#the wallet is the major factor
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riv if u c6 him i'll NEVER forgive you ( i'm jealous 😞 )
Ummm forgive me for what helpppp jfksjdj 😭😭😭😭 but I do really want to I’m just really torn though bc I’d like to keep my wallet safe
#my asks#smizzywizzy#the wallet is the major factor#c3 was without having to spend but now that I’m low stocked on wishes#my wallet is at risk and that makes me go hmmm#and hesitate
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dude abby is so fire can we get more hcs or a snippet i beg
It's been a hot minute since I've done HCs and they give me excuse to flesh out my characters so we'll do with that-
Abby [Rental Zombie Spouse HC]
Warnings: Dismemberment, Mentions of death
-
Abby doesn't remember much about himself before he died. Everything predating the night he woke up in the back alley behind a restaurant witu a hole in his head is a blur to him. All he had to his person was a wallet, his phone, and the keys to an apartment - none of which helped jog his memory as the man the ID inside the wallet couldn't possibly be him.
As recently established, Abby earns money by hosting services where he will be the customer's partner- There are a handful of male options, but he prefers to pose as females in his disguises because those usually pay more and he likes the dress up.
While Abby doesn't require human flesh as his only food source, he can eat chunks of it to repair rotting or damaged tissue. He can also swap out parts that are no longer useful with fresh ones which is a major factor to how successful his business is since changing a few features makes him a completely new person. He has a deep freezer in his apartment where he keeps his "accessories" until they expire.
When it comes to what he likes in a Darling not even Abby knows. He's very easily distracted by things and an encounter with him trying to cut out a part of you he likes can instantly switch to yout first date of many just by him seeing you like that peeks his interest as well.
"Hey, You! Cute eyes you got... Mind if I borrow them?.... Oh! What are you listening to?... I love this band! I think.... Maybe the old me did. Let's listening to more songs together and find out!"
Since you would probably like to keep all your limbs, Abby steals physical objects that belong to you to feel closer to you. He would insist on something like matching tattoos or piercings since if you can't share the same flesh - you can at least have the same branding. Do not leave any jewelry or clothing that may fit him unattended.
Any body part that was at one tethered to him will still be usable even if it's separate from him as long as it's functional. There's a reason he always knows what you're thinking- he's got eyes and ears everywhere. Please don't throw them out if you happen to find any. :(
You'll almost never meet him when he isn't "Abby". When he doesn't care about his appearance or how bad the state of his decay is and just slaps on a hoodie and a face mask to get around. It's how he keeps watch on you without use of his spare eyes and sorta feels like how some people without their makeup.
He/him, but doesn't care about whatever pronouns his clients use for him.
Spends his money on brand new items for you, but goes broke buying second hand goods from yard sales and thrift stores because he loves older furniture and giving things a new home... Will pawn his junk off on you when he has strength in your relationship that you won't leave or make fun of him for his odd purchases.
"Why do you mean "why did I buy twenty cassette players"?? If you use the one I bought you already are a diary, I wouldn't have to stalk you as frequently!"
#Abby my oc#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere headcanons#yandere blurb#yandere insert#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#male yandere#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere zombie
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The state of the economy was the single biggest motive for Trump voters in 2024. Liberals, snarking about the “vibecession” – the mistaken belief by the public that the economy is in recession – say GDP is growing and inflation is modest at 2.4%. But headline figures don’t reflect how most people experience the economy. Prices are 20% higher than before the pandemic and, more importantly, prices for essentials such as food are up 28%. Household debt was a major stress factor. Biden also cut a raft of popular benefits established during the pandemic. Unsurprisingly, most people don’t believe the headline figures. Yet this narrative barely scratches the surface. First, the evidence suggests that people don’t always vote with their wallets: studies from the 20th century up to the present show that simple measures of economic self-interest aren’t a very good predictor of voting behaviour. The economy matters, of course, but not as a simple metric of aggregate wellbeing. It is a space in which people judge their personal standing relative to how they perceive the state of society. Personal setbacks are generally only politicised when they are perceived as part of a wider crisis. Second, while the far right can’t win without gaining some working-class support, in the US, Brazil, India and the Philippines, it relies on a bedrock of middle-class support. Besides, millions regularly have their economic lives wrecked without going far right: the poorest in most societies generally aren’t very susceptible to their message. Third, in strictly material terms the economic offer of today’s far right is paltry, yet incumbency has been incredibly forgiving for nationalist governments.
[...]
Today’s far right offers a different answer – what the political theorist William Connolly calls a “politics of existential revenge”. It replaces real disasters with imaginary disasters. Trump warns of “communist” takeover and amplifies the “great replacement” conspiracy theory. His supporters rail against “white genocide” and satanic child-molesting elites. Instead of opposing injustice, they vilify those who threaten social hierarchies like class, race and gender. Instead of confronting systems, they give you enemies you can kill. This is disaster nationalism.
11 November 2024
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How do you go about having a service animal in a GLAM environment? I’m hoping to go into archives, but I also require a service dog and I’m worried about contamination and prejudice. I would really appreciate some tips!
Hmm, your milage may very with my answer because of a couple of factors: 1), I'm not actually in GLAM although I have done some archival work. Archaeology generally falls outside of those spaces and many archaeologists bring their dogs to digs and/or to work, so it's much more accepted. 2) Llywelyn and I have been a service dog/handler team for 6+ years, so my tactics build in prior experiences. I'll tag @museum-spaces (a GLAMorous person and service dog handler), @museeeuuuum (GLAMorous).
In general: One of the most effective tactics I've found when entering new archival environments is to provide an example of my dog behaving appropriately in a similar setting. In emails, I like to attach the picture below along with a quick blurb about our previous archive experience to prove our bona fides.
If you don't have previous archive experience, go for somewhere like a library. Many colleges and universities (and local libraries!) have archival collections you can access in reading rooms, and that would be a great place to start. Working to build trust and set both you and your dog up for success is essential.
However, I will also say that I've never once had a problem with museum or archive staff and my service dog. I can count the number of truly unfortunate experiences I've ever had on one hand, and they were all in restaurants. GLAM folks are by and large a lovely group of people, and they are often prepared to deal with accessibility requests.
For prejudice: access to places with service animal is federally protected in the United States. Know your rights and be prepared to advocate for them. A service dog is akin to a piece of highly specialized medical equipment. I carry a couple of these cards with the laws about service dogs in my wallet and give them to people when they challenge me.
For contamination: Llywelyn is a poodle, so he doesn't shed (I actually shed far more than he does) which takes care of the biggest contamination issues. If your dog does shed, brush them out thoroughly before they have to be in a space where hair could be an issue, and tell the people in charge that you've done so.
Llelo also sits on a towel I place at my feet, which means he isn't roaming around and protects him from the floor and vice versa. I use a bathroom hand towel because my dog is small, but you could totally do something similar with a larger dog. (It's also nice for him not to have to sit on the cold hard floor of some places.)
TL;DR: There are ways to set yourself up for success, and I think that you'll find that the vast majority of GLAM folks aren't going to give you trouble.
-Reid
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Playing Games With This Old Heart
Summary: You need to make cash fast after losing your job. After stumbling on a job, you can't help but to think about your first customer. And he can't get you out of his head.
Warnings: no smut, no fluff, still MDNI as this will be a planned series, canon typical violence, hints of death of a loved one (prior to story), animal death (bear), angst, Female Mutant!Reader with regenerative healing factor.
A/N: It's been two years since ive poste dont his account, so i hope you guys wont hold that against me. Please take this sample of a fic with our favorite X-Man.
Word Count: 4.7 k words
The days were shifting between the long summer heat and a cooler breeze as the leaves started to change from their usual green and full thick coverings to reds, yellows, and browns before leaving their life-sustaining tree and falling to the ground. There was something subtle about the sound of leaves crunching under ones footstep that somehow felt calming. The ground around your home was littered with the fine needles of the Douglas Fir trees that had a very distinct pine smell to them. It was a welcoming smell for you, having lived the majority of your life in rural Montana, the fresh smell of pine felt like home.
The colorful coat of the Maine Coon cat you owned stood out against the green throw blanket placed on the couch, the place he dubbed his spot. His name was Felix and he had been your fury best friend of nearly six years now. He showed up one day on your doorstep when it was raining with his mother. Not knowing much about cats, but knowing they were hungry, you couldn't help but open the last can of tuna you had in your pantry, draining it of its liquid before setting it out for the mother and son cats to eat. His mother trusted you enough to leave her son with you before leaving, never to be seen again. You often wondered what happened to the little minx of a feline, though you were happy to assure her you could take care of her baby.
"Okay, Felix. I'm going into town. Don't miss me too bad while I'm gone, okay?" You chuckle a little watching him as he stretches out, adjusting your jacket in the process. With keys in hand, wallet in your warm coat, and a fully charged phone, you left your home. Your next-door neighbor was only five miles away, as was his other neighbor. The only thing you had to worry about here were bears, mountain lions, and wolves showing up unannounced during meal times. Thankfully the only time you spotted any of the three was during their migration journeys at quite the distance from your porch to the open land headed out toward the lake where they could get their fill of fresh fish and other small creatures that dwelled there.
You kept your distance, you respected their space, and in turn, they stayed away from you. Just how it should have been.
Hoping into your truck, an old one of your father's, you kick it into gear and leave your driveway. The roads were bumpy as the broken rock and dirt shifted under the weight of the truck, bouncing you a little as you made the drive into town. There were a few things you needed to make it through the week: gasoline, and a refill of your water containers. One was used for cooking and drinking, one was used for bathing, and the third was the backup. Being out in these parts, you had to prepare for the unthinkable. Trees block major routes to give supplies, unpredictable weather, and supply shortages.
Another thing you would have liked to get was a fresh cut of meat for dinner. Depending on what was at the store would determine the dinner in store for you. Grilled fish? sounded nice. A steak could have been as equally nice to eat.
Though, there was another reason for your outing today. Since Mr. Kirkwood had sold his farm, you had been out of a job and had been running low on funds. You had to find a job today, any job. Anything that would provide you cash for hard work to continue to provide for yourself and Felix. Stocking shelves at the only grocery store in town? Perfect! Cutting down trees for the logging company? You're the girl for the job, nevermind you have never cut a vertical tree before, only when they were already grounded.
You just needed any job, one that you can continue to live your life.
--
Parking the truck, you walked to the bed, picking up the water containers, two in one hand and the third in the other. Thankfully there had been a man coming out of the store, seeing your hands full he held it open for you. You thanked him, recognizing him as one of your father's old co-workers. You nodded to each other, letting him go back to his day as you entered the door.
"There she is, I was wondering when you would be coming back. I hadn't seen you in a few days," came the beckoning voice of the store's owner, Mr. Morgan. He was almost like an uncle to all of the younger people in town, being about thirty-five and younger. You were toward the older end of his infinite nieces and nephews, though he would swear you were his favorite.
"I was able to get an extra day or two in on my stock. I call that quite the accomplishment."
"Did you make it last longer, or did you go without longer than usual?" He questioned you, peering over his glass at you as you set the water containers down. He knew what your current situation was, but at the end of the day, he still had a business to run. "I can't do anything for you today until you pay your tab." He was serious, but he had a little glint in his eye as if letting a loved one down.
You looked at him, your once welcoming face now placid. "Mr. Morgan, please. You know I'm good for the money." you fished around in your jacket, pulling out the last thirty-seven dollars and change you had. You knew it wouldn't cover your tab plus what you needed, but you also knew he had a business to run. "I just need a little more time. And some supplies. Please."
It was a plea, a simple one. Though you knew he was the holder behind how the rest of your week was going to go. "I'll stock shelves for you to pay the rest of my tab. I'll scrub the floors with a toothbrush. I'm willing to work."
He took his glasses off, looking at the cash in front of him. He didn't want to see anybody struggling, but he couldn't ignore his debts. He shuffled the money around, taking thirty dollars for himself and handing you the seven dollars and change back. "I can't afford to add anybody else to my payroll, or else I would. You can have one water refill, a full tank of gas, and some cat food. Nothing more."
You stared at him, lips parted as if to protest the money exchange, but the sound of the bells chiming against the door flooded those thoughts. You reached for the cash, scooping the change into your hand. All you could muster was a simple "Thank you." Moving the water containers to the side, you placed two of the containers into the designated area, then took one to the refill station, and filled the water container.
You had to figure something out and fast.
--
A newly filled water container was placed in the truck bed, a full tank of gas in your truck, and a sack of wet and dry cat food sat on the passenger floorboard. Looking around the small main street of the town where ninety percent of the town's businesses resided, you decided to leave your truck where it was. You were on the hunt for a job, and you were damn determined to find employment by the end of the day.
You used your side view mirror to make sure your hair looked fine, adjusting the collar of your jacket and shirt, you straightened up peering back at the main street. The best way to start job hunting was to start at the end of the street and work your way back down, entering every business you spotted. The good thing about small towns was all you needed was to name-drop a couple of people, resumes didn't hold up well.
The bad thing about small towns was that everybody needed work. Store owner after store owner denied your requests. The pawn shop wasn't looking for new employees, the liquor store had too many employees as is, and the antiquities store only hired their family members. The options were dwindling down, and soon you were nervous you were going to have to find a creative way to make money or even worse, entertain the thought of being a lot lizard.
The only two businesses left were the diner on the right side of the street and the motel at the end of the road. Either of them could have positions open, yet they could also deny you a job opening. You had to hope they had an opening somewhere, knowing you were not creative enough to make and sell items for cash. You didn't own many items to sell, beyond the couch, a cot you used to sleep on, and the few little trinkets you received when her father died. The most expensive item you owned was more than likely the truck, and selling it would mean nearly desertion at your home.
Without another thought, you crossed the street as a logging truck passed in front of you. You made some eye contact with the driver, making sure you waited until he drove in front of you before crossing the street.
As you pushed open the doors of the diner, a woman ten years your senior greeted you. "Have a seat wherever you want, sweetheart."
You crossed the room, taking a seat in front of her as she cleaned the counter space. "I know you are busy, and I don't want to take up too much of your time. I'm looking for a job. Mr. Morgan told me you might have something open here?"
The woman looked up from her work, eyeing you down after you mentioned Mr. Morgan. Her ginger curly hair cascaded down her shoulders as she shifted her weight. "Mr. Morgan, huh?" It was hard to tell by her expression, but she seemed to be thinking about something.
The door opened again, and a young blonde woman entered appearing slightly disheveled as if she had just woken up. "I'm here, Rebecca."
The woman in front of you, Rebecca as you read the name tag, turned her body toward the younger woman, then looked to the clock. She placed one hand on her hip. "Only two hours late." She looked between you and the woman, a mischievous look in her eyes. "I told you, show up on time or don't show up at all."
The blonde woman huffed a little, crossing her arms. "It's not like anybody else wants this job."
Rebecca smirked, walking around the counter toward the woman. "Actually she does." She was quick to snatch the apron from the blonde woman. "Clean your uniform and have it dropped by the end of the week, then you will get your check." She then tossed the apron to you, catching it effortlessly.
The blonde huffed, storming out of the diner and throwing a couple of curses in the air. "Your shift starts now. Take a menu, and study it between customers. Orders go to Big Ben. Don't ask us why we call him that and don't make any eye contact. Burgers are made to order, the soup of the day is Italian wedding, and you can give me your jacket."
Her orders came quickly as you stood up, removing your jacket and tying the apron around your waist. There had been a little notebook in the apron and a pen, thankfully saving your ass as you wrote down the notes she gave you. The doorbell rang again, the older woman looked at you with a questionable look. That was your cue, time to work. "Take a seat wherever you want." You nodded, taking a menu in your hands and walking up to your first-ever customer.
--
As his boots made contact with the ground below him, the man took a moment to adjust his shoulders, rolling them a couple of times as he stretched. He could have sworn the truck cabs were getting smaller and smaller, almost feeling his head touch the rooftop. At least he could rest comfortably during his lunch break. He had contemplated having a liquid diet for lunch paired with a cigar, but the smell of greasy burgers filled his nostrils. Tucking the keys of the truck in his vest pocket, Logan walked toward to diner.
He passed by an unruly blonde woman, muttering under her breath about being fired barely filling his ears. He persisted in, entering the diner. Not looking up, he heard the greeting offered to him, hearing two different footsteps filling the diner. One was the small heels clicking against the tile floors. The other was boots muffled against the tile. A small pair of hands moved to set a menu down in front of him, along with what looked like one single-ply napkin and a fork. "What can I get started for you?"
Logan still hadn't looked up yet, looking at the laminated two-sided menu in front of him. "Coffee." He blurted, though wishing he could have an iced beer with his food. The woman left his table, rounding the counter and finding the coffee pot and cups. A minute may have passed by as he scanned the menu. He wasn't that much of a picky eater, as long as it used to have a heartbeat, he was fine.
The mug was set down in front of him, steam rolling off the black liquid. "I'll have the cheeseburger and fries." He picked up the menu, handing it back to the waitress. That was when he finally turned to look at her, remembering her as the woman who crossed the street behind him. She didn't seem to be dressed for work, not like the other woman who was behind the counter now fiddling with some dishes.
"You got it." She left the table, and walked over to the window, setting a ticket in the designated space that the other woman told her about. His hand wrapped around the mug in front of him, looking outside as he silently observed the town. He was in this stretch of land only long enough to get him enough cash to figure out his next move. He didn't like to stay in the same place too long, maybe a year or two at most. He didn't mind the small circles running in this part of the state, but he knew that if he wanted to go somewhere else he would have to figure it out soon before the snow moved in.
What felt like ten minutes had passed before the woman came back, setting his plate in front of him. "Can I get you anything else?"
He shook his head, brushing her off. As she left, she could smell a strong scent of pine around her, as if she herself was a pine tree. It wasn't a disheartening smell, something he actually liked.
Another set of diners came in, sitting a few booths behind Logan. As he ate his food all he could hear was her voice, despite there being a total of seven beings in the diner he could hear. Somehow her voice was the loudest in his mind. Not the heartbeats of the seven people, not his heartbeat, not her heartbeat. Her voice.
As he finished the food in front of him, she walked over to him, leaving his ticket and grabbing the empty plate. "Do you want a cup for the road?"
He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a billfold. "Yeah, sounds good."
She returned with his to-go coffee, handing it over to him as he left cash on the table, adjusting his shirt collar. "Here, let me get your change."
"Keep it." He walked out of the diner, making a bee-line for his truck, fighting everything in him to talk to her again. Little did he know, that wasn't going to be their only interaction for the day.
--
The daylight began to dissipate, street lights were turning on and the neon signs from the only bar in town began to glow. Rebecca presented to you with a powder blue uniform dress. The diner and the employees looked as if they hadn't left the fifties, just as the regular customers liked to relive. "You did good, peanut. The job is yours. Your next shift is tomorrow, Nine to five, be here no less than ten minutes before clocking in tomorrow. I'll have some shoes for you. Can't have my girls in boots for service."
You took the uniform and hanger, nodding. "Yes ma'am."
Rebecca giggled a little. "Oh darlin', I'm no ma'am. You can call me Becky."
Parting ways with your new manager, you left the diner, uniform in hand and some tips in your apron. You couldn't help but think about the first customer you had that day, a man appearing around your age, how quick your interactions were, but how he almost seemed disinterested in interacting with you. Was it possible he was a regular of the blonde woman? He paid his bill, he tipped you, and you went on about your day. That was all you could ask for.
Returning to your truck still parked in front of the grocery store, you set your items down in the cab. Peering to the bed of the truck, you huff as you realize your water container is missing. At least the thief had the balls to leave your empty gas container. Mr. Morgan's place was closed for the night, so you would have to swing by the store after work. "Cowards." you hum to yourself, getting in the truck and turning over the engine.
Returning home, you fed Felix with the food you acquired today. Becky made sure you had something to eat as well before you left the diner, though Big Ben had made a comment about it. This only solved three of your problems for the day. You still needed to wash up, and without the water container, you only had one choice.
The easiest thing would be to take a bucket to the lake and boil the water before using it to wash up. Not thinking clearly either, you left the house without any type of protection, knowing you were just getting water and heading back to the house. The only light you had to help you was the half-moon above you.
Unknown to you, the man from the diner had followed you home, wondering what you were up to. He wished he could understand what was happening, but your voice was all he could hear and focus on the rest of the day. His truck was parked in the woods opposite your home, and he stood in the tree line listening to the orchestra of insects and animals around the both of you. Foxes howled in the far distance, deer were settling in for the night. But there was another predator within the vicinity, one unbeknownst to you.
You kneeled down to fill the metal bucket with water, you were being watched by a wolverine and a black bear. A bear looking for its next meal, and a wolverine searching for answers, only to find more problems in his way.
The grunt of the bear finally caught your attention. It had been nearly twenty feet in front of you, standing on a rock as it discarded the fish carcass in its claws. He smelled bigger game, and his blood lust was all he could focus on.
Leaving the bucket still in the water, you slowly stood up, keeping your hands to your sides. It stayed on its rock, turning toward you. It must have been fully grown, which spelled danger for you. Black bears did not care and would defend themselves to the death, even if it was not threatened.
Seconds felt like minutes as the bear finally stood up, roaring before falling to all fours and darting toward you. There was no way you could outrun a bear, let alone rely on your home to defend you. Laying down now meant instant death for you. Climbing trees was out of the question.
Your heart pounded in your chest with every footfall, knowing the longer you thought about survival, the more your chances diminished.
The bear caught up to you, pinning you down and tossing you around. Your screams filled the space of the open field around you. Claws tore into your skin and clothes as you felt warm blood escape your body.
Snikt
The bear roared out, turning its attention away from you to something else, attacking it. The sounds of two animals tousling with each other filled the air, but after one minute, the bear grew quiet, a distinct thud was heard as its body fell to the ground.
Something rushed up to you, and before you could react, you felt human hands touching your body. "No, no, no."
You looked up to see the man from the diner hovering over you as his knees collided with the ground next to you. His face was bleeding, but as you watched him, you saw his wounds close and heal within seconds. Almost just like...
He observed you, looking at where your wounds were.
Or used to be.
You sat up, scooting away from him a little. Breathing heavily, the both of, you looked at his tattered clothes and blood stains. yet there was an absence of wounds. "What are you?" You asked hurriedly.
He stared at you, his eyes dancing the same tango where your wounds used to be. "I could ask you the same." He ran a hand over his hair before standing up. He offered you a hand, however you didn't take it. Brushing yourself off from the dirt.
"Nothing happened here, okay?"
Logan turned toward you as he watched you walk back to the lake, picking up the bucket of water.
You realized what you said sounded harsh, and that wasn't your nature. Closing your eyes briefly, you look back at the man. "I have some clothes in my house. I can at least give you something to replace those."
He watched you begin walking toward the cabin you called home. Taking a moment, he decided to follow in your footsteps, quickly matching your pace to walk with you. "I saw you get attacked by that bear. I can see the blood." His eyes scan over your back, where layers of clothes are torn. Not just your jacket, but your shirt, and an undershirt.
You swung open the door of your cabin after walking up the little set of stairs on your porch. "Not to sound like a broken record, but, I can ask you the same."
After both of you were in the cabin, you set the bucket down next to the woodfire stove, pulled some of the water into a pot, then set it on the surface of the stove to boil the water. You then opened up a door, the only closet space in your cabin. There was a box labeled Dad's clothes written in neat handwriting. You pushed it out to the side, then grabbed two jackets. "Here, pick out what you want."
He looked at you, unsure of the idea. There was more to ask now, and he wasn't so sure where to start. He watched as you moved around in the cabin, picking up a little bowl and scooping its contents into a bowl. He could smell the cat, but not see it. He looked around, wondering where it was.
You observed his behavior, wondering what he was doing. Clearing your throat, you took a stab in the dark. "His name is Felix. He doesn't like strangers. If I had to guess, he is on my bed, or under it."
He smirked a little, knowing his suspicion had been confirmed. He approached the box, opening it to look at the different shirts and pants inside.
You observed him, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall. "Why are you out here?" You were thankful he showed up when he did, knowing you didn't have many defenses against the bear beyond how you healed.
Instead of giving a bullshit answer or response, he turned to look at you, a gray flannel in hand. "I was just passing through." He lied.
You shook your head, eyeing him as you lowered an eyebrow. "No, you didn't. Nobody passes through this place." Sighing a little, you felt a tug in your back. "Look, I've had a somewhat normal life here, have my entire life. I don't really have anything else to go to, or the drive to go anywhere else. I'll tell you what I can do, and I can answer any questions you have. Then we can part our separate ways. Sound like a deal?"
Logan stood up, tossing the flannel over his shoulder. He held his hands up to his sides, shrugging his shoulders. "I won't complain." He didn't know where this would lead him, but the thought of getting some answers meant his trip wouldn't be wasted.
Nodding, you rolled the sleeve of your torn jacket up, exposing the lower part of your arm to him. you pulled one of the logs out of the stove, holding the unburned end in your hand. The other side was on fire. You held your arm out in front of you, then pressed the fire to your skin, doing your best to stifle the groans from the injury. Pulling the log away, the third-degree burn healed almost instantly as tissue, muscles, and skin grew back together. After showing him the display of your power, you put the log back in the stove. "I was never sick as a child. injured that should have resulted in broken bones never bothered me."
Logan watched you burn yourself and then heal almost instantly. He hadn't met anyone before who had the same healing rate as he did. What were the odds of meeting another mutant out in the middle of nowhere Montana?
"Can I show you what I can do?" He asked, watching your every moment with precision. As he watched you nod, he moved his right hand to cross in front of him. Slowly, the sound of moving metal filled the air as three long knife-like appendages emerged between his knuckles. You stared in a mix of awe and confusion. He smirked, then sliced the pad of his left hand, showing you his own healing rate.
What caught him off guard was how you began to approach him, though it was a slow approach. On instinct, he retracted his claws, the spaces where they had once been healing up. "Does it hurt?" You ask him, rubbing your own knuckles where the blades would have been.
He didn't know how to feel, knowing that the two of you were just strangers passing in the night. "Every damn time." His voice was above a whisper, as if afraid the tone of his voice would break the sound barrier.
Silent moments passed between the two of you, tension filling the air. He couldn't stand it anymore as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I should really get going," he spoke, stepping around you. Dazed little you finally felt you weren't the only one anymore.
You turned around to face him as he approached your door. "You know, I have a shift at the diner tomorrow. Maybe you'll happen to forget your lunch and have to stop by the diner?"
He should say no. He should be grabbing his things and heading out of town as quickly as possible. He should put this place in his rearview mirror and forget anything that happened there. But the drum of your heartbeat spoke bigger volumes than his brain did.
"We'll see." He nodded, thanking you silently with a gesture of the shirt before leaving your cabin, and walking toward his truck. He needed out of there as quickly as possible. Another moment with you could have sent him into a coma. How beautiful you smelled, how kind you were. Even though you were quick to block him earlier and run away, you still let him into your home and offered him a simple reward for saving your life.
It was almost too intoxicating to think about. And the promise of tomorrow could never come any sooner.
#x men#logan howlett imagine#logan x reader#logan xmen#logan wolverine#logan howlett#james logan howlett x reader#james logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fic#wolverine imagine#wolverine x reader#wolverine
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For 40 years, Big Meat has openly colluded to rig prices
On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.
Noted socialist agitator Adam Smith once wrote, "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the publick, or in some contrivance to raise prices."
Smith was articulating a basic truth: when an industry grows concentrated, it grows cozy. Cultural differences between dominant firms are homogenized as top executives move from company to company, cross-pollinating attitudes and approaches. Ambituous, firm-hopping workaholic top brass make all their friends at the office, and so their former colleagues from one or two jobs back remain in their social circles.
Once an industry consists of half a dozen firms, the people running those companies constitute an incestuous financial polycule. They are executors of one anothers' estates, best men and maids of honor at one anothers' weddings, godparents to each others' kids. They play on the same softball teams and take family vacations together.
It would be heartwarming if it wasn't so costly to the rest of us. Remember Smith's maxim: "the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the publick, or in some contrivance to raise prices." Class solidarity among corporate executives forms a united front to screw us in every conceivable way, from corrupting our politicians to maiming and cheating workers to gouging buyers.
That's the basis of American antitrust law. When Robert Sherman was stumping for the passage of the Sherman Act, America's first major antitrust law, he thundered "If we will not endure a King as a political power we should not endure a King over the production, transportation, and sale of the necessaries of life. If we would not submit to an emperor we should not submit to an autocrat of trade with power to prevent competition and to fix the price of any commodity":
https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/
Or rather, that was the basis of American antitrust law – until the Reagan era, when the fringe theories of the Nixonite criminal Robert Bork were elevated to a new orthodoxy. Under Bork's conception of antitrust, monopolies were evidence of excellence. If a company puts all its competitors out of business, that must mean that it is "efficient."
In Bork's fantasy world, the only way a company could attain dominance is by being so beloved by its customers that every competitor withers away. Governments that bust monopolies aren't protecting the public from "autocrats of trade"; they're overthrowing the winners of an election where you "vote with your wallet" to pick the best company.
But Bork and his co-fantasists couldn't quite manage all that with a straight face. They grudgingly admitted that a certain kind of bad monopolist could hypothetically exist, one that used its "market power" to raise prices or lower quality. Only when these offenses against our "consumer welfare" occurred should the state step in to protect its people.
This may sound good in theory, but in practice, it was a dead letter. The consumer welfare test isn't as simple as "If prices go up after a merger, punish the company." Instead, the government had to prove that the price raises came from "market power," and not from an increase in energy or labor costs, or some other "exogenous factor," like Mercury being in retrograde:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/10/you-had-one-job/#thats-just-the-as
And wouldn't you know it, it turns out that the mathematical models prescribed to distinguish greed from unavoidable circumstance inevitably "prove" that the monopolist wasn't at fault. Surely, it's just just a coincidence that the priesthood that understood how to make and interpret these models were Chicago School Economists who sold model-making as a service to companies that wanted to raise prices.
Pro-monopoly economists insist that this isn't true, and that their theory still has room to prosecute bad monopolies and cartels where they occur – more, they say this is already happening. In particular, they insist that "greedflation" can't be real, because it would require the kind of conspiracy that Smith warned of, and that their sickly antitrust enforcement is sufficient to prevent:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/11/price-over-volume/#pepsi-pricing-power
This strains credulity. After all, the CEOs of giant companies in concentrated industries openly boast to their shareholders about how they've used the covid and Ukraine invasion shocks to hike prices to increase their profit margins – not just cover their additional costs:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/23/cant-make-an-omelet/#keep-calm-and-crack-on
While excuseflation is new, open, naked price-fixing by industry cartels is not. Take the meat-packing industry, dominated by a tiny handful of giant corporations whose executives literally ran a betting pool on how many of their workers would get covid each week while working in their cramped, unventilated factories:
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-55009228
These companies have seen their margins soar – up 300% over the lockdown – while their payments to ranchers and growers cratered:
https://www.reuters.com/business/meat-packers-profit-margins-jumped-300-during-pandemic-white-house-economics-2021-12-10/
All this might leave one wondering whether there isn't something a little, you know, "conspiracy against the publick"-y going on in Big Meat?
Let me tell you about Agri Stats. Agri Stats has been around since 1985. Every large meat packer pays to be a "member" of Agri Stats, and they each submit weekly, detailed statistics about every aspect of their business: all their costs, all their margins, broken out by category. Agri Stats compiles this into phone-book-thick books that each member gets every week, telling them everything about how all of their competitors are running their businesses:
https://www.agristats.com/history
The companies whose data appears in this book are anonymized, but it's trivial to re-identify each supplier. Tyson execs hold regular "naming process" meetings where they go through new books and de-anonymize the data. A Butterball exec confirmed that he "can pick the companies for rankings with 100% certainty."
As David Dayen writes in The American Prospect, these books are incredibly detailed: "bird weights, freezer inventory, and 'head killed per operating hour.'" Within the cozy meat cartels, Agri Stats acts as a clearinghouse that allows every business in the industry to act in concert, running the entire meat-packing sector as a single company:
https://prospect.org/power/2023-10-03-lawsuit-highlights-why-meat-overpriced/
As interesting as the list of Agri Stats members is, the groups that don't get to see Agri Stats' "books" is just as important: "farmers, workers, or retailers." Agri Stats also offers consulting services to its members. As an exec at pork processor Smithfield put it, Agri Stats advice boils down to four words "Just raise your price."
Agri Stats ranks its members based on how high their prices are – they literally publish a league table with the highest prices at the top. Meat packers pay bonuses to their execs based on how high the company's rank is on that table. Agri Stats meets with its members throughout the year to discuss "price opportunities" and to advise them to "exercise restraint" by restricting supply to keep prices up. When one Agri Stats member considered leaving the cartel, Agri Stats wooed them back by telling them how to make an additional $100k by raising bacon prices.
The reason Dayen is writing about Agri Stats now is that the DoJ Antitrust Division has brought an antitrust suit against them. This is part of a wave of antitrust actions brought by Biden's DoJ and FTC, who, along with his NLRB, are shaping up to be the most pugnacious, public-interest force against corporate power since the Reagan administration:
https://www.meatpoultry.com/articles/29124-doj-sues-agri-stats-for-complicity-in-meat-market-manipulation
All this enforcement isn't a coincidence. It comes from an explicit rejection of neoliberalism's core tenets: inequality reflects merit, monopolies are efficient, and government can't do anything. In Biden's DoJ, FTC and NLRB, they're partying like it's 1979:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby
What's amazing about the Agri Stats conspiracy to raise prices is that it's been going since the Reagan administration. It's a smoking gun proof that "consumer welfare" never cared about price-fixing and robbing the public (can a gun still smoke after 40 years?). There was never a time when consumer welfare antitrust cared about consumer welfare. It was always and forever a front for "a conspiracy against the publick," a "contrivance to raise prices."
Big Meat has been robbing America for two generations. Some of those stolen funds were used to corrupt our political process. The meat sector gets $50 billion in public subsidies and still gouges us on prices and rips off its suppliers:
https://www.ewg.org/news-insights/news/2022/02/usda-livestock-subsidies-near-50-billion-ewg-analysis-finds
Which means that it's possible that we're simultaneously being ripped off with meat prices and that meat prices are artificially low. Try and wrap your head around that one!
The do-nothing, pro-monopoly neoliberal antitrust is a virus that spread around the world. The EU's antitrust laws were reshaped to mirror American laws after the war through the Marshall Plan, but since the late 1970s, European lawmakers and enforcers have ignored their own laws (just like their American counterparts) and encouraged monopolies as "efficient."
This Made-in-Europe oligopoly, combined with energy and grain shocks from Russian invasion of Ukraine, created the perfect storm for European greedflation. As food prices spiked across the EU, Austrian hacktivist Mario Zechner set out to investigate Austrian grocers' pricing. Using the grocers' own APIs, he was able to compile and analyze a dataset of prices at Austrian grocers:
https://www.wired.com/story/heisse-preise-food-prices/
When Zechner open-sourced his project, collaborators showed up to expand the project across other EU countries, and an anonymous party donated a huge database of prices stretching back to 2017. The data reveals clear collusion among the grocers, who raise prices in near-lockstep, and use gimmicks like cyclic price drops to hide their collusion:
https://github.com/badlogic/heissepreise
Not every grocer has an API, and even the ones that do have APIs could easily block Zechner and co from accessing their data. When that happens, they could – and should – turn to scraping to continue their project. They should also scrape grocers elsewhere, including in Canada, where grocers rigged the price of bread:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/25/deep-scrape/#steering-with-the-windshield-wipers
Because Big Meat's "conspiracy against the publick" isn't unique to meat. It's in all our food, it's in all our goods, it's in all our services. The fact that the meat industry was able to rob American buyers, ranchers and farmers for two generations under a 200' tall neon sign that blinked "AGRI STATS AGRI STATS AGRI STATS" night and day is frankly astonishing.
But there's never just one ant. If the meatheads running Big Meat were able to do this in broad daylight since the NES years, imagine what all the other industries were able to get up to in the shadows.
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/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy
My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!
#pluralistic#meat#monoopoly#price fixing#antitrust#austria#mario zechner#scraping#adversarial interoperability#greedflation#price inflation#market power#david dayen#agri stats#meat packers
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My Personal Logan Howlett Headcanons (Part 1/?)
Since he's so tall, he always rests his chin on top of your head when he hugs you from behind
He is your Scary Dog Privilege in every possible situation. His Resting Stab Face™ is probably a major contributing factor to that
He lets you play with his hair, even if he's slightly disgruntled at your insistence that it looks like kitty ears
If you don't like the smell of his cigars, he'll smoke them outside so you don't have to be surrounded by the stench
It's kinda hard for him to get drunk because he metabolizes alcohol so fast, but on the rare occasion he manages to get plastered, he turns into the clingiest son of a bitch on the planet (and the touchiest, but that's besides the point)
He keeps a Polaroid of you in his wallet, so no matter where he ends up going, he always has you with him
Gives you his dog tags to wear when he goes off on his self discovery missions as a promise that he'll come back to you mostly in one piece
Will pick you up and throw you over his shoulder to remove you from a situation. Whether you're trying to fistfight Scott for eating your leftovers, or if he just wants you to himself for a couple of hours, rest assured you will be slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes
He buys an extra copy of whatever romance novel you're currently reading and takes notes, highlighter and everything. Whether it be a run-of-the-mill fluff piece or hardcore smut, you bet your ass he's gonna take notes
Because of his super heightened sense of smell, he knows the second your iron level dips that it's your time of the month, and he immediately springs into doting boyfriend mode
He's a shameless flirt, and he hits on you pretty much non-stop, but the second you stroke his cheek and tell him how pretty he is with a lovesick look on your face? The man is done for
Always shows off for you if you watch him do his workouts, or he just straight up makes you sit on his back while he does push-ups
He always gives you his jacket when it's cold, mostly because he loves seeing you in his clothes because you practically drown in them due to how big on you they are
He runs his thumb over your knuckles all the time when you two are hanging out with the other X-Men, occasionally bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it, solely because he knows it makes you blush
Forehead kisser. Partially because he's so frickin tall and it's the easiest place for him to reach, but he cannot go fifteen minutes without kissing your forehead
Will use any excuse to get his hands on you in any circumstance. Whether he's drawing circles on your hip when you're sitting on his lap, or sneaking a hand into your back pocket to not-so-subtly palm your ass, he's gonna do it and have a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time
Such a good listener. It's the highlight of his day when you ramble about everything you did that day while playing with his hands, and he'll just sit there and listen, occasionally asking a question if only to keep you talking because he loves the sound of your voice
Will give you piggyback rides if you're tired of walking or you wore the wrong shoes. You're the only one who gets that privilege, though. Anyone else asks him and he tells them to screw themselves
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On Tuesday morning, five days after Hurricane Helene ripped through Boone, North Carolina, David Marlett was on his way to the campus of Appalachian State University. The managing director of the university’s Brantley Risk & Insurance Center, Marlett was planning to spend the day working with his colleagues to help students and community members understand their insurance policies and file claims in the wake of the storm. He didn’t sound hopeful. “I’m dreading it,” he said. “So many people are just not going to have coverage.”
Helene made landfall southeast of Tallahassee, Florida, last week with winds up to 140 miles per hour, downing trees and bringing record-breaking storm surges to areas along the Gulf Coast before charging up through Georgia. But perhaps its most shocking impacts have been on inland North Carolina, where it first started raining while the storm was still over Mexico. At least 57 people are dead in Buncombe County in the west of the state alone. Communities like Boone received dozens of inches of rainfall despite being hundreds of miles from the coast. Waters rose in main streets, sinkholes and mudslides wreaked havoc, and major roads were blocked, flooded, or degraded by the storm.
Now, there’s a good chance that many homeowners in North Carolina won’t see any payouts from their insurance companies—even if they have policies they thought were comprehensive.
“The property insurance market for homes was already a patchwork system that really doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Marlett says. “Now you’re adding in the last couple of years of economic uncertainty, inflation, climate change, population migration—it’s just an unbelievably bad combination happening all at once.”
For North Carolinians, the issue right now has to do with what, exactly, private insurance is on the hook for when it comes to a storm. An average homeowner policy covers damage from wind, but private homeowners’ insurance plans in the US do not cover flooding. Instead, homeowners in areas at risk of flooding usually purchase plans from the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP).
The way a hurricane wreaks havoc on a state is a crucial deciding factor for insurers’ wallets. Hurricane Ian, which hit Florida as a category 4 storm with some of the highest wind speeds on record, caused $63 billion in private insurance claims. In contrast, the bulk of the $17 billion in damage caused by 2018’s Hurricane Florence, which tore up the North Carolina coast, was water damage, not wind; as a result, private insurers largely avoided picking up the check for that disaster.
This breakout of flood insurance from home policies dates back to the 1940s, says Donald Hornstein, a law professor at the University of North Carolina and a member of the board of directors of the North Carolina Insurance Underwriting Association. Private insurance companies decided that they did not have enough data to be able to accurately predict flooding and therefore could not insure it. “In some ways, that calculation of 50 years ago is still the calculation insurers make today,” he says.
While the NFIP, which was created in the late 1960s, provides virtually the only backup against flood damage, the program is saddled with debt and has become a political hot potato. (Project 2025, for instance, recommends phasing out the program entirely and replacing it with private options.) Part of the problem with the NFIP is low uptake. Across the country, FEMA statistics show that just 4 percent of homeowners have flood insurance. Some areas hit by Helene in Appalachia, initial statistics show, have less than 2.5 percent of homeowners signed up for the federal program.
“Even in coastal areas, not many people buy that, much less here in the mountains,” Marlett says. “People have never seemed to fully understand that flood is a separate policy.”
Flooding is not unprecedented in the mountains of North Carolina: Hurricane Ivan swept through Appalachia in 2004, and flash floods from rivers are not unheard of. Purchasing flood insurance is mandatory with a government-backed mortgage in some areas of the country, based on flood zones set by FEMA. But the data is based on extremely outdated floodplain maps that have not taken the most recent climate science on record rainfall into account.
“The biggest non-secret in Washington for decades is how hopelessly out of date these flood maps are,” Hornstein says.
Even if water wasn’t the cause of destruction for some homeowners in North Carolina, the storm’s disastrous mudslides—another risk supercharged by climate change—may not be covered either. Many home insurance policies have carve-outs for what are known as “earth movements,” which includes landslides, sinkholes, and earthquakes. In some states, like California, insurers are mandated to offer additional earthquake insurance, and homeowners can purchase private additional policies that cover earth movements. But in a state like North Carolina, where earthquake risk is extremely low, homeowners may not even know that such policies exist.
It’s also been a tough few years for the insurance industry across the country. A New York Times analysis from May showed that homeowners’ insurers lost money in 18 states in 2023—up from eight states in 2013—largely thanks to expensive disasters like hurricanes and wildfires. Payouts are increasingly costing insurers more than they are getting in premiums. Homeowners are seeing their policies jump as a result: According to statistics compiled by insurance comparison shopping site Insurify, the average annual cost of home insurance climbed nearly 20 percent between 2021 and 2023. In Florida, which has the highest insurance costs in the country, the average homeowner paid over $10,000 a year in 2023—more than $8,600 above the national rate.
Florida has made headlines in recent months as ground zero for the climate-change insurance crisis. More than 30 insurance companies have either fully or partially pulled out of Florida over the past few years, including big names like Farmers’ and AAA, after mounting losses from repeated major hurricanes like 2022’s Ian, the most expensive natural disaster in the state’s history. Florida’s insurer of last resort, now saddled with risk from multiple homeowners, has proposed a rate increase of 14 percent, set to go into effect next year.
In comparison, North Carolina’s insurance market looks pretty good. No insurers have exited the state since 2008, while homeowners pay an average of $2,100 per year—high, but avoiding the sky-high rates of states like Florida, California, and Texas.
“What traditionally has happened is that there’s a rate increase every few years of 8 to 9 percent for homeowner’s insurance,” says Hornstein. “That has kept the market stable, especially when it comes to the coast.”
But as natural disasters of all kinds mount, it’s tough to see a way forward for insurance business as usual. The NFIP is undergoing a series of changes to update the way it calculates rates for flood insurance—but it faces political minefields in potentially expanding the number of homeowners mandated to buy policies. What’s more, many homeowners are seeing the prices for their flood insurance rise as the NFIP adjusts its rates for existing floodplains using new climate models.
Many experts agree that the private market needs to reflect in some way the true cost of living in a disaster-prone area: in other words, it should be more expensive for people to move to a city where it’s more likely your house will be wiped off the map by a storm. The cost of climate change does not seem to be a deterrent in Florida, one of the fastest-growing states in the country, where coastal regions like Panama City, Jacksonville, and Port St. Lucie are booming. (Some research suggests that the mere existence of the NFIP shielded policyholders from the true costs of living in flood-prone areas.)
Asheville, at the heart of Buncombe County, was once hailed as a climate haven safe from disasters; the city is now reeling in the wake of Helene. For many homeowners, small business owners, and renters in western North Carolina, the damage from Helene will be life-changing. FEMA payouts may bring, at best, only a fraction of what a home would be worth. Auto insurance generally covers all types of damage, including flooding—a small bright spot of relief, but not enough to offset the loss of a family’s main asset.
“People at the coast, at some point after the nth storm, they start to get the message,” Hornstein says. “But for people in the western part of the state, this is just Armageddon. And you can certainly forgive them for not having before appreciated the fine points of these impenetrable contracts.”
Marlett says that there are models for insurance that are designed to better withstand the challenges of climate change. New Zealand, for instance, offers policies that cover all types of damage that could happen to your house; while these policies are increasingly tailored price-wise to different types of risk, there’s no chance a homeowner would experience a climate disaster not covered by their existing policies. But it’s hard, he says, to see the US system getting the wholesale overhaul it needs, given how long the piecemeal system has been in place.
“I sound so pessimistic,” he said. “I’m normally an optimistic person.”
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What Happens in Vegas
Happy @cassianappreciationweek everyone! I had a lot of fun with this one and major shoutout to @c-e-d-dreamer for giving me the plot idea for this ❤️🔥
Summary: Cassian and the guys spend a weekend in Vegas to celebrate his upcoming marriage to Nesta.
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Cassian
When Cassian had agreed to let Rhys take him to Vegas for an all-expenses-paid bachelor party weekend, he’d been so excited that he hadn’t been able to stop talking about it for days.
He just hadn’t factored in how much he’d miss Nesta.
“You have everything?” Nesta asked, leaning against one of their living room walls as Cassian wheeled his suitcase to the door.
“I think so,” Cassian answered. He did a last-minute check that he had his phone, wallet, and keys, along with a light jacket for the flight. “If not, I can just buy it there.”
“Assuming you’ll be sober enough to think straight,” she teased, following him as he walked to the front of their home.
When they’d been throwing around bachelor party ideas, originally Cassian had wanted to do something chill. He wasn’t into the stereotypical strip club party — especially not when he had Nesta at home waiting for him — but Rhys, Azriel, and Lucien had managed to convince him to visit Vegas for the weekend. Cassian wasn’t a huge gambler, but there were lots of things to do other than throw money away at the casinos, and he’d always wanted to go to Vegas. So he’d agreed to make the trip, and now the moment of truth had finally come.
Cassian wheeled his suitcase outside to see that Rhys’ familiar black Range Rover was sitting in front of their townhouse, the trunk already open for Cassian to add his suitcase to the mix. He waved toward the car and turned back to Nesta so he could give her a proper goodbye, leaning in and pulling her into his arms in a fierce hug. He buried his face into the side of her neck and inhaled the familiar smell of her perfume while she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his embrace. Maybe he was being a little dramatic, but who cared? She was the love of his life. He could be a little dramatic if he wanted.
“I’ll miss you,” Cassian murmured. He pulled back from the hug to fix her with what was probably one of the dopiest looks he’d given her yet. “So much.”
“I’ll miss you too, Cassian,” Nesta replied, the hint of a pleased smile making the corners of her lips turn up. “Have a safe flight.”
“Let’s go, lover boy!” Rhys called out from the car. He honked the horn like an asshole and Cassian whirled around to flip him off. “We’re gonna be late for our flight!”
“Shut the fuck up, Rhys, I’m saying goodbye to my wife,” Cassian yelled back. “Who I love very much!”
Nesta laughed, pulling Cassian’s attention back to her. “I love you too. Now hurry up, I have to keep packing for my trip.”
Nesta had decided on taking a beach trip for her bachelorette party, her and the rest of the ladies deciding to drive down to Myrtle Beach to spend a few days relaxing by the water. She and her sisters – along with Emerie and Gwyn – had rented out a beach house for a long weekend, and Cassian couldn’t wait to see just how many freckles would appear on her skin.
“Have fun at the beach,” Cassian said. He leaned in for a goodbye kiss and forced himself to eventually pull away, but not before he cupped her face and ran his thumb across her cheek. “Bye, sweetheart.”
“Bye, baby,” Nesta said back. She waited until he’d put his suitcase in the trunk and got in the car before she turned around and went back inside, though not before blowing him one last kiss.
God, he loved her.
“Fucking finally,” Rhys muttered once Cassian had strapped himself into the passenger seat. “You’re leaving for a few days, not going off to war.”
“I’m not going to apologize for giving the love of my life the goodbye she deserves,” Cassian said primly.
“Cut him a break, you know he can’t help it,” Azriel chimed in from the backseat. “We might as well get used to it. He’ll probably call her every night for a bedtime story.”
“If you got the kind of bedtime stories I did, you’d be calling every night too,” Cassian fired back with a smirk.
“I don’t think any of us want that level of trauma,” Lucien teased, pulling
Thankfully, once they made it to the airport, the rest of their traveling went smoothly. They made it through security without any problems, their flight left on time, and Cassian even got to take a nap in first class, all while he was texting Nesta about how nice it was to have real legroom. By the time they touched down in Vegas and made it to their hotel, Cassian was more than ready to walk around and see all that Vegas had to offer.
Rhys had gotten them some super fancy suite that had a loft and room for everyone to have their own bed, and Cassian could hardly believe the view when they got upstairs. They were so high up that all of Vegas was spread out below them, and Cassian couldn’t stop gaping at how expensive everything must have been.
“Rhys—” Cassian tried to thank him once Rhys had emerged from putting his stuff away, but he only waved Cassian off.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys replied. “Come on, we have reservations in an hour.”
Cassian obliged and went to get changed, the four of them eventually making their way downstairs to the hotel’s restaurant. The food was amazing and the service was impeccable, and by the time they made it back upstairs, Cassian’s stomach was pleasantly full and was more than ready to pass out.
“You’re getting an hour, and then we’re going back downstairs,” Azriel told him, waggling his phone at Cassian to show him the timer. “Chop chop.”
“Fine,” Cassian huffed. Once he reached his bed, he kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his underwear before flopping on top of the comforter. “Good night.”
When Lucien came to shake him awake, Cassian was abruptly pulled out of his dream and nearly rolled off the bed. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”
“Fuck off,” Cassian replied good-naturedly.
Lucien just laughed and left him to get dressed, and once Cassian was presentable, he left the warmth of his bed to find Rhys pouring out a round of shots.
“Look who’s finally back to the land of the living,” Rhys said as he put the cap back on. “Nice of you to join us, lover boy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian said back, flipping him off. “What are we drinking?”
“Tequila,” Azriel answered. He pushed everyone’s shots toward them before moving a little bowl of limes to where the glasses had just been. “If you want one.”
Cassian took one and turned toward Rhys expectantly, since he tended to lead their toasts. His brother was already holding his little shot glass up in the air and waited for the rest of them to follow suit before saying, “To Cassian, who I still can’t believe managed to convince Nesta Archeron to let him follow her around for the rest of their lives. Salud.”
“Trust me, I can’t believe it either,” Cassian joked once he’d tossed back his shot and sucked down on his lime. He’d hardly believed it when she’d said yes to a date, let alone to spending the rest of their lives together, but he wasn’t about to question any of it. “Hit me again.”
By the time they all made it downstairs, they were three shots down and ready for more. Cassian had never really been much of a gambler, but it was cool to see so many different games spread out across the casino floor. There were slot machines and card tables and people cheering or booing depending on how things were going, and Cassian was feeling just enough of a buzz for it to all be exciting.
Of course, it didn’t take long for the buzz to turn into being full-on drunk. Lucien got him one of those enormous daiquiris while Azriel showed him how to use the slot machines, and Cassian felt like a kid in a candy store. He wanted to try everything at least once no matter how much money he won or lost, and his friends were more than willing to encourage him. There were also plenty of women willing to help him out, but Cassian was far too quick to mention Nesta for any of them to get too close.
“You want another one?” Azriel asked once Cassian hit the bottom of his daiquiri. It was so loud inside the casino that it was almost hard to hear him.
“Yeeeeeeeah,” Cassian answered, grinning widely for no reason. Well, not for no reason. He had the greatest friends in the world. “I love you so much, man.”
“Likewise,” Azriel replied. He looked only a little alarmed when Cassian leaned over and threw his arm around him.
“Nooooo,” Cassian whined. “You gotta say it back. Stop being so repressed. And depressed.”
“Yeah, Az,” Rhys chimed in, laughing. “Tell the man you love him, for God’s sake. It’s not healthy to keep everything inside.”
“He knows that I care about him,” Azriel responded with a heavy sigh.
“Just say it,” Lucien told him. “He’s not gonna let it go until you do.”
“Fine.” Azriel turned to Cassian and awkwardly patted the side of his face. “I love you too, Cassian. Now can you please let go of me?”
“Yes,” Cassian replied with a big grin. “You’re the best.”
Azriel patted him again before extracting himself from Cassian’s grip, muttering about how he preferred sober Cassian before he and Lucien headed off to the bar.
“You’re a mess,” Rhys told Cassian fondly.
“I’m your mess,” Cassian replied just as happily. “Well. Mostly Nesta’s mess now.”
“And isn’t that something,” Rhys said, chuckling. He let Cassian lead him over to another slot machine and made a disappointed noise when he didn’t win. “Let me try.”
Halfway through the game, Rhys frowned and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Cassian saw Feyre’s photo lighting up the screen and he couldn’t help but pout. He wished Nesta would call him.
“I’m gonna talk to Feyre for a few minutes,” Rhys said, leaning over to poke his finger into Cassian’s chest. “ You better stay right here. Do you hear me?”
“Yup,” Cassian said back. “Stay right here. Got it.”
Naturally, the moment Rhys walked away to call Feyre, Cassian couldn’t help but wander a little too. He didn’t go far, he just wanted to go somewhere that wasn’t as loud as their corner of the casino was, but that was basically impossible. So he just ended up at one of the smaller bars, sighing as he fiddled with his phone and wished Nesta’s photo would show up on his screen.
Cassian wished Nesta was here. He’d wanted her here with him the entire time, of course, but he was really feeling her absence now.
Maybe he should call her.
Yeah. Yeah. He really wanted to hear her voice, and tell her how much he loved her in case she forgot, which she definitely wouldn’t, but it never hurt. Just in case. And if she wouldn’t call him, then he could always call her to remind her. The perfect compromise.
He dialed her number from memory just because he could, and pressed the phone to his ear while the line rang. He hoped she picked up because he really missed her and wanted to talk to her about Vegas and hear her laugh. God, she had the best laugh. The best everything, really. She was so perfect it was almost too much to handle. But he could manage. For her, he’d do anything.
Nesta didn’t answer, which — Cassian was not going to cry about it. He was not. She was having a good time with her friends, and between the time difference and her being on a well-deserved girls' trip, no way she was picking up the phone right now.
Still. He could be a little sad about it.
“Hi, you’ve reached Nesta Archeron,” came the start of her very professional voicemail. “I’m not available right now, but please leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
“After the tone, please record your message,” the automated voice told him. Cassian blinked away the not-tears in his eyes as he waited for it to finish. “When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”
“Heeeeeeey, sweetheart,” Cassian began once he heard the beep. “Nes. Nesta. Babe. I don’t wanna be annoying or anything. But. I miss you. So, so much. I know it hasn’t even been a day but I wish you were here. I lost all the money Rhys gave me and I wanted to buy you something good but you’re not even here to make me feel better and I hate it.”
Wait. Fuck. It wasn’t her job to make him feel better.
“Not that that’s your responsibility because I am a grown man.” He made sure to stress those last two words so she knew he was being serious. “I just. I’m having fun, but I know I’d have a lot more fun if you were here too.”
He took a deep breath before continuing. “Not that I’m not having fun. I hope you’re having fun. You work so fucking hard and you never do nice things for yourself even though you deserve it. You deserve all the nice things because you are the best fucking person I know.”
God, he was so drunk. Nesta was definitely going to laugh at him about this later, but then she’d kiss him and it would all be worth the embarrassment.
“I just love you so much,” Cassian said, a distressing sniffle making its way out of his nose before he pulled himself together. “Okay. Okay. I’m okay. I’ll see you when you get back. I love you, sweetheart. Okay. Bye.”
Cassian forced himself to hang up and then released a heavy sigh, putting his head in his hands for a few moments to collect himself.
“You alright, man?” someone asked.
Cassian pulled his head out of his hands to see the bartender giving him a semi-worried look. “Yeah. I just really miss my fiancée.”
“Bachelor weekend?” the bartender asked with a sigh. At Cassian’s nod, he added, “You should be enjoying yourself.”
“I am,” Cassian insisted. “I just. Really miss her.”
The guy’s name tag read Kallon, and he looked distinctly unimpressed. “Aren’t you going to see her in a few days?”
“Yeah,” Cassian answered slowly. “So?”
“So?” Kallon repeated. “So? So you’ll see her in a few days, man. You gotta get it together.”
“I’m trying,” Cassian told him.
“Maybe you could order a drink and that would make you feel better,” Kallon suggested pointedly. “Or maybe you could go mope upstairs in your room?”
“Trust me, you’d be moping too if you had a fiancée like mine and she wasn’t here,” Cassian promised.
“Oh yeah?” Kallon replied, sounding extremely skeptical. “Sure, buddy.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m sure you are, man.”
“I’ll prove it to you.”
“You really don’t need to do that.”
“No, I think I do.” Cassian fumbled with his phone before pulling up some of their engagement photos, his heart squeezing all over again at how gorgeous Nesta looked in them. “Here.”
“Huh,” Kallon said, surprised. “Would you look at that.”
“See?” Cassian said back smugly. He accepted his phone and slid it into his pocket so he wouldn’t lose it. “I told you so.”
“Yeah, alright,” Kallon replied. “You can have that one. She’s beautiful. You two look great together. Now are you gonna order a drink, or are you gonna keep moping?”
Cassian was just about to pull up some more photos and keep being snarky when he felt someone’s hand roughly spin the back of his barstool around. “What the fuck — Rhys?”
“Where the fuck have you been,” Rhys hissed into his ear.
“Right… here?” Cassian replied, confused. He hadn’t gone that far. “I just went to sit down somewhere else.”
“We have been looking for you for the last fucking half hour,” Rhys continued. “We thought we lost you!”
“How the fuck could you lose me? I’ve been here the whole time,” Cassian told him. He turned toward the bartender and made a flapping motion with his hands that he hoped got his point across. “Tell him!”
“It’s true,” Kallon replied resignedly. “He’s been here the whole time, moping about missing his fiancée and not ordering anything .”
“My gorgeous fiancée,” Cassian corrected automatically.
“Yeah, yeah, the sun shines out of Nesta’s ass, we get it,” Azriel chimed in, sounding exhausted.
“Let’s just be grateful nobody had to tell her we lost him,” Lucien muttered. He exchanged a relieved look with Rhys and Azriel before turning his attention back to Cassian, pulling one of Cassian’s arms over his shoulder so he could bodily haul Cassian out of his seat. “Come on, lover boy. That’s enough shenanigans for one night.”
tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing
#cassianappreciationweek2023#Cassian#nesta archeron#Nessian#Rhysand#azriel#lucien vanserra#moodymelanistwrites#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf
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Metal Gods
Metal Gods, Walla Walla Wallet Games, 2022
The official Transformers RPG came out in 2022. It was generally not received positively. By December of that year, an indie developer had created a tiny game that started off as an "I can do better" project and ended up as something quite different.
Metal Gods' roots as a Transformers game are fairly obvious. You play transforming robots from outer space. There are default good guys and bad guys. Despite the "eldritch angel" appearance of several of the robots, there's not much else you really need to make this identifiable as a knockoff. The key difference is that the game's other major inspiration is Demon: the Descent. These robots transform into people rather than vehicles. Specifically, people who were dying as the Metal Gods arrived on Earth. This makes them much less toyetic, but also changes the feel. Instead of hiding out in a mountain, you blend into society, seek out energy reserves, try to track down your evil counterparts, and attempt to repair your starship.
Resolution mechanics are simple dice-wise but take an unusual bent on what success means. You're rolling d6+number, with values generally between +2 and +8. Your target number to do the thing you want to do is a flat 5, so you're very likely to succeed. Your target number to do the thing while staying hidden to various degrees is higher, and you have to basically wager on that. You can trade flat bonuses for more dice, but rolling 1s (or losing a contested roll) gives you Fallout dice, which is how bad things happen to you.
There's no chargen or advancement. You pick out a robot card and a human card and that's your character. The art consists just of stock photos for the humans, and rendered stock 3d models for the robots. Congrats on finding a stock model for a biblically accurate ophanim.
Walla Walla Wallet Games was based in Washington state. You can guess where. They stole Button Shy's form factor except that they do RPGs instead of board/card games. They blame their recent financial collapse on the unfortunate choice of "WWW Games" as their official company name, which in addition to being longer to say, basically made them ungoogleable.
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Could you write what it would be like to have the phantom with a reader who is also "disfigured"?
Maybe the reader is albino, missing an eye, or just looks "different" and that's how they gain his attention. I'm just curious on how that situation would work out.
This ended up being far sweeter than I originally intended, but I think it's kind of cute
Phantom With "Disfigured" Reader
Being handicapped, abnormal, or unique in any such way destined you to a harsh and unforgiving life
Let us not forget that this was a time when your race, gender, and ability predetermined your possibilities in life
However, the main factor in your quality of life was the depth of your wallet
This was a time with no social mobility and vast income inequality
It is likely you would be born into the poor working class majority, even without any unique features, based on statistics alone
If you're grimy and donning ill-fitting hand-me-downs, the best chance you have is doing dangerous physical labor, or else in some other underpaid position to be forgotten
Perhaps, though, you are lucky enough to make yourself look sufficiently presentable to be hired into a prestigious opera house as part of the cleaning staff or costuming department
You secured yourself a better means of survival, and you couldn't afford to lose it
From the first day, you stretched yourself thin taking odd jobs for every department in an attempt to prove yourself useful
Unfortunately, your hard work made you absorb the tasks of those wishing to cut corners and slip out of some of their responsibilities
You were often one of the first to arrive as well as the last to leave, and your presence did not slip past the attention of the opera house's nightly resident
At first, the Phantom regarded you with annoyance
Admittedly, frightening the chorus girls that wandered like packs of lambs was entertaining, but that aside, Erik wished for nothing more than a comfortable salary, compliance from the managers, and solitude
One day he would complete his Don Juan Triumphant composition, and then lay to rest for eternity
But until then, he supposed there was no harm in observing you pace about the opera house late into the night
Your company was not at all bothersome, he came to find
You were quiet, focused, and didn't stray into his domain
Those were qualities Erik could appreciate
Not to mention, you seemed oblivious to his presence, so there could be no harm in at least watching you
It was only when you propped a lantern up to finish polishing the floors the night before a new production that he saw you up close
His heart, if it was even beating, paused a beat in his chest
You were like him...
His blossoming interest in you bloomed into affection in that moment
Erik knew the opera house better than the back of his hand, and all its happenings never went by unnoticed
The whispered exchanges and glances cast your way, the muttering behind your back, the uneasy silence the moment you entered a room...in an instant, everything connected in his mind
From then on, you might notice that the horribly mannered dolts who teased you and chattered about you when they thought you could not hear had...accidents
Sandbags falling too close for comfort, props falling upon them, cryptic notes among their belongings...
You heard many rumours of the fearsome and horrifying opera ghost that lurked the building during your time there
But with the unfortunate incidents occurring to your tormenters, you could not bring yourself to think ill of him, though he couldn't have known he was helping you
Perhaps, you think, smiling to yourself, this opera ghost is not so terrible as everyone describes him to be
#yandere?#sort of?#phantom of the opera#x reader#reader insert#erik destler#gaston leroux#headcanons#poto
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Unlocking the Future of Cross-Chain Transactions: A Practical Guide
As crypto continues to grow, one major challenge stands in the way of truly unlocking the potential of blockchain technology: cross-chain transactions. Moving assets between different blockchains can feel complicated and sometimes frustrating, especially when you're trying to make a simple transfer.
But what if cross-chain transactions could be as seamless as sending an email or transferring money between your bank accounts? That’s the future we’re working towards. Let’s break down why cross-chain transactions are so difficult today and how new solutions are changing the game for users like you.
Why Cross-Chain Transactions Can Be a Hassle
To understand why cross-chain transactions are a challenge, think of blockchain networks like isolated islands. Each island has its own rules, resources, and way of doing things. Moving from one island to another means navigating unfamiliar terrain, often facing barriers like high fees, delays, and security risks.
Let’s look at some common methods for moving assets:
1. Centralized Exchanges (CEXs):
These are like big money transfer services where you can exchange one asset for another. However, you have to trust them with your funds, which can be risky. Plus, the fees are usually higher than you might expect, and the process isn’t as fast or transparent as it could be.
2. Blockchain Bridges:
These are decentralized alternatives, but the technology isn’t perfect. Blockchain bridges can fail, leading to lost funds. They’re also slow, which means waiting hours or even days to complete a transfer.
3. Decentralized Exchanges (DEXs):
DEXs allow for peer-to-peer transactions, but the problem of slippage (where the price you pay differs from the price you expected) is still very much present.
The end result? Cross-chain transactions are slow, expensive, and sometimes risky, making the process feel like more of a challenge than it should be.
A Better Way Forward: Innovative Solutions for Cross-Chain Transactions
The good news is that change is coming. Some platforms are looking at these problems from a different angle and solving them in ways that benefit users like you. Let’s explore some solutions that are making cross-chain transactions easier, faster, and more secure.
1. Locking in Rates Before You Swap (RFQ Protocol)
Imagine you want to exchange one currency for another. You don’t want to risk the exchange rate changing while you’re in the middle of the transaction. The RFQ (Request-for-Quote) protocol helps fix the rate before you even commit to the swap. This is like locking in a price before you make a purchase — it removes uncertainty and ensures you know exactly what you're getting.
2. No Need to Trust a Third Party
In most cases, when you send funds to an exchange or bridge, you're trusting that platform to hold your assets safely. With new cross-chain solutions, the funds stay in your own wallet until the moment the transaction is completed. This gives you more control and reduces the risks that come with giving a third party access to your funds.
3. Instant Transactions, No Waiting Around .
Speed is a huge factor when it comes to cross-chain transactions. With many platforms, you’re left waiting for hours for your assets to arrive. But what if transfers could be completed in seconds? The latest innovations are making this a reality, using internal databases and advanced communication methods to ensure your transaction is processed almost instantly. It’s like sending a text message instead of waiting for a letter to arrive.
4. Transparent Pricing and Lower Fees
Transparency is key in crypto. No one likes hidden fees that pop up at the last minute. The best platforms for cross-chain transactions now show you exactly what you’ll pay upfront, so there are no surprises. Plus, lower fees mean you get to keep more of your assets. It’s like seeing a menu with clear prices instead of being surprised by the final bill.
Why This Matters to You
So, what does all this mean for you as a user?
1. You Keep More of Your Assets: Lower fees and better pricing translate into more value in your pocket.
2. Your Transactions Are Faster: No more waiting hours for a transfer to go through.
3. You Stay in Control: By keeping your funds in your wallet until the transaction is completed, you reduce the risk of losing them to a third-party hack or failure.
3. Clarity in Every Step: You know exactly what you’re paying for and how much you’re getting in return.
The Bigger Picture: A Unified Blockchain Ecosystem
Cross-chain interoperability isn’t just about convenience. It’s the key to unlocking a fully connected blockchain ecosystem. Right now, blockchains operate like isolated communities, each with their own rules and standards. But as solutions like the ones discussed here evolve, blockchains will be able to communicate with each other more seamlessly, allowing assets and information to flow freely across platforms.
Think of it like how the internet revolutionized communication. When email was first introduced, you needed to be on the same platform as the person you wanted to send an email to. But over time, email systems became interoperable, meaning you could communicate with anyone, anywhere. The same will happen with blockchain — cross-chain transactions will become as simple as sending an email.
Wrapping Up: The Future Is Bright
The future of cross-chain transactions is bright, and it’s happening now. Platforms that prioritize speed, security, and transparency are paving the way for a blockchain ecosystem that’s easier to navigate, more cost-efficient, and more secure.
If you’re navigating the world of blockchain and crypto, keep an eye on these innovations. The next generation of cross-chain solutions isn’t just about making things easier — it’s about unlocking the true potential of decentralized finance for everyone.
What do you think? Have you experienced the challenges of cross-chain transactions? Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below!
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Top Features to Consider When Developing Your Own Cryptocurrency Wallet
Cryptocurrency has become very popular in recent years, and as more people start using digital coins, the need for secure and easy-to-use wallets grows. If you’re thinking about creating your own cryptocurrency wallet, it's important to know which features will make your wallet stand out. Here’s a guide to the key features you should include.
1. Strong Security
Security is the most important part of any cryptocurrency wallet. People want to know that their digital money is safe. Here are some security features that your wallet should have:
Biometric Authentication: This means allowing users to log in using their fingerprint or face recognition. It’s fast and adds an extra layer of security.
Multi-Factor Authentication (MFA): With MFA, users need to provide two or more types of identification, like a password and a code sent to their phone. This makes it much harder for hackers to access the wallet.
Encrypted Private Keys: Private keys are like the password to your wallet. Make sure these keys are stored securely and encrypted so only the user can access them.
Backup and Recovery Options: Let users create a backup of their wallet with a recovery phrase. If they lose access to their wallet, this phrase helps them restore it.
2. Easy-to-Use Design
A wallet should be simple to use, even for beginners. Many people are new to cryptocurrency and might get confused by complicated features. Here’s how you can create an easy-to-use wallet:
Simple Dashboard: Make sure your wallet has a main screen that shows all the important information, like the user’s balance and recent transactions.
Easy Navigation: Users should be able to find what they need without having to click around too much.
Customizable Themes: Allow users to choose between light mode and dark mode so they can adjust the look of the wallet to their preference.
3. Support for Different Cryptocurrencies
To attract more users, your wallet should support multiple types of cryptocurrencies. This is important because people often own more than one type of digital coin. Here’s what to consider:
Multi-Currency Support: Include popular coins like Bitcoin (BTC), Ethereum (ETH), and other major tokens. The more options you support, the more people will use your wallet.
Easy Token Addition: Make it simple for users to add new tokens or coins to their wallet as they come out.
4. Fast and Simple Transactions
The main purpose of a wallet is to send and receive money. Make sure your wallet makes this process easy:
Quick Send/Receive Function: Users should be able to send and receive cryptocurrency with just a few taps. Include features like scanning QR codes to make it even easier.
Transaction History: Include a detailed history so users can track their past transactions. This helps them see where their money went and when.
5. Push Notifications
To keep the users updated, it is advisable to utilize push notifications for them. These can send on alerts such as when a user has received cash funds, when there is a drastic shift in the market, or even when a certain deal is accomplished. Notifications assist the users and thus help in keeping them engaged.
6. Cross-Platform Compatibility
Your wallet should work on multiple devices. Perhaps one individual likes using his phone, and another likes using her computers. Consider these options below;
Mobile App: Make sure that your wallet comes with an application you may download on iOS or Android devices.
Web Accessibility: Provide a web-based option for users who can easily use their wallet on their computer.
Desktop App This is useful for those who would love to have an application on their computer.
7. Exchange Integration
Users would want to be able to trade and swap their cryptocurrencies with the least requirement to hop between applications. Coin swapping is an exchange feature whereby users can swap coins in the wallet without consuming much time, which thereby presents a more seamless experience.
8. Customer Support
If a user has trouble, they need it resolved as quickly as possible. Quick access to customer service via the wallet for a user needs to be provided in a manner that they can easily communicate with this support tool. This should preferably be a chatbot or a help center with FAQs or live support.
9. Extra Features for Power Users
If you want your wallet to attract advanced users, think about adding some extra features:
Portfolio Tracking: Let users see the total value of all their coins in one place.
Price Alerts: Allow users to set alerts for when the price of a specific coin reaches a certain level.
Conclusion
Creating a digital wallet may be a fun task, but it is necessary to include the proper functionality. Concentrating on the security aspect, a simple yet effective design, support for different digital currencies, and rapid transactions, it is possible to develop a wallet which will be dependable and will be liked by many. Other features such as alerts, the possibility to use the wallet on multiple devices, and exchange services can also be added to create a more attractive design.
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Unboxing the Unexpected: The Rise of Blind Box Art Toys
Have you ever experienced the thrill of opening a blind box? The anticipation of not knowing what's inside, coupled with the excitement of potentially finding a rare or highly sought-after collectible, has made blind box art toys a global phenomenon.
The concept of blind box toys can be traced back to the 1980s in Japan. However, it wasn't until the early 2000s that they gained significant popularity with the rise of companies like Pop Mart, which specialized in producing and retailing designer toy figurines in blind boxes.
Pop Mart has undoubtedly become the leading name in the blind box collectible market. Their range of characters, including the iconic Labubu, Pucky, Molly, Skullpanda, Dimoo, Hirono, and Zimomo, has captivated collectors worldwide.
One of the major factors driving the popularity of blind box art toys is the allure of exclusives. Limited edition or rare characters can be highly valuable, with some selling for thousands of Pesos. This has created a competitive market where collectors go to great lengths to complete their sets.
Blind box art toys have also gained a significant following in the Pinoy community. Pinoy collectors often display their prized possessions as "anik-anik" or bag charms, showcasing their unique personalities and interests. It's also an opportunity to show off what you were lucky enough to get. I'm not immune to this trend either. My bag is close to becoming a charm bracelet, with a managerie hanging from the zippers and straps. But don't expect to find any Labubu or Zimomo here. I prefer their friend Tycoco.
(Right) My bag with my "anik-anik". Dogpool is from the Hot Toys Cosbi Deadpool & Wolverine series and Kuromi Joker is from Kuromi Poker Kingdom from Miniso. Will I be adding more "charms"? Definitely. (Left) Not my bag. No Labubus or Zimomos hanging from mine. (ctto)
While the thrill of unboxing blind boxes is undeniable, take note that there are also challenges involved. Collectors may end up with duplicates or characters they don't like, leading them to purchase more boxes in the hope of finding the ones they want.
But, the upside of collecting blind box art toys is the opportunity to connect with like-minded people. Trading groups and communities have emerged, providing a place for collectors to swap or sell duplicates, share information about upcoming releases, and make new friends. Back then, this is what we would do with trading cards and Figurin Panini Stickers to complete the sticker albums. Now, it's the blind box art toys that are capturing our hearts and wallets.
I started collecting a few blind box figures from Pop Mart, Funko, and Unbox & Friends back in 2019, but I was more into Funko Pops! at the time, so I didn't go all-in on blind box collecting. The only line I really got into was the Hot Toys Cosbi Star Wars series. In my impatience to complete sets, I'd sometimes buy sealed cases or trade with people who had duplicates. It actually saved me money in the long run, but I missed the excitement of the mystery.
With the popularity of blind box art toys now, it shows no signs of slowing down. With brands like Miniso, Hot Toys, Funko or Collectormates in the market, it's clear that this trend is here to stay. Whether you're a seasoned collector or just starting your journey, the mystery, excitement, and potential for value appreciation make these collectibles an addicting hobby. However, be prepared to spend! It could be painful for your wallet, especially as you try to complete your sets or try to get those rare exclusives.
Some blind box art toys I have: (Top left) Pop Mart Star Wars Boba Fett, (Top right) Hot Toys Cosbi Star Wars Ahsoka, (Bottom left) Funko Mystery Minis Retro Games Pac-Man, (Bottom right) Miniso Kuromi Poker Kingdom Kuromi Joker.
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20th Anniversary
Namie Amuro: Style (2003.12.10)
There are at least four distinct eras in Namie Amuro's career: 1) her initial debut with the idol-ish super eurobeat/dance group SUPER MONKEY'S (which spawned the group MAX) from 1992 to 1995, 2) her major debut as a solo artist with Avex Trax in 1995, kicked off by the single "Body Feels EXIT," through to the height of her popularity as a leading figure in the J-pop industry alongside producer Tetsuya Komuro until her abrupt hiatus in 1997, 3) the awkward, not-very-well-received comeback and transition to post-TK R&B, which saw the lowest sales numbers of her career, and lasted roughly until the release of Queen of Hip-Pop in 2005, and 4) her meteoric rebound, transition back to dance-pop, and the cementing of her status as a legend, until the abrupt announcement of her retirement in 2017. There are a lot of mini-moments within these eras, and many parts overlap so that it's not exactly seamless, but that's the gist of it.
While Namie's comeback was one of the rarest in music history, the factors that led to the initial nadir are just as interesting and numerous. For one, she had squandered the goodwill of the public by engaging in activity that was frowned upon in Japan at the time: she hooked up with a backup dancer, got pregnant, got married, got tattoos, and got divorced, all within the space of a couple of years. On top of it, Namie's success was tied to that of her producer, the mega-popular and prolific Tetsuya Komuro, who was basically running a personal empire in the 1990s. While Namie's popularity and success was never due solely to the music he was writing for her, it was an enormous contributing factor to her sales numbers. TK's brand of pop was the defining style of the 90s, with no one better able to pry open wallets in what was the CD format's most lucrative era. But just as quickly and completely as he ruled hearts and charts, his music fell out of style, also as a result of several factors (mostly the rise of singer-songwriters and R&B/hip-hop in the mainstream, and personal issues involving everything from tax evasion, to drug rumors and a wild romantic life). Namie teaming up with him again for her immediate comeback never stood a chance against so much drama. So major changes were made when Namie ditched the Komuro baggage, taking the plunge with new support -- Dallas Austin, m-flo, ZEEBRA, even Teddy Riley -- into the world of R&B and hip-hop.
This brave step didn't immediately produce amazing results: if anything, Namie's early forays proved lackluster and indecisive on albums like GENIUS 2000. It wasn't until 2003's STYLE that she finally and fully committed to the change. Gone were the days of chasing the chance and dreaming that she was dreaming, Namie was now putting up her dukes, wishing on the same star, and shining more. The songs on the album were all heavily influenced by contemporary Western trends of the time, especially Black hip-hop, fashion, and culture. The early 00s was still the era of P. Diddy, Jennifer Lopez, Nelly, Busta Rhymes and Missy Elliott, and in some ways, STYLE samples sounds from all of these artists in different ways, with the inclusion of a few softer songs, such as "Four Seasons," "As Good As," and "Come," which were deliberately added for variety. But for the most part, the album is built on beats, bars, and rhymes. This was still a fairly new thing to see in the Japanese mainstream, and certainly by an Avex Trax artist -- for comparison, Ayumi Hamasaki had just released her rock opus I am..., while RAINBOW merely dipped a toe into R&B on a song like "Real me," Ai Otsuka was less than a year out from releasing LOVE PUNCH, Hikaru Utada was actually going softer and more art-pop with Deep River, and both BoA and Kumi Koda had just debuted in Japan with LISTEN TO MY HEART and affection respectively, which stayed squarely on the softer R&B/pop side of the fence. Only Crystal Kay, HEARTSDALES, and maybe DOUBLE were a step ahead of Namie, but I would argue that STYLE and Namie's involvement in projects like SUITE CHIC really let the sound transition into the broader and bigger Oricon mainstream, prompting a rash of copycat records.
Even so, STYLE did poorly. It still hit #1 in its first week, but it stands as Namie's least popular record with the fewest sales numbers to this day. It does, however, have something of a cult following by fans who now look back at the early 00s with nostalgia. Personally, I didn't like this album when I first heard it -- its lack of pop and dance music, which I was used to hearing from Namie, coupled with what seemed like a desperate bid for relevancy in a genre that I wasn't particularly interested in at the time, turned me off from spending much time with it. Nowadays, I dislike this album less -- there are songs on here that I actually really like. My only real caveat is that the album is split too abruptly at the halfway point between the bangers and the non-hip-hop tracks. In hindsight, STYLE is clearly Namie still getting comfortable in this milieu, and it's especially obvious next to albums like Queen of Hip-Pop and PLAY that were more successful at capturing something both influenced by hip-hop and unique to what only Namie could bring.
This CD album comes in a standard jewel case with an OBI and a booklet that features additional photos and lyrics. First press editions featured two exclusive bonus tracks: a remix of "SO CRAZY," and an alternate version of "Wishing on the Same Star." For me, this album is more interesting for what lead to it, what it lead to, and what it said about the state of Namie Amuro and J-pop at the time. It's not great, but it's not nearly as bad as I remember it being. Avex Trax, of course, would politely disagree, largely ignoring it on the career-summarizing compilation album Finally (only "SO CRAZY" represents). After something as tentative and a bit try-hard as this, the world was not ready for what was coming down the pipe with Queen of Hip-Pop, making that era all the more wild and magical.
Catalog Number: AVCD-17372
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