#insure your pets because when it pays off it pays off

[cerealxperimentslain]

im the movie rewatcher. a movie so nice you see it twice. second watch should start immediately after the first watch. then another few watches over the week. show it to each of my friends, one at a time. go through the movie shot by shot in my free built in editing program. put the movie on my phone so i am never at risk of being without it

anyway my dog is fine after another expensive throwup session. she feels really bad after what she’s done. because of the nausea medicine they gave her and not any sort of remorse. baby girl’s very bad no good evening

[ms-demeanor]

On insurance: I still live with my parents and don't know a lot yet about the sorts of things adults usually have to spend money on. I've always been skeptical of things like insurance and credit cards because it seems to me they wouldn't be selling that if they didn't expect to make money from it. I talked to my cousin a while ago about credit cards and basically came to the conclusion that they do that because they're betting on the customer getting sloppy and letting their debts stack up, and the way you beat that and get money from credit card companies is just by being careful.

I'm a little more confused about insurance though because it seems much more straightforwardly like a gamble they will simply not take if it won't pay off for them. Like, you don't go to a casino because every game they play at a casino is one they've done the math on and have determined that statistically most people will lose money on most of the time. Is insurance not kinda the same? Where they estimate the risk and then charge you an amount calculated to make sure it probably won't be worth it for you?

I know if you have a car you legally need car insurance so everyone knows you can pay for another car if you crash into someone, and I gather that here in the US at least health insurance companies have some kinda deal with hospitals so that the prices go down or something, and there's a reason I don't fully understand why not having health insurance is Really Bad. But we get to pet insurance, or like when I buy a concert ticket and it offers ticket insurance in case I can't make it to the show, and surely if they thought they were gonna lose money on that they just wouldn't sell it, right? Or they'd raise the price of it until it became worth the risk that something bad actually will happen? Wouldn't it only be worth it to buy insurance if you know something the insurance company doesn't?

So the deal is that most people don't use their insurance much, and often insurance companies will incentivize doing things that will make you use your insurance less.

So, for example, you can get a discount on car insurance if you have multiple cars because people who insure multiple cars are more likely to be responsible drivers (the ability to pay for multiple cars stands in as a representation of responsibility here). The longer you go without an accident, the lower your premiums get because that means that you are not costing your insurance company anything but you are paying into the system. The car insurance company's goal is to have the most responsible, safest drivers who never get into car accidents because they can predict (roughly) how much they're going to have to pay out to their customers and they want the number they pay out to be lower than what's paid in. So they try to discourage irresponsible drivers by raising their rates and encourage responsible drivers by giving them discounts.

Health insurance companies often do the same thing: I recently got a gift card from my health insurance company because I had a visit from a nurse who interviewed me about my overall health and made sure I had stable blood pressure and access to medications. It is literally cheaper for my insurance company to give me a $100 giftcard and hire a nurse to visit me than it is for me to go to my doctor's office a couple of times, so they try to make sure that their customers are getting preventative care and are seeing inexpensive medical professionals regularly so that they don't have to suddenly see very expensive professionals after a long time without care.

Insurance in the US has many, many, many problems and should be replaced with socialized healthcare for a huge number of reasons but right now, because it is an insurance-based system, you need to have insurance.

We're going to use Large Bastard as an example.

Large Bastard had insurance when he had his heart attack and when he needed multiple organs transplanted. He didn't *want* to be paying for insurance, because he thought he was healthy enough to get by, but I insisted. His premium is four hundred dollars a month, and his out of pocket maximum is eight thousand dollars a year. That means that every year, he pays about $5000 whether he uses his insurance or not, and if he DOES need to use the insurance, he pays the first $8k worth of care, so every year his insurance has the possibility of costing him thirteen thousand dollars.

The bill for his bypass surgery was a quarter million dollars.

The bill for his transplant was over one and a half million dollars.

His medication each month is around six hundred dollars. He needs to have multiple biopsies - which are surgeries - each year, and each one costs about twenty thousand dollars.

Without health insurance, he would very likely be dead, or we would be *even more* incapable of paying for his healthcare than we are right now. He almost ditched his insurance because he was a healthy-seeming 40-year-old and he didn't think he'd get sick. And then he proceeded to be the sickest human being I've ever known personally who did not actually die.

Health insurance costs a lot of money. It costs less money for people who are young and who are expected to be healthy. But the thing is, everybody pays into health insurance, and very, very few people end up using as much money for their medical expenses as Large Bastard did. There are a few thousand transplants in the US ever year, but there are hundreds of millions of people paying for insurance.

This ends up balancing out (sort of) so that people who pay for insurance get a much lower cost on care if they need it, hospitals get paid for the care they provide, and the insurance company makes enough money to continue to exist. Part of the reason that people don't like this scheme is because "insurance company" could feasibly be replaced by "government" and it would cost less and provide a better standard of care, but again, with things as they are now, you need to have insurance. Insurance companies are large entities that are able to negotiate down costs with the providers they work with, you are not. If you get hit by a car you may be able to get your medical bills significantly reduced through a number of means, but you're very unlikely to get your bills lower than the cost of insurance and a copay.

Because of the Affordable Care Act, which is flawed but which did a LOT of good, medical insurance companies cannot refuse to treat you because of preexisting conditions and also cannot jack up your premiums to intolerable rates - since Large Bastard got sick, he has had the standard price increases you'd expect from aging, but nothing like the gouging you might expect from an insurance company deciding you're not worth it.

Pet insurance works on the same model. Millions of people pay for the insurance, thousands of people end up needing it, a few hundred end up needing a LOT of it, and the insurance companies are able to make more money than they hand out, so they continue to exist. This is part of why it's less expensive to get pet insurance for younger animals - people who sign up puppies and kittens are likely to be paying for a very long time and are likely to provide a lot of preventative care for their animals, so they're a good bet for the insurer. Animals signed up when they are older are more likely to have health problems (and pet insurance CAN turn animals away for preexisting conditions) and are going to cost the insurance companies more, so they cost more to enroll (and animals over a certain age or with certain conditions may be denied entirely).

This weighing risk/reward is called actuarial science, and the insurance industry is built on it.

But yeah it's kind of betting. The insurance company says "I'll insure ten thousand dogs and I'm going to bet that only a hundred of them will need surgery at some point in the next year" and if they're correct, they make money and the dogs who need surgery get their surgery paid for out of the premiums from the nine thousand nine hundred dogs who didn't need surgery.

Your assessment of credit is correct: credit card companies expect that you will end up carrying a balance, and that balance will accrue interest, and the interest is how they make the money.

And it is EASY to fuck up financially as an adult. REALLY EASY. But you are still likely to need a good credit score so you will need a credit history. That means that the correct way to use a credit card is to have a card, but not carry a balance.

To do this, never buy anything on the card that you can't afford. In order to avoid needing the card for emergencies, start an emergency fund that is at least 3 months of your total pay *before* you get a credit card. That seems like a *lot* of savings to have, but from the perspective of someone who has had plenty of mess-ups, it's a lot easier to build up a $10k emergency fund than it is to pay off a $10k credit card debt.

If you don't understand how interest works on credit cards, or why a 10k savings is different than a 10k debt, here are some examples working with $10k of debt, 23% interest (an average-ish rate for people with average credit), and various payments.

With that debt and that interest, here's how much it costs and how long it would take to pay off with $200 as the monthly payment:

Fourteen years, and it would cost you about twenty four thousand dollars in interest, for a total amount paid of about thirty four thousand dollars.

To save $10k at $200 a month would take four years and two months.

Here's the same debt at $300 a month:

4.5 Years and it costs about six grand (again, just in interest - sixteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at three hundred dollars a month would take just under three years.

Here's the same debt at $400 a month:

3 years, about $4000 dollars (fourteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at $400 a month takes just over two years.

The thing is, with all of these models you're going to end up paying one way or another. Insurance vs out of pocket is you weighing the risk of losing a fair amount of money by signing up but not using the system, or potentially losing a catastrophic amount of money by not signing up.

For credit cards they really only work if you know you're never going to need them for an emergency, because an emergency is what you're not going to be able to pay off right away. I didn't have an emergency fund when Large Bastard had his heart attack and needed surgery, or when we moved between states suddenly, or when we moved between states suddenly AGAIN and needed to pay storage costs, or when Large Bastard needed a transplant, or when Tiny Bastard got in a fight with my MiL's dog, and the fact that I didn't have an emergency fund is still costing me a lot of money.

So, young folks out there: what's the takeaway?

Get insurance. Get the best deal possible, which usually ends up being the one you sign up for early. You may think you can let it ride without insurance, but man in the six months between when I graduate college (and lost my school insurance) and when care kicked in after 90 days at my job I got electrocuted and needed to go to the ER. If that hadn't been a worker's comp payout I would have had thousands of dollars in bills. Something could happen. You could break your leg, you could get hit by a car, you could suddenly find out that you actually have heart disease at twenty, you could develop cancer. Have insurance, you need insurance. You legally need car insurance in the US, and you financially need health insurance. If you have a pet, I think it's a good idea for them to have pet insurance.

Credit cards are not for emergencies, they are not for fun, they are not for buying things that are just ever so slightly out of your budget, they are for taking advantage of the credit card company and managing to get by in a system that demands you have a credit score. ONLY put purchases on your credit card that you already have cash for. Before you get a credit card, build up an emergency savings so that you aren't tempted to put emergency charges on your card.

If you DO end up with an interest-bearing debt, pay it off as fast as possible because letting it linger costs you a LOT of money in the long run.

Stay the fuck away from tobacco and nicotine products they are fucking terrible for you, they are fucking expensive, and they are not worth it put the vapes down put the zyns down put the cigarettes down I will begin manifesting in your house physically i swear to fuck. Knock that shit off and put the cash that you'd be spending on nicotine into a savings account.

Take care, sorry everything sucks, I promise that in some ways it actually sucks less than it did before and we're working on trying to make it suck even less but it's taking a while.

[creepling]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ dating digger harkness headcanons

this is a very specific reader because i love the idea of this grimy hobo having a cute, smart girly partner that is the candy floss to his raccoon energy OKAYYY. also tcm shenanigans will be back shortly, i just had to give some love to a dc rogue like the old times<33

tags: feminine reader (wears dress, skirt, heels, mild makeup and has breasts and v) but gn pronouns. sugar daddy digger if you squint. reader is a jailbird. cuddling. pet name: birdie. smut under the cut - minors dni. polaroid nudes. (m) masturbation. thoughts of: oral (m receiving) and cowgirl.

If you were to ask Digger the first thing he noticed about you, his caveman mind would be objectifying. But your ass did look very flattering in your skirt and the smile you shot his way was the cherry on top. He likes them sweet and innocent, you like them rugged and dangerous. It was a match made in hell heaven.

After a few dates spent in dingy pubs and lover’s lanes, he was enamoured by you. He’s never had someone look at him the way you do. Eyes full of light, glistening at the sight of him. You always welcomed him with open arms, practically throwing yourself at him. He liked how easy you were to pick up, and the way you wrapped your limbs around him. How your soft skin blushes red against his scruffy neck. No matter the setting, you sat so close to him that you were more or less on his lap. He wraps his arms around you, or has a hand on your thigh, letting nearby acquaintances know you belong together. Digger thinks to himself, “I got so fucking lucky.”

His love languages are primarily gift-giving and physical touch. More times than you can count, Digger has fallen asleep on top of you. Either on the couch, while watching a movie or he found a way to snake between your legs while sleeping, he has a habit of using you like a pillow. You developed a kinship in moments like this where you play with his hair, massaging your fingers into the nape of his neck or twirling the strands that curtain his temples. You muse at his sleep-full hums, watching this rogue unwind under your touch, satisfied like a dog receiving pets. The gift-giving is when his rogue side is on high voltage. He wants to give you the world, shower you with jewels, let you wear the best of gear. “You want diamonds? Yeah, I’ll get you diamonds,” He’ll muse, mixing his pleasures with yours. When he robs a bank, the majority of his stolen dollars has been spent on you since you met him. Did your car get towed? He bought you a new one, along with the insurance. Need a new dress for the weekend? He’s got you sorted, along with heels and a bag to match. “Can’t have my bird in peasant clothes!” He protests, “Not with that cracken’ bod.” Queue the wink.

He loves showing you off, chuffed that he proved his doubters wrong that he could settle down and have a gorgeous significant other. “What they see in you, I don’t know . . .” They say, whether that be Deadshot, King Shark, heck even Amanda is amazed by it. He keeps candid polaroids of you in his pocket on the job, looking at them when he misses you. He squeezes the unicorn plushie you gifted him when he is stressed, anything to feel your presence when you’re half the world away. A shit-eating grin on his face when people tease him about his love for you, using it to embarrass him. “Awh, it’s puppy love,” Harley cooes, and Digger nods, all chuffed with himself.

Digger gave you the nickname “Birdie” because well . . . You’re a jailbird. He is in prison for heinous crimes, after all! Oh, is he touched-starved when you’re standing there, pretty face to the phone, separated by glass and talking in your voice that melts him like butter. His eyes are eating you up, desperate to have his hands on you. He’ll do all the suicide missions going to shred off the jail time, to get closer to the day his lips are kissing yours. Blackmailing Amanda to get you the best of the best, pay off college debt, holidays abroad, and spoil you when he cannot. “Oh, Birdie, when I get out of here I’m not letting you out of my sight, you’re stuck with me.” He groans, drunk on love. All you do is smile, sliding a pack of Polaroids under the screen when the guards aren’t looking. “Have these to tide you over in the meantime,” you tease. Digger rushes back to his cell, flipping through the photos. First were of you in dresses that were his favourites, the type of ones that are flowy and floral, framing you so delicately. They get more desirable as he flips them over, and his eyes lull in lust.

Digger loves the dirty photos you send him, it drives him fucking insane. It’s good to keep you fresh in his mind, but it borders on teasing just having you to look at. He didn’t have the brightest imagination, but this was good practice. Imagine how soft your thighs are under his callous hands, what your lips taste like with the lipgloss you have on. Your delicate hands trace his bulge, your touch replacing his heavy-handed grasp. Bucking into your hands as he sucks your breasts, teasing your nipples, muttering how perfect you are. His sweet little birdie, all belonging to him. Your eagerness proves your devotion. You take his infamous size so well, your spit coating his cock as your tongue swirls around his pulsing tip. As he wanks himself off, muffling his groans, he has the faintest memory of your cunt. How wet you always were for him, how eager you bounced on his cock. His eyes closed as he pumped his cock faster, edging to the echoes of past moans you chanted in his ear.

[doberbutts]

Freshly new pet parent looking for guidance: any trade secrets on navigating vet costs? nothing too scary has come up yet w/ my sweet 4 month old kitty. But I figured if there’s some illuminati cheat code to saving some money it wouldn’t hurt to ask someone who knows more than me. Future 800$ spay is going to take a big dent out of my wallet for sure.

Cheat code one: either get pet insurance asap or start putting away money into a savings account that you will not touch ever outside of a pet emergency, whatever money you'd be spending on pet insurance. So if you'd be spending 60 bucks a month on pet insurance, you should be putting 60 bucks a month into that savings account instead if you don't want to or don't have access to pet insurance. When an emergency hits, you'll thank yourself.

Cheat code two: it is going to be very tempting to not keep the cone on her after a spay or really any procedure. Don't take it off. "Aww but she looks uncomfortable" this is the devil talking. Do you understand me? If you don't want to pay for emergency vet bills because she pulled out all of her stitches in 5 seconds flat and now has a portion of her insides sticking out of the incision KEEP THE CONE ON HER

Cheat code three: the safest and happiest kitties are inside cats. Do not let her roam outside. If you want her to experience the outdoors, teach her how to walk on a leash or install kitty fencing or a kitty condo outside so she can be out there safely. Outdoor cats have higher vet bills because outdoor cats get hit by cars, tormented by sick cruel people, poisoned, attacked by other animals, heat stroke, and stuck in machinery. Do you want to rabies quarantine your cat or risk having her head chopped off because she came home with mystery wounds? Don't let her roam outside then.

Cheat code four: *most* indoor cats are fine getting their core vaccines, sterilized, and then brought in only for their yearlies unless they otherwise get sick. Cat-proofing the dangerous aspects of your home, like not keeping lilies or avoiding tinsel decorations, and feeding a good quality food with plenty of fresh water (most cats prefer moving water- consider a fountain! They can be found for relatively low cost!) and lots of safe toys for mental and physical stimulation will keep the majority of your potential vet costs down. Obviously there are things that can happen that are out of our control, like @pangur-and-grim's Belphie, but these things are thankfully not super common.

Good luck with your new baby!

[vibrantbirdy]

You are so incredibly talented! I love reading all of your works! : )

Could I request a Cal Kestis x female reader (or OC, no preference really). I’ve been super into the game recently and just love his character. Maybe a really strong female character, but she gets flustered by Cal’s confidence, and how much she has grown to like him more than friends. I totally see him being a complete flirt (but still sweet). Haha. I’ve always had this idea that it would be cool for a force user to show someone what it’s like by holding their hand and pulling something to them (like aiding them in using the force). Stupid maybe I don’t know lol, basically Cal being suave and laying it on thick. Fluff, crack, little spice, I’m here for whatever creative piece you get going ❤️

Firstly, thank you for your lovely words! Secondly, yay, Cal! Thank you, I'm glad someone's asked for Cal, this is a cute prompt.

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Proximity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor Games Setting: Prior to events of Jedi Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Fluff - This is tooth-rotting fluff with a little added spice as requested ;) Warnings: This fic is 18+ so please heed and respect the adult rating. Descriptions of sexual longing/arousal; one scene of strong consensual sex - nothing too descriptive but probably on the borderline of (hopefully still sweet) mild smut. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 5.5k (Because I have no self control) Summary: You are an accomplished Coruscanti thief who has been recruited by the Rebel Jedi, Cal Kestis. As you join him and his crew on their adventures aboard the Mantis, you and Cal have to navigate your growing feelings for each other.

You are standing in some Imperial-worshipping Senator's private vault in a bank nestled deep in the heart of Coruscant's palatial financial district. You've just located your prize - a data stick containing the names of high standing political and military figures within the Empire who have Republic, perhaps even Rebel leaning sympathies.

It's the Senator's insurance policy, his get out of jail free card - something he can produce at the eleventh hour in case his unwavering loyalty to the Empire turns out not to be enough to save him from the pull and push of the Imperial tide of oppression swelling across the Galaxy.

You'll sell the data stick to one Rebel faction or another, whoever is willing to pay most for your service in getting information out of Imperial hands and aiding the Rebel's recruitment drive in the process.

You're in the middle of internally congratulating yourself on successfully extracting the data stick from its complex security casing when a male voice, almost conversational in tone, rings out behind you.

"I can't let you leave with that."

Startled, you whirl around to see a man standing no more than a meter away from you. You wonder how long he's been there, watching you.

He has bright ginger hair which is swept back from his face, short at the back and sides, but longer on top and slightly ruffled. His matching red stubble sits on his cheeks, chin, upper-lip and travels up his well-defined jawline to his ears. He is dressed simply in a fawn shirt, dark grey pants, and sturdy brown boots.

A small red and white droid, bipedal, with a flat rectangular head and two photoreceptors, one slightly larger and beadier than the other, hangs almost casually off his shoulder like a pet. It's a BD unit, you think.

Both the man and the droid are rather dirty, but then, so are you after squeezing your way through a maze of dusty ventilation shafts. It makes sense the only possible way they could have gotten in here is the same way you did.

The stranger is holding something metal in his right hand that glints occasionally in the vault's dim security lighting, but you can't quite work out what it is. A weapon?

You raise your blaster.

"Don't!" he shouts, holding out a palm towards you, "The vault is magnetically sealed, if you miss, that bolt's going to cause us both a world of problems."

You raise an eyebrow because one, you already know that, and two...

"Bold of you to assume I'll miss at point blank range," you say levelly.

You keep your weapon trained steadily at the young man's chest.

He adjusts his grip on whatever it is he is holding and a green beam of light extends from the hilt of what you now realise is a lightsaber. A deep thrumming sound resonates around the small chamber.

A Jedi. Great.

You thought they were all extinct after the Emperor's purge. Briefly, childhood memories of evening strolls with your parents past the monumental ziggurat of the Jedi temple glowing golden in the low Coruscanti sun flash through your mind. You remember the thrill of excitement at seeing the Jedi, elegant and regal in their grand robes, lightsabers clinking at their belts as they swept by on important Republic business.

Right now? Here? This is the last place you want to see one.

The light from the blade illuminates the young man's face which, you have to admit, is a rather attractive combination of youthful and rugged. His nose and cheeks are peppered with freckles and his eyes contain green irises so deep in colour that they almost match his blade. A thin, red scar runs almost horizontally across the bridge of his nose, dipping down onto his right cheek. The ghost of a smirk is now playing on his lips and it has the irritating effect of making him more handsome.

You don't know why, but for some reason, you trust him instinctively not to try and cut you in half with that humming beam of hot, vibrating energy. At a stalemate, you lower your blaster. He follows your lead by deactivating the blade of his saber immediately.

"If you make me a good offer, you can have this right now," you say, one hand on your hip, the other waving the data stick in front of him impatiently.

You never like staying on the scene of a job too long and you are starting to feel on edge.

"I've got ... uhhh ... one hundred credits?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he speaks. He knows it's a stupidly lowball offer and you scoff loudly to let him know you think so too.

"Look, I know the ISB would pay a lot for information like this but..."

"I don't sell to the Empire," you snarl, cutting him off.

He holds up his hands in a gesture of apology which seems genuine enough. He tries again.

"I really need to get this to a contact in the Mid Rim..."

"The Mid Rim?" you interrupt abruptly, "that's off-world."

"Yeah..." his brow furrows and a slow, quizzical smile spreads across his face at the obviousness of your statement.

You curse yourself for being as predictable as a cheap holo novel. All your life you've lived on Coruscant. You've never been anywhere else. These days, the endless maze of unnatural, lifeless spires and struts and blocks of artificial construction seem to press in and in and in on you so that, despite the sprawling size of the metropolis, it feels like you are living in a tiny metal cage.

Still, this stranger didn't need to know that, and you realise you've given him his angle - a bargaining chip.

"I can't buy it off you," he reasons, "I don't have the credits, but I do have a proposal. Work with me and my crew. It's regular and we're rarely on one world for too long..."

There it is...

You got in here," he continues, gesturing around the vault, "we could use someone with your skill set. And, you get to piss off the Empire in the process."

You consider his offer. You are used to working alone and you don't like the complications that come with relying on others. Trusting anyone is difficult after fending for yourself, all alone, so successfully and for so long....

But with the Empire continuing to close their fist around all aspects of daily life, work was difficult to come by on Coruscant these days. Thieving in the city from Imperial targets in particular was becoming more and more fraught with danger.

While it riled you that he was able to read you so easily, really, what did you have to lose? Because by the Force did you not want to get off Coruscant? Isn't this what you'd been waiting for your whole life? An adventure?

"One job," you counter pragmatically, extending your hand to shake his, "And we'll see how it goes from there."

"Cal Kestis," he introduces himself with a disarmingly friendly smile, "And deal."

*************************************************

One job turns into another then another and another. Weeks turn into months and soon you've been on Cal's ship - well, borrowed ship you had come to learn - the Mantis for nearly half a year.

You've grown close with the crew of the Mantis. Cal, Gabs, Bravo and the two hulking Klatooinine twins, Lizz and Koob. This type of camaraderie is new to you. You really thought you'd struggle with it, that your independent nature would rail against the confines of living in close quarters with ship mates and fitting your own whims and desires and wants around others. In reality, you've never felt more at home. You didn't realise how lonely you had become before.

And the missions you run with the crew are exhilarating. This new life is so much more than just pilfering here and there from the Empire. You feel like you are really making a difference, like you're spitting directly in the face of the Imperial machine with every job. You feel like a Rebel.

It's not all sabotage and espionage and fighting Stormtroopers though. Off duty, life on the Mantis is mainly based around friendly joshing and winding each other up. And the dull minutiae of life still goes on.

Like now.

You and Cal are patching up the Mantis while the others are out on a supply run. You are currently crouched on your haunches so that the service hatch you are examining on one of the walls inside the ship is at eye level.

Cal is stood behind you, arms folded across his chest. You've been arguing good naturedly about what the problem is with the engine cooling system for an hour and you are now impatiently waiting for BD-1 to finish his scan to find out which one of you is right.

The little droid crawls out from the tangle of wires and gives you little nod and a boop of approval. You pat BD on his rectangular head and he scurries up your arm and on to your shoulder.

"I told you that was the problem," you say, craning your neck to look up at Cal with a triumphant grin.

You gesture to the wiring tool in his hand.

"Give that to me, I'll do it."

The Jedi looks down at the small instrument in his hand then tosses it up in the air and catches it again. He has that mischievous look on his face, the one you've learned to recognise as a sign that he's about to do something really annoying.

"Kestis..." you warn standing up, unable to stop your lips curling into a smile.

You make a lunge for the tool in his hand, but he's too quick. In a flash, he's holding it up above his head. Cal is almost a head taller than you and there's no way you can reach that high, even when you stretch up onto your tiptoes.

Instead, you decide to play dirty. You jab him hard in both his sides with your fingers where you know he's ticklish. He makes a funny sort of snorting noise in surprise and his hand drops for long enough that you manage to snatch the tool from him and make off with it at great speed.

Cal darts after you, both of you careering in to the kitchen of the Mantis, the thud and scrape of your boots on the ship's durasteel grated floor ringing throughout the ship in chorus with your laughter.

BD-1 takes this opportunity to leap of your shoulder and onto the kitchen table with an indignant whirr, determined not to get involved in this organic tomfoolery.

Cal is on you in seconds. He grabs you around the middle and lifts you off the ground with ease, spinning you around and deliberately tickling you in between making grabs for the wiring tool.

You squeal and let out perhaps the most ridiculous giggle to ever escape your mouth. You can't let him get away with forcing you to make a noise like that so you elbow him in the stomach. It's only a gentle prod really, but it's enough to make him grunt and let go of you.

As Cal doubles over, winded, you sprint back around to the opposite side of kitchen table holding the instrument aloft and performing a little victory dance.

Across the table, Cal straightens and, with a cocky look on his face, he stretches his arm out towards you. You stumble forwards slightly as if pulled forwards by an invisible rope tied around your wrist as he uses the Force to tear the tool easily out of your hand and bring it flying through the air to rest in his own outstretched palm.

"That's cheating!" you say, breathlessly.

Despite your half-hearted admonishment, in reality, you're delighted. And you're certain Cal knows it. The more time you spend with him, the more that old fascination you held as a child with the strange powers of the Jedi has returned. You are always enchanted by Cal's displays of Force ability.

"Alright kids, we almost ready to go?" Gabs' voice echoing through from the Mantis' doorway signals the return of the others.

Cal shrugs at you and you both grin, panting from your exertions. Keeping his green eyes locked on yours, he backs casually towards the door to help Gabs and the others load up the supply crates. Just before he exits the ship, he tosses the wiring tool to you underarm and you catch it with an elaborate flourish and twirl that makes him laugh.

You return to your work fixing the Mantis's cooling system with BD-1. You try to concentrate, but you feel slightly giddy. You can still feel Cal's strong arms against your body as if they remain wrapped around you. His masculine scent, pleasant and earthy and fresh like petrichor, seems to linger in your proximity and on your skin.

BD-1 tries his best to keep you right. He trills or nudges you every so often either to correct your wiring or to encourage you to stop staring into space with that inane, absent-minded smile.

When you lie in your cot bed that night, the hum of the Mantis' hyperdrive lulls you into a comfortable drowsiness and your thoughts return, unbidden, to Cal.

Over the past few months, it's like the very idea of him nestled deep into your brain and now refuses to budge. Every morning when you wake, you look forward to the sight of his honest, open, expressive face. The warmth of his slightly crooked smile. The way his red brows arch when he finds something funny before he squeezes his eyes shut so tight that they crinkle at the corners as he throws back his head, letting out peels of joyful, open-mouthed laughter.

Even when he has those strange moments of quiet introspection which you don't quite understand yet, you find it hard not to watch him. You can't help it, even although you sometimes feel like you are intruding on a private, sacred moment of reflection. It's always the same. His eyes glaze over as he stares out into the distance at nothing, a muscle works in his chiselled jaw, and then his head drops as if in dignified, melancholic prayer. These periods never last too long - not when he has a crew to lead.

There's no point in denying it anymore, at least not to yourself anyway. Your feelings for Cal go beyond comradeship; beyond friendship. And a hopeful notion has formed in your head that he might actually feel the same way about you.

It's both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

A sudden heat blooms deep within your very core and rises in your cheeks as your mind conjures the image, no, the feeling of Cal's solid, toned body, pressed against yours in a feverish, impassioned embrace, your limbs entwined, fingers woven tightly through the flames of his red hair

Force, you want him.

You place a palm against the cool durasteel wall above your head that separates your room from the Jedi's. You wonder what he's thinking of on the other side of the thin sheet of metal.

****************************************

Cal Kestis can't sleep. Like most Jedi, he can't actually read the thoughts of others, but his connection to the Force allows him to feel the emotions and state of mind of those around him.

Over the past few months, the Jedi has noticed your feelings for him blossoming into something more than friendship, mirroring the growth of his own affections for you.

But tonight, Cal can sense that something in your emotional frequency has changed. Evolved. A clarity, a new and vigorous and glorious certainty in your desire for him radiates incandescent through the Force. It's like the smouldering embers of a fire have ignited into a ferocious blaze.

As the feeling permeates through the thin sheet-metal wall dividing you, the intensity of it, the heat of it, drives him crazy. He wants to rip through the flimsy partition separating you and give you everything you want from him and more. His whole body is aflame with almost painful arousal and he is aching to bring himself release.

Cal resists, teetering on the very edge of giving himself over to his desire. Is this voyeuristic? Is he trespassing? Crossing some unspoken line? Should he be trying to block you out? He doesn't know.

The Jedi hisses through his teeth in frustration. Reluctantly, he rolls out of bed and, sinking to his knees on the floor, surrenders himself to the Force in search of whatever temporary solace he can find in meditation.

Even as he does so, he knows that the only real relief he'll be able to get now is if he can find it with you.

***************************************

The crew of the Mantis are taking some time to rest after a run of particularly eventful jobs. You've landed on the quiet world of Brax at the edge of the Mid Rim. It's a beautiful, lush planet adorned with meadows of wildflowers, glassy lakes and sprawling coniferous forests.

Everyone is making the most of their down time.

Gabs and Bravo have gone off for a hike in the nearby woods.

BD-1 is having a well earned oil bath on the Mantis.

The twins are snoozing in the meadow amongst the flowers. When you'd crept past them earlier, you'd smiled fondly - the peaceful serenity on their faces was such an odd juxtaposition to their usual chaotic enthusiasm for life.

Having successfully sneaked past Lizz and Koob without waking them, you are now sitting atop a large slab of rock which juts up and out of the meadow. You alternate between admiring the view of the lake and cleaning your blaster.

It is a warm day, but a gentle cooling breeze keeps the heat at bay. A gust suddenly whips up the heady, sweet smell of wildflowers all around you. For some reason the scent triggers something inside you, your heart suddenly full to bursting with a strange concoction of melancholy and joy.

To think that all this beauty, all this Galaxy was just out here, waiting, your whole life. And if you'd never met Cal, you might still be crawling through filthy ventilation shafts smelling of metal and damp and darkness just to get by on Coruscant.

You are just about ready to reassemble your weapon when you look up from your task towards where the Jedi is meditating with his back to you. He's kneeling a few meters in front of you on the sandy shore by the still water. You always think it's strange how he chooses to sit on his knees, rather than cross-legged. It looks uncomfortable to you, but he seems to be able to sit like that for anywhere up to an hour. Maybe you'll ask him about it one day.

Cal is shirtless. Even from here, you can see the freckles littered like celestial constellations across his strong back and down his broad shoulders and muscled arms. You take the opportunity to admire the outlines and angles of his taut, athletic body.

You start as the Jedi begins to stand. You'd rather not get caught staring at him quite so openly and you quickly shift your gaze back to your blaster which is still in its various component parts.

Cal turns and advances towards you up the beach and onto the grassy meadow. You pretend not to have noticed him at all, but you keep catching glimpses of him in your peripheral vision. He walks a few paces, then stops and looks around as if he's searching for something on the ground. Then he crouches down. He does this several times.

What is he up to?

"Hey," Cal says casually as he finally wanders over to you.

He has to crane his neck to speak to you, perched as you are on top of your rock, and use a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He's hiding something behind his back you realise.

"Oh, hey," you reply, as if you're surprised to see him there.

He pulls his hand from behind his back and reaches up to you. In his grasp is a bunch of wildflowers, beautiful pastel blues and pinks and purples.

You exclaim softly in surprise, a rather giddy sound that makes Cal beam up at you. As you take the blooms from him, his fingertips, calloused and tough from years of wielding a weapon in combat, brush gently against your hand. Even that small touch feels like a spark of electricity arching between you.

"See you at dinner," he says, and he's clearly pleased with himself as he retreats towards the Mantis, head held high, a jaunt in his step.

As you twist in your seated position to watch him disappear into the ship, you realise you were so enchanted by the gesture that you forgot to say thank you.

That's the thing about Cal Kestis. He's completely disarming. He has a rare, effortless charisma and an easy, flirtatious way about him that is somehow both sweet and suave at the same time. Few men you've met have ever managed to render you so flustered.

You look down at the delicate blooms in your hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling their fresh scent. Smiling to yourself, you shake loose the functional way you usually wear your hair to keep it out of your face and retie it, carefully weaving the wildflowers that Cal has picked for you through your locks.

When you come in for dinner - Bravo's turn to cook - Cal is already sitting at the kitchen table. He looks up and inclines his head to the side as he takes you in, his eyes widening. You blush furiously to see the genuine pleasure at the sight of you and your decorated hair written so openly on his face.

Amid the usual convivial hubbub and chaos of dinner in the Mantis' kitchen, you and Cal steal glances at each other across the table.

**********************************************

That evening, the moon is low and yellow in Brax's dark sky, hanging like a ball of golden light above the lake. You have an hour or so before you all depart for a rendezvous with a contact on Naboo. It's the twins' turn to do pre-flight checks and you find yourself on the shores of the water, skimming stones with Cal to kill time.

Before joining the crew of the Mantis you'd never skimmed a stone in your life. Not many places to do that on Coruscant. But Gabs in particular is an ace at it and she's taught you well.

Cal spots a likely candidate for his next projectile and he brings it flying casually into his hand using his Jedi abilities.

"What does it feel like like?" You ask, suddenly.

Cal smiles at you, seemingly understanding that you are talking about the Force. He hesitates for a second, looking down at the stone in his open palm. Then he places it back on the ground in an obvious position, nestled in the sand a few feet in front of you, and moves round to stand behind you.

He's so close you can feel his heart beating against his chest. Instinctively, you lean back into him, enjoying the safe feeling that his nearness gives you, and the warmth of his body against yours in the chill night air.

"It's time for instruction," he says softly.

He's said that phrase before when he's showing anyone how to do something new. You've come to understand that it's a fond impression of his late Master's dignified voice - a touching habit you've always thought.

Tonight it sounds different. His tone is light and teasing, but the smirk you can hear as he speaks makes the words sound almost seductive in a way that causes something to flip then tighten in the pit of your abdomen.

"Hold out your hand."

You extend your right arm, holding your palm outwards as you've seen Cal do many times. He places his own palm against the back of your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours.

His other hand comes to rest at your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer into him. He doesn't need to put it there and you both know it. Nor does he need to rest his chin on your left shoulder, so close to your cheek that his stubble almost tickles your skin.

Yet you can tell that you are both revelling in this rare, private opportunity for proximity between the two of you, and it is as thrilling as it is maddening.

"Focus. Breathe."

You realise you've been holding your breath. You feel Cal's chest rising and falling against your back and you match your own breathing in time with his. You can't help but notice it's at a slightly elevated pace.

"See the stone in your hand."

You nod and exhale, your eyes boring into the rock as if you really are going to levitate it yourself. You try and fail to stifle a sudden giggle at the ridiculousness of such an idea.

"Concentrate," Cal scolds quietly in your ear but you can hear the smile in his voice as the hand round your waist tightens its grip ever so slightly.

"I am," you mutter, but it's only half true.

You wonder if it's just your imagination, but in the seconds that follow, you think you can feel an deep, vibration flowing through Cal and passing through his body and into yours, binding your lifeforces together.

The rock flies so suddenly into your palm that you jump. You just about remember to close your fingers around the stone's cool, smooth surface as you shout out in surprise and delight. Cal lets out a good-natured laugh at your reaction and you glow as it rumbles through his whole body and yours.

You've just made up your mind to twist around in his arms kiss him when BD-1 comes running through the grass at great speed on his little legs, beeping and chirping urgently.

"Ok buddy, ok, we're coming," Cal says kindly to the little droid, but you can hear the exasperation at the untimely interruption in his voice.

*******************************************

Course set, the Mantis is travelling at lightspeed and, nestled safely in the cradle of the hyperlane, you will probably make it to Naboo in about six hours.

You suspect the rest of the crew are all sleeping soundly. The Mantis takes care of herself for the most part when travelling through hyperspace. With the life you lead, the importance of catching rest when you can cannot be underestimated.

You, however, cannot sleep. Thoughts of Cal and your interrupted moment by the lake race through your mind. The wildflowers he gave you are still in your hair and every so often you catch the ghost of their aroma, reminding you of your almost idyllic day on Brax.

You sigh and drag yourself out of bed, deciding to go and sit in the empty cockpit of the Mantis for a while and watch the stars race by as you hurtle through the hyperlane. Although it should really be frightening, you love to watch great swathes of the Galaxy disappear in a flash before your eyes as the Mantis catapults through space. It's a novel experience for you still - being off Coruscant, light speed travel, new worlds.

You wave your hand over the control and the door to your room hisses open. You jump to see a figure already standing there in the corridor. With a jolt of excitement, and with a strange feeling that you've summoned him somehow, you realise that it's Cal.

"Uh, hi.."

You don't let him get more than two words into his sentence. You grab him roughly by the front of his loose night shirt - which is slung low, revealing tufts of ginger hair on his chest and the elegant lines of his collarbone - and pull him into a deep kiss.

Not breaking away from your lips, and hardly hesitating, he picks you with almost alarming ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and curl your fingers in his red hair as he carries you back into your quarters. He places you up onto your workbench situated against the opposite wall as the door slides closed behind you.

"You look so pretty with those flowers in your hair," he mumbles into your neck you shiver with pleasure as his mouth brushes against your skin as he talks.

"Yes, it's a shame you're about to make such a mess of me," you whisper into his ear.

He pulls back to stare at you for a moment, green eyes wide as if dumbfounded by your forwardness. His delighted, slack-jawed expression forces a loud giggle from deep within you.

"Shhh," Cal warns emphatically, keenly aware of the proximity of the rest of the crew and how thin the walls of the Mantis are. He presses a kiss to your mouth in an attempt to silence your outburst, but you can feel his body shake with his own barely contained laughter as he grins against your lips.

Once your stifled mirth subsides, you hastily start to undress each other. You barely have time to appreciate the now naked, muscular form of the Jedi before you, when, in his enthusiasm to remove it, Cal accidentally rips your flimsy night dress away from your body. As it comes apart in his hands, the fabric makes a loud tearing sound, louder even perhaps than that of your previous bouts of laughter. You both freeze, as if anticipating someone will burst through the door and catch you in this compromising position, before dissolving into poorly restrained giggles again.

As he drinks in the sight of your body, Cal's expression changes into something primal. His brows knit together as if he is trying to understand how you could possibly be sitting in front of him like this. Then, his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare before he crashes his mouth back down on to yours into a deliciously rough kiss.

You don't move from your position on your workbench, and you coil your legs around Cal as tight as you can as he starts to move in you. The pace is urgent. You don't mind. There'll be opportunities for languid and gentle love-making in the future. Right now, this is a matter of need for both of you. The cord of tension that has been tightening between you for months finally snapping in a glorious, frenzied, explosion of mutual lust.

As his pace increases and his movements start to become uncoordinated, Cal moves a hand down between your bodies, splaying his palm against you, and settling the pad of his thumb between your legs at the very place you most need it to be.

At this, your hand which was tangled in his flaming hair flies down to join the other at his back and he growls as you claw your fingers in to his flesh between his shoulder blades.

You press your lips hard into his shoulder to muffle your cries as you approach your peak and then, suddenly, you are crashing over the edge and seeing stars. You gasp out his name, over and over, open mouthed and breathy against his ear.

This, combined with the sensation of your body in rapture, sends Cal hurtling towards his own oblivion. You cling to him while the great, strong muscles all over his body tense and release, and he lets out a long, shuddering groan into your neck that is almost a whimper.

The sight of him, the sound of him falling apart in front of you is beautiful.

Once you've both caught your breath, Cal lifts you gently off the table, and carries you to your tiny, single cot bed. You manage to position yourselves fairly comfortably in the snug space by lying on your sides. The Jedi has one arm laced underneath you with the other slung over your waist, hand resting on your stomach and holding you close to his warm chest.

As you are lulled almost into a doze by the sound and feel of his slow and steady heartbeat, you take in the rather sorry sight of the flowers which once bejewelled your hair, now scattered in ruin across the functional durasteel floor.

"I told you those flowers wouldn't last," you muse drowsily.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Cal removes his hand from your waist and reaches out his arm, palm splayed open. A blue bell flower, stem and petals astonishingly still intact- a brave survivor of the onslaught of urgent hands through your hair - floats lazily up from the floor and towards you on the bed.

Cal plucks it out of the air and gently weaves the bloom into your locks just above your ear. Then, he kisses you gently on the cheek and then on your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin, before sinking back down on to his side and resuming his previous position curled comfortingly around you.

For some reason, despite the eroticism of what you've just done together, this sweet gesture makes you flush disproportionately and you feel your cheeks turning pink.

You're starting to realise, perhaps hope, that the heady feeling of being slightly flustered in Cal Kestis' proximity might never go away.

[gosecretscribbles]

Stanuary 2025 Week 1: Mindscape

Summary: Stan is on the beach looking for clothes to steal when heatstroke sets in. He pops out of his body and into the Mindscape, where our favorite Dorito is hoping to make a deal.

AO3 link

Stanley was cold. 

He got up and walked.�� Sand and candy wrappers crunched under his bare feet.  Shorebirds chased the waves back and forth.  Gulls chased the occasional flying chip wrapper.  It was really hot today.  Why was he cold again?

Whatever.  He was busy.  He was sick of hand-me-downs.  Pa only bought Ford new clothes.  Stan was sick of hand-me-downs.  By the time Stan got them, it was because Ford had almost outgrown them, which meant Stan only wore them for a week before they were too tight to really wear.  So he was going to find a few charitable tourists and borrow some semi-new stuff. 

Except there…weren’t any tourists.  That was weird, too.  And the gulls were gone.  And he was <em>cold.</em>  If it was so hot, why was he shivering?  Shivering sucked.  Stan got up and started walking.

Had…had he been lying down?

“Stupid sand,” he grumbled.  Must’ve tripped.  Ugh, he was cold.  He squinted.  Oh, duh, there were no tourists because he was headed the wrong way.  He could see the shadow of the Stan O’ War over by the cliffs.  They’d only been working on it a couple of months, but they’d stowed some basic running away supplies in there.  Water and chips and a couple towels.  He could use a towel.  He got up and started walking. 

The Stan O’ War was getting close now.  He felt a little better already, and a whole lot lighter.  He grinned.  <em>See?  Stan-the-Man’s still kickin’.  You know what, forget the beach.  I’ll go to the boardwalk and steal the clothes right off people’s backs!  Literally!</em>

“I’ll train a pet fly!” he said aloud.  “I’d make it go up people’s shirts and bug them until they took it off.  No wait, a pet wasp.  Wasps are cool.  I’ll tie some string around it like a leash and feed it…whatever wasps ate.  Apples?  Oh, I could use Shanklin!  No, wait, if I sic Shanklin on them, Shanklin he’d just tear up the clothes.  Okay, no Shanklin.” 

He was still working out his plan when he reached the boat.  He put one hand on the side of the boat and lifted his foot to step over the broken wood.

His hand went straight through the boat.

He fell forward with a sharp cry, expecting more pain as wood dug into his leg.  But he didn’t even hit the ground.  He looked down.  He was floating.  Apparently. 

“Huh.”  He waved his hand through the boat again.  Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard his own footsteps for the past…however long.  “Am I a ghost?  Oh man, Sixer’s gonna <em>love</em> this!”

“HEY THERE, KIDDO!”

Stan looked up.  Lounging against the mast was a bright yellow triangle.  It had one eye, little stick limbs and a top hat.  He snorted.  “A bow tie?  What are you, an insurance salesman?”

“HA!  YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY, KID!  DRESS FOR THE JOB YOU WANT, NOT THE JOB YOU HAVE!”  The triangle swooped down and circled Stan.  “YEESH.  YOU WANT TO BE A TRASH HEAP, KID?”

“Depends, what’ll you pay me for it?”

The triangle laughed and zipped away, coming to rest on the rail of the boat.  “YOU KNOW WHAT?  I LIKE YOU KID!  NAME’S BILL!  HOW’S ABOUT I HELP YOU GET SOME REAL DUDS, HUH?”

“Yeah?  You the magic money fairy?”

“EVEN BETTER, KID!”  The triangle multiplied itself in a ring around Stan.  All the triangle-guys tilted in slightly and their shapes turned into screens.  He saw recordings of himself, like he was watching his memories play out on TV.  The time he got Ford’s old jeans.  The time he patched up Ford’s old belt with tape.  The time Ford ripped a white T-shirt, so when Stan got it, he started rolling up his sleeves.  “I’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU, KID.  WHY STOP AT A WARDROBE UPDATE?  I CAN UPDATE YOUR WHOLE LIFE!  NEW HOUSE, NEW YOU, NEW FAMILY!  WHADDAYA SAY?”

“Nah.”  He turned and started doggy-paddling through the air.

The triangle was suddenly in front of him again, a little too fast.  His yellow edges seemed to snap with static.  “HEEEEY, BUDDY!  PAL!  WHAT’S THE RUSH?  I’M OFFERING THE SALE OF YOUR TEENY TINY EXISTANCE!”

“Con,” Stan said flatly. 

“WHAT –”

“<em>COOOOON,</em>” Stan said flatly, sounding bored.  He lounged back on thin air.  “Pretty bad one, too.  Is this from the moldy corn chips last night?”

Bill was definitely buzzing with static.  The yellow flashed briefly to red.  “CORNCHIP?  GUESS AGAIN, KID!  YOU’RE IN THE MINDSCAPE!  I’M AS REAL AS YOU ARE!”

Stan frowned.  “Mindscape?  I’m dreaming?”

“DREAMING, ASTRAL-PROJECTING, DYING, WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?  DO YOU REALLY WANT TO RUSH BACK TO A FLESH PUPPET THAT’S HOT, HUNGRY, AND TIRED?”

“Yep.  Bye.”  He swam through Bill. 

Bill turned bright red and got way, way bigger.  Bigger than a dump truck.  His eye turned black with a slitted white pupil. 

“<strong>BIG MISTAKE, KID –</strong>”

“Con.”

“<strong>I’VE BEEN WAITING A TRILLION YEARS – </strong>”

“Con.”

“<strong></em>STOP SAYING –</strong></em>”

“COOOOOON.”

It might’ve been scary, but Stan had already proved that they couldn’t touch each other when he ghosted through Bill.  He was pretty sure this was all real, though.  Mostly because he’d never ever dream up a bowtie and a top hat.  What was that even about?  Was the money fairy running for president or something?  At least grow a beard, Mr. Shiny Abe Lincoln!  Or get lasers.  Lasers were cool. 

If this was real, though, then he wasn’t sure what had happened to his body.  He didn’t really remember dying, so maybe he was just…part ghost?  He’d been walking around on the beach before, so his body was probably somewhere on the sand.  He wanted to go back to it.  But it actually was nice not to feel hungry or tired.  That, and the sun was starting to set.  Ford might’ve gone looking and found him.  And Stan really didn’t want to lead this thing back to his brother.  He wasn’t sure if being a ghost meant people could see them or not.  If they could, though, Ford would take one look at Bill and go all Obsessed Robo Nerd.  No thanks.

It took a few hours, but Stan eventually made Bill go away by singing “I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves” over and over.  Bill started making weird screechy noises at him, which was absolutely <em>hilarious.</em>  But the sun was setting and he really needed to find his body before the gulls tried to eat him for smelling like corn chips.

Sure enough, he spotted his body slumped over a little way up the beach.  Looked like he’d collapsed face-down.  (Okay that was a little bit funny.)  The tide was coming in up to his shoulder.  Ford had found him, at least, and was dragging him out of – oh, wait, no, he was dragging Stan <em>into</em> the water.  A flock of seagulls surrounded them, periodically trying to dive-bomb Stan’s body.  Ford was trying to fend them off with a bent beach umbrella. 

“Back, ye beasts!” Ford shouted at them.  “BACK TO THE DUMPSTERS FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!”

…Alright, so Ford wasn’t completely trying to kill him.  Just drown him.  Apparently. 

Stan braced himself and dove back into his body.  He didn’t even have a full second to think, <em>It worked!</em> before gravity yanked him face-first into the next wave.  He flailed, coughing hard, and all of his limbs threatened to crush him under his own weight.  He thought he’d felt cold before.  He was practically freezing! 

“Stan!”  Ford grabbed Stan’s head and pulled him above the wave.  Which did not help.  Ford realized this and switched dropped him –

“OW!”

– and then grabbed Stan under the armpits, hauling him a little further up the beach.  The seagulls drew back, sullen disappointment in their beady little eyes. 

“Sixer,” Stan croaked. 

“Stanley!  You’re alive!”

“You – tried to – drown me!” he managed between coughs. 

“I’m trying to cool you down!  How long were you out here?  You’ve got really bad heatstroke, you’re burning up!”

Is that what this was?  Heatstroke felt like a bad fever, times a thousand.  His body hurt and he was so cold his teeth were chattering and he couldn’t even see and he felt so dizzy he was going to throw up. 

“Wanna go back t’ the mind thing,” Stan groaned, and then almost screamed when the next wave crashed over his legs and back.  It was so cold, why was it so cold and why did it hurt so much? 

“…making sense.  It’s okay!  We just – okay, we can’t go to a hospital, but I read about heatstroke!  You can’t sleep – no, that’s concussions.  But it’s fine, we’re cooling you off –”

“<em>Hurts</em>.”

“We have to, Stanley, you could die from heatstroke!” 

Ford’s face was really pale, actually, even in the orange light of the setting sun.  No wait, it was night.  Because it was all dark.

“It’s not dark, I just opened the umbrella.  Uh, you’re cooling off, you also need to drink a ton of water <em>not the seawater!</em>”  Ford yanked Stan’s chin up above the waves.  Stan tried to bite him.  He was thirsty!  “No!  It’s 3% salt, processing salt in your kidneys takes more water, you’ll actually dehydrate drinking it –”

Stan lost track of what Ford was saying.  His head was pounding and his vision was going all dark.  But Ford was making nerd noises, which must mean that everything was okay.  He closed his eyes.  This time, instead of a weird talking triangle, he saw black, and slipped down into a heavy sleep.

Week 2

[nananarc]

Gonna disclose my income as a freelance artist because I feel like it might give some perspective. And mostly bc I'm feeling a bit burnout and I want pity points ok? Lol.

Context 1: For sake of simplicity, all figures are net income (minused all fees, charges, insurance, benefits, etc)

Context 2: I live in a big city in Việt Nam and the cost of living is relatively low. A salary of 1000$/month is considered really good for someone living alone with one pet, no family or children, no debt or other liabilities. Entry level jobs usually start at around 200-300$/month.

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Let's start in 2021 because that's when it can be considered when I started doing art professionally.

In 2021 and 2022, I was juggling between art school, a part-time online side gig, building social media for my art, and of course try to get commissions. But coms were few and far between, mainly because I didn't have an online present before and I only hang in relatively small fandoms. So all I earn through side gig and art were only some change, in total avarage to about 40$/ month. Some months made up for no income months.

In 2023, things starts to be a bit better as I get more confident in my skill, but coms are still few and far between and months with no income is still common. Side gig was few and far between too and pay less. Overall I'd say it goes up to about 80$/month.

This year 2024, art school is done, I can finally do art full time. But I was severely burnout because all the accumulated stress since waaaaay before catch up with me and i couldn't cope anymore. I have to spend a lot of time resting instead. Fortunately, I received a decent amount of coms each month, and the new patreon surprisingly got a few supporters (I fully realistically expected it to sit at 0 for at least a year). Overall, I have an 8 hours 4 days work week: 4 hours a day on com and managing social media and other stuff that actually makes money; 4 hours a day on my own projects and personal indulgence that doesn't directly make money. As of now, my income is about 180$/month.

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You are probably wondering how the fuck do one live like this in this economy.

It's because my family is middle class and can afford a freeloader like me in their house, receive their pocket money and tuition fee. I'm privileged.

But of course my family isn't rich and if just one catastrophic event happens to us, we'd be in bad shit. I'm constantly in anxiety of money, work, and the future. It doesn't help that I'm late 20s and many people around keep reminding of how I'm not making money yet still leeching off parents. It doesn't help that, for years all i hear about art is it will just lead to failure and no money.

.

But still, I am thankful of my family for letting me stay here. And all my friends and supporters for giving me money oc lol, but more importantly, believing in me more than I ever do in myself. I read all of your little tags, your keysmash and compliments, and I keep them all dear to my heart, and I went back to them everytime I need motivation. I can't see where my future as an artist will be, but I cling to your support and love as the will to keep going. Thank you all so, so fucking much. I'd have been literally dead in a ditch somewhere without you guys.

Anyway, idk, I've always been adamant about wage transparency (especially in a corporate setting) but I rarely see this in freelance artists. except to flex, to promote the hustle culture, or to sell some courses they made. Most of us don't want/can't subscribe to the grind and have nothing to flex either. All we have is this shit economy. I'd wish we could have been more open about this and many of us wouldn't have to feel so lonely and despair all the time.

[dcmeme]

Batfam Covid series part 1

I figured out how to turn off autocorrect so it types ‘Selina’ and not ‘Selena’ woohoo! Progress! Multiple parts, all longer than usual.

Damian: Why is it everyone has to be within the same household?

Dick: Because it’s quarantine. Meaning you isolate with people you’ve been in contact with already that could have the disease.

Jason: I mean, I’ve gotta agree, this seems a bit blown out of proportion. The symptoms aren’t reading.

Tim: I think it’s more of the spread that’s of concern and those with preexisting health conditions being affected more than anything else-

Bruce: *throws tiny robots on the ground that latches to everyone’s ankles* There.

Jason: HEY! You said I wouldn’t be under house arrest again if I didn’t blow shit up (on purpose) or cause a full body cast for at least 3 weeks!

Bruce: This isn’t house arrest, this is insurance that none of you try to leave and put others at risk of infection.

Damian: That is absurd!

Dick: I gotta say, this feels a little extreme, Bruce.

Tim: Yeah, no. *takes it off*

Jason: How the f*ck?!

Tim: I’m gonna go stay at my boyfriend’s.

Bruce: The last thing you are doing is leaving this house, Tim. Like you said- it’s a major concern for those of preexisting health conditions.

Selina: I helped Alfred switch your and Damian’s old bedrooms so you are a bit more isolated-

Damian: Excuse me?! I don’t want to sleep near Helena’s room. She continues to make sounds.

Bruce: You don’t have a choice. In fact, none of you do. Not until everyone is tested- including anyone you’ve been around the last 12 days.

Dick: So no Kori?

Bruce: Has she been tested?

Dick: I mean she’s been on another planet with Mari for, like, 6 months soooo

Bruce: they’re fine to stay.

Damian: Can John come over?

Bruce: I don’t even let him over when there isn’t a pandemic.

Jason: Can’t I just be under house arrest at a safe house? I don’t care to self isolate- just let me grab a few books and I’m good for dayyys.

Bruce: Absolutely not.

Tim: Ok than let Bernard come over?

Bruce: No.

Tim: But what if he tests.

Bruce: I don’t like that boy being in my house.

Tim: Oh come on. He only broke,like, two or three things in the cave.

Jason: Didn’t that somehow include the giant penny?

Damian: and the window to the Batmobile.

Dick: *sighs* The chair to the batcomputer has squeaked ever since he left that night.

Bruce: My cape.

Alfred: He was rather harsh on the grappling hooks as well, Master Drake-

Tim: I said I loved a man, not a smart one-

Bruce: No Bernard.

Tim: oh come on! Dick gets to bring Kori!

Dick: and my kid.

Tim: Oh come on you barely see her but three times a year.

Dick: I’ve known her seven months and she’s been gone six for some Tamaranian ritual or something humans can’t be at!

Selina: Will all of you stop shouting. If my baby wakes up, I will find a way to make all of you pay.

Bruce: The only person with a second option on where they’re staying is Damian-

Jason: Bull shit!-

Bruce: Talia has asked he go back to the league’s temple since COVID hasn’t likely breeched them yet.

Damian: Can I bring my children?

Bruce: Only the dog.

Damian: than no.

Bruce: you’ll have to take that up with your mother.

Damian: I’ll make this much clear- I would sacrifice each of you individually for the sake of my children-

Tim: you mean your pets?

Damian: they are family in this house, Drake. I can’t say the same for you.

Tim: You really don’t expect me to live next to this brat for literal months, right? He’ll kill me by the end of the week! I’m much safer at my place.

Bruce: As of right now this is all of our place. Stop bickering and get used to the idea of being under the same roof for a while.

Cassandra: It could be fun! We can even have a family dinner after we’re all tested.

Damian: oh joy. Sharing food with the nuisance Drake and the pig that is Todd. Fantastic.

Jason: Don’t you have a mommy to call?

Damian: Don’t you have a casket to sleep in!

Jason: Oh f*ck you!

Bruce: now boys-

Tim: Is this seriously how you expect me to live?!

Cassandra: we can make breakfast for dinner and by then maybe the weather will be nice enough to open windows and set up candles-

Jason: you think you have it bad?! I’m surrounded by the same people who-

Damian: I better not have to sit at that dinner by Drake, Cain, or so help me god-

Bruce: enough!

Tim: For my own safety please god do not do that cass-

Jason: I don’t see why you’re complaining when I’m the one who has to-

Bruce: *louder* enough

Tim: I have a right to feel however I want!

Damian: If that is the case, I feel you should all be disowned-

Dick: why are we all arguing again?!

Damian/Tim/Jason/Bruce: SHUT UP, DICK/GRAYSON

Dick:… what did I do? 🥺

Helena: *screaming from upstairs*

Selina:…

Bruce:…

Everyone:…

Bruce:…we’ll take this outside.

Selina: That would be great, thank you.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Private equity finally delivered Sarah Palin's death panels

Tonight (Apr 26), I’ll be in Burbank, signing Red Team Blues at Dark Delicacies at 6PM.

Remember “death panels”? Sarah Palin promised us that universal healthcare was a prelude to a Stalinist nightmare in which unaccountable bureaucrats decided who lived or died based on a cost-benefit analysis of what it would cost to keep you alive versus how much your life was worth.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Palin was right that any kind of healthcare rationing runs the risk of this kind of calculus, where we weight spending $10,000 to extend a young, healthy person’s life by 40 years against $1,000 to extend an elderly, disabled person’s life by a mere two years.

It’s a ghastly, nightmarish prospect — as anyone who uses the private healthcare system knows very well. More than 27m Americans have no health insurance, and millions more have been tricked into buying scam “cost-sharing” systems run by evangelical grifters:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/02/health/christian-health-care-insurance.html

But for the millions of Americans with insurance, death panels are an everyday occurrence, or at least a lurking concern. Anyone who pays attention knows that insurers have entire departments designed to mass-reject legitimate claims and stall patients who demand that the insurer lives up to its claim:

https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/khn-podcast-an-arm-and-a-leg-how-to-shop-for-health-insurance-november-24-2021/

The private healthcare sector is designed to deny care. Its first duty is to its shareholders, not its patients, and every dollar spent on care is a dollar not available for dividends. The ideal insurance customer pays their premiums without complaint, and then pays cash for all their care on top of it.

All that was true even before private equity started buying up and merging whole swathes of the US healthcare system (or “healthcare” “system”). The PE playbook — slash wages, sell off physical plant, slash wages, reduce quality and raise prices — works in part because of its scale. These aren’t the usual economies of scale. Rather the PE strategy is to buy and merge all the similar businesses in a region, so customers, suppliers and workers have nowhere else to turn.

That’s bad enough when it’s aimed at funeral homes, pet groomers or any of the other sectors that have been bigfooted by PE:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

But it’s especially grave when applied to hospitals:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/21/profitable-butchers/#looted

Or emergency room physicians:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/14/unhealthy-finances/#steins-law

And if you think that’s a capitalist hellscape nightmare, just imagine how PE deals with dying, elderly people. Yes, PE has transformed the hospice industry, and it’s even worse than you imagine.

Yesterday, the Center for Economic and Policy Research published “Preying on the Dying: Private Equity Gets Rich in Hospice Care,” written by some of the nation’s most valiant PE slayers: Eileen Appelbaum, Rosemary Batt and Emma Curchin:

https://cepr.net/report/preying-on-the-dying-private-equity-gets-rich-in-hospice-care/

Medicare pays private hospices $203-$1,462 per day to take care of dying old people — seniors that a doctor has certified to have less than six months left. That comes to $22.4b/year in public transfers to private hospices. If hospices that $1,462 day-rate, they have lots of duties, like providing eight hours’ worth of home care. But if the hospice is content to take the $203/day rate, they are not required to do anything. Literally. It’s just free money for whatever the operator feels like doing for a dying elderly person, including doing nothing at all.

As Appelbaum told Maureen Tkacik for her excellent writeup in The American Prospect: “Why anybody commits fraud is a mystery to me, because you can make so much money playing within the guidelines the way the payment scheme operates.”

https://prospect.org/health/2023-04-26-born-to-die-hospice-care/

In California, it’s very, very easy to set up a hospice. Pay $3,000, fill in some paperwork (or don’t — no one checks it, ever), and you’re ready to start caring for beloved parents, grandparents, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles as they depart this world. You do get a site inspection, but don’t worry — you aren’t required to bring your site up to code until after you’re licensed, and again, they never check — not even if there are multiple complaints. After all, no one at the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) has the job of tracking complaints.

This is absolute catnip for private equity — free government money, no obligations, no enforcement, and the people you harm are literally dying and can’t complain. What’s not to like? No wonder PE companies have spent billions “rolling up” hospices across the country. There are 591 hospices in Van Nuys, CA alone — but at least 30 of them share a single medical director:

https://auditor.ca.gov/reports/2021-123/index.html#pg34A

Medicare caps per-patient dispersals at $32,000, which presents an interesting commercial question for remorseless, paperclip-maximizing, grandparent-devouring private equity ghouls: do you take in sick patients (who cost more, but die sooner) or healthy patients (cost less, potentially live longer)?

In Van Nuys, the strategy is to bring in healthy patients and do nothing. 51% of Van Nuys hospice patients are “live discharged” — that is, they don’t die. This figure — triple the national average — is “a reliable sign of fraud.”

There are so many hospice scams and most of them are so stupid that it takes a monumental failure of oversight not to catch and prevent them. Here’s a goodun: hospices bribe doctors to “admit” patients to a hospice without their knowledge. The hospice bills for the patient, but otherwise has no contact with them. This can go on for a long time, until the patient tries to visit the doctor and discovers that their Medicare has been canceled (you lose your Medicare once you go into hospice).

Another scam: offer patients the loosest narcotics policy in town, promising all the opioids they want. Then, once their benefits expire, let them die of an overdose (don’t worry, people who die in hospice don’t get autopsies):

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/12/05/how-hospice-became-a-for-profit-hustle

You can hire con artists to serve as your sales-force, and have them talk vulnerable, elderly people into enrolling in hospice care by convincing them they have nothing to live for and should just die already and not burden their loved ones any longer.

Hospitals and hospices also collude: hospitals can revive dying patients, ignoring their Do Not Resuscitate orders, so they can be transfered to a hospice and die there, saving the hospital from adding another dead patient to their stats.CMS’s solution is perverse: they’re working with Humana to expand Medicare Advantage (a scam that convinces patients to give up Medicare and enrol in a private insurance program, whose private-sector death panel rejects 13% of claims that Medicare would have paid for). The program will pay private companies $32,000 for every patient who agrees to cease care and die. As our friends on the right like to say, “incentives matter.”

Appelbaum and co have a better idea:

Do more enforcement: increase inspections and audits.

Block mergers and rollups of hospices that make them too big to fail and too big to jail.

Close existing loopholes.

They should know. Appelbaum and her co-authors write the best, most incisive analysis of private equity around. For more of their work, check out their proposal for ending pension-plan ripoffs by Wall Street firms:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/05/mego/#A09948

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Burbank, Mountain View, Berkeley, San Francisco, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: An industrial meat grinder, fed by a conveyor belt. A dead, elderly man is traveling up the conveyor, headed for the grinder's intake. The grinder is labelled 'HOSPICE' in drippy Hallowe'en lettering. It sits in a spreading pool of blood.]

Image: Seydelmann (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpghttps://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpg

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

[homocatphenomena]

How is it possible for me to be so autistic and miss 90% of social cues, yet so consistently romance repulsed? A slight expression around the eyes or change in the tone of voice is all it takes to make me wanna hurl and have my skin crawling. I stg it triggers adrenaline every time and I feel like I’m on red alert for hours after it happens. And no matter how I explain it to a partner, they almost always inevitably “forget” or decide they must be different, or we’ve been together long enough that SURELY I must have romantic feelings by now. How to explain that I am only really comfortable with physical touch from my cats? Some people I can hug, but even if my mom touches me when I’m not expecting it/we aren’t mutually initiating a touch, even that makes me feel gross. I just don’t want to be touched or looked at by any humans almost ever, and I want romance from NO ONE under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. I can extract oxytocin from my cats thank you very much. I have stuffed animals to hold at night. And I have no need for sex because god invented porn for a reason. What’s wrong with some good old fashioned loyal lifelong friendships. I don’t hate people but I don’t want to pay the blow job tax for the rest of my life just to have a companion that I can share bills with and rely on and hang out with. I don’t want to cuddle, and if you try to gaze into my fucking eyes I might just gouge them out. But I’ll yell at your health insurance company for you and help you write a stern email to HR. I’ll do your taxes and we can travel together and hang out. God why is everyone else so fucking weird. Always making it fucking weird. Bleh!

Even when I explain this upfront, and clearly state that I’m polyamorous and I encourage them to find romance and physical affection from someone else, they never do. They’re like “you’re enough I just don’t want anyone else”. Ok well first off gross. Second, I’m not actually enough. The fake version of me that lives in your head is, but in reality, I am being pressured to regularly go way outside my comfort zone just to keep you minimally happy. And for what? So I can grow to resent you and you can constantly feel lonely and touch starved?

Holy shit please someone just make me the admin of their polycule. I will do all your budgeting and filing and boring shit in exchange for companionship, stability, and loyalty, with the stipulation that you DO NOT TOUCH ME, minimize eye contact, and do NOT make a romantic expression or voice at me. Also I need my own room because I need 5 waking hours per day minimum where I am alone in a room and cannot be seen by other people. I can be in the discord server and hanging out but there has to be a closed door between us. I am not a starter pet. I am perhaps a chameleon or parrot level difficulty polycule member but I really believe there has got to be a niche for me. I mean come on. I have a lot of love in my heart and I’m very loyal and I’m just so frustrated that that keeps getting me in these unbelievably uncomfortable situations. Just because I would carry you up mount doom to deliver the ring into the volcano does NOT mean I want to cuddle afterwards. A “wow thanks man that was really cool of you, I’ll buy you a beer” is enough. Jesus Christ.

[shego1142]

I know yall probably know about poverty and generational poverty and what not but I just want to vent….

Because like… the things people don’t like know about generational poverty unless they’re experiencing it is just how… trapped you feel… weighed down by absolutely everything.

See I honestly think something may be up with our gas line

Which is a terrifying thought.

Now, idk if it’s a leak per se (though we’ve got the windows cracked just in case) but if we turn on our stove the gas smell is really strong, the flame flairs out of the sides of the stove, etc.

Shit that shouldn’t be happening.

Shit that is really fucking dangerous.

We know this is dangerous, we’re not stupid.

We know we should get it fixed.

But here’s the thing, okay?

The floors are just base boards, they’re falling in and there’s holes everywhere.

There’s rats that we’ve tried every trick in the book to get rid of, short of hiring an exterminator. We’ve borrowed traps, had traps “gifted” to us, tried poisons that friends and family have bought for us, etc. It cuts them down but they come back.

All of our food is in thick sealed plastic containers and yet they’ve eaten some of the containers open. They even ate our soap and makeup and cleaning supplies and that didn’t seem to stop them. (Our soap and cleaning supplies are now in plastic containers too but idk how long it will deter them, and the makeup is thrown away)

We have shoddy wiring in the house, done by my own grandpa back in the 70’s when they first bought this place.

Our roof has cracks in it that have failing patches, done by a family friend.

Our AC doesn’t exactly work very well and it’s been reaching 100°F weather (with 70% humidity no less) and to fix it we’d need $10k at least, but we’d also need new flooring, so it would likely be more than that…

Etc.

And like, it’s not that the house is dirty, but that it’s falling apart.

And here’s the deal… calling someone who knows what’s what about houses to check the stove means calling someone who is going to inspect the whole house, someone who’s going to say:

“hey uh, your gas is messed up and your electricity is messed up and so’s your plumbing… Your floors are bad… we have to condemn this house and if you can’t pay to fix it up then you’re going to lose it.”

And it’s not like we got this house and destroyed it by a lack of maintenance, this house is like, 50+ years old, and has been my home since I was born.

My grandma and I couldn’t take care of everything because my grandpa had Alzheimer’s and he was going downhill and it was me and her caring for him.

My health is really bad and I can’t work a regular day job because of it, but I haven’t been able to hire a lawyer to apply for disability, so we’re living off one income and whatever side gigs I can do from time to time.

We don’t have the money to pay the mortgage, buy groceries, pay the home insurance, the gas bill, pay medical bills, buy pet food, etc and also then pay for our house to be inspected and potentially condemned for things I didn’t even do in the first place, things that came before I inherited this house…

My whole family has been poor my whole life, from my great great grandparents to my parents, etc.

It was always “you don’t pay for a professional to fix it, you either fix it yourself or get a family member or a friend of a friend to fix it”

Which means that if we ask a building inspector to tell us what’s wrong with the house… well… it’s going to probably be everything. Because this house has never been “professionally” fixed, it’s only ever had family members and friends of family members slap duct tape over glaring issues and say they’ll only charge you a glass of sweet tea.

Which means it’ll probably cost nearly the entire value of the house to fix tbh.

I just feel like I’m on a ship that’s sinking and way more water is coming in than I could ever manage to get out. I keep trying to patch the leaks but the materials just not available, and besides, if I stop bailing out the water for even a second to go and try and patch the leak, I’ll go fully underwater.

And you know, it’s not fair. It’s not right that it’s like this. This is our home and we love it. This has been my home for years and we love this house, this land, the trees and plants that grow, everything here is loved. It’s cared for. We try to take pride in it.

But you wouldn’t know that because we’re too busy trying to bail out that sinking ship. We’re too busy from constantly working and cleaning and repairing.

It’s not okay that it’s set up that way. We need help, we need community. We should be able to call someone and be like “Hey, we love this house, we’ve never been late on a payment, we’ve worked our butts off to try and keep things going, but we need help. Can you look at everything this house needs to function and be in good condition and help us get those things?”

Like, hell a payment plan option would work, wouldn’t it? Why isn’t that the done thing?

I mean, I know why, the more houses that are taken from the poor means the more real estate that’s available for the rich, they’re already trying to make our whole neighbourhood into some corporate venture instead of a residential area. And besides, if they manage to make us homeless they’d be just as happy throwing us in jail for the “crime” of being homeless and poor and making money off free labour.

Like that’s why it’s normal practice not to help anyone keep their home when they actually have a home. The system is set up for you to fail unless your family is at least moderately wealthy.

It’s just such an unforgiving cycle. And I know I’m beating a dead horse with this vent. I know that like over half of America’s population is likely in the same shitty place we’re in.

It’s just… I’m so tired of being in cycles like these.

I’m too sick to work, too poor to afford to get on disability, and both too poor and too exhausted to go to the doctor to get proper treatment, and it’s just a loop.

I’m too exhausted to fix the house, too busy cleaning the house to rest, too exhausted to make money to have professionals help fix the house, rinse and repeat.

The house breaking down is very likely making me more sick, but I’m too sick to be able to get the house fixed.

My grandparents didn’t have money to fix the house, my parents don’t have money to fix theirs, I don’t have money to fix my house.

Every step forward is like ten steps backwards and I genuinely don’t know what the solution to all of this is.

I feel so fucking trapped. I don’t even have the energy to run a gofundme for myself to try and get the help we need, because it takes so so much to to actually get a gofundme up and off the ground, I have tried before and it’s always been a failure because I just literally never have enough energy for it.

We have so many things we’d love to do. We’d love to make this house into an eco-friendly, sustainable home, with solar panels and a huge garden. We want to make a farm stand with fresh eggs and vegetables and fruit and let it operate on an honour system, so anyone who needs food can take what they need and pay what they can, yes even if it’s $0. I want to crochet hats and mittens and set those out too, for sale or just for those who need them…

We want so badly to take care of our community… but it feels like our community isn’t there to support us, not because people don’t want to support one another but because we’re all trapped or are being prevented from supporting one another.

Because having a farm-stand means you need to buy business licenses… building a sustainable home means you need to buy a building permit.

Every step of the way feels like good intentions are wasted, road-blocked.

I can’t even begin to explain how many jobs I’ve applied to, writing, editing, working as a cook or a waiter, data entry, etc.

In school they told me I’d be able to do anything I wanted to. I was a “gifted” straight A student and as I’m sure many people on this site know, that’s not bragging. It’s the opposite. The school system, the system that is supposed to help me be successful in life, told me I would be, and now I would be lucky to make $7.25/an hour while living in a place where the minimum liveable wage is $35/an hour.

It costs $35 an hour for one person to live moderately comfortably in my town. And this isn’t an arbitrary number, it’s literally on our county’s government ran poverty assessment website.

And that’s not a thriving wage it’s a surviving wage. It’s Home, Food, Utilities, Transportation & Clothes.

It leaves no room for medical care, comfort, entertainment, etc.

So what the hell are those of us who are working for anything less than that, or those of us unable to work, supposed to do?!

And like I said, I know I’m preaching to a choir rn, I know everyone is experiencing some version of this. I just… I need to be able to express it from time to time. To talk about how unfair and ridiculous and needlessly cruel this is.

It’s so deeply flawed and evil that we’re unable to have legitimate health concerns inspected because we’re worried about the house being taken away from us.

It’s trash. It’s inhumane.

And if anyone has any like… suggestions or advice that would be great… I’m considering just having our gas service canceled by our gas company and buying a small electric grill instead… but our gas also powers our hot water heater so…

:/

[kaiba-cave]

I'm so excited. I've been on credit counselling since April 2020, because I had a LOAD of debt (multiple credit cards and line of credit) that I was paying a ton of money for every month, and being credit cards, the minimum payments hardly covered the interest so they never really went down, and I wanted to move out but couldn't afford it without help. With their debt consolidation, all those bills went down to just under $300 a month, that I've been paying faithfully and on time every single month since then.

WELL, I got an email from them today saying hey, you're coming up to your final payment, let us know once you've paid it so we can close your file.

And I was like. Wait, what???? FINAL PAYMENT??? Huh???

I did not realize it was even this YEAR, let alone this MONTH. I thought I was on a six year plan, but it must have only been four. When I first bought my car back in 2013, it was a six year payment, so I must have been confusing the credit counselling with that.

I also don't check my credit counselling account very often, I just pay the right amount before the 15th every month like I'm supposed to. Last time I checked it was a few months ago and I still had over $1k to pay back, so in my mind that was equal to the last two years of payments I thought I had, lmaooo. But almost $300 a month, it adds up quicker than you think, so I don't know why I didn't realize it was so soon. I only owe $202 for this month and then I'll be finished. 😭

That's almost $300 extra I'll have per month and that's so helpful. I'll also be able to get a credit card again, but seeing as that's the whole reason I needed credit counselling to begin with, I won't be getting one any time soon, lol. I do want one eventually because it helps build your credit (and mine is literally in the gutters), and I'd like to have one mostly for veterinary emergencies. I do have pet insurance but I still have deductibles and regular checkups to pay for. But I have NO self control so I have to hold off on that for as long as possible, and when I do get one, not keep it in my wallet. 😂 And have one of the lowest limits possible, like no more than 1k.

This is literally just like a weight off my shoulders, especially since the last year practically I've felt like I've had NO money, like could barely cover all my bills and basic needs. And $300 isn't A LOT, but it sure does help. Hopefully I can manage to save some of it, even if it's only $100 or so per month. Would be nice to have that.

Aaah I'm so glad.

[ms-demeanor]

I've been following what's been going on with Belphie the kitten and his person, Greer Stothers, has just mentioned pet insurance in a tag on a post and I wanted to give an example from my life backing up why pet insurance can be a good idea and why I think it is worthwhile.

Two years ago my sister's dog had bloat while she was on vacation. The kennel he was staying at recognized symptoms and called my sister to clear them to take him to the emergency vet. My sister is very financially secure and this dog is an enormous part of her life, so she said yes with barely a moment of hesitation. That ended up being about twelve thousand dollars of emergency surgery.

Large Bastard and I got pet insurance for Tiny Bastard the same week because we realized that if someone had presented that option to us, we would have had no choice but to have Tiny Bastard put down, and we didn't want to be put in that position.

I did a lot of research about different kinds of pet insurance and different levels of coverage and annual maximums and deductibles and so on and so forth. Tiny Bastard is a senior dog, so this was going to be expensive no matter what options we went with, so I chose a moderately priced plan with a $500 annual deductible, unlimited annual coverage, that pays 80% of the bills incurred annually below the maximum. What that means is that we pay the first $500 of care totally out of pocket, after which point we are reimbursed 80% of any vet bills for care covered by the plan.

The first year we had this plan I was kind of iffy about it. It's a noticeable monthly expense and we didn't even spend the deductible in vet bills the first year. Except that a month before the policy was set to renew, Tiny Bastard got diagnosed with diabetes. We now have monthly insulin costs and syringe costs; there are tests she has to have regularly to monitor her overall condition and we need to do more frequent vet visits to track symptoms.

Suddenly the insulin alone means that the insurance is break-even within six months and the additional visits and tests are something we can afford instead of something we'd have to put on credit.

Our plan (through ManyPets) covers medication, surgery, diagnostics, medical equipment, and euthanasia and cremation. It doesn't cover pre-existing conditions, joint conditions for dogs who were signed up over a certain age, dental care, spay/neuter, vaccinations, or prescription food but honestly all of that makes me just kind of wish we'd signed her up earlier - her knee problems *would* be covered if we'd had her signed up as a puppy, and the monthly cost would have been lower if we'd signed her up then. And there are at least a few emergency vet bills that I wouldn't still be paying off on my credit card. Hell, I've probably paid more in interest on some bruising she got in a fight three years ago than I have for this policy as a whole.

I am glad that Greer is able to take care of Belphie. I am glad that my sister was able to take care of her dog. But I'm also really, really glad that for a relatively low cost, I would be able to take care of Tiny Bastard if she were catastrophically injured, or if she needed emergency surgery. I'm glad that I'm able to take care of her now with her medications and her additional vet visits.

There are a lot of people who say that pet insurance isn't worth it, especially not for young animals. But if your young animal gets very sick, or gets badly injured, or eats a hairband and needs an emergency endoscopy, then it will probably be VERY worth it. It's a risk/reward question. You feel like you're wasting money if you're paying for a policy that you never use, but honestly that just means you're lucky to have a healthy pet.

I'm lucky that Tiny Bastard was relatively healthy before I got the insurance; I'm also lucky that she was insured when she was diagnosed with a chronic illness that will need lifelong care. This enables me to provide care for her that would otherwise be financially unmanageable, and that makes the insurance *extremely worth it* from my perspective.

And Belphie is a good example of why it's a good idea to get coverage even for very young pets. Greer is recommending it because this kitten has required a tremendous amount of care during a period in his life when it's generally taken for granted that a cat will be healthy. (And Greer is not stupid for forgoing pet insurance - pet insurance is still a relatively new concept and there are lots of people who are leery of it for a number of good reasons)

So I'd say that if you've got a pet or are getting a pet it is very worthwhile to find a pet insurance plan that fits in your budget. There are a variety of plans out there and some are very inexpensive. Check coverage levels (you can even get some with wellness plans that include dental care and vaccinations) and see if there's something that works for you.

I personally don't think I'm ever going to own another pet without having pet insurance. It's ridiculous how much easier it is for me to say yes to diagnostic tests or different treatments than it was before because I know I'm going to be able to fit Tiny Bastard's care into our budget.

[monstersinthecosmos]

thank you to @birdblacksocialclub for tagging! <3

Are you named after anyone? I am named after an 80's soap opera character but I cannot say more because my real name is a Tumblr secret.

When was the last time you cried? omfg I can't remember which was last but this week I cried over a BTS clip I watched of the Curb Your Enthusiasm finale and also my GOT rewatch when Dany has to lock the dragons up 😭

Do you have kids? no lmao

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I THINK I USE IT MEDIUM for humor but I don't use it often in actual conversation because I don't want to be mean and I think it doesn't really come across over text.

What sports do you play? I HULA HOOP AND LIFT WEIGHTS IDK IF THAT COUNTS thats it that's the extent of my athletic pursuits

What’s the first thing you notice about people? in person probably their clothes, online probably THE STUFF THEY SHIP and then the tone with which they write meta 🤣

What’s your eye colour? Blue but I have partial heterochromia in my right eye so it's also brown.

Scary movies or happy endings? MANY SCARY MOVIES HAVE HAPPY ENDINGS WHAT DO YOU MEAN but scary movies

Any special talents? I can write I guess lol.

Where were you born? Long Island

What are your hobbies? fanfic writing, arts & crafts!, VERMICOMPOSTING, gardening!

Do you have any pets? I HAVE 2 THEY ARE VERY CUTE they are cat siblings named Ghost Pepper and Scrambles and they are about 21 months old!

How tall are you? 5'8

Favourite subject in school? dude idk I dropped out, I was miserable all day. When I went to college I had a lot of fun in Film Lit and the weirder photo electives.

Dream job? If I could make consistent money off photography and have it be my only job that would be so nice but the way it is now I find the business side of it so stressful that I prefer the setup I have now in which I have a cushy corporate admin job that pays the bills and allows me the freedom to have creative hobbies that I can do for fun without them being my job. I would love it if I could get into social work fields and do like community building and advocacy but they don't pay enough and/or I'd have to get more college and I can't afford it so !? Idk all I really want is something that pays me enough and lets me have hobbies but if it was something I felt good about doing that would be ideal. The company I work for now is morally acceptable for me because it helps people navigate the health insurance disaster in this country but I would also love to do work that would FIX the health insurance disaster in the first place, you know?

ANYWAY this was fun thanks!

tagging @apoptoses @rugbertgoeshome @ihaventcomeupwthanameforaheroyet @uncivilcivilservice @baba-o-riledup @defamink

[bitchesgetriches]

I have a question, do you think there is there some moral good to saving money? Because otherwise I can't see a point to making all those big sacrifices. If I saved 100% of my money starting today, I would not have enough to retire on by 70, to say nothing of paying off my student loans, having children (like I want to), or buying a house (like I know I'm supposed to). At what point are you allowed to say "its too late?"

Practically speaking, there are lots of reasons to save money. But the one that will most satisfy your concerns, I think, is for emergencies. Having an emergency fund saved up could mean the difference between keeping your car and suddenly finding yourself without transportation, to go with an example from Linda Tirado's book:

Bitchtastic Book Review: Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado 

... or keeping your housing vs. being evicted when rent is raised. Or paying for medicine for your child or pet when insurance won't cover it. Money gives you options to care for yourself and those you love.

I also don't think it's necessarily too late. After all, you're not simply "saving" enough to retire by 70. You're saving and investing that money, which means it'll grow over time without you lifting a finger (if you put it in a tax-advantaged retirement account that is).

I hope this helps, honey. I sense a lot of despair in your message, and I know it can be easy to give up hope. But keep your chin up. We're rooting for you.

Ask the Bitches: Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?

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[bronanlynch]

it took me over nine months to finish ace attorney 5 but here we are with the lawyer rankings (of whose file clerk I'd rather be)

athena: once again I draw the line at working for a teenager, and also I would be so uncomfortable if she ever tried to tell me what emotion she knew I was feeling. cannot stress how miserable that would be for me, and also a discrimination lawsuit waiting to happen. also, emotions-based lawyering doesn't seem likely to produce as much paperwork as I would like, since that leaves me with less to do. 2/10, of course there's discord in my heart I'm at work leave me alone.

apollo: if he started his own firm I would work for him in a heartbeat but unfortunately him leaving and then coming back to the wright anything agency is not great in terms of like, job security for his hypothetical file clerk. like, do I get laid off when he leaves and then brought back when he returns a few days later? I want a little more stability than that, sorry. 7/10, he would at least help get my benefits paperwork sorted out and I appreciate that in a boss.

phoenix: Idk has he learned how to pay his staff yet because judging by the repetition of the ending bit abt how he doesn't want to buy them noodles the answer seems to be no. "your bonus this year is a pizza party" kind of boss except you have to buy your own pizza. sure he's learned how to be a more supportive mentor to athena than he was to apollo but my boss's faith in me will not pay my rent. 3/10, phoenix you're dating the chief prosecutor surely you can do better than this.

edgeworth: he's gotten his shit together in a way that makes me very proud of him, and he does seem to care abt his employees. also he looks good in those glasses. 8/10, if he can get blackquill's conviction overturned he can make sure I have dental insurance.

payne: the thing about payne is that he doesn't listen to the things people tell him and he doesn't seem to learn anything ever, and that's a very frustrating quality in a boss. the kind of boss that tells you to do something but explains it badly and when you ask a clarifying question he responds with even more incomprehensible bullshit. half of your email responses to him are just copying and pasting things you've already told him. 2/10, every interaction with him is a sisyphean nightmare.

blackquill: trying to process the ethics of an imprisoned prosecutor (they make him wear a shock collar in court jesus fucking christ) makes my brain short-circuit but that's also just the ace attorney experience. other than that he seems like a decent boss, as long as you can overlook some of his uh dramatic tendencies and also as long as he doesn't sic taka on you. but I think if you had a good rapport with him it would be fine, even if it would probably mean a lot of transcribing bc presumably he'd have to hand-write anything he wants to file with the court and send them to you via bird and then you'd have to type them up and actually submit them. 6/10, honestly he gains several points just because I want to pet taka.

professor means: he's so smug, is the thing. he's just the smuggest man and he treats his students like idiots so I can't imagine he'd be any better and less condescending to his employees. he's probably looking for every excuse to be like "gotcha! you made one (1) minor error (that isn't even actually an error, it's just that he personally would have done it differently" and because everything has to be a Teaching Moment he'll bring it up in department meetings and also use you as an example in his classes. 3/10, he gains a few points for his awareness that the legal system is fucked up and rigged in favor of the prosecution and then loses most of those points for being a condescending asshole.

klavier: he would be fine probably. presumably his office is in the same state as it was in aa4, which is not ideal, as it stresses me out when filing cabinets are so full/disorganized that you can't close the drawers. on the other hand maybe that was just because he hadn't gotten around to dealing with it yet and he's not living like that on purpose and he would appreciate a file clerk to help him get his shit together. 7/10, just don't call me fraulein and we'll be fine.

( aa1 | aa2 | aa3 | aa4 | aai | dgs1 | dgs2 )