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mostlysignssomeportents · 16 days ago

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Predicting the present

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/2024/12/09/radicalized/#deny-defend-depose

Back in 2018, around the time I emailed my immigration lawyer about applying for US citizenship, I started work on a short story called "Radicalized," which eventually became the title story of a collection that came out in 2019:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250228598/radicalized/

"Radicalized" is a story about America, and about guns, and about health care, and about violence. I live in Burbank, which is ranks second in gun-stores-per-capita in the USA, a dubious honor that represents a kind of regulatory arbitrage with our neighboring goliath, the City of Los Angeles, where gun store licensing is extremely tight. If you're an Angeleno in search of a firearm, you're almost certainly coming to Burbank to buy it.

Walking, cycling and driving past more gun stores than I'd ever seen in my Canadian life got me thinking about Americans and guns, a subject that many Canadians have passed comment upon. Americans kill each other, and especially themselves, at rates that baffle everyone else in the world, and they do it with guns. When we moved here, my UK born-and-raised daughter came home from her first elementary school lockdown drill perplexed and worried. Knowing what I did about US gun violence, I understood that while school shootings and other spree killings happened with dismal and terrifying regularity, they only accounted for a small percentage of the gun deaths here. If you die with a bullet in you, the chances are that the finger on the trigger was your own. The next most likely suspect is someone you know. After that, a cop. Getting shot by a stranger out of uniform is something of a rarity here – albeit a spectacular one that captures our imaginations in ways that deliberate or accidental self-slayings and related-party shootings do not.

So I told her, "Look, you can basically ignore everything they tell you during those lockdown drills, because they almost certainly have nothing to do with your future. But if a friend ever says to you, 'Hey, wanna see my dad's gun?' I want you to turn around and leave and get in touch with me right away, that instant."

Guns turn the murderous impulse – which, let's be honest, we've all felt at some time or another – into a murderous act. Same goes for suicide, which explains the high levels of non-accidental self-shootings in the USA: when you've got a gun, the distance between suicidal ideation and your death is the ten feet from the sofa to the gun in the closet.

Americans get angry at people and then, if they have a gun to hand, sometimes they shoot them. In a thread /r/Burbank about how people at our local cinemas are rude and use their phones in which someone posted, "Well, you should just ask them to stop." The reply: "That's a great way to get shot." No one chimed in to say, "Don't be ridiculous, no one would shoot you for asking them to put away their phone during a movie." Same goes for "road rage."

And while Americans shoot people they've only just gotten angry at, they also sometimes plan shooting sprees and kill a bunch of people because they're just generically angry. Being angry about the state of the world is a completely relatable emotion, of course, but the targets of these shootings are arbitrary. Sure sometimes these killings have clear, bigoted targets – mass shootings at Black supermarkets or mosques or synagogues or gay bars – more often the people who get sprayed with bullets (at country and western concerts or elementary schools or movie theaters) are almost certainly not the people the gunman (almost always a man) is angry at.

This line of thought kept surfacing as I went through the immigration process, but not just when I was dealing with immigration paperwork. I was also spending an incredible amount of time dealing with our health insurer, Cigna, who kept refusing treatments my pain doctor – one of the most-cited pain researchers in the country – thought I would benefit from. I've had chronic pain since I was a teenager, and it's only ever gotten worse. I've had decades of pain care in Canada and the UK, and while the treatments never worked for very long, it was never compounded by the kinds of bureaucratic stuff I went through with my US insurer.

The multi-hour phone calls with Cigna that went nowhere would often have me seeing red – literally, a red tinge closing in around my vision – and usually my hands would be shaking by the time I got off the call.

And I had it easy! I wasn't terminally ill, and I certainly wasn't calling in on behalf of a child or a spouse or parent who was seriously ill or dying, whose care was being denied by their insurer. Bernie's 2016 Medicare For All campaign promise had filled the air with statistics (Americans pay more for care and get worse outcomes than anyone else in the rich world), and stories. So many stories – stories that just tore your heart out, about parents who literally had to watch their children die because the insurance they paid for refused to treat their kids. As a dad, I literally couldn't imagine how I'd cope in that situation. Just thinking about it filled me with rage.

One day, as I was swimming in the community pool across the street – a critical part of my pain management strategy – I was struck with a thought: "Why don't these people murder health insurance executives?" Not that I wanted them to. I don't want anyone to kill anyone. But why do American men who murder their wives and the people who cut them off in traffic and random classrooms full of children leave the health insurance industry alone? This is an industry that is practically designed to fill the people who interact with it with uncontrollable rage. I mean, if you're watching your wife or your kid die before your eyes because some millionaire CEO decided to aim for a $10 billion stock buyback this year instead of his customary $9 billion target, wouldn't you feel that kind of murderous rage?

Around this time, my parents came out for a visit from Canada. It was a great trip, until one night, my mom woke me up after midnight: "We have to take your father to the ER. He's really sick." He was: shaking, nauseated, feverish. We raced down the street to the local hospital, part of a gigantic chain that has swallowed nearly all the doctors' practices, labs and hospitals within an hour's drive of here.

Dad had kidney stones, and they'd gone septic. When the ER docs removed the stones, all the septic gunk in his kidneys was flushed into his bloodstream, and he crashed. If he hadn't been in an ER recovery room at the time, he would have died. As it was, he was in a coma for three days and it was touch and go. My brother flew down from Toronto, not sure if this was his last chance to see our dad alive. The nurses and doctors took great care of my dad, though, and three days later, he emerged from his coma, and today, he's better than ever.

But on day two, when we thought he was probably at the end of his life, as my mother sat at his side, holding the hand of her husband of fifty years, someone from the hospital billing department came to her side and said, "Mrs Doctorow, I know this is a difficult time, but I'd like to discuss the matter of your husband's bill with you."

The bill was $176,000. Thankfully, the travel medical insurance plan offered by the Ontario Teachers' Union pension covered it all (I don't suppose anyone gets very angry with them).

How do people tolerate this? Again, not in the sense of "people should commit violent acts in the face of these provocations," but rather, "How is it that in a country filled with both assault rifles and unimaginable acts of murderous cruelty committed by fantastically wealthy corporations, people don't leap from their murderous impulses to their murderous weapons to commit murderous acts?

For me, writing fiction is an accretive process. I can tell that a story is brewing when thoughts start rattling around in my mind, resurfacing at odd times. I think of them as stray atoms, seeking molecules with available docking sites to glom onto. I process all my emotions – but especially my negative ones – through this process, by writing stories and novels. I could tell that something was cooking, but it was missing an ingredient.

Then I found it: an interview with the woman who coined the term "incel." It was on the Reply All podcast, and Alana, a queer Canadian woman explained that she had struggled all her life to find romantic and sexual partnership, and jokingly started referring to herself as "involuntarily celibate," and then, as an "incel":

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/76h59o

Alana started a message board where other "incels" could offer each other support, and it was remarkably successful. The incels on Alana's message board helped each other work through the problems that stood between them and love, and when they did, they drifted away from the board to pursue a happier life.

That was the problem, Alana explained. If you're in a support group for people with a drinking problem, the group elders, the ones who've been around forever, are the people who've figured it out and gotten sober. When life seems impossible, those elders step in to tell you, I know it's terrible right now, but it'll get better. I was where you are and I got through it. You will, too. I'm here for you. We all are.

But on Alana's incel board, the old timers were the people who couldn't figure it out. They were the ones for whom mutual support and advice didn't help them figure out what they needed to do in order to find the love they sought. The longer the message board ran, the more it became dominated by people who were convinced that it was hopeless, that love was impossible for the likes of them. When newbies posted in rage and despair, these Great Old Ones were there to feed it: You're right. It will never get better. It only gets worse. There is no hope.

That was the missing piece. My short story Radicalized was born. It's a story about men on a message board called Fuck Cancer Right In the Fucking Face (FCKRFF, or "Fuckriff"), who are watching the people they love the most in the world be murdered by their insurance companies, who egg each other on to spectacular acts of mass violence against health insurance company employees, hospital billing offices, and other targets of their rage. As of today, anyone can read this story for free, courtesy of my publishers at Macmillan, who gave permission for the good folks at The American Prospect to post it:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-12-09-radicalized-cory-doctorow-story-health-care/

I often hear from people about this story, even before an unknown (at the time of writing) man assassinated Brian Thompson, CEO of Unitedhealthcare, the murderous health insurance monopoly that is the largest medical insurer in the USA. Since then, hundreds of people have gotten in touch with me to ask me how I feel about this turn of events, how it feels to have "predicted" this.

I've been thinking about it for a few days now, and I gotta tell you, I have complicated feelings.

You've doubtless seen the outpourings of sarcastic graveyard humor about Thompson's murder. People hate Unitedhealthcare, for good reason, because he personally decided – or approved – countless policies that killed people by cheating them until they died.

Nurses and doctors hate Thompson and United. United kills people, for money. During the most acute phase of the pandemic, the company charged the US government $11,000 for each $8 covid test:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/06/137300-pct-markup/#137300-pct-markup

UHC leads the nation in claims denials, with a denial rate of 32% (!!). If you want to understand how the US can spend 20% of its GDP and get the worst health outcomes in the world, just connect the dots between those two facts: the largest health insurer in human history charges the government a 183,300% markup on covid tests and also denies a third of its claims.

UHC is a vertically integrated, murdering health profiteer. They bought Optum, the largest pharmacy benefit manager ("A spreadsheet with political power" -Matt Stoller) in the country. Then they starved Optum of IT investment in order to give more money to their shareholders. Then Optum was hacked by ransomware gang and no one could get their prescriptions for weeks. This killed people:

https://www.economicliberties.us/press-release/malicious-threat-actor-accesses-unitedhealth-groups-monopolistic-data-exchange-harming-patients-and-pharmacists/#

The irony is, Optum is terrible even when it's not hacked. The purpose of Optum is to make you pay more for pharmaceuticals. If that's more than you can afford, you die. Optum – that is, UHC – kills people:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

Optum isn't the only murderous UHC division. Take Navihealth, an algorithm that United uses to kick people out of their hospital beds even if they're so frail, sick or injured they can't stand or walk. Doctors and nurses routinely watch their gravely ill patients get thrown out of their hospitals. Many die. UHC kills them, for money:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-08-16-steward-bankruptcy-physicians-private-equity/

The patients murdered by Navihealth are on Medicare Advantage. Medicare is the public health care system the USA extends to old people. Medicare Advantage is a privatized system you can swap your Medicare coverage for, and UHC leads the country in Medicare Advantage, blitzing seniors with deceptive ads that trick them into signing up for UHC Medicare Advantage. Seniors who do this lose access to their doctors and specialists, have to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars for their medication, and get hit with $400 surprise bills to use the "free" ambulance service:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-12-05-manhattan-medicare-murder-mystery/

No wonder the public spends 22% more subsidizing Medicare Advantage than they spend on the care for seniors who stick with actual Medicare:

https://theconversation.com/taxpayers-spend-22-more-per-patient-to-support-medicare-advantage-the-private-alternative-to-medicare-that-promised-to-cost-less-241997

It's not just the elderly, it's also the addicted and mentally ill. UHC illegally denies coverage for mental health and substance abuse treatment. Imagine watching a family member spiral out of control, ODing, or ending up on the streets with hallucinations, and knowing that the health insurance company that takes thousands of dollars out of your paycheck refused to treat them:

https://www.startribune.com/unitedhealthcare-will-pay-15-7m-in-settlement-of-denial-of-care-charges/600087607

Unsurprising, the internal culture at UHC is callous beyond belief. How could it not be? How could you go to work at UHC and know you were killing people and not dehumanize those victims? A lawsuit by chronically ill patient whom UHC had denied care for surfaced recorded phone calls in which UHC employees laughed long and hard about the denied claims, dismissing the patient's desperate, tearful pleas as "tantrums" :

https://www.propublica.org/article/unitedhealth-healthcare-insurance-denial-ulcerative-colitis

Those UHC workers are just trying to get by, of course, and the callouses they develop so they can bear to go to work were ripped off by last week's murder. UHC's executive team knows this, and has gone on a rampage to stop employees from leaking their own horror stories, or even mentioning that the internal company announcement of Thompson's death was seen by 16,000 employees, of whom only 28 left a comment:

https://www.kenklippenstein.com/p/unitedhealthcare-tells-employees

Doctors and nurses hate UHC on behalf of their patients, but it's also personal. UHC screws doctor's practices by refusing to pay them, making them chase payments for months or even years, and then it offers them a payday lending service that helps them keep the lights on while they wait to get paid:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frr4wuvAB6U

Is it any surprise that Reddit's nursing forums are full of nurses making grim, satisfied jokes about the assassination of the $10m/year CEO who ran the $400b/year corporation that does all this?

https://www.thedailybeast.com/leading-medical-subreddit-deletes-thread-on-unitedhealthcare-ceos-murder-after-users-slam-his-record/

We're not supposed to experience – much less express – schadenfreude when someone is murdered in the street, no matter who they are. We're meant to express horror at the idea of political violence, even when that violence only claims a single life, a fraction of the body count UCH produced under Thompson's direction. As Malcolm Harris put it, "'Every life is precious' stuff about a healthcare CEO whose company is noted for denying coverage is pretty silly":

https://twitter.com/BigMeanInternet/status/1864471932386623753

As Woody Guthrie wrote, "Some will rob you with a six-gun/And some with a fountain pen." The weapon is lethal when it's a pistol and when it's an insurance company. The insurance company merely serves as an accountability sink, a layer of indirection that lets a murder happen without any person being the technical murderer:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

I don't want people to kill insurance executives, and I don't want insurance executives to kill people. But I am unsurprised that this happened. Indeed, I'm surprised that it took so long. It should not be controversial to note that if you run an institution that makes people furious, they will eventually become furious with you. This is the entire pitch of Thomas Piketty's Capital in the 21st Century: that wealth concentration leads to corruption, which is destabilizing, and in the long run it's cheaper to run a fair society than it is to pay for the guards you'll need to keep the guillotines off your lawn:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-the-21st-century/

But we've spent the past 40 years running in the other direction, maximizing monopolies, inequality and corruption, and gaslighting the public when they insist that this is monstrous and unfair. Back in 2022, when UHC was buying Change Healthcare – the dominant payment network for hospitals, which would allow UHC to surveil all its competitors' payments – the DOJ sued to block the merger. The Trump-appointed judge in the case, Carl Nichols – who owned tens of thousands of dollars in UHC bonds – ruled against the DOJ, saying that it would all be fine thanks to United's "culture of trust and integrity":

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/the-antitrust-shooting-war-has-started

We don't know much about Thompson's killer yet, but he's already becoming a folk hero, with lookalike contests in NYC:

https://twitter.com/CollinRugg/status/1865472577478553976

And gigantic graffiti murals praising him and reproducing the words he wrote on the shell casings of the bullets he used to kill Thompson, "delay, deny, depose":

https://www.tumblr.com/radicalgraff/769193188403675136/killin-fuckin-ceos-freight-graff-in-the-bay

I get why this is distasteful. Thompson is said to have been a "family man" who loved his kids, and I have no reason to disbelieve this. I can only imagine that his wife and kids are shattered by this. Every living person is the apex of a massive project involving dozens, hundreds of people who personally worked to raise, nurture and love them. I wrote about this in my novel Walkaway, as the characters consider whether to execute a mercenary sent to kill them, whom they have taken hostage:

She had parents. People who loved her. Every human was a hyper-dense node of intense emotional and material investment. Speaking meant someone had spent thousands of hours cooing to you. Those lean muscles, the ringing tone of command — their inputs were from all over the world, carefully administered. The merc was more than a person: like a spaceship launch, her existence implied thousands of skilled people, generations of experts, wars, treaties, scholarship and supply-chain management. Every one of them was all that.

But so often, the formula for "folk hero" is "killing + time." The person who terrorizes the people who terrorize you is your hero, and eventually we sanitize the deaths, and just remember them as fighters for justice. If you doubt it, consider the legend of Robin Hood:

https://twitter.com/mcmansionhell/status/1865554985842352501

The health industry is trying to put a lid on this, palpably afraid that – as in my story "Radicalized" – this one murderer will become a folk hero who inspires others to acts of spectacular violence. They're insisting that it's unseemly to gloat about Thompson's death. They're right, but this is an obvious loser strategy. The health industry is full of people whose deaths would be deplorable, but not unsurprising. As Clarence Darrow had it:

I’ve never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.

Murder is never the answer. Murder is not a healthy response to corruption. But it is healthy for people to fear that if they kill people for greed, they will be unsafe. On December 5 – the day after Thompson's killing – the health insurer Anthem announced that it would not pay for anesthesia for medical procedures that ran long. The next day, they retracted the policy, citing "outrage":

https://www.cnn.com/2024/12/05/health/anthem-blue-cross-blue-shield-anesthesia-claim-limits/index.html

Sure, maybe it was their fear of reputation damage that got them to decide to reverse this inhumane, disgusting, murderous policy. But maybe it was also someone in the C-suite thinking about what share of the profits from this policy would have to be spent on additional bodyguards for every Anthem exec if it went into effect, and decided that it was a money-loser after all.

Think about hospital exec Ralph de la Torre, who cheerfully testified to Congress that he'd killed patients in pursuit of profit. De la Torre clearly doesn't fear any kind of consequences for his actions. He owns hospitals that are filled with tens of thousands of bats (he stiffed the exterminators), where none of the elevators work (he stiffed the repair techs), where there's no medicine or blood (he stiffed the suppliers) and where the doctors and nurses can't make rent (he stiffed them too). De La Torre doesn't just own hospitals – he also owns a pair of superyachts:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/28/5000-bats/#charnel-house

It is a miracle that so many people have lost their mothers, sons, wives and husbands so Ralph de la Torre could buy himself another superyacht, and that those people live in a country where you can buy an assault rifle, and that Ralph de la Torre isn't forced to live in a bunker and travel in a tank.

It's a rather beautiful sort of miracle, to be honest. I like to think that it comes from a widespread belief by the people of this country I have since become a citizen of, that we should solve our problems politically, rather than with bullets.

But the assassination of Brian Thompson is a wake-up call, a warning that if we don't solve this problem politically, we may not have a choice about whether it's solved with violence. As a character in "Radicalized" says, "They say violence never solves anything, but to quote The Onion: that's only true so long as you ignore all of human history":

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-12-09-radicalized-cory-doctorow-story-health-care/

#pluralistic #unitedhealthcare #assassination #execution #violence #murder #science fiction #radicalized #health insurance #m4a #medicare for all #Brian Thompson #guns #cancer #corruption #usausausa #torment nexus

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incorrectbatfam · 3 months ago

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Retail steph with damian and Jon? :) i love retail steph so much

(featuring Billy Batson because he only adds chaos and I love him)

[grocery store]

Steph, working the bakery section: How can I help you boys today?

Jon: We're getting a cake for our friend's birthday. Chocolate with buttercream frosting, please.

Steph: Do you want it to say anything?

Jon: Yes. "Happy 14th B-day, Billy!"

Steph: What color?

Damian: Red.

Steph: *starts writing on the cake*

Damian: Please also add: "Despite your shortcomings and lack of maturity, you are a valuable part of our team and as you get older, I expect you to gain greater wisdom that will aid us in our goals and prospects."

Steph: *struggling to fit it on the cake*

———————

[coffee shop]

Damian: Can we try the five-drink espresso flight?

Steph: You sure?

Billy, eyeing an unsuspecting Jon: Yes.

Steph: Alrighty.

*moments later*

Jon, after his fifth espresso: I'M KING OF THE UNIVERSE!

Jon: *shoots through the ceiling*

Damian: *grumbles and hands Billy ten bucks*

Steph, sighing: I'll get the broom.

———————

[clothing store]

Jon: *dancing in the dressing room with light-up shoes*

Damian: *T-posing in a trenchcoat*

Billy: *filming them*

Steph: What are you doing?

Billy: Making a TikTok.

Steph: Well, you can't have cameras in the dressing rooms. I'm gonna have to ask you to stop.

———————

[drive-thru]

Damian: One vegetarian Batburger, one regular Batburger, and one order of Night-Wings. And an extra-extra-extra large Ivy Salad.

Steph: Did you take the Batmobile again?

Damian: No.

Steph: Why don't you pull up to the window and prove it?

Damian, Jon, and Billy: *ride up on Bat-Cow*

———————

[furniture store]

Jon: What's a warranty?

Damian: It's a court order to arrest someone.

Steph: That's a warrant. A warranty covers the cost of something if it gets damaged within a certain amount of time. In our case, the store has a one-year warranty on all items. What are you looking to buy?

Billy: *enters pushing a Pinball machine*

Damian: ...It's for school.

———————

[restaurant]

Steph: What can I get you?

Damian: We'll split a pizza.

Steph: Okay, anything else?

Billy, as Shazam: An alcohol.

Steph: "An alcohol?"

Billy: Yes, your finest alcohol. Sharing size, please.

Steph: I'll need to see some ID.

Billy, nervous: What's there to see? I'm clearly an adult.

Steph: I need them for everyone at the table.

Damian: *pulls out Jason's crime lord license*

Jon: *sticks on a fake mustache*

———————

[call center]

Steph, stifling a yawn: Wayne Enterprises account support, how can I help you?

Damian: Why are you still working? It's midnight.

Steph: Overnight shift. This is a 24-hour line. What do you need, Damian?

Damian: Nothing. We just wanted to annoy you.

Steph: We?

Jon: Hiya!

Billy: 'Sup.

———————

[sleepover at the Manor]

Steph: Alfred told me to bring you some snacks.

Damian: Excellent.

Steph: *leaves the room*

Steph, internally: What do kids these days even do at sleepovers?

Steph: *presses her ear to the door*

Damian: Truth or Dare?

Jon: Truth.

Damian: Which one of my siblings do you like best?

Jon: Steph, all the way.

Billy: I agree, she's the coolest. Remember when she drove us to get midnight breakfast on my birthday?

Jon: And when she promised not to tell my parents when I broke the café ceiling.

Billy: Or when she took us for a walk and actually explained why we couldn't make TikToks in the store instead of going "because I said so" like other adults.

Jon: Plus, she gave all the leftover salad to Bat-Cow and helped us set up the Pinball machine downstairs.

Billy: Ooh, and she's really good at making mocktails.

Jon: Also, she extended our free trial of the Daily Planet for our social studies project.

Damian: Hm... point taken.

Billy: And she's hot.

Damian: Say that again and I will smite you with your own powers.

Steph: *smiles softly*

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myfandomrealitea · 9 months ago

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With my recent Harry Potter posts gaining traction, I just want to make an important note:

You are not a bad person for having enjoyed Harry Potter. You are not a bad person for finding it hard to let go of something so ingrained into your life. You are not a bad person for enjoying the overall story of Harry Potter despite the bigotry JK Rowling managed to smatter into it.

Nobody should be telling you that you are. Your past relationship with Harry Potter is not the issue.

The issue is what you and we all do moving forward with the new information and facts that we know.

And the facts are that JK Rowling is a rampant and proud bigot who is hellbent on using the fortune Harry Potter made her to actively pursue the entire trans community with hostile intent.

And she does not care. She is happy that she is doing it. She is happy that people oppose her because it gives her an excuse to play victim and paint trans people who oppose her as violent, aggressive and evil.

This is not about how you engaged with Harry Potter in the past. Or even how you engage with it privately. This is about whether or not you choose to contribute toward her mission and towards the persecution of trans people right now.

Because when you buy that licensed merch in the store, she gets part of the profit. When you go to Harry Potter World, she gets part of the profit. When you buy the Harry Potter game, she gets part of the profit.

And all of those things result in three consequences:

It shows the marketing departments that Harry Potter is still a cashcow.

It shows JK Rowling that she can say and do whatever the hell she wants and nothing is going to stop that money rolling in.

She is given a steady cashflow which she uses to bankroll anti-trans movements and spokespeople and government petitions.

That is the reality of your choice from here on out. That is why people are asking you to set aside what you once had with Harry Potter and to stand with the people she has made it her life's mission to destroy.

You don't even have to let go of it completely. Just let go of the interactions that directly fund JK Rowling. Just cut off the cashflow she's using to ruin the lives of people she's never even met.

Buy fanmade merchandise or learn how to make your own. If you're cosplaying? Buy unofficial cosplays or buy second-hand off resale websites. Same with other merchandise.

If you want to watch Harry Potter, there are hundreds of non-licensed steaming websites showing it which do not contribute royalty income to JK Rowling.

If you're writing Harry Potter fanfiction, use a site like AO3 which will defend you tooth and claw if she gets desperate and starts coming after fan creators.

Harry Potter might be the comforting memories of your childhood, but JK Rowling is an active threat to the literal livelihood of trans people. People who could lose legal rights and protections simply because of one vicious woman with a bigoted agenda and deep pockets.

All we're asking is that you compare your reasons for enjoying Harry Potter with the facts of why you should make a few simple, easy choices to avoid bankrolling her and determine which is more important.

Or rather, which one should be more important.

And make the right choice.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #reality #proship #proshipping #harry potter #anti harry potter #jk rowling #anti jk rowling #trans rights #queer rights #lgbt

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

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AITA for kicking my friend out of the car, then refusing to pay for her uber?

I (23f) am terrified of cars. It took me until just before my 22nd birthday to get a license because i'd break down crying while trying to drive, but I live in a town in the US with little public transport and almost no sidewalks so it's my only option if I wanna get around.

My friend (21f) asked me if I'd drive her home from work because her car wouldn't start up in the parking lot, and they had to call some people to fix it. I said sure, I don't like to drive if unnecessary, but she needed to get home.

I pick her up, and the first issue is that she refuses to put the seatbelt on. Says it 'makes her shoulder hurt' or something. She fumbles with her phone to connect it to bluetooth for a while and all is well, but when she can't get it to work she starts talking to me. I tell her i'd prefer to focus on driving, and we can text when she gets home.

She presses on anyway and goes on about how "you know seatbelts can actually kill you in a crash", which is bullshit by the way. I know everything about car safety, I can safety proof a car like it's my job. Again, terrified of cars and crashes. So while I'm trying to explain that the whole seatbelts thing is actually a few unlucky outliers and a trick of statistics, she reaches over and undoes my seatbelt. while i'm driving.

I pull over into the nearest parking lot and park my car, and then tell her to get the fuck out. She acts like I'm joking up until I completely shut the car off and tell her that we're not moving until she gets the fuck out of my car, that she can't just undo my personal safety equipment, and that frankly her not wearing her seatbelt can also put others at risk in the event of a crash if you were to ricochet around and slam into other occupants. She cusses me out for being a 'grandma' but does eventually get out.

When I get home, she's already sent me an angry text about how she called an uber and I need to pay her back because it's my fault she had to call the uber. It's been like a week and she won't stop trying to get $30 out of me for the uber, saying i'm "killing our friendship over thirty bucks because I can't handle driving." I think I could've been a little less harsh, but I don't wanna have to pay the uber. She never would have had to buy it if she just put her seatbelt on and respected my boundaries.

TL:DR; Scared of driving, friend won't wear seatbelt and undoes my seatbelt while driving so I make her get out and call an uber. Now she wants me to pay the uber bill. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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booksinmythorax · 5 months ago

Text

So, in the midst of... you know, everything, life at the library goes on and I wanted to talk about the difference between Libby and Hoopla.

For those not in the know, Libby and Hoopla are both apps/software that libraries can use to offer digital items to our patrons. Libby does ebooks (including graphic novels) and audiobooks.

Hoopla does ebooks, audiobooks, digital comics (weekly issues, not just trades or graphic novels), movies, TV shows, and music.

A little while back, my library system had to cut down on the number of Hoopla items patrons can check out per month. This caused a little bit of a stir - people like Hoopla! And they should! It's really cool! But the reason we had to cut back there and not with Libby was because the ways we pay for Libby and Hoopla are different.

Libby uses a pay-per-license model. This means that when we buy an ebook or audiobook on Libby, it's like we're buying one copy of a physical item. Except, because publishers are vultures, it's often much more expensive than buying one copy of the physical book - unless it's an audiobook, in which case buying the CDs might very well be more expensive than buying the digital license on Libby. That's why you might have to wait on a list for a Libby title that's really popular: we only have licenses for so many "copies". These licenses can be in perpetuity (i.e. you pay once and you can use that copy forever) or, more commonly, for a limited length of time like a year. Once that time is up, we decide whether to pay for the license for each copy again.

Hoopla uses a pay-per-circulation model. There's no waiting: once you, the patron, decide you'd like to check something out, you can do so immediately and we pay Hoopla a smaller amount of money to essentially "rent" the license from them. Cool, right?

Except that the pay-per-circ model adds up. If we have access to a brand new or popular title on Libby and Hoopla, and the Libby copy has a long waiting list, patrons might hop over to Hoopla to check it out immediately. If enough people do this, we might end up paying more overall for the Hoopla item on a per-circulation basis than we did for the license on the Libby item. That's why libraries typically limit the number of Hoopla checkouts patrons can use per month: because otherwise, we can't predict the amount we'll be paying Hoopla in the same way we can predict the amount we'll pay Libby.

Let me be clear: If a library offers a digital service and it would be helpful to you, please use it. Don't deny yourself a service you need or would enjoy in some misguided attempt to save your library some cash. We want to offer digital services, not least because ebooks and audiobooks have accessibility features that print books often don't. If your library has Libby and Hoopla and you get utility out of both, use both!

That said, if you're upset with the lower number of checkouts on Hoopla or the limited number of titles or copies available to you on Libby, you know who you should talk to? Your elected officials. Local, state, and federal. Because those folks are the ones who decide how much money we get, and what we can spend it on.

Don't go to them angry, either, because then we'll get scolded for not using the funds they "gave" us appropriately. (If you're a frequent library user, you might be shocked at how anti-library many local government officials already are.) Write your officials an email, call them, or show up at a board meeting and say you like the services the library offers, but you'd love it if we had enough money to buy more books on Libby or offer more checkouts on Hoopla. Tell them directly that this is how you would like your tax dollars to be spent.

If anybody has questions about how Hoopla or Libby work, I'm happy to answer them! Just wanted to make sure we had a baseline understanding.

#books & libraries #librarians of tumblr #bookblr #booklr #reading #public libraries #librarians #hoopla #libby

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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months ago

Note

Bakugou x male reader where Bakugou got a thing for lingerie so he buys some to try on but is a little self-conscious and kinda runs away to bathroom to hide so reader don't see him, reader comfortes/reassures him that ofc he's beautiful and pretty. after comes the fucking

Katsuki Bakugou x male reader

Headcanons

(Aged up characters, obviously)

Im not dead, how is everyone? Trying to get back into writing now that I have time. Not too smutty, more focused on the fluff, but I hope that’s still enjoyable.

Reader is based vaguely off Hiromi Higuruma from JJK, cuz im a sucker for tired lawyer type dudes.

Katsuki has always been the type of person to put on a tough front, that didn’t lessen after you two started dating. You met after he graduated UA and set up his own agency, when he needed the best legal help to set it all up.

He didn’t really know how to act around you in the beginning, with your dry humor and the fact that you didn’t take him too seriously. You had a quirk license, but you never once planned on being a hero, since the system was corrupt and broken in your eyes.

This also led to your guys first major argument, way before you started dating. But being forced to work together for months meant you guys grew closer. At this point Katsuki also learned about your quirk, which was the ability to see and use people’s karma against them.

This meant you could “see” when people were lying, but it was more of a sense than sight, but that’s the easiest way to explain it. it was also how you were able to point out quite early on that he was lying through his teeth when he snapped that he didn’t like you.

Being with somebody who could easily point out when he was bluffing or trying to hide how he really felt, was something Katsuki wouldn’t like in the beginning, since it meant he couldn’t use his usual defense mechanisms.

But as time passed, Katsuki was able to be himself more and more around you, seeing as you could always sense to some degree when he was hiding something, and all your court work meant you could easily tell when there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t get himself to do it.

It meant that Katsuki finally allowed himself to start exploring other parts of himself and his interests. Being soft and harmless has never been something the explosion hero had seen himself as, but with you it just came easy.

And if he imagined being your cute little househusband who would greet you when you get home form a difficult case, who would undo your tie for you and massage your shoulders, only to show you the silk pieces he wore in your favorite colors, then it was just for Katsuki.

Katsuki can’t explain what came over him when he bought the lingerie pieces he had been glancing at for months. Maybe it was the extra hours of hero work that left him loopy and exhausted, or it was that deep urge to be small, soft and pretty, instead of big, tough and strong,

He could deny ever having bought it, since you guys had your own personal finances. That was until it came in the mail, in a nondescriptive box that just looked like any other package. It had Katsuki thinking it was something random he had bought, until he opened it up and was met with soft pink tissue paper and a personalized “thank you for supporting my small business” card.

The stickers, raspberry candies, and a guide on how to wash and care for the lace, was shoved aside. Bakugou went bright red as he pulled the tissue paper open and saw with his own eyes the pieces custom made for his build, in the softest of pinks and whites.

Part of him wanted to just throw it away, even if hed spent way too much money on it. but another part of Katsuki was excited, a soft shudder run down his spine as he rubbed the material between his calloused fingers. Maybe he could just… try it on. That didn’t mean he had to use it for anything, right?

It didn’t take Katsuki long to move into the bathroom across from your shared bedroom. It was large enough for both of you to have your space, but most importantly, it had a large mirror where you could see yourself with ease.

In his nervous excitement, Katsuki didn’t realize the guide for caring about said lingerie had been brushed to the floor, just barely tucked under the kitchen table where hed dumped the other packages you guys had received.

The blonde was a blushing mess as he tucked the lingerie on, breathing shaky and uneven as he felt the soft delicate lace and fabrics brushing against his muscular scarred body. Hed always looked strong and dangerous, but like this he could almost see himself as… delicate.

The shape of the lingerie made his already small waist seem smaller, whilst also supporting his pecs and squeezing around his thighs in ways he knew would have your hands twitching with the urge to grab.

Katsuki was too distracted with admiring himself to notice you arriving home, your tired voice calling out to him as you knew he would be around. His silence had you raising a brow as you tucked off your coat and tie.

The pile of packages wasn’t anything new. Being a hero meant Katsuki got a lot of mail shipped directly to him, and you got things every now and then too, though it was normally thank you gifts from clients.

The soft pink paper under the table caught your attention, and after picking it up you could help but huff softly in interest. Was Katsuki trying to surprise you? How sweet. Better not keep him waiting then.

Your quirk allowed you to see vague splashes of color and waves, each color and swirl showing different feelings and intensities of said feelings. His embarrassment and arousal had you softly chuckling to yourself. The shame and fear mixed into it was worrying though.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where he was. If the light under the bathroom door wasn’t enough to tell you, then the intense swirls of colors radiating through the doors cracks was another sign. This truly made him feel good, you could tell. It also meant you felt bad that he hadn’t come to you with this before, as it clearly made him feel some type of way.

“Katsuki?” you pipe up, knocking softly on the door, eyes locked onto the swirls of color and waves that seemed to twist and turn, wanting to gauge his reactions and feelings. The flashes of new colors and erratic waving made you frown. Why was he scared? Self-conscious?

You didn’t say anything about what you had found in the kitchen, instead letting Katsuki take all the time he needed to answer. A gruff but meek “what?” snapping through the door.

Inside the bathroom Katsuki started to feel horrible, wrapping his arms around himself. Hed been so distracted oogling at his body and the lace that he hadn’t even noticed you coming home, what type of hero was he to not realize?

The self-conscious feelings welled up, the imperfections he couldn’t see before almost blowing up to a much larger, much more noticeable scale. Why would you find him attractive like this? All muscles, sharp edges and ugly scars?

“What are you doing, honey?” you hum, keeping patient and open. Sure, you were jittery with the want to see him in whatever he had bought, but it was clear Katsuki was uncomfortable, mostly with himself than anything.

“Just- fuck. Go away for a moment, ill be out” he snapped, voice raising a few octaves that told you he was starting to get distressed. Katsuki couldn’t figure out why his eyes were welling up, or why he felt so weak and vulnerable like this. But the very thought of you seeing him like this and rejecting him felt worse than any wound he had ever gotten.

“What if I want to see” you mumble, close enough to the door to know he would hear you. Your quirk let you see the rapid fluctuations in the colors and swirls. Shock, annoyance, depressive self-hate, self-consciousness, begrudging acceptance.

He clearly wanted to demand to know how you knew what he was wearing, but Katsuki grumbled a little to himself. Of course you knew, you knew everything, you weren’t heroes go-to lawyer for no reason.

You took a small step back as the door unlocked, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight that would meet you. A hot breath was puffed out your nose as Katsuki stood so meekly before you, scarred arms still protectively wrapped around himself.

The longer you went without speaking, the more distressed your lover seemed to get, his red eyes

flicking from your face to the wall to the floor as he worried at his lip.

Finally, your explosive lover seemed to snap, throwing his arms out in a frustrated “say something for fuck sake!”, his eyes wide but shiny in a way that spoke of tears. His usual posturing and loud tone didn’t really have the same effect when he was wearing that pretty lingerie, and he was flushed so prettily in the face.

“you’re so pretty…” you finally muster out, his still locked to his face and body, hands clenched at your sides as familiar heat bloomed inside you like hot syrup. It wasn’t the usual ravenous hunger that had you bending him over the kitchen counter, or shoving him under your desk in your office, but it was similar.

He scoffed at your words, but his redder face and the bright colors swirling around him made it clear he felt flattered and noticed, a soft whimpered noise leaving his clenched lips when you finally started to touch him.

It was strange to have your usually self-assured and decided lover shuddering and gasping weakly from your hands just running up and down his sides, brushing against the delicate lace and the different stitches and patterns.

“s-stop saying stupid shit” he mumbled, his voice even sounding softer and more vulnerable than Katsuki normally allowed himself to be. The tone of Katsuki’s voice jumped up into a yelp as your hands grasp at his pecs, petting at his nipples through the sheer fabric, already so hard and sensitive from all his self-admiration earlier.

“If you don’t believe me, let me show you” you grumble out, finally looking Katsuki in the eyes with the look of a wolf about to eat its prey. The explosion of bright colors around Katsuki was euphoric in your eyes, even as he yelped when you picked him up with ease. The bedroom was right across the hall, but that wouldn’t stop you from carrying him there.

Katsuki wrapped his arms around his chest again as you laid him carefully on your shared bed, too flustered to look you in the eye. But you knew he wanted too, he was just to shy to allow himself to feel this way, which just meant you had to show him.

The gasped yelp that left him as you slide his thighs apart brought a hungry smirk to your face, Katsuki’s wide red eyes finally snapping to your own as you slowly slide lower and lower between them. You would make sure Katsuki felt more confident before the night was over, that was a promise.

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aezuria · 6 months ago

Text

uptown girl!

"she's been living in her uptown world, i bet she's never had a backstreet guy" —billy joel

content: mortal au!leo valdez x reader

╰┈▸ info: stuck-up reader (she gets character development later), cursing, reader is ~18, early 2000s core

notes: stella finally posted a fic !? (pls tell me if u enjoy i need validation 😔)

this has got to be the worst way to start summer ever. first, your morning was ruined by a bird shitting all over your car window—not a mess you had the time nor the patience to clean. then, on your way to pick up your friends for some much needed girl time, your car had the fun idea of breaking down. great. it left you on the side of the road, dialing up your father. which, when you think about it, really wasn't your fault! your precious ride just spontaneously combusted or something. nothing to do with the fact that you've crashed the front about seven times since january. after all, you'd gotten them fixed! it should be the mechanic's fault. or maybe, this car was cursed!

but of course, your dad just had to disagree. apparently it was his "last straw."

you winced away from the phone's speaker as his voice burst through. "you have been so ungrateful lately! when you asked for that car, i bought it for you! i looked over the fact that you don't even have your license yet! all i asked was for you to take care of your things!" he cried. from the tone of his voice, you could imagine the creases dug into his forehead. okay, now you felt bad. just a little.

before you could apologize, he finished with, "you just wait until i get there, young lady."

leave it to him to take away your guiltiness.

"dad!" you watched in horror as the truck towed your sleek red baby to god knows where. you turned your stricken expression on him, hoping to elicit at least a little bit of sympathy. but it seemed like his mind was made up on this one. dammit.

he crossed his arms sternly, putting his foot down. "let's go. we'll talk more in the house."

"-so you want to ship me away to some place crawling with bugs and creeps for the rest of the summer!?" you screeched along with the chair as its legs slid across the kitchen's tile floor.

your dad raised his hand in a placating gesture. "now, now, just until your car is fixed. it might not even be a whole month." he shrugged. yeah, real comforting. "and the city's a nice place. we lived there when you were young, remember?"

"no, i don't remember." you snapped. you did remember, but that brought on memories you'd rather not have right now.

he sucked in a breath. "alright then. it won't be so bad. we still have that apartment, and i got it cleaned up recently. it'll teach you some responsibility and independence." he nodded, satisfied with his decision.

you opened your mouth to snark at him again, but he continued, "and you won't be completely alone. there's a nice young man who will be fixing up your car, just down the street from the apartment building. i asked him to show you around when he has the time. and you'll have your phone, so make sure to call me, okay?" his strict behavior gave way to the soft spot you knew he had for you.

"...okay," you agreed reluctantly. once he really made up his mind about something, there was no changing it, so there was no use in arguing.

he smiled, patting your shoulder gently. "great. now pack your bags."

"be sure to buy groceries, and do the laundry, and clean every so often-" your father rambled on and on. if he was this worried, why wouldn't he just not go through with it? and why was he acting like you couldn't do basic chores!? it's not like you ever did them, but they couldn't be too hard, right?

"i get it dad." you rolled your eyes, staring out the car window. the buildings were all drab, painted in browns and grays, without a single bright color in sight, save for the red stop signs.

he pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the building. your insides recoiled. you swore it didn't look this... dilapidated all those years ago. or maybe you just had better taste now.

"we're here! looks like it's got a lot of.. character." he tried to cheer you up, but even you could tell he didn't think to check how it looked. it would've hurt too much to do so.

your lip scrunched in distaste. "i can't spend a single second in there."

"don't worry, it'll be over before you know it." with one last reassuring smile, he turned and left.

the apartment itself wasn't too bad, it was all cleaned up, just as your father had said. it smelled faintly of lemon cleaner, pillows fluffed and spritzed. your room was cold despite the warmth that came with summer. the pristine sheets were unfamiliar against your skin, as if you were tucked into a hotel bed. the sound of tire rolling against pavement never ceased, people had places to go, places to be even in the dead of night. a draft through your window made you shiver. you should close that in the morning. you curled in on yourself like you did when you were little, only this time there was only the unfeeling fabric to hold you, instead of the warm, long forgotten embrace no one could quite replicate.

you cringed at the shoddy place your phone had led you to, and looked up at the peeling paint sign that read: valdez mechanics. how charming. you even debated touching the rusty doorknob, but it swung open before you could turn it. which would be nice, if it didn't almost smack you in the face.

"watch it!" you hissed, side-stepping in time to see a boy your age walking through. his hair was a mess, and there were grease stains all over his face and clothes. his fingers were tap, tap, tapping away at his leg, to the rhythm of the song blaring inside. you think he'd be cute if he wasn't so dirty.

“sorry ‘bout that!” he laughed sheepishly. he stared at you for a moment too long before asking, “you here for the thunderbird?”

“yes,” you said shortly.

he chose to ignore your clipped tone, flashing you a smile. “come on in then, yeah?”

you followed him into the tiny shop, already wanting to leave. the place smelled of oil, and you could barely find a clean place to sit on. there were tools thrown everywhere, the floor sticky with dried up grease.

“i’m leo, by the way.” his voice snapped you out of your judging thoughts as he led you to the back. you finally saw your car, propped up with the hood open.

“y/n.” you barely glanced at him as you rushed over, examining the damage. “so? what’s wrong with her?”

he gestured with the wrench in his hand—when’d he get that?—and pointed to the engine. “well that’s all busted up, so i’m gonna have to build a new one for ya. i’ll do you an oil change too and-“

“yeah um, how long will it take?” you interrupted, giving him a smile you did not want to have on.

“i’d say three to five weeks? depends if i have any other stuff that comes in so…”

three to five weeks of your summer wasted away here? when you’re supposed to be having the best time of your life before college!?

“are you serious? can you get it done sooner? i can pay you some more-“ you reached into your purse.

“whoa!” he caught your wrist. his hands were clean now, must’ve wiped them on a rag. “money won’t make me work faster, honey.” he let go and shrugged. “sorry.”

honey? “well then what will? cause i need to leave as soon as-“

“some help, maybe?”

you blinked at him, utterly flabbergasted. “you want me to help you? the person who’s paying for all this?”

“technically, your father’s the one paying,” leo pointed out. “and y’know. you don’t have to help, of course. it just might make it go a bit quicker…” he trailed off, dimples poking through as he tried to hide a cheeky smile.

you huffed. “what do i have to do?”

”i am not sticking my hands in those.” you defied, shaking your head firmly.

leo scoffed, flapping the gloves around. “come on! this is the cleanest pair i have!”

"put this here?" you asked, shoving a part that you forgot the name of into an empty space.

"hm?" leo looked up from his fiddling, jaw dropping in horror. "no no no!"

"oh i know how to do this!" you exclaimed as he gave you a screwdriver. "my dad always said 'lefty loosey, righty tighty.'"

the boy nodded. "yeah! try it out." he pointed to a loose screw.

you successfully tightened it (to the right), giving him a proud smirk. "see?"

"yup." leo grinned at your enthusiasm, even though it was the most basic thing ever. "try and tighten the rest. i'll be right back."

a loud clatter made leo jump from across the repair shop. he rushed over to you, finding the parts that were supposed to be screwed together in complete disarray. "uh, maybe you shouldn't help..."

"really?" you deadpanned. "i hadn't noticed."

"sorry." he laughed. "scooch."

you pursed your lips. no one told you to "scooch" before. but you moved over anyway.

"wanna keep me company?" leo slid his gloves on and began putting the contraption back together.

no, you thought. but you didn't have anything better to do other than wander the city like a clueless idiot. and you hated looking like an idiot. "fine."

the shop was quiet, save for the occasional clanging as leo worked on the engine. his rambling was cut short as he focused on his work, something you didn't know he could do.

"nice car you got here. i've always wanted to drive one of these." he patted its side appreciatively. "where'd you buy this?"

scratch that. maybe he could only shut up in two minute increments.

"don't know. my dad bought it for me." you looked around, not even bothering to hide your boredom.

"right." leo laughed. you found he did that a lot. "must be nice."

your eyebrows knitted in confusion. "i guess?" what did he mean by that?

"i hate it here. it's so boring!" you complained over the phone. cooking dinner had been an absolute mess. “and that leo guy is so weird.”

"give him a chance, will you? he could show you around town, maybe teach you some manners…” you father muttered the last bit.

"what?"

"nothing! all i'm saying is give that boy a chance. who knows, he could be a great friend."

“‘great friend’ my… foot.”

#*ੈ✎ stories #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson

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melanieph321 · 6 months ago

Text

Kenan Yilidiz x Reader - Thick Part 4/8

+ 18

This chapter!!!

Kenan is so boyfriend and he doesn't even know it, ugh!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Kenan and Reader share the same high school friend group. As graduation is near, Reader sets out to pass her drivers license test but ultimately struggles to. Thankfully Readers friends agree to help her with driving lessons and take turns doing so. It is during one of Rader's lessons that it becomes clear that Kenan likes her. A chock to Reader, who has a crush on someone else in their friend group.

Enjoy!

Luca's car smelled of denim and menthol. His father's vintage Cadillac ran smooth against the bumpy road. Although it was relatively easy to drive, you made the occasional jerk of the steering just to have Luca reach for the wheel, his hand momentarily caressing yours.

"You're doing good Y/N."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you just gotta get used to the rhythm of traffic."

"The rhythm of traffic." You nodded. It made sense. You were more relaxed driving at night, perhaps because there were less cars and people on the roads, meaning less chances of getting distracted or killing an innocent pedestrian. However, so far you've only driven at night once, and that was with Kenan, which does make Luca's assumption a valid theory. You have to get used to the rhythm of traffic at any hour.

"How about a break?" Luca suggested. "I have to pick some records up at the shop in town. You down?"

"Y...you want me....to come with you to the record store?"

"Sure. I mean you're the one driving anyway."

"Right. Of course." You squealed internally.

The record store was a neat little shop near the outskirts of town. It's where the cool people like Luca came to hang out. People that listened to retro music and detested the music industry as it was today.

"Hey, Luca. Come va?" (Luca, what's up?")

You felt honored walking into the music shop alongside someone like Luca. Everybody seemed to know him. Eager to greet him. Knowing how many friends Luca had outside of your little group made you wonder why he even bothered to hang out with you? You feared that once graduation happened that would change. Then again, you had the roadtrip to Bari to look forward to.

"Hey, Luca, what can I do for you?" Said the young lady tending the shop's counter. She wore ripped jeans and a tank top that matched her fiery afro. And just about every part of her face was pierced, lips, nose, ears and eyebrows.

"Armeni." Was her name. Luca said it with such grace and admiration that you couldn't help but to get jealous from their interaction.

"Do you have the new Gambino?"

"Childish Gambino?" You perked up. "

"Yeah, why?" Luca chuckled.

"I like Childish Gambino." You said, proud of the fact that you and Luca had something in common.

"I'm looking to buy the vinyl of his new record."

"Vinyl?" You frowned. "Isn't his new album out on Spotify. Why go through the hassle of buying vinyl? Do you even own a disc player?"

The silence from Luca and the girl was gut wrenching. They looked at you as if you just shouted insults, worse than anything Rihanna has said on her records.

"Vinyls are cool." The girl said, popping her gum. "Anyway...."Her eyes diverged from you to Luca. "Who is she?"

"Oh, Y/N?" Luca blushed. "She's just a friend."

The way he stammered and lost his usually cool composure lit a flame within you that wouldn't stop burning. You left the records store with Luca having gotten what he came there for. Perhaps he just wanted to see her, in the same way that you just wanted to spend time with Luca. There was no doubt about it, Luca was in love with the girl from the record store.

"Are you sure that you don't want me to drop you off at Gio's? Everyone is gonna be there."

"Thanks Luca, but my parents are probably waiting for me at home."

"Oh, okay."

Luca dropped you off at your house. You greeted Ilsa, the family chef, on your way past the kitchen and upstairs. She was getting started on dinner early, perhaps because it would only be you dining, your parents out of town again. She called you down once everything was set up and wished you a lovely evening before leaving for the day.

It was sad. You felt like crying. Luca didn't see you as more than a friend, meanwhile he was fantasizing about Armeni, the record shop bitch. And no, vinyls aren't cool. They're actually outdated and very cliche. Just like her...and Luca.

Your dinner was interrupted mid bite, as the bell to the front door rang. You were too lazy to check the security camera, opting the chances that it wouldn't be a burglar.

"Kenan?"

It was actually worse.

"Hi babe."

He stepped into your house, uninvited and with the audacity to lean in and kiss you on the mouth. "What's for dinner?" He said and proceeded to remove his shoes.

"Erm, I'm having pasta."

"Cool, did you leave some for me?"

"Erm, no? Why would I do that?"

He frowned. "Didn't you get my texts?"

"Texts, what text?" You checked your phone as you followed Kenan into the kitchen. There he made himself a plate while you went through your phone, having received numerous text messages from Kenan, the last one just from a few minutes ago.

Kenan: How's driving with Luca going? 😁

Kenan: Where is he taking you?

Kenan: Are you guys coming to Gio's or...?🤔

Kenan: Y/N, where are you, are you okay?

Kenan: Rebecca brought pizza. It's vegan though.🤮

Kenan: That's it, I'm coming to you.

You looked up from your phone. Kenan was stuffing pasta into his mouth. You looked down on your phone again, heart fluttering at his messages.

"Do you have anything to drink?" Kenan asked and you smiled. "Coke or Fanta?"

He snorted. "Coke, what else?"

You went over to the fridge. "I don't like Coca-Cola." You handed him the can.

"Well, then you don't have taste."

"I have taste." You joined Kenan by the table where your plate was already set. "I just prefer Fanta, that's all."

Kenan chuckled. "I guess you have taste."

"Thank you."

"In men, I mean."

"I doubt it." You laughed, the memories of today's visit to the record shop still burning within you.

Kenan stared at you blankly.

"What?"

"Your laughed just then, why did it change?"

Fuck. He heard it too. "No it didn't."

"It did."

"No it didn't, Kenan."

He shrugged, returning to nibble on his pasta.

"Where are your parents?" He asked, after a moment spent in silence.

"Work."

"Do they work often?"

"I guess you can say that."

"I know the feeling. "

"What feeling?" You snorted, Kenan's parents weren't diplomats. They didn't even live with..."

"Loneliness."

You closed your mouth.

"It gets pretty lonely sometimes, doesn't it?"

You shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"Yeah me too."

"I'm glad I have you though."

"Me?" Kenan's eyes lit up.

"Not you alone." You coughed. "I mean you as in you guys, my friends."

"Oh, right. I guess that's true."

It was nice, not having to eat your dinner alone. Kenan was actually quite the company entertainment wise. One thing led to another and after playing Marco Polo in your pool, the two of you ended up upstairs, in your bedroom.

"Is this okay, baby?" Kenan spoke against your neck, his lips caressing your skin as his hips pushed against you.

"Yes." You moaned.

"Does it feel good, what I'm doing?" His hips kept at it, pressing your pelvis further into the mattress as he dicked you down, your pussy clenching around his length.

"Yes, Kenan. I want you, harder."

"Harder?" He raised his head, sweat dripping down his forehead, his hair still wet from the pool.

"Yes, harder." You said and pulled him down to kiss you, your fingers running through his hair.

"Trust me baby, you don't want me to fuck you harder."

"No?"

"No." He smiled and licked your lips as he kissed you again.

"What, you don't think I can take it?"

"It doesn't matter if you can or can't take it." He huffed. "I rather fuck you like this, slow and soft." Kenan's hands went to your hips, pinning them to the mattress as he went down on you. He kissed your inner thigh, slow and soft, and as he got closer to your slit, causing your legs to tremble as he did, you wondered if Luca was as good of a kisser as Kenan? Probably not.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz #juventus fc

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bekkathyst · 2 months ago

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Hi, long time customer (although I admit it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten anything new) and I have a question about what responsibly sourced means for your business. I’ve seen more and more stuff about the crystal mining industry and I don’t want to have to stop buying them. I will if I need to but I want to know like, where REALLY do your crystals come from? How do you know/what do you mean by responsibly sourced? From other small businesses? Where are THEY getting them?

Mostly I just really want to continue supporting your shop if I can with my purchases but I think I should just ask to make sure.

Hi! Thanks for asking; I think it's an important thing to discuss. I've talked about all of this before but it's been a while, so I thought I'd write it all out again. If things are unclear it's because I'm running on very little sleep atm and a bit overwhelmed with work, but I would be happy to answer any clarifying questions as needed!

So for me, responsibly sourced means that I care about who I am supporting and try to make the best decisions that I can. While it is true that there's no way to 100% know what's going on unless you visit a mine yourself and watch them work, that's why I think that getting as close to the source as possible is really important. I've spent the last 11 years building long-term business relationships with people who own mines, dig crystals themselves, or have smaller operations and employ a lot of their families. There's a huge difference to me between supporting a couple in Uruguay who owns a small mine or two and has their whole family involved in the business versus buying African diamonds from a British company that's been exploiting the land and the people living in it for over a century. The smaller the mine and company, the better. A lot of the people that I work with have introduced me to their whole families, seen my daughter grow up over the years, and often times they'll invite us to visit their country and visit their mines with them. (I'm not in a position to do any world traveling atm lol but I hope one day I can go do this!) I think it's super important that the people from the country where the stones are being mined are the people running the business and actually making the profit from it - not someone from a completely unrelated country coming and taking over the operations and making massive profits by exploiting and mistreating the people who live there.

Also to clarify, I work with wholesalers. As a retail business owner, I can buy from these mines and companies because I have a business license and buy in large quantities to resell; they usually don't sell to the general public, or if they do, it's just at mineral shows once or twice a year. Over the past decade, I've met so many great people at shows and then stayed in contact with them in between shows and have been able to continuously order from them.

So I aim to work with these miners directly as much as I can, but if I do work with a general wholesaler who offers things from several different countries, I use my best judgment and ask questions to make sure that their values align with mine and they're doing their part as well. I also work with a few carving companies that buy rough in bulk from various countries and carve and shape the stones - same thing as above applies.

And it goes further than that too, because if someone does really anything that goes against my personal morals, I stop doing business with them. The strongest example of that that I can think of is there used to be a warehouse I worked with in the US that imported directly from Brazil, but one time the owner said something really racist to me and Antonio in a joking tone. After that, we cut all ties and never went back. It still makes me mad to think he ever got any of our money.

I think this about sums it up, but if you have further questions, I'd be happy to answer after I get caught up on work :)

I'll just end this by saying that you know what you're comfortable with and you shouldn't do anything that goes against your beliefs! I'm running my shop in the way that I think is right but of course, there will always be people with differing opinions.

#faq #ask

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gabrielleragusi · 1 month ago

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Hello everyone! This is really important.

The Velaris Advent Calendar from Gadget4entertainment has been cloned and is being sold everywhere, from Temu to Amazon, without my consent or a license with Sarah J. Maas.

"Vendors" based outside of Europe and the US stole my illustrations (using crappy screenshots) and created this fake calendar, claiming it's still the official one from Gadget4entertainment. It's not! in fact, it can't be, because Gadget4entertainment won't restock the calendar ever again, so whatever is being sold now is fake. What's sad is that some people know it's fake and are still buying it. I've seen some comments saying they just wanted something pretty to put under the XMas tree.

Now, I understand it’s Christmas time, and these fake calendars are the only available alternative, but it’s still disappointing. People are consciously buying a product from companies who are using my illustrations without permission.

Please, help me spread the word. I've shared a video on TikTok and Threads, and in my IG stories, but because I've been a ghost up until now (I don't post as often as before), I'm still invisible to the algorithm. If you can share, I'll be immensely grateful!

Thank you,

Gabrielle

Instagram - Website - Inprnt - Etsy - Threads

#Art #artists on tumblr #Velaris Advent Calendar #Fake calendar alert #Scam alert #ACOTAR #Sarah J. Maas

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evilminji · 9 months ago

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My WIP fairy hates me. But like... in that homoerotic Nemesis sorta way, I swear.

Cease an desist, woman! (I scream into the void, knowing damn well she, being my own brain, SHAN'T.)

Cause NOW? Now I CAN NOT stop Pondering, with a Capitol P, the life of a Sentient Quirk. The trials and tribulations. The indignities and sufferings. Countless micro-aggression and out right dismissal of sentience. The reduction to the EXTENSION of another.

You are not a person.

You are JUST a Quirk.

An organ that "thinks" itself separate, in the way knees spasm when struck just so. The child you are attached to just needs to get better CONTROL of you. Your words and actions are actually THEIRS. You are simultaneously an unruly animal and strange adult, not allowed near other peoples children.

Why are you trying to follow this four year old into their school? Why are you SITTING out side a pre-school? Are you stalking that child?

You are a grown adult. Connected to a random Japanese child.

The child is expected to "control" you.

Punished if they do not.

No one is listen to EITHER of you, as you try to explain the situation. The child is upset, scared, and does not have the emotional maturity to understand why you are not to blame. All they can understand is that you appeared and everything became stressful and "bad". They started getting punished. Have to share their room now.

Do you even have rights? If you get hurt, get MAIMED, what will happen to you? Can you hold a job? Own land? Open a bank account? Fuck it! Can you have a RELATIONSHIP?

If you went out RIGHT NOW and punched a purse thief, would the FOUR YEAR OLD be arrested?

If the kid grows up, becomes a hero, and you do secretarial work... does his license cover you? If YOU wanted to become a Hero, would he be your hero partner? Could he technically sit in a corner and let you work?

If no one could TELL, over an internet connection, then surely that should prove SOMETHING? Right?

And! The question NO ONE ever seems to ask!

Could..... could you LEAVE? Do people have the right to force you back? If you don't WANT to be some kid's Quirk? You're sentient. If, unlike Dark Shadow, you are not PHYSICALLY connected, but tethered by distance?

Could. You. Leave?

Just "Allright, I'm out. The way you're all treating me is unacceptable. See ya never." And walk out the door? You'd be able to gain distance as the kid grew older. As long as you hid? You be homeless, without papers, but free.

A sentient Quirk means free will. Means you don't HAVE to do shit. It's like being born with a twin, not a slave. And that Twin does NOT have to put up with your bullshit. YOU are the one asking THEM to work with you, after all.

This? Of course, ALSO just ABSOLUTELY BEGS the question? What if that four year old grew up to be a BASTARD? Just... NO self reflection or empathy. Everything is everyone else's fault, always. And they want a NEW Quirk. One that won't question them.

So they sell theirs, buy a new one. Probably die off screen trying to throw it around.

What happens to you THEN? Pain, obviously. Like... massive, massive amounts of pain. You ARE a Quirk. You're being ripped out by your metaphorical roots. By the NERVE ENDINGS. But? Do you... for lack of a better word, "reset"?

Are you back infront of "your" person? Or do you stay, safely, where you are? Both would be fascinating, honestly. Because I imagine All for One? Does NOT get sentient quirks often. If at all.

They'd sooner kill themselves.

After all, if your choice is "kill yourself and your beloved twin" or "be ripped apart and watch them die horribly, then be used to go against everything you both stood for"? You weep and promise to make it fast.

Then you make it fast.

It's... really annoying, I'd imagine, for All for One. It's not necessarily that he WANTS a sentient Quirk. But they are INTERESTING. And he likes interesting.

He also likes owning things that can't leave. Ever.

So of course he'll poke and prod at the Quirk. It will inevitably be a nightmare, either way. Because EVERY Sentient Quirk has some degree of communication aspect to it. Just because the original holder never figured it out, doesn't mean HE can't.

And while your range may now be much, MUCH bigger? Because the fucker is strong as hell? How useful is that... if he can talk to you when ever HE feels like it? Day or night. 24/7.

And that's assuming you don't reset. God help you if you reset. Because THEN your STANDING infront of, most likely, pre-face-smash All for One. Who's looking at you like he just won a Mildly Interesting Prize and you would PREFER HE NOT. But what are you gonna do?

Walk out again?

You think THAT'S an option here?!

I mean... you can and do TRY. But, obviously not. So like? Fuck ™.

THEN the question becomes? Would YOU go to Tarturaus. Are you a hostage? Or an accomplice? You have the same level of power and authority as a cat, deliberately knocking pages of tables and cups to the floor, but... like? Oooooh~ oh yeah! THATS gonna slow him down! His empire crumbles beneath the sheer MIGHT of your petty inconveniences!

*trips the doctor again*

Fffffuck you.

#bnha #bnha ponderings #minji's writing #minji's ponderings #bnha oc #sentient quirks #all for one #prompt i guess?#bnha prompt

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