#I wouldn't want to work for a corporation

[ariadne-mouse]

For the "I wish you would write a fic where…" I don't know if this counts because it's not a new fic, but:

"Was? Essek? I thought you were out of town?"

Caleb wakes up with obsidian flakes of a'a in his hair and and no memory of the last few years. His very-new boyfriend has adopted his cat, there's a court case for his attemped murder, and he might have been a ghost?

A followup to The Fire Kept Closest, from Caleb's POV, filling in the timejump to the epilogue.

Thank you for the ask! It took me a minute to get to this ask game, but here we are. I am not writing exactly to the prompt, but I hope you like this 830-word slice of post-fic Volcaleb nonetheless!

-

"I would like to go, I think."

Essek paused where he had just gathered a scoop of cat kibble. The awaiting dish lay on the floor, empty. "Are you sure?"

"Ja," Caleb answered. He folded the local newspaper he had been reading in half, the headline visible: Corporate Clash: Cerberus takes the stand. "I know it's best my situation stays out of the spotlight, at least for now, but I want him to see me. To see my face, and know that I know." His expression darkened. "I want him to sweat."

At Essek's feet, Frumpkin yowled his impatience, unaware of corporations, or bureaucracy, or indeed the significance of newspapers beyond the fact that they were sometimes fun to sit on.

"Calm down, calm down," Essek tutted, and gave the beast his meal. He smoothed a hand down Frumpkin's back, thinking. "I'll go with you, if you really want to go."

Caleb smiled grimly. "Danke. I would like that. But I have an idea, also - you can help."

-

Vence Nuthaleus cleaned up well in a suit, and he knew it. It was unfortunate that the volcano on Rumblecusp had popped its top as soon as it had, but he was still safely ensconced in respectability - and more importantly, plausible deniability. Research was only as good as records available, and his land use recommendation report had been scientifically sound with the data from the island's active seismometer network.

It didn't even alarm him that he was playing a kind of mutually assured destruction game with Cerberus. They wanted to publicly shed him as a "bad actor", especially convenient given his contractor status - but if they did, he'd reveal they had been the ones to disconnect the last seismometer. He had enough leverage in writing to make the accusation compelling, and they knew it. The thing they might most want to pin on him... well, they didn't have any evidence of that. All told, it was in Cerberus's best interest to protect him. And so he wore his most approachable suit, and a polite smile, and answered questions as earnestly as he could when he was on the stand. Mardoon Estate only wanted money, after all, and Cerberus certainly had plenty of that. Vence didn't need to be scapegoat for it all to work out eventually.

The courtroom around him was full for the spectacle. The door creaked open every so often as the gawkers and media came and went, like bees buzzing on a hive. He sometimes saw familiar faces from the island: Dr. Vilya, Beauregard, Thelyss. Today the last of these was sitting in one of the back rows by himself, glaring at Vence like he always did when he was there. Too bad; being a stuck-up trust fund baby wouldn't help Thelyss here.

It was some minutes before Vence's attention was drawn by a spot in the standing room in the back that had not moved at all for some time. Even as his mouth answered the current question on autopilot, his eyes were drawn to look at the vacuum of stillness.

A dead man was looking back at him.

Vence's words curdled in his throat, choking his breath.

He was there. Caleb Widogast was there, standing among the throng.

"Mr. Nuthaleus?" prompted the examiner.

"I... I..."

The ghost - it could only be a ghost - stared at him with those eerie blue eyes, unblinking. He was dressed like he had been, for a hike on the mountain. There was even a lightweight heatsuit half-zipped and tied around his waist.

He looked exactly like he had when he had died. When--

Vence couldn't pull his gaze away. "Could- could you repeat the question?"

The examiner repeated it, and again Vence did not hear.

Nearby, Thelyss was standing up. He favored Vence with a last look of contempt before making for the double doors. The crowd parted to let him pass, but Widogast did not move. And Thelyss... walked right past him, like he wasn't there.

A chill rolled down Vence's spine and his breathing came faster. He could hear a ringing noise, his vision was narrowing.

With effort, he turned a smile to the judge. "I'm sorry, I think I need a moment."

When he turned back, Caleb Widogast was gone.

-

Outside in the hallway, Essek leaned on the wall next to Caleb, who sat heavily on a bench. The heat suit was stuffed back into a bag.

"Feel any better?"

A muscle in Caleb's face twitched, and his hand balled in a fist. "A little. I don't know. Seeing him-" His breath left him in a gust. "It was harder than I expected."

Essek touched his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  "Come, then. Let's go. We can learn what happened later. Frumpkin is waiting for you at home."

This last tactic was always a surefire way to bring a little smile back to Caleb's face, and it proved to be so now.

“Ja,” Caleb agreed, straightening up.  “Let’s go home.”

[navybrat817]

A Cornucopia for You!

Steve Rogers; secret dating; corporate; fluff

Your feet felt the sweet relief of solid ground as you slipped your heels off in the elevator ride up to your penthouse. The artificial light in the small box was bright, so much in comparison to the darkness outside. You swore you wouldn’t have seen the sun today if it weren’t for the floor to ceiling windows in your CEO suite.

Channing, the newest board member who had just taken over for his late father, had been relentless for the past few months. He forced you to work late hours, constantly tried to embarrass you every single chance he had, and never took your word for anything, claiming the only reason the company held onto a female CEO and put up with you was “because you’re single.”

He wasn’t quite right about that, though. Sure, you weren’t married, but for the better part of a year, you’d been dating someone so sweet, so kind, and so perfect, except for the fact that he was the CEO of a startup company. One that the board considered a rival.

So you and Steve kept a few simple rules: keep the relationship private, and do your best to keep work talk out of your homes. The second rule was a little more flexible, though. The two of you often found yourselves helping each other with problems, pulling on your collective experience, and of course Steve knew about how terrible Channing was being. Especially since he believed you to be a single workaholic that wouldn’t hop off your back.

Work had gotten you twisted so much so that you’d even forgot what today was until the elevator doors opened and you stepped out. Fluorescent light was replaced by candle and moonlight, vases of your favorite flowers lined your tabletops, and lounging in the middle of your living room sat an all too familiar large figure.

“Steve.” It came out as more of a gasp than anything as you watched him stand and gracefully walk over to you.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He greeted you with a hug and the sweetest kiss on the lips. You could feel yourself melting into his arms, almost all the tension releasing from your shoulders, but when you pulled away, concern furrowed your brows. Steve clocked it immediately, of course he did. His warm hands gently brushed up and down your arms.

“Hey, I know this week has been a lot, but you’re home now. You and I can just relax.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you nodded, placing your forehead against his shoulder with a sigh.

“You’re right. I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge. I know it’s not the most romantic, but we can heat them up and eat them in the tub?”

Steve laughed, his eyes lighting up with genuine affection before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You heat up the bath and I’ll heat up the food?”

As the two of you sat opposite each other in the oversized tub, bubbles up to your shoulders, you were so grateful for him and the peace he provided you. The sanctuary.

Steve finished off his glass of wine and set it to the side. “I know we agreed no work talk, but I just wanna say one thing. If you think it’s a bad idea, feel free to forget it and move on, but this offer will always stand.”

You shifted, putting a leg in Steve’s lap for a foot rub and you stifled a groan as he began.

“Come work with me.”

Your eyes quickly shot open at that. “What?”

“Be my co-CEO. Heck, be the sole CEO if you want, but I really don’t wanna see you torn up by shareholders anymore. I don’t have those. You’d be your own boss. We’d be unstoppable.”

You set your wine glass aside and sat up, making your way to straddle Steve’s lap, your hands gripping his steady shoulders. You leaned in and watched as his eager eyes shifted between yours, your lips brushing his, sharing shallow breaths.

“Okay.”

Oh, Steve is so perfect! ❤️ Essie, you are amazing, and I love everything about this. I wouldn't hesitate to give Channing the finger on my last day. And the image of the flowers and Steve sitting there both sweetly and full of power. We all need someone like him in our lives. ❤️

Love and thanks! ❤️

[tinydefector]

Behind the Scenes 5- DC

Tim Drake x Male reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: classic Tim being obsessed over unknowns.

Masterlist

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The Wayne Manor was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, save for the occasional sound of footsteps and the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen. Tim sat in the library, his laptop open on the table in front of him, several tabs pulled up as he combed through every scrap of information he could find on Sarah, the nursery, and, most frustratingly, Y/N.  

He was so engrossed in his search that he didn’t notice the faint creak of the door opening behind him.  “You’re doing that thing again,” came Duke’s voice, breaking the silence making Tim jolt slightly, looking up from his screen. As Duke leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a curious grin on his face.  

“What thing?”  a frown slowly creased its way onto his lips as he stared Duke down. “You know,” Duke snickers, walking into the room and dropping into a chair across from him. “The thing where you get all hyper-fixated on something and start acting like a conspiracy theorist. You’re, like, two coffee cups away from turning this into a full-on crime board with red string.”  

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not a conspiracy. I’m just... looking into something.”  

“Uh-huh,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at the laptop screen. “So what’s got you all worked up this time? Serial killer? Corporate espionage? Secret society trying to take over Gotham again?” Tim hesitated for a moment, weighing whether or not to bring Duke into this. But before he could respond, another voice chimed in.  

“Tim’s got a new obsession?” Dick sauntered into the room, his usual grin plastered across his face. He flopped onto the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table despite Tim’s glare and groaning over not wanting to have everyone snooping in his business and his mini case.  

“I don’t have an obsession,” Tim said flatly.“You totally do,” Duke said, smirking. “He’s been glued to that laptop since breakfast. And judging by the way he muttered, ‘Why would she bury that recording?’ earlier, I’m guessing it’s something juicy.”  

Dick perked up at that, his grin widening,  eagerly trying to look over Tims shoulder to see what sort of case he had been working on or piecing together “Ooh, now I’m interested. Spill, Sherlock.”  

“It’s nothing,” Tim said quickly, closing one of his tabs. “Just... something weird I noticed at the nursery Alfred and I went to yesterday.” Dick raised an eyebrow, before shooting Duke a look. “a nursery? the one Alfred dragged you to?”  

“Yeah,” Tim muttered, clearly reluctant to elaborate. Duke and Dick exchanged a look before and then Duke is leaning forward with a smile as his eyes dance across the screen trying to catch snippets of what he can read. “Okay, now you have to tell us. What’s so weird about a nursery?”  

Tim knew he wasn't getting out of this, he wasn't the only detective in the family and knowing his luck one of them would figure something out if they didn't just blatantly ask Barbara to hack his computer. He lets out a reluctant sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this. “Fine. There’s this guy who works there—Y/N. He’s... not normal.”  

“Not normal how?” Dick asked, his curiosity clearly piqued.  

Tim hesitated again, trying to figure out how to explain without sounding insane. “meta, has a way animals and plants react to him like nature takes to him. It normally wouldn't be a problem except this is me, I get a weird feeling while there, he's what’s making my detective instincts go off so i dig a bit And then there’s this video of him and Ivy...”  

That got their attention. “Wait, Poison Ivy?” Duke asked, sitting up straighter. “What kind of video?” Tim opened his saved files scrolling through until he found it, pulling up the grainy footage he’d found the night before. He hit play, and the three of them watched as Y/N and Ivy stared each other down, the crow perched on Y/N’s shoulder shifting uneasily while the plants around Ivy swayed in her presence.  

No one said a word as the clip played out, showing Ivy turning and leaving without so much as a word, while Y/N remained frozen in place. When the video ended, Dick let out a low whistle. “Okay, that is weird. Like not as weird as I was expecting but more so the fact that Ivy just straight up turned around and walked off ”  

“Exactly,” Tim said, gesturing at the screen. “Ivy doesn’t just back down like that. Not unless there’s a good reason. And then she never went back to the nursery again. Ever.” Duke frowned, leaning closer to the screen. “What’s the deal with the crow? It’s just... sitting there, like it’s his pet or something.”  

“That’s the thing,” Tim said, pulling up another clip from the security footage. This one showed Y/N walking through the nursery, with the same crow trailing after him. “Animals act weird around him. They follow him around, leave him little trinkets... it’s like they’re drawn to him.” Dick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the second clip. “So he's a nature based Meta?, i mean it's not the first time we have had run in’s with them, but he doesn't seem hostile. So why is he on your radar?”  

“I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He's just… his file seems to be clean, No criminal record, no connection to Ivy or anyone else in Gotham’s rogue gallery. He’s just a guy who works at a nursery.” Tim really doesn't know why he was so fixated, but after the rumours of Ivy having an apprentice and then Y/n, it couldn't be a coincidence. 

“And yet,” Duke said, pointing at the screen, “Ivy looked at him like she’d seen a ghost. That’s not nothing.” “Exactly,” Tim said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s something going on with him. I just don’t know what it is yet, i'm trying to find information, whether he's involved with Ivy somehow, and well i've heard she has an apprentice, and him showing up”  

Dick leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You think he's involved?”  

“like 73%, there is a probability that he isn't but with everything so far, i just need to see if there is anything else with him and Ivy, because it may, may have been a fluke of two people with nature based abilities having a stare down, but even that probability is extremely low” Tim said. “Interesting,” Dick said, tapping his chin. “So what’s your next move, Detective Drake?”  

Tim rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t have a ‘next move.’ I’m just... keeping an eye on things for now. He hasn't caused any chaos that im aware of, so i'm just observing ”  

Duke snorted, trying to cover up a cackle. “Yeah, right. You’re already planning to go back there, aren’t you?”  

“I—” Tim paused, realizing they weren’t wrong. “Classic Tim. You get a mystery in your head, and you can’t let it go. You’re gonna end up camped out in the nursery parking lot with binoculars, aren’t you?, mightstart calling you Inspector gadget again”  

Tim huffed, closing his laptop. “Whatever. You guys don’t get it. There’s something weird going on with Ivy, and I’m going to figure out what it is. And so far everything is pointing towards Y/n”  

“Sure, sure,” Duke said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But hey, let us know when you crack the case. This is way more interesting than patrol. I happen to enjoy when you get yourself wrapped in an obsessive state over a case”  Tim glared at him and if a look could freeze Duke it would have, but Dick just laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Don’t work yourself into a frenzy, Tim. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”  

“You’re not taking this seriously.”  “Oh, we are,” Duke said, holding up a hand. “It’s just more fun to watch you spiral.”  

“I’m not spiraling!”  Tim hissed out in defence. “You are definitely spiraling,” Dick said with a chuckle. “But hey, I get it. Weird guy, weird vibes, weird encounter with Ivy—it’s a classic Gotham mystery. I’d be curious too.” Tim groaned, slumping back in his seat. 

Before anyone could say more, the subtle sound of footsteps caught their attention.  Cass walked into the room, her dark eyes scanning the scene in front of her. She tilted her head, clearly intrigued by the animated discussion.

What are you talking about?

she signs, it takes her a moment to make sure she had signed it right. And took Duke and Dick a bit longer to translate it than it did Tim. 

 

The three boys exchanged a look, and then Duke grinned. “Oh, Cass, you’re gonna love this. Tim’s got a new mystery guy.” Cass blinked, her gaze shifting to Tim. “Not like that!,” Tim said quickly, his face flustering pink as he elbows Duke. “It’s not a thing. It’s just... There's this guy at the nursery Alfred took me to. He’s… a meta who has similar abilities to Ivy.”  

Cass raised an eyebrow and sat down on the armrest of the couch near Tim, silently encouraging him to continue. “Okay, so there’s this guy, Y/N, who works at the nursery. Animals and plants act weird around him, like they’re drawn to him. And the footage I found shows him having some kind of... standoff with Poison Ivy. She didn’t attack him. She didn’t even say anything. She just... left.”  

Cass frowned slightly, her expression thoughtful.

Not normal?

she signs simply. “Exactly!” Tim said, gesturing at her like she’d just proved his point. “Show her the video,” Duke said, nodding toward the laptop.  

Tim hesitated for a moment, then pulled up the footage again and turned the screen to face her. Cass leaned in, watching closely as the grainy video played out. Her sharp eyes followed every detail. Y/N standing frozen, the crow on his shoulder shifting restlessly, Ivy’s calm but deliberate retreat. When the clip ended, Cass sat back, her brow furrowed. Her finger moves to point towards his neck and cheek.

Leaves?   

Cass pointed at the screen. “Y/N. He’s nervous, but... not afraid. Not of her.” Her voice is rather quiet and slightly raspy as she talks, making an uncomfortable face as she analyses the young man. “Calm. Like... he belongs.” she continues. “Belongs?” Tim repeated, his frown deepening. “What do you mean by that?”  

Cass gestured vaguely toward the screen. “Plants. Animals. They like him. Trust him. He doesn’t force it. It’s... natural. like..”  She's trying to find the right word but can't. “zїna biando ” Dick mutters his accent coming out for a moment. Making everyone look at him. “You said there were little leaves and vine patterns On his skin, can you zoom in enough on them?” he asked rather fascinated, he hadn't heard stories of the Fae born since he was a child. 

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed what Dick had said. The image is blurry but they can all make out the very fine line little leaves that seem to pulse under Y/n's skin, they look like little fine leaf ferns or something akin to them. 

“ he’s not controlling them,” Dick said slowly. “It’s more like... they’re drawn to him because of what he is. My Daj used to tell me stories about the fairies when I was little, about how they used to steal babies away when they were small and replace them. Used to scare me shitless as a kid”  

Duke let out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s... kind of cool. Still weird, but cool.” Tim, however, wasn’t satisfied. “That still doesn’t explain why Ivy backed off,” he said, staring at the screen. “She doesn’t care about people who are meta She only cares about plants. If she left him alone, it’s because she saw something in him. Something that made her think he wasn’t a threat—or maybe she was afraid of him.”  

“Maybe he isn't a meta, Dick did just say he reminded him of fairies, and I know for a fact they aren't cute little winged creatures that fly around granting wishes. Ever think he might be something outside of the normal ” Duke said, while shooting Dick a look of ‘you said it not me’  

“Or,” Dick said with a grin, “maybe he’s secretly her long-lost nephew.”  and that just makes Tim groan. “You’re not helping. One moment you're saying he's an ancient being and the next that he's her nephew you're impossible you know that.”  

Cass nodded. “But don’t push too hard,” she added, her expression softening. “If he’s hiding, there’s a reason.” Tim considered her words, then nodded slowly, he trusted Cass’ advice more than a lot of other people's. She was good at reading people and understanding them from just a glimpse. “Alright. I’ll keep digging, but... carefully.”  “Good,” Cass said, a small smile tugging at her lips.  

Duke grinned. “Man, this is shaping up to be way better than I thought. Let me know if you find anything juicy, Tim.” Dick chuckled, standing up and stretching. “Yeah, keep us updated on your new favorite mystery guy. But i'm probably going to head, i want to try and make it back to Blüdhaven before the midday rush, I'll catch you all next week, oh Jason's also organising for an arcade night next Saturday”  

Tim turned back to his laptop, her words echoing in his mind. Whatever Y/N was hiding, Tim was more determined than ever to find out. But now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Cass might be right whatever the truth was, it wasn’t going to be simple.

—----

The quiet hum of Y/N’s voice filled the small apartment as he moved from plant to plant, watering can in hand. The soft golden light of the morning poured in through the window, illuminating the small jungle he’d created on his windowsill. Each plant looked healthier than it had any right to leaves vibrant, stems strong, buds ready to bloom.  

Out on the balcony railing, the crow that frequently visited him sat fluffed up, the soft clicks and occasional caws breaking the otherwise peaceful silence as it fiddled with the toys and treats stuck in them. 

“You guys are looking better,” Y/N murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over the leaves of a small, struggling fern. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid of hurting the delicate greenery. “Knew you just needed a little love. Glad I brought you home, hopefully this fertilizer will be more gentle on you than the stuff at work.”  

The fern seemed to perk up under his touch, its leaves ever so slightly unfurling. Y/N smiled softly at the sight, a quiet sense of pride blooming in his chest. He moved on to the next plant, a wilting orchid he’d taken from the nursery just a week ago. It had been deemed unsellable, the kind of plant most people would have thrown away without a second thought, after all orchids were known for being a hard plant to keep alive. But Y/N had seen potential in it, like he always did. Changed the substrate it was in for rock moss in hope it would help keep it from getting root rot.  

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be beautiful again soon,” he said softly. He added a small pinch of his homemade fertilizer mix and gave the orchid an encouraging tap on the side of its pot. The crow clicked again, drawing Y/N’s attention. He glanced toward the balcony, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What? You want some attention too?I just gave you blueberries and peanuts trying to swindle more treats out of me?”  

The bird fluffed itself up further in response, letting out a soft caw. “Alright, alright,” Y/N said with a chuckle, setting the watering can aside. He stepped out onto the balcony, resting his forearms on the railing as he looked out at the city. The crow hopped closer, its beady eyes locking onto him. “You’re so spoiled, you know that?” Y/N said, reaching out to scratch the bird's head. The crow tilted its head, leaning into the touch.  

Y/N let out a contented sigh, his gaze drifting back to the plants inside. The apartment was small, but it felt alive, every corner brimming with greenery, from the hanging pots in the kitchen. It was a little sanctuary in the middle of Gotham.   

As he finished tending to the last plant, stepping back and surveyed his little indoor garden. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “There we go. You guys are all set.”  

Y/N settled into his couch, the crow flying in to perch on the backrest beside him. He grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV, the soft hum of the news anchor’s voice filling the room.  

The familiar Gotham News Network “ temperature. Highs today will reach the mid-50s, but by tomorrow morning, we’re looking at lows in the upper 30s. So, make sure to bundle up and keep an umbrella handy, expect ice on the roads and perhaps even some snow!”  Y/N ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the plants by the window. If it did snow he'd have to bring all the plants from the balcony inside, he didn't want them to get frost burn. “You guys are lucky you don’t have to deal with the cold,” he muttered with a small smile.   

“In other news, a multi-car pileup on the Gotham Expressway has left three people injured and caused significant delays for morning commuters. Authorities say the accident was caused by a trailer losing control on a slick patch of road. Emergency services are working to clear the road.” Footage of flashing lights, emergency vehicles, and crumpled cars filled the screen, followed by a statement from a spokesperson for the Gotham City Police Department.  

“Thankfully, no fatalities have been reported, but we urge drivers to exercise caution, particularly with rain expected later today. And positive snow and ice in the coming days”  

Y/N sighed, shaking his head. “Gotham traffic is bad enough without stuff like that, guess ill be leaving extra earlier for my shift on monday so i dont get caught” he murmured.  

The anchor’s shifted again this time to a woman at a desk, this time to the lighter, polished tone reserved for celebrity gossip.  

“And here in Gotham, headlines as Bruce Wayne announced a new charitable initiative at yesterday’s gala. The initiative, focused on improving inner-city schools, will launch with a $10 million donation from Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Wayne, known for his philanthropic efforts, spoke briefly to reporters about the project.”  

The screen cut to footage of Bruce Wayne, dressed in a sharp suit, smiling politely as he addressed a crowd of reporters outside the venue. “This city’s children deserve every opportunity to succeed and have a chance for a better future, ” Bruce said, his tone calm and confident. “Education is the foundation of a brighter future, and it’s our responsibility to provide the resources and support they need to thrive.”  

The clip ended, cutting back to the anchor.  

“Wayne Enterprises CEO Tim Drake-Wayne also announced plans to partner with several local nonprofits to ensure the funds are distributed effectively. This comes on the heels of a recent spike in Wayne Enterprises’ stock prices following the successful launch of their clean energy program.” Y/N let out a low whistle, leaning back into the couch. “Man they are always busy, that lot” he said, shaking his head.  

Y/N lounged back against the couch, one leg draped over the armrest as he lazily flicked through the channels. The familiar static hum of old TV shows filled the room, and he settled on an episode of mind-numbing drama that he didn’t care enough to name. It wasn’t for the story; it was just background noise to accompany the quiet peace of his apartment.  

Reaching to the side table, Y/N grabbed a small stack of books he’d been working through. The worn covers and dog-eared pages spoke of his frequent use, each book filled with handwritten notes, underlined passages, and little scraps of paper sticking out as bookmarks.  

His fingers trailed over the spine of one before he opened it, flipping to a section he’d been revisiting lately: remedies for colds and flu. The weather report replayed itself in his mind—a sudden cold front, rain, and dropping temperatures. He already knew what that meant.  

Mrs. Callahan from down a floor would be knocking soon, asking for something to help with her sinuses, which he'd then remind her she needed to see a doctor over it. And Mr. Moran would probably stop by later in the week, claiming he wasn’t sick while sniffling through every word. Y/N smirked as he flipped through the pages, his fingers tapping softly against the book’s edge.  

He didn’t mind. His neighbors weren’t bad people, and they were always grateful for the little tinctures and herbal teas he whipped up for them. Better than the over-the-counter stuff, they always said. “Alright,” he murmured to himself, scanning a recipe for elderberry syrup. “Elderberries, ginger, honey, cinnamon... got plenty of that. Should probably make a bigger batch this time.”  

His eyes shifted to another section, one detailing a simple herbal vapor rub. He scratched at the faint stubble on his jawline, making a mental note to check his stash of eucalyptus oil. After jotting down a few quick notes in the margins of the book, Y/N stood, stretching his arms above his head. The soft rustling of the nearby plants caught his attention as he moved. Their leaves seemed to shift slightly toward him, as though drawn by some invisible force. He paused, smiling faintly.  

“You guys are so needy,” he teased lightly, brushing his fingers over the nearest set of leaves.  Y/N wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a large mixing bowl and a few jars from the cabinet. He worked methodically, humming softly as he pulled ingredients from various cupboards. His crow companion let out a soft caw from its perch on the back of a chair, watching him with the same curious intensity it always seemed to have.  

Y/N said, tossing the bird a small piece of dried fruit he’d left out on the counter. The crow caught it mid-air, clicking in approval as it settled down to eat. The herbs and jars are spread out across the counter as Y/N begin to measure and mix. The faint scent of cinnamon and honey filled the air as he started on the elderberry syrup, carefully boiling the berries with spices before straining the mixture into a pot.  

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Translation: 

zїna biando - fairy born

Daj - mother

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homemade cough and cold syrup 

Elderberry syrup 

1 cup dried Elderberries 

4 cups water 

½ cup honey or sweetener of choice 

A piece of ginger 

4 cloves 

2 cinnamon sticks 

(Optional add ins) 

2 sprigs of rosemary 

3 star anise 

1 tbsp of Yarrow 

Garlic and Honey 

Add garlic and honey into a jar of choice and let ferment for 4 weeks. Make sure to tip and burp your jar at least once every two days. 

Fire cider 1L worth 

1 red onion 

2-3 jalapeno's or chilli's 

1 large orange 

1 lemon 

1 head of garlic smashed 

1 bunch of thyme 

1 bunch of rosemary

Small handful of peppercorns 

5 cloves 

A cinnamon stick 

Dried cayenne pepper 

Ginger (measure with your heart) 

Turmeric (half of your ginger) 

Fill jars with raw apple cider vinegar once everything is in the jar

(Honey is Optional) 

___________________

Also, for everyone, this here was the rescue Crow I had for a while who still visits my grandmother, his name is Kohl. He's the base of the crow in the story, so I hope you enjoy it.

Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list for this fic.

[amerasdreams]

THIS is partly what I mean. I need more stillness and rest than most. Or I get burned out fast, I'm consumed by the horrible, rote, meaningless activity and it even drains me of energy for real things, creativity, things that matter. A state of constant tension (which I have anyway but even more). NEVER a life I want to live.

I need a workday of 4-5 hours-- unless it's work I love and am passionate about-- with the rest being rest, immersing in nature, creativity, hands on things, volunteer, interacting with kids and animals, etc.

I dont care about a lot of material things anyway. So I don't need a lot of money for superficial things like fashionable clothes, fancy cars, things thst font matter compared to things that aren't quantifiable. I am the sort of person who is really not made for this society at all, with its relentless consumerism and shallowness, hollowness-- I strive for meaning, the things that are suited to my skills and natural inclinations

[spaghett-onaplate]

it's literally not a good idea in any way shape or form but I want to get a second job in fast food

[belladonnafleur]

🌸

[viiridiangreen]

RARE TECH-RELATED VIRI W

i was gonna Fucking Lose It if these were gone tbh.

[screambirdscreaming]

One time on the bus I sat next to a visibly very stressed and exhausted middle-aged woman and, upon offering basic social niceties, recieved an absolute deluge of information about everything that had gone wrong with her day

During the course of which I was gradually able to put together that she worked in middle-management / marketing (?) for a candy corporation (?) and had spent the day at a fair in which candy was marketed *to be marketed* (???)

Like. The attendees of this fair were candy corporations, presenting new candy-brand ideas, and grocery corporations, deciding which of these new candy types they would stock at their stores. Which she did not tell me, exactly, so much as rattled off a bunch of incomprehensible things about trends in candy marketing which I was somewhat able to put together were not about *customer* marketing, but about marketing to other corporations about what you thought their customers wanted - or rather, would want, once you'd made other entirely different marketing campaigns to convince them they wanted it.

There was however a person-sized standee of an m&m. Not an insignificant portion of rant time was devoted to logistical problems involving the standee.

She had with her a grocery bag full of candy which she ate pieces of, semi-compulsively, between sections of the rant. She did not offer me any.

I guess it's not that hard of a job to describe, but, it tops my personal charts for "job I would not ever have been able to predict existed," and also "job for which I cannot begin to imagine the day to day work experience". And also for that matter, "job which I can't really see the point of having exist", although that last one is a pretty hotly contested category.

[bunnyb34r]

What the fuck is wrong with our customers man?? I found TWO pairs of kids crocs, USED (like there was no tread at all, it was FLAT) and tucked away under the clothing tables. Clearly they stole some new shoes and left the nasty old ones with US

Bitch throw them in one of the MANY trash cans we have around here!

And what's worse is I found a grown ass adult pair TUESDAY. STOP COMING IN HERE AND LEAVING YOUR NASTY CROCS!!!

And like last month I found a baby pair of them ON TOP OF THE COOLER. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!?

Like to be absolutely clear, we do not have crocs for sale atm. They are not doing a one for one switch a roo (which they fucking do when we do have crocs) no no they're stealing other shoes.

I'm gonna be honest, I'm less mad ab the theft than I am ab them leaving their nasty ass shoes for me to deal with. Fucking disgusting trash leaving fucking disgusting trash

[oblako]

Oh to have an otherworldly being freeze time and help you figure out your shit. Wish that would happen to me forreal.

same <3 no but the concept is so funny if you think about it. some otherwordly being is like wow this guy (gender neutral) is absolutely hopeless. time for extreme measures to get them back on their feet lest they spend the rest of their life in this pathetic state.

[chilledagridolce27]

Quitting my job soon (I already put in my 2 wks) and asked my manager for feedback.

Apart from some heming and hawing, he said something that ironically made me laugh so loud I'm still giggling while thinking about it

Lmaoooooooo

[sepulchral-pulchritude]

forgive me my ignorance (<-not sarcastic, this really is an area i know very little about), but my perspective as a consumer (for car insurance specifically), is this: my big issue is that insurance is REQUIRED to register and drive a car (at least in all the states I've lived in) and driving a car is basically required to have and hold a job.

to be fair, the second thing is more of the problem, but notwithstanding major legislation to expand public transportation which has yet to materialize, the situation is that i have to be able to drive to make enough money to live in a home, and the car insurance company can basically name their price (notably this issue is part of what is so heinous about medical insurance also)

and to be fair to insurance companies, even if they were trying to be good and give the best possible prices to their customers, they are at the whims of the larger markets -- the prices on medical bills (ballooned by medical supply companies and pharma companies basically extorting them), the prices of car parts, the price of gasoline to transport those car parts, probably lots of other market stuff I don't know because like I said i do not know much about this. so there is a bunch of risk the insurance company has to take as well. it is in their interest to act like a company, a money-making entity.

notably, as a profit-seeking entity, they then also find themselves relying on statistics as per @cobrilee's tags, and relying on those kinds of statistics ends up reinforcing institutionalized prejudice. you want redlining? this is how you get redlining.

in the process of writing this post, i looked up the official reason why car insurance is mandatory in 48 out of 50 states. the given reason? public safety.

specifically the idea that if you are hit by a car at no fault of your own, that you should not be expected to pay your medical bills. and i basically agree! that is an assumption that seems fair to buy into as part of living together in a cooperative society. (i will note that who "you" is can really determine who gets to be "at fault" buuuuut we cannot disentangle all of society's prejudices in one go so moving on)

but you know what? if it's for public safety, why is it being handled by entities that are necessarily driven by profit?

the fact is that having and driving a car is basically a requirement to be a working (usamerican) adult, but that it is regulated like it is a luxury item and it is really frustrating. if insurance is mandatory for public safety, it should be a matter of public safety handled by the government. it should be unconcerned with profit!

and if the government had to start really shouldering those costs, i think they might just see that public transportation is much cheaper, more efficient, and all around better than the 1 Car Per USAmerican (Mandatory) system we currently have. and we could have a competent public transportation system. and i would cry tears of joy.

The most frustrating part of working in insurance is knowing why people's insurance premiums are increasing so dramatically but not being able to explain it without sounding like you're defending a bunch of giant megacorporations

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[earlgraytay]

So, you've probably all seen this post going around, about how The Chuds Want Gentleman's Clubs (but can't afford to go to the things called "gentlemen's clubs" today, so wouldn't have been able to in the past either). And I hate to say it, but that post isn't accurate.

The things we call "gentlemen's clubs" today and the things that were called "gentleman's clubs" in the past are not the same thing; the one is descended from the other, but they used to be a lot more common and served a purpose that they don't really serve anymore.

The modern equivalent of the historical gentleman's club isn't the thing currently called a gentleman's club; it's the premium airport lounge. And by losing the concept for all but the turbo-rich, I think we genuinely have lost something! Let me explain.

(NOTA BENE: This is mostly about England and from about 1880-1930, and most of my experience with this is from fiction written in that era. I know enough to know what I don't know, but I also know menswear guy is wrong about this.)

So- gentlemen's clubs started in *wiggles hands* the late 1700s, and mostly served a particular purpose: they were places you could stay in a city if you mostly lived in the country, instead of staying in lodgings or owning your own place. Finding a place to stay in London was kind of a misery at the best of times, and owning your own house in Town wasn't practical for a lot of people, even rich people. If you were, say, a young man, just starting out in life, and you hadn't inherited your father's wealth but also weren't set up to live on your own? Having a place you were guaranteed to be able to stay was a fucking godsend. And as time went on, even people who lived in London most of the time started joining clubs, because they served another important purpose- they were a place you could go if you didn't particularly want to be at home, for whatever reason.

The way that historical gentlemen's clubs worked is, you got recommended to the club by a friend who was a member, you paid dues to the club, and in exchange, you'd get to use the club's facilities. * Most gentlemen's clubs had, at minimum, a dining room (with waitstaff, natch), a library, a couple of nice places to sit and hang out, a game room, and a bar. Many of them also had rooms you could sleep in overnight, fitness equipment, or stuff related to the club members' interests. Most of them had a room or two where you could invite friends who weren't part of your club and spend time with them. In the era where phones were a thing, a lot of them had a phone. You could write letters there and get your mail sent there.

Here's the thing: in the period I know best, gentlemen's clubs weren't just for the turbo-rich. They were the province of rich guys, yes- you had to be a 'gentleman' and know the right people to get in. But men who were doctor/lawyer/software-developer rich were most likely members of a gentlemen's club. Anyone who was rich enough to travel regularly was part of at least one club, because having somewhere to crash when you were going between (say) London and Delhi and back again was worth the cost.

Most gentlemen's clubs were owned by their members- not an outside corporate body. The club leaders were elected, usually by a small committee.

And a lot of gentlemen's clubs founded around specific interests, as time went on. There were gentlemen's clubs specifically for Guys Who Were Really Into Radio. There were clubs specifically for men who spent a lot of time traveling. There were clubs specifically for dudes who wanted to talk your ear off and clubs for old dudes who mostly wanted to nod off in their chairs and talk about The War and clubs for dudes who did not want to be percieved at all.

There were clubs for men who were really into science, or the arts, or sports. And one perk of being in a club like this is that you had access to equipment that you might not have been able to buy on your own. You didn't have to shell out for an entire library of scientific and medical books; you could go to your club and read in the library there. If your club had, say, an art studio, you could go paint at your club and not have to keep a studio space of your own.

There were gentlemen's clubs specifically oriented around specific political or social views. There were socialist clubs. (And a lot of them admitted women, which was !!!SCANDALOUS!!!) Like, they were still the province of goddamn rich people, there were a lot of trust fund baby socialists and not many working people, but there were socialist social clubs.

...I don't want to pretend that gentlemen's clubs were some kind of idyllic haven. 99% of these clubs were For Men, and For The Right Sort Of Men at that; if you didn't have a friend who was a member, or you weren't "respectable" enough, you didn't get to join. There's a reason that most of these clubs are gone now. Part of the point was excluding the Wrong Sort of People, and that became gauche over time. After a certain point, being part of a club became a thing for stodgy, out-of-touch rich men- not just "men who happened to have enough money to be part of a club"- and so most of the men who could join one didn't, and people stopped forming new ones. Only Old Money assholes (who will continue to do what they've always done, current trends be damned) keep the concept alive.

But like... the thing that replaced gentlemen's clubs for 99% of the people who would have had one a hundred years ago... is the premium airport lounge, and the premium gym membership, and the ~coworking hub~.** Anyone can join, yeah, as long as they're able to pay. You pay a corporation a chunk of money for similar amenities, and the amenities are ... fine? But because the entity is driven by profit, most of the money you're paying them goes into running their other business concerns and paying their CEOs a fat paycheck.

I think... as exclusionary as gentlemen's clubs were back in the day, there's the seed of a good idea there. I think the guys who wish they were still an attainable thing for a middle-class person have a point, and I wish we could inject some fucking nuance into this conversation.

A community-owned space that gives you a place to crash when you need one, has community-owned resources for its members, and isn't beholden to a corporation is a good thing. Third spaces that don't have to turn a profit are a damn good thing.

At the end of the day, my politics are 'everyone should get to have the kind of luxuries that were historically reserved for the rich'. Everyone should get to have the best life has to offer- leisure, beauty, good craftsmanship, and community. And so, you know, if this kind of community space sounds like a thing you'd like to have, maybe it's something you could work towards creating, too.

*TBF, this is still how they work today! But the networks are much smaller.

**I do find it very funny that apparently one of the biggest problems facing the few remaining Actual Gentlemen's Clubs (TM) is that people are trying to use their space to telework-- a lot of them are trying to ban laptops and business talk to "keep the club's character" (read: "we're too rich to have to work here").

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[princesssarcastia]

bold of you to say "draft dodger" like it's something derogatory?

Satine Kryze should not be a sympathetic character.

A complex and tragic one? Sure. Every day of the week.

But she did not 'have a point', neither in-universe, not outside of the sw framework. She isn't a hero, neither of her own story, nor of someone else's. There is no way she wasn't a tool. You should not look at her and think 'this woman has done nothing wrong and what ultimately happened to Mandalore was to no part her fault'.

Because guys. Friends. Strangers on the interwebs.

Pacifism doesn't work.

And it certainly wouldn't have worked in motherfucking Star Wars – the 'wars' is literally in the title – for a system or series of systems who wanted to stay neutral.

YOU DON'T STAY NEUTRAL FOR LONG BY JUST SAYING 'YEAH, NO THANKS <3' TO A LARGE-SCALE CONFLICT.

source: I am Swiss, we've looked at this in history class. Extensively.

Satine was a dreamer (thanks Obi-Wan) who was allowed to keep her delusions because they actively benefitted Palpatine's plans. And that's something you can quote me on. There is literally no other reason (apart from supremely bad writing but we'll leave that aside here) for her and her little friends' 'Alliance of Neutral Systems' or whatever to be allowed to exist.

Not that they were neutral in any way, shape or form, by the way.

So yeah sorry to the Satine stans, but you're idolizing a character that was written exclusively and specifically for Obi-Wan's manpain and who, in-universe, was a supremely bad politician. Because the level of mental dissonace needed to factually be a Republic System, have a seat in the fucking Republic Senate, rely upon their military for aid while actively proclaiming that All Violence Is Bad And Barbaric one sentence later AND THEN CLAIM TO BE NEUTRAL IN THE WHOLE CONFLICT – it's just mind-blowing. Even moreso that people actually look at this character and see something aspirational in her.

Again, I'll gladly dissect her character any day of the week. She is fascinating because of all the implications her existence as a head of state carries with it, as well as her deeply complicated family history and her relation to mandalorian culture.

But it just grates on me personally that that all gets ignored in favor of her being some sort of icon of white american saviorism (bc that's literally what she is) and her objectively bad political takes being treated like they are the only correct stance to be taken during the Clone Wars/Mandalorian Civil Wars.

If you think pacifism works and actually lets you stay neutral, I desperately urge you to open a history book. Because those two are mutually exclusive. Especially in the scenario that Star Wars paints.