connecticut, October 23, 1987

Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers - Town Hall, New York City, October 9, 1976

The Cramps - Toad’s Place, New Haven, Connecticut, February 20, 1992

The Dream Syndicate - Crystal Ballroom, Somerville, Massachusetts, September 18, 2022

Gram Parsons - Max’s Kansas City, New York City, March 9, 1973

Tom Verlaine - The Roxy, West Hollywood, California, October 17, 1981

Lou Reed & The Tots - Humpin’ Hannah’s, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, January 20, 1973

Elizabeth Cotten - Euphoria Tavern, Portland, Oregon, February 19, 1975

Sonny Rollins and his Jazz Ensemble - East River Park Amphitheatre, New York City, August 7, 1962

[oglegoggle]

I’ve trekked three hours into Portland twice this year, both times I was approached on the street and asked for money in two astonishingly different ways.

The first encounter about two months ago:

My partner and I were enjoying doing tourist shit, looking at a bunch of little boutique shops, and are approached by two guys with iPads. The leader of the duo introduced himself as being with a charity that plants trees in the city to help cool the city, especially in improvised areas with large homeless communities.

I say sure and offer to give him $5 cash, which he refuses, instead giving a spiel about signing up for a $25/3 month minimum reoccurring pledge to this org he was representing. Balking at this, I try to politely dismiss myself by just asking for the website of the org and a phony promise to look at it more in depth later. To which he goes off on another well rehearsed spiel about how by not signing up for the pledge with him right then and there there’s no point in his job existing?????

To which I promptly fucked off entirely.

The second encounter earlier this evening:

Was chilling at a Mexican restaurant with my partner getting dinner. A homeless guy walked in and approached our table and asked for a couple bucks for food. My partner and I both pull out our wallets to check what cash we have on hand, and giving him the collective last $3 we had. My darling offered to buy him dinner as well, but the clerk running the shop chased the guy off.

Of these two encounters one was very proper and sanctioned and approved by the right people to be funding the right things and was infinitely more intrusive and tasteless than the other.

I hope that rando guy gets himself a good taco or perhaps a nug of weed tonight. Little treat for him

[phoenixyfriend]

International Taxes

Ko-Fi prompt from Ethan:

All I know about tariffs is that they're special taxes for international trade but people talk about them all the time. Please help explain

So we are going to talk about three things here:

Tariffs

VAT

Customs/Duties

I'll be using the US for most of my examples, because that's what I know best... and also because it's a very convenient example for the way VAT works on an international level.

Tariffs

You are correct that tariffs are special taxes for international trade. These are essentially fees that are applied to products being shipped in and out of a country in order to promote domestic product or impact a foreign one.

A common example is US steel. The United States has a fairly robust steel industry, and the government promotes that industry domestically by applying tariffs to imports. Back in 2018, Trump imposed a 25% tariff on steel imports and 10% on aluminum (something that the WTO said was illegal, but that's not relevant right now). The steel tariff had previously been a range of 8-30%, implemented by Bush in 2002. Prior to that, the steel tariff had generally been under 1%.

In applying that tariff, the federal government prioritized domestic purchasing. If domestic product is nominally $90 for one unit, and foreign product is $80, then it is cheaper and more appealing to buy from a foreign producer. With a 25% tariff, the foreign product is now functionally $100 per unit, making it more appealing to buy domestically. While the actual cost of the tax is born by the producing country, in the case of import tariffs, the result is the raising of costs when selling internationally.

Tariffs are also applied to specific countries. Once again using a Trump example, a $50 billion tariff was applied against China in 2018. This had negative impacts on the economy, as it led to worries of a trade war; China did retaliate by applying tariffs directly to specific products from the US, including wine and pork.

High tariffs theoretically lead to an increase in domestic trade, but they also lead to higher rates of smuggling. They are also a form protectionist policy, which was at its height in the 19th century for the US.

VAT - Value Added Tax

If you look up VAT, you get a lot of explanations that talk about how it is a tax that is levied against the consumer on the basis of the cumulative value of the product, and generally things are confusingly worded, so I'll save you some time:

It's sales tax.

If you are American like me, that's all it is. It's a different name for sales tax.

You get something for $8 at the store, but the final cost is $8.42? Those 42 cents are the VAT.

What does that have to do with international trade? Isn't that a domestic thing?

Well, yes and no. We'll start by comparing the US to most European countries.

See, the US has a different application of VAT than a lot of other places. In the US, sales tax is added at the very end of a purchase for the vast majority of places. This is because there is no federal sales tax. Instead, taxes are set by the state, county, and city governments. Take a look at this map of New York, and you'll see how much sales tax varies by just a few miles.

Given how much a pricing can vary from one town to the next, large corporations generate a greater profit by listing prices in their pre-tax form, and then adding that tax at the end. The consumer knows that there will be a higher price at the counter than is listed, because the standard in the US is to not include that tax. So your Arizona Iced Tea will be a $1 in Portland and $1 in Queens County, matching that promise on the can... but you'll still be paying $1 in Portland and $1.09 in Queens, because only one of those areas has sales tax, despite both being in the same country.

This works out for the retailer, because the consumer does not blame them for raising prices across county lines, if there is a sales tax hike. The thought of "it's cheaper ten miles down the road, I'll get to it later," followed by never getting to it and thus never making a purchase, is rarer, because the listed price is still the same. It also means having to print or design fewer price tags; imagine having to manually change every price in a supermarket magazine! Every coupon needs to have its price changed by a few cents, to account for tax!

...or you can just print the same magazine with the same prices and write "plus tax" after the listed cost.

All this to say, Americans are used to adding sales tax at the end, and knowing that the price they see is not the price they'll pay.

Other countries Do Not Do This.

I mean, some do. But we're talking about the ones that don't, which includes the entirety of the EU, India, some of Japan, and the country I actually have extensive experience with: Serbia.

I am currently in Serbia, which means I'm in a country with a sales tax/VAT that is higher than I'm used to (20% on most goods, 8% on essentials). In every store I've been to, the tax is included in the listed price. If it says 87 rsd on a carton of milk, I will be paying 87 rsd at checkout. The baseline price is 80 rsd, and then there's the 8% tax, and the final price is 86.4, which gets rounded up to the 87 that is listed on the tag.

If you aren't accustomed to thinking about VAT like in the US, online shopping can be... a trial.

If I purchase something from, say, Canada, and have it mailed to the US, I am given the sales tax as part of the purchasing process. It will format the receipt as the product plus sales tax. This is familiar to me.

To someone from the EU who does not purchase internationally (specifically from the US, Canada, or other countries that don't include sales tax in the sticker price), this tax can often come as a surprise.

And, finally, in some cases... the will be paid at the very end, at the point of pickup, along with customs. I recently purchased something from an English creator that was manufactured in Germany and then shipped to Serbia. I anticipated that I had paid the VAT for Serbia when purchasing the product. It was instead added at the point of purchase, as Serbia is neither in the EU nor in a trade agreement with the relevant countries that would allow for me to pay the VAT online, I had to pay the 20% in addition to customs when picking up the package from the postal office.

Despite not being a tariff or customs/duty payment, VAT can have a direct impact on international purchasing.

Customs/Duties

Customs and duties are taxes applied to products based on those product characteristics.

There is overlap with tariffs. As a consumer, you are... not going to be very affected by the difference between customs and tariffs.

Customs are like VAT, in that they are paid by the consumer rather than by the manufacturer.

You can think of tariffs as a fee that a manufacturer pays to sell something internationally (though that cost is often passed on to the consumer), and customs as a fee paid by a consumer to receive that good.

Hope this helps!

(And if anyone here is more familiar with the subject than I am, please feel free to add on or correct me! I'm generally pretty good about international policy, but I'm not an expert, and this subject can be a complicated one.)

(Prompt me on ko-fi!)

[schraubd]

Portland: America's Last Bastion of Normalcy

In my congressional district, local media is now projecting that Janelle Bynum has ousted incumbent Republican Representative Lori Chavez-Deremer. As terrible as election day was on the whole, I am grateful that I'll be represented by a Democrat in Congress once again, and I'm glad my neighbors made the right choice in sending Bynum to Congress. Meanwhile, across the river in Washington state, Democratic incumbent Marie Gluesenkamp Perez has won her rematch against Republican challenger Joe Kent. This was a result that thrills and honestly confuses me. Perez's 2022 victory over Kent was one of the night's bigger upsets, largely chalked up to Kent being basically a White supremacist. But clearly the lesson of 2024 is that that's no longer any object, and if you told me ahead of time that election night would see a broad-based "red shift" compared to 2020 I would have been dead certain that Perez was absolute toast. So why exactly did this nut crack? I don't have an answer to that,* and I acknowledge that Perez has annoyed Democratic leadership before. But she seems to have some ideas of how to present progressive priorities in a way that speaks outside of our current base (e.g., her championing of "right to repair" laws, or pairing student loan debt relief with "dollar-for-dollar ... investments in career [and] technical education"), and she is a voice worth paying attention to going forward. Needless to say, both Bynum and Perez bucked a pretty terrible national trend. As most of the country embraced the chaos and the void, the single, solitary exception was the Pacific Northwest. Here, we rejected crude reflex and base instinct. And it's not just the local congressional races. In the Portland mayor's race, we didn't pick the woman who thinks the law doesn't apply to her just because she's "progressive", and we didn't pick the man who wants to execute the homeless because he promised "law and order". Our new mayor is going to be Keith Wilson, whose major appeal in the field, from my vantage point, is that he seemed like a normal, good guy making reasonable efforts to resolve the problems in front of our city. That shouldn't always be enough, but in the field we had it was better than all the alternatives.  In my city council district, I felt like we had a plethora of good candidates to choose from, and the three winners all were among my top six picks. Here too, I'm very happy with the choices offered and choices made, and none of them seem (yet, anyway) like kooks, cranks, or gadflies. I'm optimistic that they will be diligent and attentive public servants when they enter office, and again, that's not something I take for granted anymore. It is, of course, quite off-brand for Portland to be America's avatar of normalcy. Locally, we're more used to embracing our "weird" identity, nationally, our reputation is something like that of a post-apocalyptic drag show. "Normal" is not historically our forte. But for my part, I am so, so happy that this is the city my wife and I have chosen to build our life in and raise our child in. Portland is a great city. It is full of great people, great beauty, great resources, great activities, and great values. I'm under no illusions that anywhere, blue states included, will be "safe" in the coming years. But there are very few places I'd rather be than here, and if you're looking for a new place to call home, I'd encourage you to look our way. * One thing I will say, and someone inundated with ads for the Perez/Kent race, is that Kent went 100% all-in on anti-trans fearmongering. The result was Perez likely expanding her margin of victory in an otherwise red wave year. Take from that what you will. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/91uKjqv

[some-triangles]

It's Portland's annual new year blizzard/ice storm, which we are unprepared for every year, because this never used to happen. It barely snowed here when I was a kid! I was a kid 30 years ago, mind you, and this has been happening pretty consistently for the last 20, but institutions are slow to change. We have been spending our money on other things.

So here I am, sitting in my own living room (my own in the sense that I rent it), in my long johns and thermals and two pairs of socks, heat on, still gradually losing feeling in my toes. This seems like a good day to write the politics post.

I belong to the category of person who expresses political and moral beliefs mostly through jokes, and only then when my personal frustration has reached a point where I can no longer make myself be quiet. The jokes are there to make the pain less raw, but lately the jokes themselves are getting dark enough that it's upsetting people. So let's proceed without the jokes.

Where to begin? In the 90s, I guess. I was brought up liberal but cynical, which is already kind of a tense balance, and I was by inclination a person who wanted things to make sense and follow understandable rules. (The answer is as always neurodivergence.) I figured out that religion wasn't real by looking at a map and realizing that the world was too big for any one group of people to be right about things. Despite this, I still thought American democracy was the correct answer, the least bad option, and that the world as a whole was heading towards where I was, a kind of tolerant, reasonable middle class existence.

In my defense, this was a belief broadly shared by my parents' generation, and I hadn't been taught a lot of the stuff that argued against it. Francis Fukuyama got up in front of people and declared the world a solved problem and nobody important even laughed at him. I bought into this to the extent that I suffered from a kind of wistful sadness that all the important battles had already been fought. In short, I was a child, and not a particularly bright one, despite what people told me. I did, however, form a belief that stays with me to this day:

I AM NOT SPECIAL. I, personally, do not deserve any more or any less than any human being. And since I think I should be safe and well fed, every other human being should also be safe and well fed. The fact that I am better off than some others is an accident which should be rectified.

This came about because I was aware that a lot of the people in the world were poor and miserable and I wasn't, and I had to decide whether luck or virtue was responsible for my safety. I went with luck. I didn't realize it at the time, but this choice put me at odds with a lot of the logic underlying the society I live in - because if I'm not special, you better believe nobody else is either, and that means no elect, no chosen, none blessed by god, none elevated by blood. I was 10, I hadn't even had a chance to fuck up my life yet, and yet there were all these other 10-year-olds worse off than me. Did they deserve that? And what about those kids who had it better?

And so, decades later, we end up with the joke about how it's a good deal to trade your life away to take out a rich person. It's the same impulse, just with a lot of broken promises and bitterness stacked on top. I work full time at a job that's officially essential (no stoppage during the pandemic), strenuous, and physically dangerous - I get paid the 1993 equivalent of a little less than $30k a year - I will never be able to afford a home in the city I grew up in. This job has to be done. I am not special, I do not "deserve" a better job. I, as a working person, watch people who do jobs that do not need to be done or who don't work at all get paid more because they are members of an invisible elect. I conclude that they must believe they are worth more than me, that they are better than me, because how else could they justify their lives? And I think if I subscribed to that worldview, it would be a net win for me to blow both of us up. Thus, the joke.

I also watch the rest of the world. My belief in liberal democracy is a pretty aerated Jenga tower by this point. Learning about America's imperial history took out a bunch of pieces, but I could still believe all that was behind us. Then we went back to war, which I could initially write off as a traumatic reaction, but as years turned into decades it became obvious that peace had been the exception, and that even that peace hadn't been that peaceful, had it? At that point it was still possible to believe that at least all of our bombing and killing had been in the interest of some kind of moral good, if you really tried. I think Gaza killed the very last part of me that could believe that. There is no atrocity we will not enable to pursue our own ends. Does it matter that much what kind of system we use to choose our leaders if this is what our leaders do?

The last thing keeping my tower standing is the need to protect the outgroups I and my friends belong to, which doesn't really rise to the level of a moral imperative. It's a moment by moment strategic thing, where you support institutions if they protect you and oppose them if they attack you, like any interest group. Right now HR culture and capitalism are trending pro-trans, so we support Disney against Florida. We will do voter suppression if the alternative is Trump. It doesn't go well with rule number one up there, but neither does the fact that I care about my friends more than I care about people I don't know.

At the end of the day it's all a joke. Moral imperatives give way to political reality one hundred percent of the time. It doesn't matter what I call myself. I hate tech culture, so why not be a Luddite? I'll smash steam looms in my mind while continuing to pay for my groceries. Just let me have my jokes. Trashfuture did a great riff about Butlerian Jihad the other day where they imagined a butler named Ian Jihad. "I've oriented sir's slippers towards Mecca, sir." That's the kind of political commentary I want, and the kind I will refrain from posting here unless my toes are really, really cold.

[richardsphere]

Leverage Log: The Low Low Price Job

Ok so based on the name, we're either dealing with As Seen On TV products that are made so cheap as to endanger people, general "store discounts that are only affordable because its made in a sweatshop in china" shenanigans, or a Big box chain using an up front loss to drive the locals out of business and become a de-facto local monopoly before type of story. (did I mention that capitalism sucks yet?) --- Ok government inspector is looking round a store and is pulling lies out of their ass. --- I agree with Elliot, Composting is good but should not be done in a kitchen. That is a health inspectors nightmare. --- Oh its about the a big box store, thats bribing the inspector (and zoning comittee) into shutting down competition. Why is she talking about it as if its a small town? Since when is Portland a small town? Thats a major American city right? --- I stand corrected, just because she's currently in portland to talk to Leverage Inc, does not mean she's from Portland. She's from a (presumeably fictitious) small US town called Apple Springs (home of America's largest garden gnome) --- Ok it seems we're not even going to try and make the villain act like a human person. Just openly gloating to her intern about how she's gonna destroy the town. --- And once again Nate makes the point: The Food Industry is only thing scarier then Sterling. I like the premise of them going for a "smaller" target (a single store rather then the megacorp attached), but its sort of a suck that this episode promises to end with a "the real villain got away with it all in the end" sort of deal. (maybe the sequel series can do a call-back episode where they go after Corporate) --- Sophie starts listing Cadmium Poisoning symptoms. To a woman whose hotel room we have seen Parker and Nate break into already. This can only mean 1 thing: Its chemical warfare time! --- Oh so thats how corporate plays? Forging crimes onto Sophies Forged identity? Guess we might see Nate take the gloves off and take down corporate after all. (cause lets be clear, if this is a thing they know how to do it means they do it on the regular for non con-artists) --- I dont think Elliot is lying about his old man running a hardware store, like this could be an attempt to make the guy more sympathetic to his cause to aid the union, but this feels genuine.

Old man has diabetes... that is ominous, I feel like Elliot might be about to get himself a surrogate dad only to lose him. --- And she's met Nate. (only Hardison and Parker remain un-compromised)

Eliiot's dad is real. --- Oh she tracked them back to Portland. Now that either means our heroes somehow tipped her off deliberately or that she's got GPS tracking on her employees.

Oh she said the F word, (which means she can F off) also shouldnt the poisoning be kicking in right now? sure she prevented Sophie from telling the town about the "cadmium" but thats no reason to make her think she's not dying of cadmium poisoning. Making her think the thing she covered up is a genuine threat awaiting re-discovery is a great way for our heroes to get her on the mental back-foot --- "its not like we can make bad luck". Nate, im sorry to say that you're an idiot. Making it look like an accident is literally crimes 101. --- Sophie's bringing in the army. (oh the Kaki's and overall flashmob. Classic)

Oh Elliot's surrogate Dad just died and/or got hospitalised. --- Record sales? Oh we're so framing her for theft arent we. (rigged the cash registers to claim they're taking 99.99 for the TV's while still taking the full 999.99) And she even bragged "the TV's were my idea" so when the citisens sue Value!More over their fraudulent cash-receipts her bosses will pull out a recording from their phone conversation proving her guilt by her own admission! --- Wait it wasn't part of Nate's plan? Our team just accidentally pulled a loss leader? Goddamn it. Well the HQ guy is coming for the BBQ now. Which is probably on the parking lot that she thinks is cadmium poison... So poison HQ guy with cadmium and get her superiors to shut her store down? --- Wait we're only renovating her hotel room now? In literally any other episode we would've seen Nate and Parker break into the store, and then had a greyed out flashback of the things they did while there to poison the ever loving heck out of this woman. --- I dont like that, now that we're finally getting to the "drugging her by putting chemicals in her make-up and sleepmask" sequence we took out her shower. (I get it, its to make her more anxious over meeting HQ guy for her promotion by not letting her take care of herself. But we literally had an entire Poison story right there with the Cadmium and this is breaking from that narrative, it feels like the broken shower is an unnecessary risk. Im not saying she deserves a shower it just distracts from the Cadmium Poisoning story) --- And we got ourselves the classic "broadcast their conversation over the intercom". Last shot of her seeing Leverage Inc lined up so she can connect the dots of her being played somehow. Strong end to a rather weak episode. --- Our heroes are turning the not-really poisoned big box store into a theatre. (nice place for Sophie to Own instead of Rent, plus a good back-up now that the Frame Up Job compromised their new Portland residency) --- there's something really weird about the way in which Elliot keeps getting in short-term relationships with female clients.

Elliot is off to reunite with dad, but it seems that time will do what time will do. (whomever owns the home now has excellent taste in windchimes though. Love the little dolphins) --- This episode was generally sub-par as far as A-plot goes, every twist and one-up by Caroline felt like it came from right up a writers behind, and the final conclusion of "our battle shut off the one store but Evil Incorporated continues to win the war" leaves this episode overall unsatisfying in its climax. The Elliot sub-plot was good though. Just not enough to fix a broken episode.

[coughdontfeelwellcough]

For The First Time (L/ockwood and Co)

Summery: An easy job goes wrong when Lockwood fails to mention he’s sick, luckily Lucy is always there to pick up the pieces. 

Words: 3459

Author’s Note: Hi guys, so I’m abolutley obsessed with L/ockwood and Co, and if you’ve not watched it on netflix yet, please do!! Its about ghosts, ghouls, it’s found family, there’s plently of whump and one of the best slow burn romances I’ve seen in years! I’d like to add this is based off of the tv show where all the characters are in their early twenties. 

TW: Mentions of death and suicide. (mentions only in the terms of the ghosts) 

I hope you enjoy!! 

Lockwood had promised it would be an easy job, only a couple of type-ones in an old hotel, currently undergoing construction. It should have been open and shut, so why in the taxi back to Portland Road was Lockwood all but unconscious in the passenger seat and Lucy sat clutching an injured arm? 

Stupid, stubborn Lockwood, that’s why. 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have brought George?” Lucy asked, struggling with the extra bags. 

“Yes, because if I had to listen to him sniffling for another minute I would not be responsible for my actions,” Lockwood replied. 

George had been suffering with a particularly noisy cold for the last few days and though finally on the mend it was nice to get a bit of a break from his complaining about not being able to breathe through his nose. Even if it meant the added bags were giving her back ache.

They entered the hotel through a back door, a key having been left for them. It was clearly having work done, the walls were bare, the kitchen had been half ripped out and there were various bits of building equipment everywhere. They made camp at the reception desk, the front doors had been bordered up and sofas covered in dust sheets. Still they managed to find some chairs to sit on to drink their tea. 

“Do you think this was a nice hotel once?” Lucy asked. 

She’d never been in a hotel before, her family never went on nice holidays. They’d be lucky to get a caravan on Skegness beach.

“Hm? I don’t know… Maybe,” Lockwood replied. 

Lucy looked over to see Lockwood facing away from her, his tea half undrunk. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, thinking about it Lockwood had seemed a bit distracted all day. He’d nearly forgotten to pack the chains and they’d gotten lost on their way from the tube station. 

“Absolutely fine Luce,” he said, giving her one of his charming smiles. Though Lucy couldn’t help but notice it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Shall we begin?” he said, checking his watch. It was past six and the dusk had crept in making the shadows on the walls tower over them. Lucy nodded and started gathering up their things, though she couldn’t help but notice his tea stayed unfinished.

“Where are we going?” Lucy asked, pulling the chains over her shoulder. 

“The third floor, the reports sai…” Lockwood paused, stifling two sneezes into his coat 

sleeve. “HI’TWX… HIT’SSX.” 

“Bless you!” 

“Sorry, dust,” he said, rubbing his nose with his fist. 

“You’re sure you haven’t caught George’s cold?” 

“What? Of course not,” he said smiling, his nose a little pink. 

Lucy wasn’t convinced but didn’t say anything and just started up the stairs. The third floor was a mess, ceiling tiles were missing, wallpaper peeling and various doors hanging by their hinges. 

“Looks like no ones been up here in a very long time,” Lucy said. 

“It was abandoned not long after The Problem started, not many people felt safe staying in the city,” Lockwood replied. 

Lucy nodded and started laying the chains in a circle in the largest part of the hallway. She’d not long finished when the temperature started to drop. 

“Are you feeling that?” Lucy asked. 

Lockwood nodded. “10 degrees and dropping,” 

“How many are we dealing with?” 

“Should be no more than three, two suicides and an heart attack,” Lockwood replied, coughing lightly. Lucy looked over at him as he ran a hand over his face, he looked tired. Even more so than usual.  

“Do you want to sit down or something? You look knackered,” Lucy said. 

“Luce, I keep telling you I’m fined.” She didn’t miss the stuffiness in his voice but didn’t have time to say anything as she heard a ghostly voice call out. 

“I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry…” 

“Can you see anything? I’ve got a voice, it keeps saying sorry.” 

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t do it anymore….” 

“Lockwood?” 

A ghostly figure had appeared at the far end of the hallway and was slowly making its way toward her. 

“Lockwood?!” Lucy yelled, looking around he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Then she heard another voice, closer and more desperate. 

“Help me! Oh god… Please help me…” 

Lucy drew her rapier and moved to the centre of the circle, where was Lockwood? He was behind her just a second ago. 

“I’m so sorry….. Help me!” The voices were so close they were blurring together, Lucy reached into her belt for a salt bomb. 

“Lockwood!!” she screamed one last time and then she saw movement to her left in one of the rooms and there was another noise, it sounded like someone coughing? 

Lucy edged out of the circle and toward the room, rapier raised and ready. The door was already off its hinges and she entered slowly, keeping the creeping ghost in sight for as long as possible. She found Lockwood hunched over and hacking up a lung in the corner, he sounded awful. 

“Lockwood!” she snapped. 

He finally looked up to see her and even in the low light she could see how sickly pale he was. 

“Lucy, what’s wrong?” he rasped, choking back another cough. 

“I’m being cornered by two ghosts and my backup is too busy dying to help!” 

“I’m not dying,” he sniffed. 

“Then get over here! I’ve got one coming down the hallway and another approaching from the right.” 

They edged back out of the room together, Lockwood sticking to Lucy’s left. Up close she could hear the congestion in his breathing, how’d he managed to get so sick so quickly? He’d seemed fine only a little while ago. 

The visitor in the hallway had reached the iron circle, it was a wispy thing in the vague shape of a man. It was still repeating how sorry it was and something seemed to drip from it like it might have been bleeding. Lockwood threw a salt bomb at it and it disappeared as Lucy went after the one in the right hand room. It was larger than the other one, more fully formed in the shape of a rather large man. It hoovered near the floor like it might have been kneeling. 

“Help me… Help me please…” It continued to beg, Lucy honestly felt bad for it. It must have been an unpleasant death. Keeping her rapier steady in one hand she got a salt bomb but before she could throw it there was a noise from the hallway. 

“Lockwood?” 

When he didn’t reply she swore and backed out of the room, salt bomb still in hand. Lockwood stood outside the iron circle, rapier raised to ward off a third visitor. This one had come from behind them and was creeping at a quicker pace than the others. The noise she’d heard was Lockwood, he was sneezing. 

“HITT’SSHWW…. HIISSHH’TEWW…. HISSHHHH’EWWW….” 

The ghost was getting far too close and Lockwood’s hand was shaking as he tried to hold his rapier steady. Lucy barely had time to react; she ran to Lockwood, wrapped her arm around his waist and threw them both into the circle, landing painfully on her right arm. 

“Shit…” Lucy laid on her back, her toes touching the chains and sore arm across her chest. 

“Thanks Luce, I thought I was a goner…” Lockwood said, breathing heavily. 

“What happened? You were fine one minute,” she said, pushing herself up with her good arm. 

“It snuck up on me, I didn’t see it until it was on top of me.” His voice was getting congested, his words stuffy. 

“Because you’re sick and were too busy sneezing to notice,” Lucy replied, she’d just about had enough and was ready for a large mug of tea and a bath. 

“I am not sick…” Lockwood tried to argue but it sounded more like “I amb dot sick.” 

Lucy opened her mouth to argue but was stopped when the ghost she’d been previously dealing with joined them in the hallway. It seemed larger than before but still appeared to be kneeling, floating barely above the floor. 

“I thought you’d got that one,” Lockwood sniffed, running his wrist under his nose. 

“Sorry, I was a bit busy saving your life!” she snapped. Getting to her feet, Lucy picked up her rapier from where it had fallen, it felt wrong in her left hand but her right still felt pretty useless. 

“On the count of three, throw a salt bomb at it,” she said. 

“I’m out.” 

Lucy cursed, she was going to kill him. She’d dropped hers and couldn’t use her hand to get into her bag. 

“What do you have?” 

“Magnesium flare,” he replied. 

Lucy groaned, they’d been trying to avoid the use of magnesium flares after the events of Sheen Road unless desperately needed and it seemed injured and ill seemed desperate enough. 

“Use it, just be ready to run!” 

Lockwood stood beside her, his hair was everywhere and there was an unnatural brightness to his eyes. 

“Ready?” he asked, putting his hand on her good arm. 

Lucy nodded and he threw the flare, it exploded in a rain of iron, salt and fire. They ran down all three flights of stairs and out the door, only coming to a stop once they were outside in the glow of the ghost lamp. Lockwood was coughing again, so hard he was shaking. Lucy put her arm around him and guided him over to a low wall and forced him to sit. He finally regained control of his breathing though she could hear congested rattling about in his chest. 

“You’re an idiot,” she said. 

“Why?” 

“You’re ill! And you didn’t bother to tell me! You nearly got us both ghost touched in there, what were you thinking?” Lucy snapped, running a hand over her face. 

Now it was over she could feel how much her body ached, her skin burning from where the magnesium had touched it and her right arm was still throbbing painfully.

“I’m fine,” he sniffed, pulling a well used tissue from his pocket. 

He looked awful, a good few shades paler than he usually was, his nose was already bright red and his cheeks had an unhealthy feverish tint. Lucy was quite tempted to yell at him some more but decided against it, she just wanted to get back to Portland Road, plus she knew George would have a few choice words when they got in. 

The taxi was surprisingly quiet, Lockwood was curled up against the window, the only noise being his coughing and sniffling. Lucy sat on the other side, her injured arm on her lap. It was probably only a sprain from the fall but it definitely hurt. She was still mad at Lockwood but looking at him, looking the picture of illness, half asleep against the window it was hard to stay mad at him. 

It had just gone 2am when they pulled up outside No.35. Lucy had to help Lockwood to the door as he was shaking so badly, luckily George must have seen them approach and opened the door before they’d even reached the first step. 

“What the hell happened to you?” He said. 

“Just help me get him will you?” Lucy asked. 

Between the pair of them they got Lockwood onto the sofa and under a blanket as he was still shivering so hard his teeth were chattering. 

“Is he ghost touched?” George asked, looking over his friend for signs of injury. 

“No,” Lucy replied, collapsing on the sofa beside him. “He’s got your cold and didn’t tell me, nearly got us both killed.” 

“Jesus Lockwood, what were you thinking?” George asked. 

“I dob’t have your cold,” Lockwood replied, though his point was nearly lost on how stuffy his voice was. 

Lucy rolled her eyes and reached her good hand up his forehead, pressing her cool fingers to his overheated skin. 

“No, but you do have the flu apparently! You’re burning up Lockwood…” 

Lockwood groaned and leant back against the sofa, seeming to accept for the first time that he was indeed ill. 

“Good god, I miss one case and it all goes to hell..” George muttered. 

“Can you make some tea please George? And get the first aid kit? I’ve done something to my wrist.” 

George nodded and they heard him descend the stairs into the kitchen. 

“You’re hurt?” Lockwood asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“It’s nothing, just a sprain. I landed on it when we fell.” 

George returned with two of their largest mugs of tea, the first aid kit and a whole pack of tissues. 

“I’m not sure we’ve got any flu meds, I’ll have to go in the morning and get some,” he said. 

“I keep telling you, I’m fin’d,” Lockwood argued, though he was clinging onto his tea like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

Lucy just sighed and opened up the kit, looking for something she could bandage her wrist with. 

“Here, let me.” 

Lockwood put down his tea and took the kit from her. He laid her wrist in his lap and began carefully wrapping it up until his breath starting hitching. 

“HHHh…. hhHH…Hhh… HHHITISS’EEWW… HIST’SSHHewww…. HI…HIS…HISTT’SSHHEWWww…” 

He sneezed into his shoulder, his whole body shaking with the force of them. 

“Bless you!” said both George and Lucy. 

“ No…Not… Done….HISSHH’Ewww…. HITTSH’EEWwww….” 

“Jeez Lockwood, you sound awful,” George said. 

“I’m f…”

“If you say fine I am going to kill you,” Lucy said. 

Lockwood sighed, coughing into his fist. “You guys are such bullies.” 

“Only when you’re being an idiot.. Which is all the time,” Lucy smiled as Lockwood tried to scowl at her but he just looked like a sick puppy. They stayed until they’d drunk their tea and eaten a sufficient amount of biscuits then slowly they made their ways to bed. A good night's rest was in desperate need for everyone at Lockwood and Co. 

So when Lucy was woken at 7am, a mere 4 hours after going to bed she was not best pleased. At first she wasn’t sure what had woken her but then she heard it again, a sound was coming from downstairs and it sounded a lot like coughing. Lockwood. Lucy got up, her legs wobbly after the long night and made her way toward Lockwood’s room. The door was closed but she could still hear him, desperate, hacking coughs that sounded like they were tearing at his chest. She knocked at the door. 

“Lockwood? Are you okay?” 

“Luce?” His voice cracked and he coughed again. 

Lucy pushed up the door and found him sat up in bed, wearing one of his oversized grey hoodies and looking like death. 

“Are you alright? I’ve seen type twos that look better than you,” she said. 

“I think you and George were right, I feel like hell,” he said, leaning back against the headboard. Lucy did really feel bad for him, he sounded and looked awful. 

Whatever bug he’d picked up had taken him down hard and fast. 

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. 

“Some tea would be amazing,” he croaked, his voice nearly gone. 

“Okay, tea is coming up.” 

Lucy went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on, she was surprised George hadn’t woken up at the sound of Lockwood’s coughing or the sound of the kettle but it was probably better if at least one of them got a decent sleep. Lucy finished making two large mugs of tea and was about to head back to Lockwood’s room when she saw him on the sofa instead. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” 

“Thought I’d be comfier here,” he said, pulling the thick blanket around his shoulders. 

Lucy just shrugged and gave him his tea before joining him on the sofa. 

“Is it me or does this tea kind of taste like snot?” he asked. 

Lucy laughed. “It’s you, you’re so congested you probably can’t taste anything.” 

Lockwood gave a stuffy groan. “What kind of illness makes tea taste bad? That’s just evil.” 

“You’re obviously just that lucky,” Lucy laughed. 

Lockwood frowned and pulled his legs up to his chest, he was shivering again. 

“Are you cold?” 

He nodded, coughing roughly into his fist. 

“Do you mind?” she asked, holding out her hand. She’d never asked to touch him before but this seemed different, they were alone and he was vulnerable. More vulnerable than she’d ever seen him and it felt weird, like they’d crossed into unknown territory. 

“Go ahead.” 

Lucy leant across and placed her hand on his forehead then she trailed down to his cheeks and neck. 

“Your fever’s risen…” She went to remove her hand but he stopped her, putting her hand back against his cheek. 

“That feels nice,” he mumbled, eyes closed. 

“I should really find a thermometer…. And something cool for your head…” 

“Don’t go..” His voice was so weak, so small. It was unlike him to ask for anything, how could she deny him? 

“I’m not going anywhere.” she ran her hand through his hair, detangling the sweaty strains. He leant into her touch until his head rested on her shoulder.

 It doesn’t take them long before they’re both asleep again, curled up together on the sofa. And that’s how George found them a few hours later, Lockwood snoring through his congestion with Lucy’s arms around him. 

“Great, now you’re both going to get sick. Then what am I going to do?” 

“What’s George complaining about?” Lockwood asked, his face pressed against Lucy’s shoulder. 

“Don’t know, don’t really care,” Lucy mumbled, still half asleep. 

“I said, what am I going to do when you’re both sick? I’m not going out there by myself,” George said, vaguely gesturing to the outside world. 

“Maybe Lockwood and Co is going to have a little break, can’t kill us right?” Lucy said. 

“As long as we don’t lose any customers. George I need you t…. HIST’WX… HIS’TWX….” Lockwood stifled two sneezes into his wrist with a wince, no doubt they were hell on his throat. 

“Bless you, you’ve got to stop doing that, you’ll burst an eardrum,” Lucy said. 

Lockwood groaned and blew his nose into a tatty tissue “I just need George to ring Mr Morgan on Thames Street and tell him we’ll be there next week and…” 

“Lockwood stop it, we’ve got it. The agency isn’t going to fall apart because you take a sick day,” George said. 

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Lockwood sniffed. 

“Did Lockwood just say sorry? Quick Lucy, check his fever. He must be dying!” 

Lucy laughed and Lockwood tried but only ended up coughing, hand on his chest as the coughs tore through his lungs. 

“Breathe, breathe, you’re okay,” Lucy patted his back and forced him to drink sips of water until the fit ended, leaving him drained and shaky. 

“I think you need to go back to bed,” Lucy said. 

Lockwood nodded, looking exhausted. The dark marks under his eyes were worse than usual, especially against his pale pallor. 

“And I’m going to go out and get you some medicine, is there anything you’d like?” George asked. 

“Ice lollies? Mum always gave us ice lollies when we were sick as kids,” Lockwood said. He so rarely mentioned his family that it was a testament to how awful he was feeling, to be in need of such comfort. 

“Of course, anything else?” 

“Get him some cough stuff, I don’t want to have to drag his butt to hospital with pneumonia,” Lucy said. 

George nodded. “Okay, I’ll be back soon.” 

Lucy had to help Lockwood back up the stairs, he was so weak and feverish that just standing up was a great effort. He curled back up under his pile of blankets with a sigh, his shivers finally starting to ease.

“Try and get some sleep, I’ll wake you when George gets back with the meds,” Lucy said. 

“Hey… I didn’t say you could go.” 

Lucy smiled and sat on the side of the bed, her hand finding his. 

“Go to sleep,” she said. 

“I’d sleep better with you here,” 

Lucy chuckled, she couldn’t deny him that either. He’d made sure to leave enough room for her to climb in beside him. He curled up to her, his head on her chest and her arms around him. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched or even fallen asleep side by side but it was the first time one of them had asked for it, and maybe it was the first time they’d both start to think there was something more there. But in that moment it didn’t matter, he needed her and she would always be there to help pick up the pieces. 

“Feel better Antony.”  

[ourdrybones]

1. Cheated on me

2. Loves City and Colour and that guys music all sounds the same

3. Has horrible boundaries

4. Smokes even though he said he’d quit

5. Never gave me intentional compliments

6. Didn’t appreciate what he had while he had it

7. Couldn’t follow through with so so so many promises

8. His friends are lame as fuck and have zero integrity

9. I couldn’t wear heels around him

10. Doesn’t know what he wants

11. Willful and impulsive

12. Disconnected from his emotions

13. Secretive

14. Talks about people’s looks/weight

15. Cowardly

16. Couldn’t tell me what he liked about me

17. Has a pet lizard

18. Bad hygiene

19. Lives with roommates

20. Had no time management skills

21. Goes out to bars and gets hammered every weekend at his big age

22. Doesn’t take accountability for his actions

23. Doesn’t value or respect my feelings and emotions

24. Couldn’t hold space for me

25. Did so many hurtful things to me that he himself had to go through

26. Didn’t make me cum that often

27. Low libido

28. Majorly hypocritical and constantly changed his mind and his stories

29. Afraid of commitment

30. Couldn’t maintain being a good partner for longer than two months after getting of antidepressants

31. Has no internal dialogue and can’t explain his own feelings

32. Hates Portland

33. Made me watch so much anime

34. Didn’t drink enough water

35. Has no goals

36. Forgot about things that were important to me

37. Is unreliable in every way

38. Doesn’t really speak to his family

39. Is extremely impatient but acts as though I am

40. Doesn’t challenge himself to be better nearly as much as he should

41. Cheated on me

[kontextmaschine]

Well, even as bad as it got yesterday with anxiety attacks inflicting, ah, let's say psychic damage, the basic mood effects were still normal, not disordered anxiety, just VERY.

And so my mind's turning to Portland, with my more balanced projective/evaluative sense. And what if it continues developing as a great city to live but just never particularly realizes the promise of the early 2010s.

Like, when I was first here it felt like most everyone in a bar was a potential friend and/or lover. Among the new crowd, who's not suburban normie as I was fearing but still not really "keeping it weird", there's some promise if you go looking but like you have to look for them.

It really seems that the Portland I came to was filled with the quality people from other cities who looked around, saw that was no place for a quality life, and all came here for a personality-enriched environment.

Well, that and Oregonians who came through the 1980s collapse of the timber industry and much of the traditional… well, not "redneck", but a PNW-equivalent small town and rural white outdoorsy good-time laboring class. And not just that group entire but a selection of the most "urbany" among that – the ones who left their collapsing hometowns in the woods for Portland and often food service, not the ones who left for other outdoors manual and vehicular work in oil fields or the service.

And they are not in fact making more people with memories of 1988, and even a purely equivalent "looking to get out of town as a 20-year-old prep cook", economically I'm not sure that Portland would make sense as a destination even if it and his hometown elect the same governor.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary298

7/13-14/24

saturday - sunday

productive day...

for everything but the film score!! i am really slacking on that.

before i get to all the stuff i did, i will talk more about the show i went to yesterday w/ a friend of ours. he came and got me, he and his gf, which i really appreciate, they are too kind, he even paid for me at the door... which was also very kind. my gf at least got him back for that.

so we were there for a while before the show, and then the show was a little late to start, it was nice that it was an all ages show, or it's nice that there are all ages shows, but being around teenagers is so strange, they stare, for one, i think maybe less because of my, uhm, i guess we would call it 'condition' (being vague helps me feel vague or something between the cracks (buy basically transfemme (obviously))), so less because of that though it is certainly part of it i imagine, and more because i do not dress the same. like i don't really dress like i'm a scene girl or like in the stupid gigantic pants and giant t shirts or crop tops or whatever. i mostly just dress like myself, annoying + wanting to be cute/sexy, but emphasis on cute i suppose.

anyway, there's that, which feels weird, and then also the fact that they're really not socialized well, and they kinda go hard in pits in ways that make no sense, like grabbing and throwing one another during rather slow and morose music that is mostly just kind of nice but not like, you know, it doesn't make you want to do more than sway in place basically. but they throw and stuff, it's annoying frankly because i'm just standing around and they knock into me and it hurts a little but also like, what am i supposed to do. i guess it's my bad for going to the show in the first place, i had a friend go into the pit and he was like, going hard a bit, and then immediately he ran back out like, they're weak, they're too weak.

anyway, the bands, first up was my friend's band i put their performance on yt. obviously not good video or sound quality but that is #thepoint, so here that is:

you get a view of the venue and the weird little old guy who owns the place. he's a sweet dude, it's nice that he has the shows here, it's sad the kids do not respect the space. i saw like, 3 march through with skateboards for no reason, to the back. i don't know what's up with that. hope they didn't fuck anything up! the old guy reminded me of how side characters in s1 of twin peaks feel. funny and nice, off kilter but basically pleasant...

anyway, we only stuck around for... 2 more bands i'm pretty sure.

second was this group common girl, they were the band the kids tried moshing to. they are fine, basically, shoegaze from portland trying to go in on how screamo is getting big again, they kind of got a little city of caterpillar, post-rock-y post hardcore-y... it's fine music but it doesn't really go fast or hard enough for me to even begin thinking about really dancing to it. so it's in an uncomfortable space, it sounds good recorded but they also sound way too much like narrow head. every band's got those chords right now. it's annoying. too much like, grunge influence. i thought it could not get old. but it gets old quick, actually.

3rd up is twistur... they were also okay but too prog-y, in the midwest emo way where they're all good at their instruments and stuff and it's like, they do some dumb jazzy stuff in between the guy being sad about girls or something. it's okay, it's fine. but the twinkly shit gets on my nerves. they also got gaze-y too, and hard too, there was one quite good song they had that was more of a post-rock thing, lots of space, interesting sense of pace and somehow, despite all the building, not really feeling slow. they're onto something if they stick with that sound, but i don't think that would go over well so much unless they really can make people stop and think, really feel it. i hope they can. both of these bands certainly have a lot of promise in that regard, so i guess basically i hope they keep doing stuff, they're definitely nice dudes trying their best, nothing felt cynical really, which is a good thing, sometimes, or i guess maybe because of the dj scene being where i was around for so long, you get that sense. i guess at their last show i went to, there was some of that, a bit, but most of the people in bands have a dorky thing going on, not in a bad way, it's just very earnest, to be doing that right now i think. that might be part of why it seems like the kids are super feeling that now, which i think is nice, it might lead to a resurgence of interesting guitar / guitar-ish music.

i guess we're sorta getting some of that w/ the whole electroclash thing going on. it doesn't even feel so much like a repeat, the good stuff at least, it feels like a true second wave almost, pretty #swaggy if you ask me!!

anyway, today:

i wrote lyrics for 2 songs!! that's pretty big i m o, cuz tomorrow i can try recording some stuff at least, or practice.

then, i wrote riffs!! on my guitar!! that felt really good, i sat there a while trying to figure out how to play better again, gonna keep on that i think, feels really good to try that, i do miss playing amplified but it's probably for the best i am not, since that would annoy lots of people and i'd just get sad i'm not very good, plus i'd get too focused on finding sounds. it's good i just sit and focus on writing riffs.

also, while doing lyrics, i was singing/practicing my vocals, which felt very good, also, nice to get back to that.

+i cooked and stuff, my gf had a long day, it was eventful but this job will probably make her very exhausted, hopefully i can help on some level w/ that.

i also exported a song, with much difficulty... idk why it was such a pain to figure out. i think i wanna go back in and mess with it a bit but i think there's some issue with some of the plugins, i mean definitely, to cause a crash like that. consistently... sooo fucking annoying!

it does keep crashing, hopefully this becomes normal after i turn my computer on tomorrow... idk what to do other than re-do all the plugins (lollllll) otherwise.

anyway, i have to sleep now, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!