#we can get them for you wholesale

[neil-gaiman]

what led you to writing 'we can get them for you wholesale' and did you think it would be short story used in american schools for analysis

I dozed off listening to the radio. When I went to sleep they were talking about wholesaling, and when I woke up they were talking about contract killing, and I thought, that's a story.

I was 23. It was the third fiction story I sold.

And no, I never did.

[pulpficat]

Chúng Tôi Có Thể Bán Sỉ Cho Ông

Peter Pinter không biết Aristippus thuộc phái Cyrenaic, một môn đồ ít tên tuổi của Socrates, đã từng khẳng định rằng việc tránh rắc rối là điều tốt đẹp nhất con người có th�� đạt được. Tuy nhiên, gã đã sống một cuộc đời bình lặng theo đúng nguyên tắc ấy. Ngoại trừ một điểm yếu duy nhất (không thể cưỡng lại được những món hời, mà ai trong chúng ta không có điểm yếu ấy chứ?), gã là một người hết sức điều độ. Gã không bao giờ làm gì cực đoan. Lời nói của gã đúng mực và thận trọng; hiếm khi ăn quá độ; uống vừa đủ để hòa đồng chứ không hơn; không giàu có nhưng cũng chẳng nghèo khó. Gã thích mọi người và mọi người cũng thích gã. Vậy nên, liệu bạn có nghĩ gã sẽ xuất hiện trong một quán rượu tồi tàn ở khu ổ chuột Đông London, để ký cái mà người ta vẫn gọi là "hợp đồng" với một kẻ mà gã hầu như không quen biết? Chắc chắn là không. Thậm chí bạn còn không nghĩ gã sẽ bén mảng đến quán rượu đó.

Bạn đã đúng, cho đến một chiều thứ Sáu nọ. Anh hùng khó qua ải mỹ nhân, huống hồ là một kẻ nhạt nhòa như Peter Pinter. Việc phát hiện ra cô Gwendolyn Thorpe, hai mươi ba tuổi, ở số 9 Oaktree Terrace, Purley, đang dan díu (như cách nói thô thiển của người đời) với một gã trẻ tuổi bảnh bao ở phòng kế toán - sau khi, xin lưu ý, cô ta đã đồng ý đeo chiếc nhẫn đính hôn được làm từ những mảnh ruby thật, vàng 9 cara và thứ có vẻ như là kim cương (37,50 bảng) mà Peter đã mất gần trọn giờ ăn trưa để chọn - quả thực có thể khiến một người đàn ông làm những điều vô cùng kỳ quặc.

Sau khi phát hiện ra điều kinh hoàng đó, Peter trải qua một đêm thứ Sáu không ngủ, trăn trở với những hình ảnh về Gwendolyn và Archie Gibbons (tay Don Juan của phòng kế toán Clamages) nhảy múa và bơi lội trước mắt gã - thực hiện những hành động mà ngay cả Peter, nếu bị ép buộc, cũng phải thừa nhận là khá phi lý. Nhưng mật đắng của ghen tuông đã dâng trào trong gã, và đến sáng, Peter đã quyết định phải loại bỏ đối thủ của mình.

Sáng thứ Bảy trôi qua mà gã vẫn tự hỏi làm thế nào để liên lạc được với một sát thủ, bởi theo những gì Peter biết, Clamages (cửa hàng bách hóa nơi cả ba nhân vật trong mối tình tay ba này cùng làm việc, và cũng là nơi bán chiếc nhẫn kia) không tuyển dụng ai làm nghề này, và gã cũng ngại phải hỏi người khác vì sợ thu hút sự chú ý về phía mình.

Vì thế mà chiều thứ Bảy, gã tìm kiếm trong cuốn Những Trang Vàng.

ASSASSINS (sát thủ), gã thấy, không nằm giữa ASPHALT CONTRACTORS (nhà thầu nhựa đường) và ASSESSORS (người định giá); KILLERS (sát thủ) không nằm giữa KENNELS (trại chó) và KINDERGARTENS (trường mẫu giáo); MURDERERS (kẻ giết người) không nằm giữa MOWERS (máy cắt cỏ) và MUSEUMS (viện bảo tàng).

PEST CONTROL (kiểm soát côn trùng) có vẻ hứa hẹn; tuy nhiên khi xem xét kỹ những quảng cáo về kiểm soát côn trùng cho thấy chúng chỉ chuyên về "chuột, chuột nhắt, bọ chét, gián, thỏ, chuột chũi và chuột" (trích dẫn từ một mẩu quảng cáo mà Peter cảm thấy hơi khắt khe với loài chuột) và không thực sự là thứ gã đang tìm kiếm. Dù vậy, vốn cẩn thận, gã kiên trì xem xét các mục trong danh mục đó, và ở cuối trang thứ hai, bằng chữ nhỏ, gã tìm thấy một công ty trông có vẻ triển vọng.

"Xử lý toàn diện và kín đáo các loài động vật có vú gây phiền toái và không mong muốn, v.v." - quảng cáo viết như vậy - "Ketch, Hare, Burke và Ketch. Công ty lâu đời." Không ghi địa chỉ, chỉ có một số điện thoại.

Peter quay số điện thoại, tự thấy ngạc nhiên vì hành động của mình. Tim gã đập thình thịch trong lồng ngực, nhưng gã cố tỏ ra thản nhiên. Điện thoại đổ chuông một lần, hai lần, ba lần. Peter vừa bắt đầu hy vọng rằng sẽ không có ai trả lời để gã có thể quên đi mọi chuyện, thì có tiếng click và một giọng nữ trẻ trung, nhanh nhẹn cất lên: "Ketch Hare Burke và Ketch xin nghe. Tôi có thể giúp gì?"

Cẩn thận không nói tên mình, Peter lên tiếng, "À, các người nhận xử lý động vật có vú cỡ lớn đến mức nào?"

"Ừm, điều đó còn tùy thuộc vào yêu cầu của quý ông."

Gã lấy hết can đảm, "Cỡ một người?"

Giọng nữ kia vẫn nhanh nhẹn và không chút bối rối: "Dĩ nhiên là được, thưa ông. Ông có sẵn bút và giấy không ạ? Được rồi. Hãy đến quán rượu Dirty Donkey, gần phố Little Courtney, E3, tối nay lúc 8 giờ. Mang theo một tờ Financial Times cuộn tròn - đó là tờ báo màu hồng đấy, thưa ông - nhân viên của chúng tôi sẽ tiếp cận ông tại đó." Rồi cô ta gác máy.

Peter phấn chấn hẳn lên. Mọi việc dễ dàng hơn gã tưởng rất nhiều. Gã xuống tiệm báo mua một tờ Financial Times, tìm phố Little Courtney trong cuốn A-Z London của mình, rồi dành phần còn lại của buổi chiều xem bóng đá trên tivi và tưởng tượng về đám tang của gã bảnh trai phòng kế toán.

Peter mất một lúc mới tìm ra quán rượu. Cuối cùng gã cũng nhận ra biển hiệu quán, có hình một con lừa và quả thật trông rất bẩn thỉu.

Dirty Donkey là một quán rượu nhỏ và khá dơ dáy, ánh sáng mờ tối, với một đám người không cạo râu mặc áo khoác lừa bám bụi đứng quanh nhìn nhau đầy nghi ngại, vừa ăn khoai tây chiên vừa uống bia Guinness - một loại đồ uống mà Peter chưa bao giờ thích. Peter kẹp tờ Financial Times dưới nách một cách lộ liễu hết mức có thể, nhưng chẳng ai tiếp cận gã, nên gã đành mua nửa ly bia pha chanh và lùi về một góc bàn. Không nghĩ ra việc gì khác để làm trong lúc chờ đợi, gã cố đọc báo, nhưng bị lạc lối trong mê cung của các kỳ hạn ngũ cốc và một công ty cao su đang bán khống cái gì đó (gã không thể biết những thứ khống đó là gì), gã bỏ cuộc và nhìn chằm chằm ra cửa.

Gã đợi được gần mười phút thì một người đàn ông nhỏ thó bận rộn vội vã bước vào, nhanh chóng nhìn quanh rồi tiến thẳng đến bàn của Peter và ngồi xuống.

Hắn đưa tay ra, "Kemble. Burton Kemble của Ketch Hare Burke Ketch. Tôi nghe nói ông có việc cho chúng tôi."

Hắn không trông giống một kẻ sát nhân. Peter nghĩ và nói ra như vậy.

"Ồ, lạy chúa, không đâu. Tôi không hẳn là một phần của đội ngũ thực hiện, thưa ông. Tôi làm về mảng bán hàng."

Peter gật đầu. Vậy thì có lý. "Chúng ta có thể - ừm - nói chuyện thoải mái ở đây không?"

"Chắc chắn rồi. Không ai quan tâm đâu. Nào, ông muốn xử lý bao nhiêu người?"

"Chỉ một thôi. Tên hắn là Archibald Gibbons và hắn làm việc ở phòng kế toán Clamages. Địa chỉ của hắn là..."

Kemble ngắt lời, "Chúng ta có thể bàn chi tiết sau, thưa ông, nếu ông không phiền. Hãy nhanh chóng xem qua phần tài chính đã. Trước tiên, hợp đồng sẽ có giá 500 bảng..."

Peter gật đầu. Gã có thể chi trả được số tiền đó và thực ra đã nghĩ phải trả nhiều hơn một chút.

"... mặc dù luôn có ưu đãi đặc biệt," Kemble kết luận một cách trơn tru.

Mắt Peter sáng lên. Như tôi đã đề cập trước đó, gã rất thích mua hời và thường mua những thứ gã chẳng có cần dùng trong các đợt giảm giá hay ưu đãi đặc biệt. Ngoài khuyết điểm này ra (một điểm yếu mà nhiều người trong chúng ta đều có), gã là một người khá điều độ.

"Ưu đãi đặc biệt?"

"Mua một tặng một, thưa ông."

Hmm. Peter suy nghĩ. Như vậy mỗi người chỉ có hai trăm năm mươi bảng, dù nhìn từ góc độ nào thì cũng là một giá hời. Chỉ có một vấn đề. "Tôi e là không có ai khác tôi muốn giết cả."

Kemble có vẻ thất vọng. "Thật đáng tiếc, thưa ông. Nếu hai người, chúng tôi thậm chí có thể giảm giá xuống còn, à, khoảng bốn trăm năm mươi bảng cho cả hai."

"Thật sao?"

"À, nó giúp tạo việc làm cho nhân viên của chúng tôi, thưa ông. Nếu ông muốn biết," đến đây, hắn hạ giọng xuống, "thực sự cầu chẳng bõ cung trong lĩnh vực đặc biệt này. Không như những ngày xưa. Ông không muốn thấy ai khác phải chết sao?"

Peter trầm ngâm. Gã ghét bỏ lỡ một món hời, nhưng không thể nghĩ ra được ai khác. Gã thích mọi người. Tuy nhiên, một món hời vẫn là một món hời...

"Này," Peter nói. "Tôi có thể suy nghĩ về việc này và gặp ông ở đây vào tối mai được không?"

Người chào hàng trông có vẻ hài lòng. "Dĩ nhiên rồi, thưa ông," hắn nói. "Tôi chắc ông sẽ nghĩ ra được ai đó."

Câu trả lời - một câu trả lời hiển nhiên - đến với Peter khi gã đang thiếp dần vào giấc ngủ đêm hôm đó. Gã bật dậy trên giường, lóng ngóng bật đèn ngủ lên và ghi một cái tên vào mặt sau phong bì, phòng khi gã quên mất. Thực ra, gã không nghĩ mình có thể quên được, vì nó quá hiển nhiên, nhưng chẳng ai đoán trước được những suy nghĩ nảy ra lúc đêm khuya.

Cái tên gã đã viết lên mặt sau phong bì là: Gwendolyn Thorpe.

Gã tắt đèn, nằm xuống và chẳng mấy chốc đã chìm vào giấc ngủ, với những giấc mơ thanh bình và đặc biệt không hề có chút máu me nào.

Kemble đã đợi sẵn khi gã đến quán Dirty Donkey vào tối Chủ nhật. Peter mua một ly rượu và ngồi xuống cạnh hắn.

"Tôi chấp nhận ưu đãi đặc biệt của anh," gã mở lời chào.

Kemble gật đầu lia lịa. "Một quyết định vô cùng sáng suốt, nếu ông không phiền tôi nói thế."

Peter Pinter khiêm tốn mỉm cười, như thể một kẻ thường xuyên đọc Financial Times và đưa ra những quyết định kinh doanh khôn ngoan. "Vậy là bốn trăm năm mươi bảng, phải không?"

"Tôi đã nói  bốn trăm năm mươi bảng sao, thưa ông? Trời ơi, tôi xin lỗi. Tôi thành thật xin lỗi, tôi đang nghĩ đến giá sỉ của chúng tôi. Với hai người thì sẽ là bốn trăm bảy mươi lăm."

Nét thất vọng pha lẫn tham lam hiện lên trên gương mặt trẻ trung mà nhạt nhẽo của Peter. Thêm hai mươi lăm bảng nữa. Tuy nhiên, có điều gì đó trong lời Kemble nói khiến gã chú ý.

"Giá sỉ?"

"Đúng vậy, nhưng tôi nghĩ ông sẽ không quan tâm đâu."

"Không, không, tôi quan tâm đấy. Nói tôi nghe xem."

"Vâng, thưa ông. Giá sỉ, bốn trăm năm mươi bảng, áp dụng cho đơn hàng lớn. Mười người."

Peter tự hỏi liệu gã có nghe nhầm không. "Mười người? Nhưng thế thì chỉ 45 bảng một người?"

"Vâng, thưa ngài. Vì là đơn hàng lớn nên vẫn có lời."

"Ra vậy," Peter nói. "Hmm, ngày mai cùng giờ này anh có thể đến đây không?"

"Dĩ nhiên là được, thưa ông."

Về đến nhà, Peter lôi ra một mảnh giấy nháp và cây bút. Gã viết các số từ một đến mười dọc theo một bên rồi điền vào như sau:

1... Archie

2... Gwennie

3...

Và cứ thế.

Sau khi điền xong hai cái tên đầu tiên, gã ngồi mút bút, lục lọi trong trí nhớ những kẻ đã làm gã tổn thương và những người mà thế giới này sẽ tốt đẹp hơn nếu không có họ.

Gã hút một điếu thuốc. Gã đi loanh quanh trong phòng.

A ha! Có một thầy giáo dạy vật lý ở trường gã từng học, đã rất khoái chá khi biến cuộc sống của gã thành địa ngục. Tên lão là gì nhỉ? Mà khoan, không biết lão còn sống không? Peter không chắc, nhưng gã vẫn ghi "Thầy giáo Vật lý, Trường Trung học Phố Abbot" bên cạnh số ba. Cái tên tiếp theo xuất hiện dễ dàng hơn - trưởng phòng đã từ chối tăng lương cho gã cách đây vài tháng; việc cuối cùng gã vẫn được tăng lương chẳng còn quan trọng nữa. Ông Hunterson là số bốn.

Khi gã năm tuổi, một thằng nhóc tên Simon Ellis đã đổ sơn lên đầu gã trong khi một thằng khác tên James gì đó giữ gã xuống và một con bé tên Sharon Harsharpe đứng cười. Chúng lần lượt là số năm, sáu và bảy.

Ai nữa nhỉ?

Có một thằng cha cứ cười khúc khích đến là khó chịu khi đọc bản tin trên tivi. Gã thêm hắn vào danh sách. Còn cả mụ hàng xóm với con chó nhỏ hay sủa và thường ỉa ngoài hành lang thì sao? Gã ghi mụ ta và con chó vào số chín. Số mười là khó nhất. Gã gãi đầu và đi vào bếp pha một tách cà phê, rồi vội vã quay lại viết "Ông chú cả Mervyn" vào vị trí thứ mười. Nghe đồn lão già này khá giàu có, và có khả năng (dù khá mong manh) lão sẽ để lại cho Peter ít tiền.

Với sự hài lòng của một buổi tối làm việc hiệu quả, gã đi ngủ.

Thứ Hai ở Clamages diễn ra như thường lệ; Peter là nhân viên bán hàng cao cấp ở bộ phận sách, một công việc thực sự chẳng đòi hỏi gì nhiều. Gã nắm chặt danh sách trong tay, sâu trong túi áo, tận hưởng cảm giác quyền lực mà nó mang lại. Gã có một giờ ăn trưa rất thú vị ở căng-tin với cô nàng Gwendolyn trẻ tuổi (cô không biết rằng gã đã thấy cô và Archie cùng vào phòng kho) và thậm chí còn mỉm cười với gã bảnh trai phòng kế toán khi đi ngang qua hắn trong hành lang.

Tối đó, gã tự hào đưa danh sách cho Kemble xem.

Gương mặt người chào hàng nhỏ thó sa sầm.

"Tôi e rằng đây không phải mười người đâu, ông Pinter," hắn giải thích. "Ông đã tính mụ hàng xóm và con chó của mụ ta như một người. Như vậy tổng cộng là mười một, nghĩa là thêm," hắn nhanh chóng lôi máy tính bỏ túi ra, "thêm bảy mươi bảng. Hay là chúng ta bỏ con chó đi?"

Peter lắc đầu. "Con chó cũng tệ như mụ ta. Thậm chí còn tệ hơn."

"Vậy thì tôi e là chúng ta có một vấn đề nhỏ. Trừ phi..."

"Gì cơ?"

"Trừ phi ông muốn tận dụng giá sỉ của chúng tôi. Nhưng dĩ nhiên ông sẽ không..."

Có những từ tác động đến con người; những từ khiến gương mặt họ rạng rỡ vì niềm vui, sự phấn khích, hay đam mê. "Môi trường" có thể là một; "huyền bí" là một từ khác. "Giá sỉ" là từ của Peter. Gã ngả người ra sau ghế. "Nói tôi nghe đi," gã nói với vẻ tự tin của một người mua sắm có kinh nghiệm.

"Vâng, thưa ông," Kemble nói, tự cười khúc khích, "chúng tôi có thể, ừm, làm cho ông theo giá sỉ, mười bảy bảng rưỡi mỗi người, cho mọi mục tiêu sau năm mươi người đầu tiên, hoặc mười bảng mỗi người cho bất kỳ ai sau hai trăm người."

"Tôi đoán các ông sẽ giảm xuống năm bảng nếu tôi muốn giải quyết một nghìn người?"

"Ồ không, thưa ông," Kemble tỏ vẻ sốc. "Nếu ông nói đến những con số kiểu đó, chúng tôi có thể làm với giá một bảng mỗi người."

"Một bảng?"

"Đúng vậy, thưa ông. Không có nhiều lợi nhuận từ việc này, nhưng doanh số và năng suất cao hơn sẽ bù đắp được."

Kemble đứng dậy. "Cùng giờ ngày mai nhé, thưa ông?"

Peter gật đầu.

Một nghìn bảng. Một nghìn người. Peter Pinter thậm chí không quen biết đến một nghìn người. Dù vậy... còn có Tòa nhà Quốc hội. Gã không ưa các chính trị gia; họ cãi vã và tranh luận và cứ thế tiếp diễn.

Và nói đến chuyện đó...

Một ý tưởng, táo bạo đến choáng váng. Táo bạo. Liều lĩnh. Dù vậy, ý tưởng đó cứ ở đó và không chịu biến mất. Một người anh em họ xa của gã đã kết hôn với em trai của một bá tước hay nam tước gì đó...

Trên đường về nhà từ chỗ làm, gã ghé vào một cửa hiệu nhỏ mà gã đã đi ngang qua cả nghìn lần mà chưa từng bước vào. Nó có một tấm biển lớn ở cửa sổ - cam kết sẽ truy tìm dòng dõi cho bạn và thậm chí vẽ cho bạn một huy hiệu gia tộc nếu bạn tình cờ đánh mất cái của mình - và một bản đồ phả hệ ấn tượng.

Họ rất nhiệt tình và gọi điện cho gã ngay sau bảy giờ để thông báo kết quả.

Nếu khoảng mười bốn triệu, bảy mươi hai nghìn, tám trăm mười một người chết đi, gã, Peter Pinter, sẽ trở thành Vua của nước Anh.

Gã không có mười bốn triệu bảy mươi hai nghìn tám trăm mười một bảng: nhưng gã đoán rằng khi nói đến những con số như thế, Kemble hẳn sẽ có một trong những khoản giảm giá đặc biệt.

Quả thật là Kemble có.

Hắn thậm chí còn chẳng nhướn mày.

"Thực ra," hắn giải thích, "chi phí khá rẻ đấy; ông thấy đấy, chúng tôi không cần phải xử lý từng người một. Vũ khí hạt nhân cỡ nhỏ, vài đợt ném bom có chọn lọc, khí độc, dịch bệnh, thả radio xuống bể bơi, rồi dọn dẹp những kẻ sống sót. Khoảng bốn nghìn bảng."

"Bốn ng-? Không thể tin được!"

Người chào hàng tỏ vẻ tự mãn. "Nhân viên của chúng tôi sẽ rất vui khi có việc làm, thưa ông." Hắn nhe răng cười. "Chúng tôi tự hào về dịch vụ dành cho khách hàng buôn sỉ."

Gió lạnh thổi khi Peter rời quán rượu, làm biển hiệu cũ đung đưa. Trông nó chẳng giống con lừa bẩn thỉu gì cả, Peter nghĩ. Giống ngựa bạch hơn.

Đêm đó, khi Peter đang thiếp đi, thầm luyện tập bài diễn văn đăng quang trong đầu, một ý nghĩ chợt len lỏi vào và bám riết. Nó không chịu biến mất. Liệu gã - liệu gã có thể đang bỏ lỡ một khoản tiết kiệm còn lớn hơn những gì gã đã có? Liệu gã có đang bỏ qua một món hời?

Peter trèo ra khỏi giường và bước đến điện thoại. Đã gần 3 giờ sáng, nhưng dù sao...

Cuốn Những Trang Vàng của gã vẫn mở ở trang gã để từ thứ Bảy trước, và gã quay số.

Điện thoại như reo mãi không thôi. Có tiếng click và một giọng nói chán nản vang lên, "Burke Hare Ketch. Tôi có thể giúp gì cho ông?"

"Tôi hy vọng không gọi quá muộn..." gã bắt đầu.

"Dĩ nhiên là không, thưa ông."

"Tôi không biết liệu tôi có thể nói chuyện với ông Kemble không."

"Ông có thể đợi không? Tôi sẽ xem ông ấy có rảnh không."

Peter đợi vài phút, lắng nghe những tiếng lách cách và thì thầm ma quái vẫn thường vọng về trên những đường dây điện thoại trống không.

"Ông còn đó không?"

"Vâng, tôi đây."

"Tôi sẽ chuyển máy." Có tiếng vo vo, rồi "Kemble đây."

"À, ông Kemble. Xin chào. Xin lỗi nếu tôi làm phiền giấc ngủ của ông. Tôi là, ừm, Peter Pinter."

"Vâng, ông Pinter?"

"À, tôi xin lỗi vì gọi muộn thế này, chỉ là tôi đang thắc mắc... Giết tất cả mọi người thì tốn bao nhiêu? Tất cả mọi người trên thế giới?"

"Tất cả? Tất cả mọi người sao?"

"Vâng. Bao nhiêu? Ý tôi là, với một đơn hàng như thế, chắc hẳn phải có một khoản giảm giá lớn. Bao nhiêu vậy? Cho tất cả mọi người?"

"Không tốn gì cả, ông Pinter."

"Ý ông là các ông sẽ không làm?"

"Ý tôi là chúng tôi sẽ làm miễn phí, ông Pinter. Chúng tôi chỉ cần được yêu cầu thôi, ông hiểu không. Chúng tôi luôn phải được yêu cầu."

Peter cảm thấy bối rối. "Nhưng - khi nào các ông sẽ bắt đầu?"

"Bắt đầu? Ngay lập tức. Bây giờ. Chúng tôi đã sẵn sàng từ lâu rồi. Nhưng chúng tôi phải được yêu cầu, ông Pinter à. Chúc ngủ ngon. Rất hân hạnh được hợp tác với ông."

Đường dây ngắt.

Peter cảm thấy kỳ lạ. Mọi thứ dường như rất xa xôi. Gã muốn ngồi xuống. Kemble có ý gì nhỉ? "Chúng tôi luôn phải được yêu cầu." Chắc chắn là kỳ lạ. Chẳng ai làm gì không công trên đời này cả; gã nảy ra ý định gọi lại cho Kemble và hủy bỏ tất cả. Có lẽ gã đã phản ứng thái quá, có lẽ có một lý do hoàn toàn vô hại giải thích việc Archie và Gwendolyn cùng vào kho. Gã sẽ nói chuyện với cô ấy, đó là điều gã sẽ làm. Gã sẽ nói chuyện với Gwennie đầu tiên vào sáng mai...

Chính lúc đó những tiếng động bắt đầu.

Những tiếng kêu kỳ quặc từ bên kia đường. Mèo cắn nhau chăng? Có lẽ là cáo. Gã hy vọng ai đó sẽ ném giày vào chúng. Rồi, từ hành lang bên ngoài căn hộ, gã nghe thấy tiếng lẹp kẹp bị bóp nghẹt, như thể có ai đó đang kéo lê thứ gì đó rất nặng dọc sàn nhà. Nó dừng lại. Ai đó gõ cửa gã, hai lần, rất khẽ.

Bên ngoài cửa sổ những tiếng kêu mỗi lúc một to hơn. Peter ngồi trên ghế, nhận ra rằng bằng cách nào đó, ở đâu đó, gã đã bỏ lỡ điều gì đó. Một điều gì đó quan trọng. Tiếng gõ cửa tăng gấp đôi. Gã thầm cảm ơn vì mình luôn khóa cửa và gài xích vào ban đêm.

Chúng đã sẵn sàng từ lâu rồi, nhưng chúng phải được yêu cầu...

Khi cái thứ đó xông qua cửa, Peter bắt đầu hét lên, nhưng gã thực sự chẳng hét được bao lâu.

[mildmayfoxe]

do you guys think i should make a faire (etsy for wholesale)……. wholesaling was on my goal list for the year but in a “email local businesses” way not a “put my stuff on a marketplace” way, especially since faire takes a 15% commission & has other fees…. i don’t have the kind of inventory to list a ton of stuff on there but i could start with a few things and see how it goes…. i can stop doing it if i decide it’s not worth it… it would be easier than sending a lot of emails or making a wholesale packet….

[singull]

ahhh the woes of when some rando walks into the shop at work wanting to sell me something to sell i the gift shop out of the blue.

like bruh…this shoulda been an email.

i’m not sure which is worse tho…the ones that come in completely unprepared (like…motherfuckers can’t even find pictures of their product in their photos app because they don’t bother to organize that shit into a specific folder), or the ones that just show up with a big box of their shit and a pushy attitude.

either way, they both suck and i usually ghost them once they finally leave.

[solarbird]

For years now, I have been railing against the Republican Party as a literal – literal – Party of Plague. In these closing days of the campaign, they have quadrupled back down on this in ways that will kill millions of Americans.

Not “might.” Will.

Appointing RFK, Jr. as czar of public health and letting him “go wild” will kill millions. Again, not might: will. Not immediately, no, but over time. Trump himself is utterly refusing to promise he and his party won’t ban vaccines and said on Sunday that RFK Jr.’s pledge to eliminate fluoridation of water on day one “sounds OK to me.”

If they do this and make it stick, millions will die. And an outsized number of them will be children.

Courtesy McNadoMD on Mastodon, here are a few of the diseases mass vaccination eliminated from American life, and which banning vaccination will bring back, along with some of their symptoms and progression paths.Howdy folks! Friendly neighborhood ER doc here. Did you know that Trump’s folks want to take vaccines off of the market? That means you can’t get a shot even if you want one. Did you know that the tetanus shot is a vaccine? If you want your kids to be safe from lockjaw (caused by tetanus), you want vaccines to be available. You know what else is a vaccine? Rabies shots. If a rabid dog or bat bites your kid, do you want your kid to be able to be treated before they die of rabies?

Lockjaw and rabies:

Diphtheria:

Whooping cough:

Polio:

You get the idea, right?

These aren’t the only ones. These are just a few of those less often mentioned in these modern times, because people have forgot they exist.

When I say the Republican Party is a Party of Plague, when I say it is a goddamn death cult, I mean every single one of those words in every way you might think.

They are promising economic ruin and they are promising ethnic purges and now they are promising mass death of children.

All while killing pregnant people for their vile sense of domination, of course. Let us never forget that, since their families certainly won’t.

One of the things their apologists keep saying is that “Trump doesn’t mean it” and “Trump won’t do it,” and “That’s just Trump being Trump,” and they talk about “Trump derangement syndrome,” and say that we’re stupid for believing what their candidate fucking says he’ll do, and meanwhile, they get enraged about shit they completely make up about us and the candidates who are with us.

We react to things their candidates promise. They react to shit they make up wholesale about us. We are not the fucking same.

If only the political press would catch on to that fact.

The very last day of a campaign is a pretty lousy time to bring up another topic, even if it’s not really new. But this is, again, so murderously psychotic that I can’t not bring it back up.

Maybe you can bring it up, too, on this final day of this hellish and evil campaign, this Monday, November 4th, 2024.

Zero days remain.

It is Lastday.

[inklingowl]

Wait just a second. The Dirty Donkey? It's been a bit since my last re-read of Good Omens but I'm currently reading The Neil Gaiman Reader. There's a short story in that collection called We Can Get Them for You Wholesale, where a boring young man heads down to the Dirty Donkey to take a hit out on someone. Or several someone's if the price is right.

That's a fun little Easter egg. I wonder if Neil snuck the Dirty Donkey into any other stories. Like the Hempstocks.

Circled is:

1. Azi’s Bookshop

2. The Dirty Donkey, where Crowley went to plan his holy water heist in 1967

“I work in Soho. I hear things. Especially when they’re being planned in the pub that’s just ONE SHOP AWAY FROM WHERE I LIVE, CROWLEY!”

Azi probably saw the Bentley parked on the street through his shop window. 🤣

[hussyknee]

Wonder how far I can prod libs into finishing their full thought bubble behind all this "harm reduction" "genocide is a single issue" "you don't care about marginalized people in the US" "dyou want fascism WITH genocide???" screeching.

Okay, class, say it with me: "I don't want to live in a third world country like the ones we keep destroying."

Because you know. The countries your war criminal leaders keep bombing and starving and destabilising and leeching dry? We don't have trans or gay rights or women's rights or disability benefits or environmental or labour protections. No one would want to live in our countries obviously. You'd kill yourselves before you had to live like we do. Sure, we're only like this because you keep us trapped in poverty and violence and we still have full, happy lives worth living despite it but that's because we're used to it! We don't know any better! Not like you! You know what you deserve and you shouldn't have to lose anything as a consequence of your own political choices! Your government is supposed to happen to other people! Not you! So like, yeah, it's bad that the poors are being massacred wholesale or whatever, but like. That doesn't mean you gotta die with them, y'know? And by "death" you don't mean actual genocide like what's happening over here but "death" as in "having to live like we do".

The trolley problem metaphor is so goddamn attractive to you because you see yourself outside the tracks, objectively assessing the situation and making the "tough" "moral" choice for the collective good. It's imperialist horseshit. You don't have a democracy and it's not a trolley. What you have is an imperial death machine running on an apartheid system that decides who gets fed to it and who gets fed by it. That's your "two tracks"— the colonized and the colonizer, the core and the periphery, the white and the coloured. "Harm reduction"? Have you counted how many fucking millions in and around the world your death machine eats to keep how many of you "safe"? But our losses are a foregone conclusion, a matter of course, a regrettable necessity. The only variable is yours.

Every political choice in 200 years of your settler colony has been "genocide AND". "Genocide AND women's rights". "Genocide AND workers rights". "Genocide AND fascism". "Genocide AND democracy". The difference is that for the first time in your history you're now watching it livestreamed to the entire world in real time 24/7, exactly as your colony is about to capsize under the weight of its own bloodlust. A sea change from when your parents threw parties watching bombs dropping on Baghdad and then spent twenty years watching movies about sad it made the soldiers.

How do you count the victims when we are numbers and you are people? You scream about trans rights in the US while Palestinian trans children don't have the right to reach puberty. OSHA for you but Congolese children have to die in mines. Reproductive rights for the US while Sudanese women are raped in millions. Yes, but it's always been "genocide AND" no matter what, right? Do we want to sabotage the party that has never fucking cared about us and don't now even with half their own country screaming at them on the off-chance they might possibly maybe one day do?? Why are we acting so mad like it's YOUR fault that you're fighting for your quality of life over our corpses?? Do we want YOU to lose your rights over it??

Yes, actually. We do. We want you to have a taste of the reality that generations on generations of your illegal illegitimate white supremacist occupation has inflicted on us just so your worthless hide can sit there and call our genocides a single fucking issue. And let's be real: that's what you're so fucking afraid of.

[lesser-vissir]

IDK, I just think that if the notes on my epic dunk on white trans women were majority TME and filled with transmisogynistic comments I might reflect on whether the post was accurately describing a phenomena or not.

Like,,,

Like if you can't see why these are transmisogynistic idk what to say even. Like,

- Outright dismissal of transmisogyny theory because "trans women have it too good"

- Calling white trans women as more likely to be racist than most white people followed by calling transfeminism TERF ideology

- Accusing trans women of dominating the narrative on Imane Khelif as if the other narrative wasn't the mainline opinion of all major discussion of the issue outside Tumblr, then putting up a double standard where white trans women should have been protecting cis woc but not the other way around

- Just wholesale selling the lie that a significant number of white trans women are channers with basically no evidence (not to mention pretending that 4chan isn't transphobic and transmisogynistic)

- this one is literally just the "TME is a useless term" discourse, also it's LITERALLY dabwax. Like, this guy:

What a trove, accused trans people of being uniquely intersexist, blatant double standard regarding listening to oppressed people saying you're bigoted against them, also this is literally about the term TME

Just, maybe there's some nuance here we can acknowledge about "white trans women" absolutely being a dog whistle amongst transmisogynists to just, dodge accountability, cause that does happen, and your stated claim of "white tgirls get away with racism more often than cis white people and need more scrutiny" which is so blatantly not true.

[danko420]

We Can Get Them for You Wholesale by Neil Gaiman was always one of my favs... kinda silly and tongue in cheek but also hits a little too close to home

an incomplete list of unsettling short stories I read in textbooks

the scarlet ibis

marigolds

the diamond necklace

the monkey’s paw

the open boat

the lady and the tiger

the minister’s black veil

an occurrence at owl creek bridge

a rose for emily

(I found that one by googling “short story corpse in the house,” first result)

the cask of amontillado

the yellow wallpaper

the most dangerous game

a good man is hard to find

some are well-known, some obscure, some I enjoy as an adult, all made me uncomfortable between the ages of 11-15

add your own weird shit, I wanna be literary and disturbed

[inumkii]

mha boys working at a bakery

included: bakugou, kirishima, denki, shouto, and a little dabi feature

okay this prompt except its not awwww cute baker au! inspired by my old job, it was a bit miserable but i try to look back on it fondly

bakugou’s one of the bakers, almost always opening at 6am. there's a rare occasion where you're scheduled to open with only him and he's there early, prepping the dough with faint classical music playing in the background. opening shifts with him (and shifts in general) can be quite nice because he tends to mind his own business while you cover the counter, but you have walked in to him yelling at denki for leaving the scones in the oven for too long. i would say he’s pretty quiet when he bakes as long as no one else gets in his way. feel free to talk about whatever as he bakes because for you, he’ll silently listen. for anyone else, he’s complaining that they’re distracting him- unless! two people are talking mad shit or gossiping on the clock, he’s secretly listening in.

saturday morning opening shifts are your favorite because the two baker and two counter combo is almost always bakugo, kirishima, mina, and you. the reason why you put up with the miserable opening hours is because kiri and mina loveeeee to gossip about everything they’ve learned throughout the week between your coworkers and bakugou chimes in with additional information that no one else knew. you guys are surprised every time but he just shrugs it off.

kirishima is a sweetheart who does all the tasks that you don’t want to do. ask him to cover mopping tonight? done. need the stack of 50 sheet trays carried to the back? he’s taking care of it. he’s normally baking in the morning but he’ll close from time to time and you always know you’ll be out early when you see his name on the schedule.

denki takes closing shifts more often because he likes to call dibs on the pastries that didn't sell that day. he works at the counter more than baking,,, we all know why.. but he insists he can do either!! for everyone’s sake, especially the customers, you stick him behind the register.

i do think large group orders freak denki out so you have to stand next to him and help him ring them up every time. you really can't tell if he's pretending for the sake of having you by his side or if he genuinely can’t do it. (its a bit of both)

you guys have a closing checklist where you have to sign your name next to every cleanup task after completion but you and denki both hate doing the same things. so he’ll be a pain in the ass and sign his name prematurely on random tasks so you’ll get stuck on mopping duty. sorry. this is getting self indulgent but your personal favorite task is to take the chalk board advertisement for the bakery back inside at the end of the day. after a 7 hour shift, its a nice thirty second walk outside. somehow denki finds out that you love that task so he starts beating you to it. its gotten to a point where someone will innocently ask if anyone's taken in the sign for the night and there's a split second where you guys look at each other before immediately racing out the front door to see who can get to it first.

shouto is a gentleman!!!!!! he’s always there in the daytime, takes the 9-4 shifts mostly. hired as a baker but he took the counter once and he really charmed those old ladies popping in for their morning muffin so he’s kinda been defaulted to the front. you’ve been guilty at handing the phone to him when a wholesale order has gotten too confusing and he’ll kindly take over. he’s become the face the regulars see the most when they walk in due to the nature of his shift times.

you mostly catch shouto for an hour or two when you work closing shifts, coming in around 2. some nights, by the time you realize you need to take out the trash, its already dark outside. the dumpster walk isn’t necessarily far, but its not pleasant nor does it feel very safe. but when you go to check the trash, you realize shouto silently took them out before he got off his shift a few hours ago so you didn’t have to walk out in the dark. he’s never scheduled closing shifts, but if someone needs it covered + he sees that you're the other closer, he’s quick to offer. walks you back to your car too.

there’s a coffee shop in the same shopping complex that your bakery is friendly with. by the end of the night, any leftover pastries get put into a ziplock and handed over to them in exchange for a free coffee. the mysterious barista who’s name tag reads ‘dabi’ is always the one to thank you for bringing over the treats and making your latte. he knows exactly what you're gonna get every time he sees you walking up to the front of the cafe. he sends you off every night with a wink and your coffee in hand

(you aren’t aware that dabi is related to shouto at all. its never been brought up and they're mostly on different shift schedules. so when shouto hears about your closing night exchanges, he starts shifting his schedule just so he can accompany you. and to keep an eye on his brother to make sure he’s not going to pull anything funny.)

-

additional all might as my boss: early morning opening shifts are your worst enemy just because you cannottt be bothered to wake up earlier than noon, so when you do, you come in having just woken up ten minutes before. your boss catches you one morning and stops you for a ten minute rant about how you should be more confident with your bare face! and makeup is a social construct, so feel beautiful with yourself!! and you think its sweet but you didnt even notice how you weren’t even wearing the usual makeup look. thanks greg. i guess. he means well.

[tavina-writes]

so deeply deeply tired of the discourse where if an artist/creative gets revealed to have been a vile and shitty person irl we just start throwing their art out wholesale to the tune of "omg well I KNEW they were a BAD person!!! look at how AWFUL AND BAD and SUCKY their art was!! it was CLEAR it was never ANY good. Anyway I never bought the hype about them because their art was BAD!"

like, I'm not arguing for continuing to hold onto art that you now dislike because the creator was a vile person. you don't need to do that.

but this "oh I can tell if a person is good or bad if their art is good or bad bc bad people make bad art" is just such a reductive and honestly tiring approach? Good people make bad art. Good people make good art. Bad people make bad art. Bad people make good art. there's no correlation, stop trying to say there is.

we must learn to separate the morality and value of art from the morality and value of the creator.

[phoenixyfriend]

Why I think it's important to understand the geopolitical anxieties of Israelis

Oftentimes, it feels like even recognizing that those anxieties exist is viewed as siding with Israel in the current conflict.

And I think that it's... weird, to do that. Dismissing the anxieties wholesale makes it harder to resolve the situation. Addressing them directly is possibly the only way to resolve the situation, because America.

Let me explain.

This will have three parts:

Why the propaganda works

How it affects current policy

How we can pressure the (mostly US) government about Israel using what we know about propaganda

Why the propaganda works

A lot of it is just propaganda, yes, but a lot of it is based in history, and a lot is also sort of self-fulfilling at this point. They have had reason to believe that some of their neighbors want all Jews dead or gone for a long time (see: Syria, Lebanon, Yemen), so it's not that it comes from nowhere. When over half the population is either Mizrahi Jews who fled from nearby countries that were happy to have a place to kick their Jewish populations out to, or their descendants, it's not hard to see that 'if someone else is in charge, we'll have to flee again.'

You could tell the French in Algeria to go back to France, but are you going to tell Mizrahi Jews to go back to the ME countries that they left? Sure, some left willingly, but that kind of wholesale eradication doesn't happen unless there's some degree of systemic discrimination or threat of violence. You cannot send Yemeni Jews back to Yemen.

The threat is real. It is not as large as the propaganda claims. It does not in any way justify nearly 30,000 deaths, half of them children. But the threat is not just imagined.

The fact of the matter is this: the propaganda is fueled by actual violence and legitimate fears.

And unless those fears are recognized and accounted for, Israel cannot be talked down.

Being told that a threat does not exist when recent history clearly shows otherwise is not going to convince anyone. I cannot emphasize this enough: even if the far-right government is replaced tomorrow, those fears will persist.

Israel's current government is violently and militarily opposed to restructuring itself in a way that allows for either a secular democratic single state, or a truly free and independent Palestine in a two-state solution. Due to mandatory army service and large scale propaganda, many have been taught since early childhood that the only way for Jews to be safe is for Israel to exist and to be so incredibly overpowered for their size that other nations won't invade them. The fact that both distant history and more recent, across the world, is filled with antisemitic discrimination, feeds this paranoia. A lot of people are out to get them, and have been since well before Israel was established. The destruction of Judea, the Edict of Expulsion, the expulsion of Jews from Spain, pogroms, the Holocaust, the near-total eradication in Yemen, Jordan, and Syria, and so on... this shit keeps happening. Some of it long ago, some if it very recent.

But it does keep happening, and that is why the propaganda works. That is why the fearmongering has teeth. It has happened before, over and over and over again, and it is being loudly threatened again. The propaganda works in Israel, and it also works in Jewish communities, and non-Jewish people who just happen to hear it, based elsewhere in the world. Like America. (This is important.)

Before moving forward, I need to make this clear: There are Jewish Israeli activists, both within Israel and without, that are vocally against Israel's actions against Palestine. Some are organized, and some are individuals. Some stories even go viral: Israeli-born Natalie Portman's been criticizing Netanyahu for years and politicians have called for her citizenship to be stripped for it. Tumblr loves the story of the Swiftie Twitter that went to jail for refusing to join the IDF, and that's very common; plenty of young people get months-long prison sentences, sometimes multiple times. Right-wing mobs go after Jewish Israelis who speak in support of Palestine in any way, and these things get violent.

(In that same article, it also talks about how Israeli Palestinians are suffering much, much worse under the government's crackdown on free speech.)

How it affects current policy

The thing is, there are only really four ways for this to resolve:

Israel wins. They succeed in pushing Palestinians out of Gaza by killing anyone who doesn't comply, and take it over for themselves. (This is bad.)

Israel is cut off from any and all support from abroad, both 'here, you can help yourself with these guns' and 'here, we will fight your enemies for you,' and is very suddenly at risk of invasion, mass murder, and removal from the Palestinian Mandate by those groups they fearmonger about, the ones that include slogans like "death to Israel, a curse upon the Jews." (This is also bad.)

Israel is convinced to stop attacking Gaza, possibly through the threat of no more support, and settles in to figure out a solution with Palestine, whether two-state or secular single state or whatever, and normalizes relations with neighbors enough that they can start cutting back on their military. (This is the best option.)

A foreign power or coalition of powers invades and forces Israel to stop, and oversees a transition from military state to peaceful state while protecting from outside attack, like was done to Japan and Germany following WWII. (This one is... interventionism is bad, but also almost 30k people have died with no end in sight, so it's starting to look like a real possibility.)

We can all agree, I hope, that the first option is not an option. That is Bad.

I also hope we can agree that the second option is not an option. A number of Israelis may be settlers in the traditional sense of the word, but a lot of them are refugees from neighboring countries, survivors of the Holocaust, or descendants of such. "Just go back where you came from" doesn't work when many of them came from places that were also saying 'go back where you came from' because Israel now existed to expel them to. It's also been around for 75 years now, and some three-quarters of the population were born in Israel. Expelling them all, even the ones that were there before the early statehood aliyah? It's... I don't know. I understand in theory why some activists push for it, but I do think it is fundamentally different from any comparative colonization or settlement.

(Note: I do not include Israeli colonies in the Palestinian West Bank. Those do need to be returned to their owners. Give people their houses and land back.)

The third option is the one that most people, I think, would like to see happen. However, the Israeli government is clinging to the propaganda that they will be eradicated as a Jewish people if they do not forcibly take power where they can, and they are spreading it out among Israelis. Dissent by Israeli Jews may not be criminalized, but the society around them sure isn't receptive to it. The recent invasion of Gaza has also inflamed tensions across the region, which means that even countries which were slowly normalizing relations, or at least.

Netanyahu has not been convinced, and by all appearances cannot be convinced. The only thing that may force his hand is the threat of no more military aid, so he suddenly has to start conserving what missiles he does have in order to fend off a possible attack instead of continuing to hammer on Gaza.

Sounds great, right? This is why we are all (I hope) calling our senators or representatives or whatever your country has to tell them to stop supporting Israel monetarily or with military aid. This is why I keep giving suggested topics for Americans to call their senators about, even if I'm just one voice, and there are much louder ones saying the same thing, but better.

And yet, the Senate passed the aid bill. They snuck it into a Veteran Affairs thing as a last-minute amendment, but they passed it, and any failure in the House will have little to do with sympathy for Palestine and a lot to do with domestic border policy.

So... Americans are also pretty convinced of the whole 'if we stop supporting Israel, they will be invaded and killed off by the Iran-backed militias' thing. Many do feel sympathy for Palestinians, hence the 'Israel, you need to knock that shit off' comments, but they also are genuinely of a belief that the Israeli propaganda of 'we will be overrun by antisemitic Muslim extremist militias and exterminated like in the Holocaust' is true.

Like. Either they fear for Israelis due to the antagonistic forces in the region, or they belong to Christofascist ideologies about how supporting Israel is the way to avoid suffering in Armageddon.

You can't get to the latter on ethics or morality or whatever. You can only rely on ulterior motives (the border things) or telling them 'your reelection is in jeopardy, change your mind or you're going to be voted out.'

The former, though... you can. They believe the things that Israel claims and has been claiming since 1948, with regards to threats.

And if you acknowledge why the propaganda works, you can address it.

How we can pressure the government about Israel using what we know about propaganda

If you say that there is no threat to Israel from Yemen, Lebanon, Syria, Iran, or so on, you will be dismissed as an idealist who hasn't done any research. If you say that Israelis should be left to their own devices, you will be viewed as cruel, and if you say they should be removed and the land given back to Palestinians, you will be laughed away (silently, but it'll happen). You cannot convince the American government with these tactics.

What can you say?

Israel is making things worse for itself in regards to these exact threats. Pushing on Gaza is making neutral and nearly-normalized countries like Egypt and Saudi Arabia less inclined to get in the way of the 'death to Israel' militias. The campaign is creating a whole new generation of extremists who will join the militias out of a desire to prevent more of these deaths by Israeli hands, and that will only increase the threat to Israel.

Destroying Hamas isn't going to do shit if Hezbollah, Iraq, Iran, the Houthis, and so on, invade. Especially if twenty years down the line, all those orphans that Israel just created these past few months start a new Hamas for revenge because, hi, look how many orphans you just created.

Netanyahu is working against the interests of the Israeli people. He is trying to remain in power, and the Gaza war is a distraction from the charges being levied against him.

Netanyahu has a vested interest in seeing that Donald Trump is elected, as they are much closer than the at best strained relationship with Biden. This is very complicated but if your senator or rep is a Democrat, it is relevant.

Israel's continued offensive is leading to the risk of millions of Palestinian refugees entering Egypt and destabilizing them, which, in an already unstable country in an already wobbling region, is going to risk another war across the Middle East. The US still has not pulled out all troops from the last one.

The US cannot afford, monetarily or in terms of foreign relations, to aid in causing a new regional war.

If Israel slows, halts, and withdraws peacefully from Gaza, tensions will settle enough to avoid possible invasion by those hostile forces they're so worried about. The UN can, if necessary, deploy forces to maintain relative stability until peace treaties are worked out. We'd like to avoid option 4 if possible.

The only way I can see to convince the US government to stop supplying weapons to Israel is to push on the fact that continuing to do so will, due to Netanyahu and his party's actions, put Israel in more danger rather than less.

There are other things to say to your senators, and I'll be making a post about that soon (not today, but probably this weekend; stuff like Michigan, UNRWA, international reputation), but in regards to just the geopolitics surrounding the propaganda, this is it. This is why we have to understand it. Because the way we get the United States government to stop giving aid to Israel to defend itself is by telling them 'this is putting them in more danger due to their head of state's aggression.'

This was very long, but I've seen a lot of misinformation and a lot of generalization, and a lot of it is... not great. Well-meant, sometimes, but not great. I felt it necessary to be very clear and very specific. I'm anticipating a lot of comments to the effect of "you forgot about this" and "but that doesn't excuse their actions" and "well, not all activists believe--" and I know.

I know.

But I've had people say "Nobody is advocating for the removal of all Jewish Israelis" to my ask box hours after I was talking about Yemen, a country that enacted a removal of all Jews and largely under the control of a group that has a slogan about doing just that to the Jewish Israelis.

So let me be very clear that I have seen a lot on tumblr recently, a lot of it extremist, and I'm not pulling any of this out of my ass or making up a guy to be mad at. I may not know everything on this topic--I may not even know much at all, given that it covers centuries of conflict due to the Ottomans--but I've been listening to hours upon hours of news from a variety of sources (Al Jazeera, BBC, NPR, and more) every day just to make sure I understand.

Please trust that, even if I get some things wrong, even if I don't cite every detail or generalize just a bit here and there, that I mean well. Please trust that I am making this in good faith and am trusting you to respond to it in kind.

Call your reps. Write them an email. Donate to a Palestinian charity.

It's a slog, but we can make a difference.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Dealer!remus and autistic!reader’s relationship starts off so rocky guys let me tell you!!! Angst to fluff

Remus doesn’t fully get that he can’t just say things- like he’s got to be deliberate and conscious of the words he uses and his tone.

He’s never had to do that before so it’s weird and it’s hard to learn and he slips up sometimes.

One of your biggest arguments happens when he’s frustrated and you’re just trying to help.

You’d seen him so sullen and moody on James’ story so you decided to do for him, what you do for yourself.

You baked.

But then you realized you’re not at the stage where you know his absolute favourite type of cookie so you go a little all out.

You bake chocolate chip biscoff cookies. Chocolate chip toffee cookies, regular chocolate chip and brown butter chocolate chip.

You set them in a cute box and you text Remus that you’re coming to see him. You’re thinking everything’s going to go well, you’re gonna drop the cookies off for him, maybe he’s going to tell you what’s bugging him- maybe not; either way he won’t be alone.

Except you get there and immediately you feel like you’re inconveniencing him.

Try as you might not to take it personally, it’s really hard because he seems particularly peeved at you.

“Why are you here?” His tone is sharp and jagged and it winds you a little.

“I brought you cookies to cheer you up. Saw that you weren’t yourself on James’ story,” you keep your tone even, light- a practiced thing from your days of dealing with people that didn’t quite get you.

“Why would that cheer me up?” At this point everything’s going downhill fast and you try to salvage what little is left of your deflated cheeriness and open up the box to display the array of cookies.

Remus at the same time waves his hand and the box goes pitching across his living room floor and he explodes.

You can’t remember the last time someone had yelled at you like that and honestly, it hurt more coming from Remus who was so normally relaxed and chilled.

You don’t even tell him goodbye, you just clean up all the mess while he’s cursing and yelling and then leave.

What’s twists the bloodied blade in the wound is that he doesn’t even try to stop you or reach out to you for three days.

By which point you’ve already gone mostly nonverbal and you’re in no mood to entertain or fake a personality for the sake of your friends when you do see them.

Remus stops at your house after you ignore three invitations to his place.

“Dove, I know you’re at home. Can you open the door please?” His voice is muffled through the hard wood of the door and you have half a kind to leave it shut- he’d been mean, he’d said things that were very hurtful now that you’ve actually processed what he’s said fully.

You don’t know if you can stand to see him. Then he knocks again, “I want to look at you when I apologise, sweet girl. Please open the door.” And the wholesale remorse in his tone shakes your core and you cave.

He steps inside with a box and three tulips. “I figured I’d have had to do it face to face for it to really mean anything and because I realized I was an absolute prick to you when you just came over to help.”

You don’t even hum. Usually, when he was nice Remus- as you’ve differentiated in your head - you’d be able to look him in the eyes every couple of words, but right now you just look over his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have yelled or sworn at you like that. It wasn’t cool and I never want to speak to you like that- ever. I was an idiot and I just want to make up for it.”

There’s about a minute where Remus thinks he’s just fucked every single bit of progress you’ve both made with each other and then you let out a big breath.

“You can’t say things that you don’t mean just because you’re upset. What you said really hurt my feelings and I don’t like feeling the way you made me feel when you were that angry. If we continue to be friends you can’t do that because it makes it hard for me to trust you and find what you’re saying believable.”

Your voice is hoarse and crackly from lack of use and Remus feels even worse. “I’ll do better, I swear. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you- it’ll never be, but I am sorry that I did.”

You nod once, succinct and definitive. Remus holds out the box to you, showing a puzzle you’d been eyeing for a while.

“Can we build it together?” He asks softly, an ebb of vulnerability given away as you catch his eyes.

“Okay, but we have to do corners first, then work our way in.” Remus nods, his other hand holding the flowers for you. The tulips are a pristine white.

“The lady at the shop said they’re good for conveying apologies.”

You smile a little, “These ones are also for condolences.” Remus shakes his head,

“Not this time,” he watches you put them in a vase of water. “Also, ‘if we continue to be friends’, thought we were a little closer than friends, sweet girl?”

He relishes in the way you bite your lip to hide your grin as you take the puzzle box from him and set it up on your coffee table.

“Well I wasn’t sure if you wanted to acknowledge it or not.”

Remus says very seriously as he sits opposite you at the coffee table, ducking down so he can catch your eyes as you take out the numbered bags. “I’m always acknowledging it, we’re more than friends dove. When everything’s not so fucked, I’ll take you out and do it with pink and red lilies.”

[sepublic]

I like how Luz and King, whose arcs involve their relationship with fantasy because they're kids (in contrast to Eda, who is much older and has different baggage), have different relationships with those fantasies; Esp due to what those fantasies were.

King drops his wholesale; His fantasy was about being a tyrant who destroyed his enemies, which is inherently destructive in practice. And with him realizing how much power he DOES wield now, and must be responsible over -both in his friendship with the Collector and status as a Titan- it makes sense he just abandons that completely, especially in foil to a certain witch hunter. And he abandons that fantasy because it wasn't actually what King wanted, and he's figured that out now. His fantasy admittedly started off as a delusion fed by Eda, too.

Luz still keeps hers; She's just learned to maintain a healthy balance, deciding when and when not to embrace and pursue it. This can be attributed to Azura being far less about destroying enemies; Aside from the Gildersnake, it seems most of her stories are on the friendlier, mundane side, with things like sports and growing plants. But we do see how even the former can get distorted and hurt others, hence Wing it like Witches. Likewise, Luz holding onto her fantasy is her way of keeping her father Manny alive, and embracing her weirdness, who she is as a person, etc.

There's a dichotomy with these siblings' fantasies, and even the origin of them; King's came about as Eda humoring him, but not knowing when to make a distinction for her kid. Meanwhile Manny gave Luz's fantasy to her, and it was about keeping her spirit alive, and not just the fun... But the fun matters too of course. So Luz's relationship with her fantasy is her relationship with Manny, because of its inspiration in Dana receiving Pokemon Red from her father before his death. So she can't just drop it, Luz needs to learn to live with it healthily like Eda learns to live with the curse, etc.

And it's a way for Luz to continue her living relationship with her other parent Camila, who understands now, and wants to cultivate fantasy in her daughter and even herself again to bond over; Something Luz initially refuses out of self-loathing, and a misguided attempt to reconnect with Camila when she thought the opposite -pursuing fantasy- was what pulled them apart. But it was because of the death of their wonder and the enforcement of that by the system, and mother and daughter finally rekindle their light in For the Future together.

You can also see Titanlights' relationship with fantasy through the Titan, another parental figure whom is mutual for these sibs. The Titan is the setting and thus embodies a lot of the show's themes; The Titan is Just Some Dude after all of the insincere, destructive hype of being a God. And this is how King wants to follow. Likewise, the Titan explains to Luz that she needs to forgive herself for her dream's unintended side effects, and by passing his power onto her briefly, allows Luz to live out her dream as much as she can, and remember that afterwards. Luz internalizes both the Titan's mundanity and encouragement for her healthy relationship with fiction, and King gets his new dream by seeing his dad's spirit in action, as well as a personal message; I loaf you.

[i-only-ever-asked-questions]

The Dirty Donkey also shows up in Sandman!

Hey Neil 🧍‍♂️

One of my favorite short stories is actually “we can get them for you wholesale” and I was re reading it today and saw that the pub mentioned there is also called “The Dirty Donkey” just like the one in Good Omens.

Was that something you intentionally had in mind or it’s just a pub really. (?)

Anyways, “Queen of Knives” is also spectacular! All your short stories are. 🪄

It was intentional.

[dodgerkedavra]

Saved for Later

I got tagged by @phoenixortheflame and @kamaela to do this game which is posting a deleted snippet from a fic but I will be open and honest—up until this month I had to get everything done in my one (1) good week a month and usually write so close to deadline that I don't take stuff out wholesale, so this would be a confusing bunch of words and half-sentences if I could even find them?? So instead I will give you this snippet of a fuck-or-die drarry fic I started in the summer and will someday hopefully finish :)

“It’s a sex ritual,” Draco shouts, directly into Harry’s face. “Sex magic. The price is an offering of sexual energy. One of us has to agree to—to receive—to accept the—the enthusiastic attentions of the other, in a ritualised display of—”

Harry’s hand shoots into the air.

Draco blinks. 

Then blinks again.

And then he leans back and stares, lips parted.

“Potter.” He’s exactly as soft as the singing magic. “Have you raised your hand?”

“Yep.”

“Do you understand what I’ve just said?”

“You said one of us has to get railed, hard, in order to do the ritual. I volunteer. To get railed,” Harry adds, in case it wasn’t clear what he was putting himself forwards for. “By you.” Can’t be any mistaking it now. “I accept your, er, enthusiastic attentions.”

Draco swallows. “Grudgingly?”

“What?”

“Are you only volunteering because you’re afraid to die in this vault? I realise the issues of consent in this case are quite thorny, so if another arrangement would be more—”

“I haven’t got thorns.”

“Excuse me?” Draco leans back in, as if he has to see Harry’s lips move to believe it.

“I haven’t got any thorns,” Harry says, louder. “No thorns of consent. I definitely want you to rail me enthusiastically. I enthusiastically want that. Unless you don’t, in which case you can, like, close your eyes. Or Obliviate me afterwards. Or we can both get Obliviated. I’d rather not, though. Get Obliviated, I mean. But—”

“Put your hand down, for Merlin’s sake.”