#I paid many thousands of dollars for this degree

[mactiir]

I know the average reading comprehension on this site is zero but I'm different. I'm applying wildly inappropriate analysis lenses to popcorn media. I'm doing a queer theory reading of Horus Heresy novels. Now I'm doing feminist analysis of Warhammer 40k canon. Now I'm applying Marxist analysis to The Outsiders. Time for a historical analysis of The Locked Tomb. A post-colonial reading of the entirety of Doctor Who. A psychological anlaysis of Twilight. On the horseshoe scale of reading comprehension I'm at "so much reading comprehension that it loops back around to not understanding books at all actually". You can't stop me. I'm literary analysis Georg

#I paid many thousands of dollars for this degree #and by god i will use it #literature #Literary analysis #Literature analysis #Media analysis #literary criticism #reading #reading comprehension #meta analysis #literature major #literature memes #lit crit #media literacy

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Read It and Weep- Part 1

Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader

Summary: Sports journalist Y/n is covering a pro-NFL football game when she gets knocked down by wide reciever Rafe Cameron. He helps her up and immediately can't seem to take his eyes off of her as they celebrate their win. After, at the post game conference, him and the reader share an interesting conversation and he learns (earns) her name.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, I think that's it honestly.

Song: "My Ordinary Life" by The Living Tombstones

A/n: This might be the most excited I've ever seen @tee-swizzle get over a fic I've written. This is some serious hot and cute and angsty shit, buckle up, it's quite a ride. This is part 1 of 10!

I always thought the only time I would enjoy men running around in costumes would be on Broadway.

The sophisticated, planned, calculated moves, the falsetto notes they hit while running around in expensive costumes that took hours and hours to create. Men on Broadway are just a whole other breed- don’t get me wrong, all actors and actresses alike are all impressive beyond belief, it’s a hard field to be a part of. But there’s something so groundbreaking and heartwarming to see men of all backgrounds doing what they love to do.

There’s just an art to it- Broadway- a beauty that a lot of people brush off and denounce as girly or even something that’s remarkably easy. They call theater kids loony (which coming from one, I’d have to agree just a bit), they’re constantly bullied and harassed but not when they make it to the big times. No- then they are set up on this pedestal where they are to be paid hundreds or thousands of dollars to get on stage, to dance and sing their favorite show tunes together where all of a sudden they’re people to look up to, forgetting all about their high school days and all the failed auditions that teared them down. But once they’re on that stage together, creating music and art, they’re a family in a sense. Leaving it all on the stage for the viewer, us, to enjoy. 

A brotherhood.

My new stage looks a little bit differently than it did when I was sixteen. 

My new stage consists of something similar- men, running around in matching outfits, same bright lights shining on them, sweat pouring down their necks, and they’re still a brotherhood- maybe even more so in a sense. But with this stage, there’s profanities, there's violence and, most of all, there are too many balls in one place at one time. 

Pun so intended.

The world of sports is not one that I saw myself getting into at the ripe age of twenty four, let alone football. I’ve always had a bit of a thing against football players but that happens when you grow up in the theater world where you’re constantly pushed around by the ‘higher class’ of the horrible high school hierarchy, being called names, shoved down stairs, having your lunch tossed into your lap. But the job that I was offered through a local journal in my hometown was just perfect for me- I couldn’t not take it. There would be no other job that could've come around that would’ve given me the same freetime and the ability to still have control over my schedule, all while supporting my home team. It gave me a chance to travel, to learn, and to be surrounded by attractive, sweaty men doing their thing. 

There’s a bit of a silver lining to it, I guess.

Working as a journalist for a professional football team was not the intended goal when I got my Bachelors degree in Journalism, nor was it the plan for my Masters. I wanted to go into freelancing or maybe dabble a bit in the socioeconomic crisis our country’s suffering from- maybe even write a few articles on how to save the turtles or some shit. 

But football? 

I spend most of my days on the sidelines, sketching down stats, learning plays and keeping up in the personal lives of our devoted players. I’m like one of those cheerleading girls I used to hate, practically a groupie of the team at this point. Even the coach and the other behind-the-scenes workers are on a first name basis with me at this point. 

Sixteen year old me would be disgusted- repulsed.

Current me? Not so disgusted as I’m watching a bunch of tall, bachelor-like men run around the field at top speed, tackling each other as the crowd colored in all different jerseys scream or boo in unison. I can’t fight the proud smile that’s on my lips as I look out at the field, just right there in front of me- I could reach out and just be a part of it. There’s something to home games that just gets your blood pumping in a special way, especially so close to playoffs, so close to glory and a big old fancy ring for our quarterback and team. It’s every team’s goal for the year but every news agency’s eyes are on us, watching us and the players so closely, betting and guessing that we’ll be the one to win everything this year. No pressure, right?

It’s an honor to be traveling with them all, I couldn’t have been paired with a more respectful group of men, even though some of them don’t even know my name or that I exist. They might see my name occasionally at the bottom of an article I’ve written about their triumphs or losses or they know me as the girl that they accidentally mistake for the water girl and who they then apologize profusely to following the mix up. 

Sarah the water girl and I look awfully a lot we’ve learned.

There’s not a lot of time left in the game now, less than two minutes in the last quarter and it’s tight, too close for comfort as the men in the front row of the stands scream their asses off, acting like their words will have any weight in the overall game. With how we’re playing right now, the defensive line tuckered out beyond belief, we’re not looking at winning, especially if they hold possession of the ball like they have been. The other team is smart, I’ll give them that, gnawing down at the clock, running down the time so if we did get the ball, we’d barely have the time to do anything remotely impressive. We’re down by 6 and if we’d just get a touchdown we’d be good and we would win, but we just need to get possession of the ball.

I write down the numbers of the players who’ve stuck out to me the most on this team to calm my nerves; number three Cameron offense, number seventeen McHarley defense, number 4 the quarterback- wait. 

 Why is everyone cheering? 

What just happened? 

Looking up from my notepad, I watch as our defense runs the ball in the opposite direction that we were going in before, instead towards the opposing team's endzone, indicating that, indeed, there was a turnover of some sort while I wasn’t paying attention. If that’s all it takes, my job just became a whole lot easier. 

The play resets, our offensive line and our quarterback stumble onto the field with a bit more pep in their steps compared to their previous run. They’re cheering and high fiving the defense as they pass each other in the middle of the field, bright smiles calming everyone's general anxiety and setting the record straight that we’re still in the game. There’s still a chance. 

They set themselves up within seconds and in moments they’re hiking the ball. I watch number three, one of my favorite wide receivers to watch, simply because of his overall spunk and sass for the game, subtly loving when he gets into little fights with people because I can always manage to hear his silly, boyish insults. He tries so hard to act tough, when he's really just the biggest puppy of all time. 

I’m so caught up in thinking about him, I completely miss him barreling my way just as the quarterback throws the ball in his direction. Cameron is wide open, no one even close to tackling him and I can hear him whooping as he runs towards the end zone. I grin wildly as he catches the ball, solidifying our win, and before the refs even signal for a TD, the whole crowd erupts in giggles and cheers. I go to clap and cheer for him but before I can, an opposing player is giving him one last shove for good measure and he is tumbling onto the ground, the ref beside me immediately throwing a flag into the air, just as Rafe slides in my direction full force. 

Before I can move, he takes me down to the ground. Hard. 

I hit the floor with a loud thud, ears ringing as my head slams against the turf and I can hear muffled voices and hands grabbing at me, brain rattling around in my head as I shove my eyes closed as tightly as they can, hands reaching up to cradle my aching skull. I can feel people trying to pry me up onto my feet, to help me up but I’ve barely even processed that I’ve fallen or that my favorite wide receiver is currently laying on both of my legs, trapping me to the ground. 

My eyes pop open moments later at the realization and I see cameras around me, mostly pointed at Cameron who’s kneeling in front of me, soft, blue, worried eyes gazing back at me as I struggle to find my voice. He looks at me, waiting for me to speak and, when I don’t, he simply reaches out, placing a firm, protective hand on the side of my head, steading my spinning eyes. I feel my body warming up at his touch, the loud, thrumming music playing in the stadium as an attempt to celebrate is drowned out by his voice filling my ears, his whole body leaning towards me so he can speak directly against the shell of my ear. 

“You good?” He yells over the cheering, thumb brushing against my temple, and I realize he’s not even celebrating the fact that he just won the game that’s sending us to playoff games, mapping the road to the Superbowl. I give him a half assed nod and a flushed smile and before I can say anything else, his teammates are pulling him up and into their arms, screaming loudly as boys can, all for the cameras as they pat each other on the helmets, knocking them together every once in a while.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I mutter to myself, pressing my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to aid the headaches that’s creeping up the back of my neck, taking deep breaths and praying I don’t have a concussion. From across the field, through the mess of players and confetti, I can see number three looking over at me with kind, worried eyes that seem to want to say more than what he’s already said to me.

His eyes make me nearly forget that it’s my job to interview them. 

I guess I’ll ride my headache out and wait till the post game conference. 

–

From the time I got knocked down to the time when I stepped foot into the conference room, there were at least twenty-six different people who asked me if I was the one who was ‘tackled’ by Rafe Cameron after he caught the winning touchdown. After the third time, I started to feel a bit sheepish and honestly a bit embarrassed, wondering how long they’re going to string this out and ask me what it was like to be tackled by America’s most loved wide receiver. 

It was rough, I hit my head, it hurt- what else do they want from me? Do they want me to say I’m honored that he was so close to me, fangirl over his presence, that he made eye contact with me? Hell, he’s human and so am I. His reaction was purely a moment of humility and humanity shining through. 

But I totally did get butterflies.

But, to be honest, he is probably the most wholesome, mama’s boy you’ll ever see.

Dirty blonde, shaggy hair, blue shining eyes, overall toned to a T and he’s all meathead minus all of the misogyny and toxic masculinity. He’s always respectful in interviews, polite to women- it’s obvious he was raised well and anyone with a brain can tell that he’s wildly intelligent from his masters degree in Sports Communication. It’s impressive, his story. 

“So, you won the came, Cameron- how does it feel?” An interviewer calls out from the audience beside me, the happy smile on his face only feeding into the fact that he’s definitely a fan, and Rafe smiles handsomely, looking out across the audience with a simple, humble shrug. 

“Felt good taking the team to the playoffs. I couldn’t have done it without my quarterback, number 4, Greg Abernathy.” He reaches over to slap Greg on the back and I grin, scribbling down some words on my notepad, a small smile on my face as I listen to the boys commend each other in a bro-mance type love. They’re always very supportive of one another, having a type of relationship where you really don’t see one without hte other. They’re constantly training together, getting dinner together, having literal sleepovers at each other’s apartments (or so I’ve heard). They’re brothers, there’s no better description for the boys. “But I really have to give it up to the nice lady that I tackled, I feel horrible. I’d like to dedicate our win to her today since she obviously was a part of my excitement. You can put that in writing.” 

I’m sorry? 

Dedicated?

What?

All eyes turn to look at me and I feel my face drain of any color, every hair on my body sticking up as I suddenly feel so small in this room full of my very own coworkers and competitors. I can hear Rafe mutter a quiet ‘shit, she’s here?’ away from the mic and to Greg, who just chuckles and points in my direction, the direction that everyone happens to be looking in. I can see the looks in other journalists' and reporters' eyes, they want to talk to me, they want to shove microphones in my face but based on the ‘deer in headlights’ look I’m giving everyone, I think I’ll be safe from their interrogations. Rafe looks at me and his smile only grows, fingers reaching out to wrap around the mic to pull it closer to his lips as I anticipate what’s to come.

“Hi nice lady that I knocked over, are you okay?” His voice is ten times deeper than it was just moments ago and I can feel my brain melting just at the feeling of him looking back at me, matching my gaze as if he’s just as excited to be speaking to me one on one. 

Me. 

“I’m okay, just a bit banged up.” I call out, shakily shoving my pen and paper into my bag beside me to give him my undivided attention which, it’s not like he has to fight for it, I’m practically drooling simply because he’s gazing at me, giving me his complete and utter attention as hands raise around the room. The way he’s staring at me, eagerly hanging onto every word I say and I can see it, it’s not like he’s even trying to not seem completely enthralled with my every breath. 

“Man, you traumatized the poor girl.” Greg mutters into the mic and the room erupts in laughter and I bite back the laugh that wants to escape me but I don’t dare allow the giggles to leave me when Rafe is just staring me down with a soft look and a gentle smile, something completely opposite of his rowdy behavior and profanities on the field. But after a second, a look of realization passes across his expression and he turns to look at Greg with a worried expression before glancing back at me.

“I did not- you’re not traumatized, right?” He asks me and I laugh, waving him off as I reach up to knock at my own head. What a stupid move, Y/l/n, get it together.

“No, god no. It happens.” I chuckle, brushing off his concerns of injury and he visibly relaxes, head bobbing in a gentle nod as he laughs sheepishly, almost embarrassed that he seemed to care so much in front of a room of random people. “It could’ve been worse. Could’ve been the other team, they wouldn’t have helped me up.”

“So you’re saying his charisma and manners is what saved him from being brutalized all over the internet?” Greg interrupts before Rafe can say anything with a wide eyed, shocked, teasing look.

“For sure.” I grin proudly, already thinking about how excited I’ll be to call my dad after this conference and tell him all about how I got to talk to and compliment one of his favorite players in the NFL. He’s going to shit his pants. He’s been gushing about his stats for the two years that Rafe’s been on the team, every Sunday, blabbering about his stats, his goals, his story- hell I probably know more about him than anyone else in this room right now.

“Well, I appreciate that. My step mom will be happy to hear she did something right.” Rafe blushes warmly, the redness creeping down his neck and under the polo that he wears as another rumble of laughter rolls over the room like a wave and I keep it in the back of my mind to make it known in my article that he’s definitely some sort of mama’s boy through and through. No wonder he’s so respectful. 

“Happy to help.” I smile warmly, the room falling awkwardly silent again before the reporters buzz with questions like angry bees, eager to move on from Rafe and I ogling each other oddly from across the room. I can’t fight the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the conversation we just had; there was no hint of annoyance, only eager questions and concern that I genuinely do appreciate. He didn’t need to follow up with me, he didn’t need to call me out in regards to their win, all that without even knowing I was here. 

But he did.

That matters for something, right?

Right?

“Hey, before we move on, I just wanna get your name- what’s your name? Are you one of our journalists?” Rafe asks, quickly grabbing hold of the mic firmly in his fist before Greg can pull it away from him and I nod firmly and proudly.

“My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and, yeah, I’ve worked for you guys for nearly eight months.” I swallow my nerves, now suddenly aware that he knows who I am and can talk to me and look for me in any crowd and just know who I am. Rafe Cameron knows who I am. 

It takes a second but I’m slowly realizing that he’s truly just a person and not anything to be afraid of. 

Right?

“Oh my god she’s the one who wrote that article about your tweets on twitter like two weeks ago.” Greg gasps and the room turns to me once again, confusion and shock written across all of their faces and, I’ve got to give it to him, I’m shocked that they even read articles about them. I assumed they just filter it out and try not to pay attention to the news headlines with their names in it but, now that I know that they read them, I’ll be more careful when throwing the word ‘handsome’ around in my pieces.

“Guilty as charged.” I breathe a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck awkwardly and a sort of tension falls over the room as everyone waits for a more in depth answer from me, their eyes (especially Rafe’s) practically begging for why I wrote the article. “I think it’s nice for young viewers, especially young boys, to see someone who’s a better influence than most of the sports players that are in the media.” A nod of agreement falls across the room and Rafe smiles wholesomely, looking at Greg with a happily proud expression written across his face, like he’s made it.

“So I’m a role model, that’s what you are saying?” He asks but there’s no cockiness or arrogance to his voice- no- just pure and utter pride and vulnerability at the thought of doing right by the football world and, in my opinion, he definitely has. 

All of the gala’s he’s attended, the hospitals he’s visited to talk to and to comfort young children, the way his smile lights up the locker room- even if they lose- the beaming smile he shows if they do win, and all of the money he’s donated to so many important organizations- my point, and the point of my article was, is that he’s what the NFL should be fronting, not the garbage-like, questionable, geriatric old men who need to retire.

“Exactly what I’m saying.” I smile firmly, not tearing my gaze away from his as he nods, leaning back in his chair and he finally appears content with our conversation because he finally allows Greg to take the mic back, but his eyes do not leave me as the room fills with questions once more.

“Hey, that was sweet and all, but can we talk about football now?”

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #outerbanks series

[99hook]

stargazing

tyler surprises you with a spur of the moment night under the stars

———

The restaurant was packed when the two of you arrived, and even though it was nearly thirty degrees, you requested a table outside.

Tyler thought it was because there were too many people, he suggested that you two go somewhere a little less crowded, but he quickly realized the reason why you didn’t want to be in the restaurant once the two of you took a seat at your table.

He watched with an amused grin as you stared up at the sky. All the stars blanketing it was a rare sight in the midst of the city. He paid attention to the way your eyes lingered from one corner of the large sky to the next, just admiring all the little diamonds dancing above you.

“Hey” He whispers as he places his hand over yours. “Let’s take our food to go.”

You looked back at him confused, but he only closed the menu and waited for the waiter to come back.

“Why do you wanna leave so early? We just got here.”

“I thought of another place we can go.” He grins.

“Where?”

“It’s not gonna sound appealing if I tell you. Just trust me, okay?”

You still had questions of course, but you kept them to yourself and trusted the little gleam dancing in his eye instead.

Not long after, you found yourselves driving down a long, seemingly never ending road. The food you didn’t get to eat was sitting in your lap and by now you figured it would be as cold as it is outside.

“Where are we Tyler?” You asked as you looked out the window. All that passed you by were bundles of trees and the occasional random Dollar General.

“Middle of nowhere.” He smirks as he continues down the long road.

“I can see that.” You say. “Now my question is, why are we out in the middle of nowhere? This is how people get killed in the movies. You know that, right?”

He chuckled at your rambling and took your hand, keeping his eyes on the road as he placed a kiss to the back of it.

“Calm down mamas, nobody ever goes out here. I’m pretty sure we’re the only people for miles. Even a crazy killer wouldn’t wanna come this far out.”

“You’re definitely not helping my paranoia right now.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. A few moments later, he turns down a thin driveway. There’s a sign that says no trespassing in bold letters, and you turned to look at him when he drove right by it.

“I saw the sign.” He smirks before even having to hear you say something about it.

“Well then why are you still going?” You asked.

He ignored that and pulled into the middle of an open field. You looked around, couldn’t see much thanks to it being pitch dark outside.

When you looked back at him, he had his hand out waiting for you to take it. He placed another kiss to the top of it before he slid out the car and walked around to your door.

“What are we doing out here?” You asked for what felt like the tenth time in an hour. Despite the questions you still took his hand and let him lead you to the hood of his car.

He sat on it and patted the space next to him, and once you sat beside him, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and guided you to lean back against the windshield.

“I thought you’d like this view even better.” He says, and then it all finally clicks with you. Looking up at the stars, it seemed like there were possibly an extra thousand of them than before. Some shining bright amongst the rest and others clustered together all around each other.

You felt your heart melt, and looked up at Tyler staring up at the night sky with a content smile.

He glanced down at you, his lips tipping up in a soft smile as he rubbed his thumb over your shoulder.

“I remember when you told me a long, long time ago that nobody ever wanted to sit out under the stars with you before” He says as he brings his eyes back to the sky.

“Yeah, you were the first person who ever did.” You smile fondly at the memory. It was so long ago, but still undoubtedly one of your favorite times with him.

“Yeah, and I also remember something else.”

“What?” You asked, and watched as he points over towards the left where there’s one star in particular shining bright amongst the others.

“That” He says before he looks down at you. You kept your eyes on that specific star, a smile slipping upon your lips when you remembered the two of you claiming it as your star.

“Anywhere we are in the world-“ he whispers.

“All we have to do is look up at that star, and know that it’s always ours” You whispered back, looking up at him with a tearful gaze.

He nods, his smile slowly slipping when the lighthearted moment morphs into something so much more.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb grazes over the one single tear that you hoped would be discreet enough that he wouldn’t notice it.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, his eyes scanning each inch of your face out of pure concern, until you couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head.

Confusion washed over his face, rightfully so considering you seemed to be going through thirty emotions in thirty seconds, but you wrapped your hand around his wrist and leaned into his touch right after.

“I just love you.” You admitted, not for the first time but you know you meant it different this time. Every day you love him, but tonight that love had gotten deeper, even though you didn’t think that was even possible.

“You’re crying because you love me?” An unsure look in his eye gets paired with a slow smile.

“Yeah” You nodded. “I’m just, I’m really thankful for you Tyler. I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

His crooked smile melted away and a wide, gratuitous one took its place. His thumb stroked your cheek once more before he said, “I love you, and I’m gonna love you til that star falls out of the sky.”

“You do know that happens sometimes, right?” You chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t think that through all the way.” He shook his head before he leaned in and placed a tender, gentle kiss to your lips.

Pulling back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes driving so deeply into your own, until he couldn’t help but let them linger down to your lips once more.

“I’m gonna love you until all the stars fall out of the sky.” He says with a boyish grin. “I’m gonna love you forever, y/n. forever and after.” He whispers against your lips before he locks them together again.

#hook aew x reader #hook aew fic #tyler senerchia

[qqueenofhades]

Do you have any idea where all the money in education IS going? People talk about administrators, but their percentage of the overall budget seems lowish? Facilities are expensive, but often paid for with bequests, no? Where the hell is all the money going?

The same place it's going in every other capitalistic American enterprise: to senior executives, endowments, and other places that decidedly do not "trickle down" (because you know, it never does). See my many previous posts about how college costs skyrocketed starting in the 1980s and post-secondary higher education was transformed from something in which most of the costs were governmentally subsidized to something expected to be paid (at higher and higher levels) either privately out of the consumer's pocket or from thousands of dollars in student loans. Because you guessed it, Reaganomics.

I can tell you one place it absolutely is NOT going, i.e. salaries of faculty and staff, at least in the less capitalistically sexy fields of study. The university where I work never hurts for money in the business and law schools, but because I am in the humanities/education/history, yeah, our department's budget is not in great shape. Of course, yes, COVID hit the higher-education sector like crazy (as it did everywhere else) and universities haven't figured how to recover from that, but just as with the rest of America, it's a model that is designed to funnel the vast majority of profits, i.e. from skyrocketing student tuition rates and other increased fees, to the highly compensated senior leadership and very little to the academics who do the work that makes the place, you know, RUN.

This is a bugaboo for both me and every other academic I know, because (again, just as with the rest of capitalism) it doesn't HAVE to be this way. I shouldn't be trying to manage a department that has to rely heavily on adjunct faculty every quarter and doesn't have a sustainable long-term scheduling or research model, because we're so badly understaffed with core tenure-track faculty and they won't let us hire any more, while constantly cutting our budget and giving us laughable raises (mine, after getting sterling performance reviews across the board, was a whole... 72 extra cents an hour. I wish I was joking). There is money tied up in the institution and the establishment (and as noted, I work at a well-regarded and highly-ranked private university, so it's not a matter of not having enough), but the system distributes it in a way that is inequitable and results in enforced scarcity, especially in the humanities. It's not that there isn't money to pay us fairly, it's just that they have chosen not to, because they exist in the same capitalist system as the rest of the west.

This is why there have been strikes by graduate and early-career academics in both the UK and US (I have worked/studied/taught in both places, and they're both BAD for paying lower-level academics and even established-career academics), because they simply do not pay us enough to live on or build a career on (by a long shot, ESPECIALLY if you're the only person in your household and don't have shared expenses with a partner/roommate/several roommates). This is after most of us have several advanced degrees and the debt resulting from such. We get burned out, we can't make a living in this field, we leave, and it's hollowed out even further. So. Yeah.

#anonymous #ask #school stuff #academia: not even once

[alpaca-clouds]

Media in a Solarpunk world

Yeah, there is a reason I spoke about Indie games yesterday. Because I want to speak about this one thing that I have never ever seen discussed within the solarpunk sphere.

If we established a Solarpunk world, how would it change our media landscape?

Confused? Well, let me break it down.

Solarpunk is only possible without capitalism. It is simply as it is. We will not established the "sustainable living" under capitalism. We can now discuss on whether to go socialism or communism, but... yeah. No more capitalism.

But here is where the media comes in: Most media we consume right now is released through big coorporate media outlets. This is especially true for stuff like games and movies. AAA games and blockbuster movies with their budgets of hundreds of millions and teams of thousands working behind them getting distributed through other big companies at times making billions of dollars... Even most books or comics or audiobooks or even podcasts get published and distributed through companies being valued in the hundreds of millions at least. Because the attention economy is set up in the way that you have no chance if you do not have your books on amazon and your podcasts not on spotify or itunes.

And without capitalism all of that will fall away.

This will be of course most noticable with movies and games. Again, the most popular of those will have hundreds of millions in budget and are dependent on the crunch work of thousands of people on every way of the step. And of course there is this big studio system right now deciding on what gets created.

But without capitalism... You will probably not motivate thousands of people to crunch the hell out of something. Hundreds of people? Sure. Thousands? No. Not even without the crunch. Because the current system of creating this media is not sustainable. Not from a human perspective - and not from an environmental perspective.

What I am saying is... There will probably no longer be high fidelity blockbusters or the kind of huge TV productions we have seen since Game of Thrones.

And I am here to tell you... that is actually a good thing.

See, in the gaming sphere we actually see it already. There are Indie Games that are at times created on a shoestring budget of a couple of thousand dollars. And because we have some great platforms to distribute them easily with steam and itch.io, people will actually see those games and play them. Might actually end up prefering them to the big ass million dollar games.

Now, the system is not perfect, given that yes, with the exception of itch.io the shops behind it all still run under capitalism. But if you compare it to stuff like movies... It is actually already fairly democratized.

Which is also something that I would then love to see for movies. An easy way to just access indie movies. Be it the "exactly one million dollar indie movies", which are still the majority given that making movies is expensive, or actually those project done by students in their freetime.

Big cities might actually already have their "indie movie festivals" right now. But it is something I want to see more off. With a higher appreciation for movies that do not get a theatrical release, because physical big screens are limited, even if we start democratizing them. (I will talk tomorrow about what it means to democratize media.)

The internet in the end will be a big part of a solarpunk world, because it actually allows us to not only participate in society, but also will give us access to both knowledge and media.

And yes, in a smaller degree this will also impact the other forms of media. Already it is pretty possible to self-publish books or comics, but usually you will often barely get back the investment, let alone being paid for the work that went into the creation of the book from your own end.

Because chances are, that you just will not reach too many people with it. Because the big publishers will usually easily outmarket you, because they have a marketing budget that you will simply lack.

But without those central publishers existing - and work in general being differently compensated than under the capitalist system... It should be easier. Fairer. Allowing for more different ideas, for more different voices to be heard through media.

Yeah, there probably will no longer be much in terms of high fidelity special effects, because there will no longer be hundreds or thousands of SFX guys slaving away for this one big movie. But... That is okay.

Like, I will rather have a movie with a great story, than amazing big explosions, don't you agree?

#solarpunk #solarpunk worldbuilding #solarpunk fiction #solarpunk media #movies #blockbuster #films #AAA games #indie games #indie movies #media without capitalism #anti capitalism #post capitalism

[bamababygirl7]

🥰💞 I was tagged by the awesome and super gorgeous @angelsleaze

1. Are you named after anyone?

I wasn’t named after anyone. My name is pretty unique (I’m pretty sure my parents were on drugs lol)

2. Last time you cried?

Yesterday when I saw a post from @mister-s0013 about a 4 year old dying after an exorcism so I googled it and found way too many cases of this happening. Children are my soft spot.

3. Do you have/want kids?

I am a proud boy mom 💙💙💙 I wanted a little girl so badly, but after having nieces, I am so thankful that I didn’t have a daughter. I think they come out of the womb with an attitude lol

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Me sarcastic??? NEVER lol

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their sense of humor (if they have a dark sense of humor and/or love memes, they are automatically my bestie) Also, one of the first things I notice is how their mind works. I am drawn to people who are brutally honest like me (don’t just tell me what I want to hear) and who are passionate about certain things but not judgmental and like to discuss different subjects even if we don’t agree on them because I learn a lot from listening to different perspectives on subjects. (I’m a huge nerd and love learning)

6. What's your eye color?

My eyes are hazel. They are usually more green, but it depends on what I’m wearing, and they can get really blue when I cry.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I like both. It really just depends on my mood. I love being scared, but not when I’m all by myself. I love movies with twists. I get bored with predictability (probably because I’m so random and impulsive lol)

8. Special talents?

NSFW answer 😈😈😈

SFW answer 😇😇😇 I think I’m pretty good at coming up with ideas and designing the shirts and tumblers that I make. I like my things to be unique, so I can’t bring myself to buy premade designs on Etsy (even though it would cut the time of making things in half 🤦🏼‍♀️)

9. Where were you born?

In the hospital.

10. What are your hobbies?

COLORING 💓💓💓 Collecting stuffies, Designing and making shirts, tumblers, paddles, keychains, etc… Listening to music, Reading, Watching Disney movies and anything that has to do with GLITTER ✨

11. Have any pets?

I have the sweetest doggy in the whole wide world named Luna.

12. What sports do you play or have you played?

I was a cheerleader 😬

13. How tall are you?

I am 5’6”

14. Favorite subject in school?

My favorite subject in highschool was Bible (I went to a Christian school, not by choice. I begged my mom to let me go to public school and she refused 🙄🙄🙄) because I loved aggravating my Bible teacher by asking a million random questions that would distract him from his boring lectures. (ie… Is it a sin to have oral sex before I’m married? Is it a sin to take shrooms that we find growing naturally in the cow pasture? etc.) And if his answer was yes, I always asked for an explanation as to why. He would always divert from his planned lecture and answer my questions (the class was very appreciative lol)

15. Dream job?

I actually do what I love now… designing and making things. Although, it would be nice to get paid just to sit around and color with glitter pens all day lol. Due to getting pregnant as a teenager (Thanks mom for refusing to discuss sex other than to say NO sex until you are married 🙄🙄🙄) I could no longer go away to college like intended to become an attorney, so I stayed in the town I lived in and got my degree in Accounting. 10/10 do NOT recommend (It is super boring and due to ADHD I can’t sit at a desk and deal with numbers all day everyday and during tax season, everybody and their momma wants you to do their taxes for free and get them back thousands of dollars 😂🤣😂) Long story short, life is too short to be stuck in a job that makes you miserable, so I am super thankful to be doing what I love❣️

Tagging these lovely folks (No pressure if you don't want to participate) @missathesiren @pure-hell2 @drinkyourmilf @dominant-dominion @thebeardiswriting @anotherboredaustralian @mister-s0013 @c4c4ine @iecholouder @nerdy-boytoy @naughtybeardedguy

#bamababygirl7🥰💞 #tag game #fave mutuals

[mariacallous]

Last month, Israel used its Arrow 3 long-range air defense system for the first time. When the Yemen-based Houthis fired rockets toward southern Israel in the name of religious camaraderie with Hamas and Iran, Israelis were prepared, having started to develop their state-of-the-art defense system back in the 1980s. Meanwhile, Iron Dome, which was also developed by an Israeli company, has been protecting Israelis from short-range rockets fired with increased frequency from Lebanon and Gaza. Reports say Israel has also accelerated the development of Iron Beam, another revolutionary air defense system that would use laser technology to bring down incoming drones and rockets.

It is no secret that billions of dollars in annual military aid from the United States has helped Israel build its military. But the war against Hamas has demonstrated that the foundation of Israel’s military might be the unparalleled collaboration between its military and its technology companies. In Israel, the tech economy has assumed responsibility for keeping Israelis safe and the nation standing.

Technology and national security have been tightly bound in Israel since its founding in 1948. “We lost 10 percent of our population” in the 1948 Arab-Israeli War against the joint forces of Syria, Egypt, and Jordan, said Isaac Ben-Israel, a former head of weapons development at the Israeli Defense Ministry. That led the country’s founding fathers to conclude that Israel didn’t have the numbers to beat an Arab army or a united force from Islamic nations and needed a qualitative advantage. “That meant investing in human capital, in science and technology, primarily for our defense.”

From the very beginning, he said, steps were taken to teach science and technology and have a sufficient number of people with a scientific bent of mind, primarily to defend the country. For instance, under a program called Academic Reserve, the compulsory military service of 1 percent of the total number of high school students was delayed. They were first encouraged to pursue academic degrees. Ben-Israel was among those chosen to pursue his academic interests—an investment that clearly paid off, since he later became chairman of the Israel Space Agency.

“Twelve years ago, the prime minister asked me for solutions to cybersecurity,” Ben-Israel told Foreign Policy from Tel Aviv. “I proposed, and it was made a government regulation, to make cybersecurity a subject in schools. Now, high school students in Israel learn about cybersecurity.”´

Ben-Israel shared how his country, despite its size, has the second-highest number of tech start-ups. “The U.S. has 40 percent of the world’s start-up companies … while Israel is home to 20 percent of the world’s start-ups,” many of which are deeply linked to the needs of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). “In cyber start-ups, we are No. 1,” he said, adding that Israel was home to 35 percent of the world’s tech unicorns, or companies worth more than a billion dollars.

The Israeli tech ecosystem is the second-largest behind Silicon Valley and accounts for 14 percent of total jobs and a fifth of the country’s GDP. Ben-Israel said 96 percent of start-ups fail—yet each one with any merit gets up to $300,000 as seed money from the government. “It’s not a loan,” he said, “which means if you fail, you don’t have to give it back to the government.”

Fewer bureaucratic hurdles; a common cause (i.e., security of the country over profit); a more hands-on approach by the IDF to test the technology; and perhaps above all a common culture, since techies today have been in the armed forces and done mandatory military service, are behind Israel’s success in the field.

“Tens of thousands of demobbed soldiers exit the Israeli military each year with the kind of skills that transfer to the high-tech environment, providing a highly skilled and motivated workforce,” Jon Medved, a venture capitalist dubbed “the startup nation’s guru,” told Foreign Policy via email.

“There’s a sort of ping-pong between a tech company and the IDF,” said Itamar Yaar, a former deputy head of Israel’s National Security Council. “Long before there’s a marketable product, the tech companies offer it to the IDF, the police, or the intelligence agencies, and they try it out, sometimes in ongoing operations, to test and to improve it. If it is good, then it is procured fairly quickly.”

A confluence of interests paves the way for a unique collaboration that saves both time and money. It saves the tech companies from going through what is labeled in California as the “valley of death”—or the long wait between the development of a product and its procurement.

In the United States, for instance, profit is the main motive, and there is deep mistrust of how law enforcement agencies might use the technology—a very different ethos than exists in Israel. Employees of leading companies have protested that government departments may use their labor and skills to target immigrants. Moreover, strict regulations and a cumbersome bureaucracy hinder collaboration.

In Israel, “informal connections” between the industry and the Defense Ministry “are much closer,” compared with anywhere else in the world. “The circle is smaller and progresses quicker,” Yaar added.

In a 2015 research paper, sociologists Ori Swed and John Sibley Butler highlighted the role of the military as a socialization institution. Since most tech companies are led by senior IDF or intelligence officers and are staffed with men and women who were soldiers themselves, “the conversation back and forth is very organic,” Swed, now at Texas Tech University, told Foreign Policy.

In the United States, the ecosystem is vastly different, and profit is the main motive, he added. But in Israel, interests are common when the tech being produced is meant to support the soldiers—children or family members or friends of the owners of the companies.

Shmuel Bar, a former Israel intelligence official, runs IntuView, one such company. Bar’s firm has relocated to the Gaza front line and uses artificial intelligence to go through troves of texts online, and documents procured by the IDF in physical searches, to decipher the meaning of communication between or about Hamas operatives and their activities. It is not a translation but an interpretation service that mines the meaning of texts often hidden in cultural metaphors and religious sayings. It is looking for clues on where Hamas could have hidden hostages or the whereabouts of Hamas’s leadership, among other crucial intelligence, and providing whatever it learns in real time—although the accuracy rate is currently at 70 percent.

“It will be months before we finish the R&D. In the meanwhile, hundreds of soldiers would have died because the IDF didn’t receive the intel it needed,” Bar said. “We are minimizing the losses even though the system isn’t yet perfect.”

A team of Israeli tech workers got together soon after the Oct. 7 attacks and used facial recognition software to search for the missing and for where and when the hostages were last seen.

Israel has also been at the forefront of AI used in war—although the technology has also been blamed by some for contributing to the rising death toll in the Gaza Strip. In 2021, Israel used Hasbora (“The Gospel”), an AI program to identify targets, in Gaza for the first time. But there is a growing sense that the country is now using AI technology to excuse the killing of a large number of noncombatants while in pursuit of even low-ranking Hamas operatives. There are concerns that the IDF is hiding behind the technology to deliberately avenge those who were killed on Oct. 7 or has been genuinely blinded by the technology to its devastating effects on civilians.

Meanwhile, whatever its achievements, Israel is now relying on its tech sector for a more prosaic military advantages. The people building defense tech in peace time have doubled up as soldiers in war and comprise a large chunk of the 300,000 reservists mobilized for the current conflict.

[heirloomcolour]

Term

Finality is a strange beast. Perhaps one best left to make its mark. The weight of finality can be crushing. The anticipation of finality can be utterly debilitating. How do we fill the space between that anticipation and its ultimate outcome?

In its wake, I have lived what feels like an entire life. In the pure mellow dramatic delusion I have cocooned myself in, I assume it is more life than most people have lived at this age. Whether or not it actually is, I assume my therapist would kindly nod in agreement. But what has this monumental weight of anticipation impacted in this lifetime?

Over this 10 year period I have lost many unrequited lovers. I have held no fewer than 10 different jobs strung along with lengthy disruptions of unemployment periods. I have claimed healthy Covid-era unemployment benefits. I have been fired from multiple jobs and simply walked out or walked away from multiple others. I have endured the emotional taxation of working in a family business. I have lost the custody of the same cat twice. I have lost my very first cat to a preventable and treatable issue. I have lost both of my childhood, family dogs within 2 years of one another. I have lost a parent before I had time to correct our estrangement. I have lost a great many internal battles and drifted apart from most of my friends. I have smoked no less than 800 packs of Camel Turkish Royals. I have run dry no fewer than 100 disposable vapes. I have tried countless drugs, and repeated use with many. I have tried 5 anti-depressants and 2 anti-anxiety medications. I have gone through 4 therapists. I have gained 120 pounds and developed arthritis in my knee. I have acquired numerous health issues that lead to chronic pain. I have stolen money from family members and I have asked them all for large sums of money- as well as some remaining friends. I have picked up and dropped multiple hobbies and interests. I have killed hundreds of dollars of houseplants. I have never paid a security deposit for any pets at any rental. I have maxed out and charged off multiple credit cards. I have taken on over $50,000 of student loan debt. I have refused to seek the awful but necessary care of a gynecologist due to irrational fear. I have skipped countless dinner parties, birthday parties, outings, girls trips, job interviews, class meetings, and work shifts. I have avoided opportunities in the stifling fear of rejection, failure, and heartbreak. I have burned bridges with the frequency and intensity to light up the entire metropolitan area.

But do you know what else this anticipatory weight has led me to? An intensely deep and committed partner that meets me exactly where I am every day. An opportunity to adopt 6 cats in total. An opportunity to foster 2 dogs. A massive trip to Las Vegas to see Adele live in concert. A trip to the Grand Canyon and the Hoover Dam. An opportunity to continue family traditions in taking trips to Disney World. A first plane ride and so many thereafter. A great many couples trips to cities all over the East Coast and Midwest. A variety of concerts and farmers markets. An abundance of circumstances and happenstance to meet a great many individuals that impacted my life in big and small ways. An unwavering support and acceptance from my family to live as my authentic, lesbian self. A space to explore my gender identity with myself and friends and family. A thousand glass bottled Mexican cokes. An extensive educational training on wine, spirits, and beer. A relationship with my sibling that so many would be envious of. An ending of a 12 year friendship that became overburdened with toxicity. A space to heal from that relationship. A space to write my sappy feelings on Tumblr about my life happenings. An abundant garden to provide fresh produce to my family and sweet strawberry snacks to my childhood family dog. A simply infinite collection of cherished memories with my pets, passed on and living. An Associate's Degree. A great deal of movies at the Indie theatre. An in-numerable amount of delicious meals in a variety of cities, genres, and price ranges. A few tattoos and a nose hoop. A brand new car. An abundance of new interests and hobbies that persisted. An abundance of opportunities to make priceless memories with my family and lover. An abundance of life lessons. So was the weight of finality so crippling?

So what if it was crippling? I was not silenced, I was not defeated, and I certainly will never be damned. I have rejected "no" as "final answers" long enough to know there is so often very little permanence in finality. I have beat on with such intensity for so much of the decade that I know there is very little weight I cannot manage. And I know, in this moment, one very certain finality.

This decade has offered nothing short of any of its promises. So many countless hours toiling and yearning for some finality. Some peace of mind in that I was not spinning my wheels. That I was not walking in circles. That I was not paddling upstream for proverbial "nothing". Maybe it is still too early to accept the prize, to count my chickens before they hatch. But, I think, I am nearing the corner to finality and I could not be prouder or any more exhausted.

May 19 is the final point in this particular saga. I am ready, I am done, I am, at long last, the victor.

[thiswasinevitableid]

44 OT4 NSFW?

44. I’m a noir detective and you’re the hot mysterious person who just slunk into my office the week before Christmas.

(This takes place slightly more than a week before christmas)

The radiator rattles like a dying man. Joseph ignores it; they’ve only got the cash to repair one thing this winter and the upstairs radiator is a week out from full shut-down. And he doubts Duck wants to act as his makeshift blanket when it does. 

He looks out the window, the lights of a dozen apartment windows and storefronts staring back at him, all decked out in their Christmas best. It’d look better with snow, but the City of Angels insists on being a temperate paradise. 

Right as he’s about to sit down and continue his bookkeeping, there are two, sharp, raps on the door. He calls for them to come, running a hand over his hair as he settles into his worn office chair. 

A tall, slender man with white-blonde hair steps over the threshold. The only hint of color in his wardrobe is the pair of red-tinted glasses perched on his nose, one that’s as angular and striking as the rest of his face. 

Indrid Cold. 

Joseph would have been less shocked if the president had walked into his office. 

Indrid Cold, whose father owned half the city and the people in it. Indrid Cold, one half of a twin pair of sons never seen outside of their father’s shadow. Indrid Cold, who until yesterday was a suspect in his father’s murder.

“Going by your expression, I suspect I do not need to introduce myself.” The voice from those thin lips is lilting, nothing like the icicle sharp tone Joseph heard the one time he encountered his father and brother. 

“That’s right.”

“And am I speaking to Mr. Newton or Mr. Stern?” He cocks his head.

Joseph extends a hand, “Joseph Stern.”

Indrid shakes it with chilly fingers, “In that case, Mr. Stern, I require you and your partner’s help. Not in solving my father’s murder, as you are about to assume. The police are swarming about that business like so many ants.”

“And you trust them to solve it?”

“To be frank, my interest in the culprit extends only to whether they are someone who would like me dead as well. Which is where you come in. You and Mr.Newton will serve a dual function; you will join me at my home in the mountains to provide a degree of security. And you will work out who tried to shoot me two days ago.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, “You seem very confident we’ll take the case. Even though it carries a non-zero chance of being shot and attaching ourselves to potentially one of the biggest scandals of the decade.”

“It will be worth your while. I can pay a hundred dollars a day to each of you, and cover any expenses. Then there’s the fact you’ll have room and board during your stay, and the twenty thousand I’ll pay if you find out who attempted to cut my life short.”

He keeps his face flat and says nothing; it’s a tempting offer, more money in one job than they make in a year. But there’s a gnawing in his stomach, one he’s learned the hard way to not ignore. 

Indrid removes his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve, “You are also likely to take it because of your, shall we say, disreputable pasts. The ones that mean even with all your skills and successes, Mr. Newton has to work evenings as bouncer at some unsavory establishments and you yourself must take the occasional job that’s no more than being a glorified peeping tom. The pasts that are the reason I am bringing this job to you” amber eyes meet his own and Joseph sees his calm for what it truly is; a rabbit holding stone-still under the gaze of a hawk, certain it’s about to be eaten. 

“Your father paid off or pissed off all the cops and respectable detectives?”

“Precisely.” The glasses slot back into place, “I need help. You can provide it, or you can go back to taking pictures through windows. What shall it be?”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

“You sure we ain’t passed it?” Duck cranes his neck as Joe steers them around yet another hairpin turn in the San Gabriel’s. 

“Positive. He said the gate is ‘impossible to miss.’”

“Someone must be really pissed if they hauled ass all the way out here to try and off him.”

“Apparently it happened in the city; he was on his way back from the police station. The friend who was with him, Mr. Cobb, saw the gun in the reflection of a store window and dragged him down behind a car.”

“We gonna get the chance to confirm that with the guy?”

“We should. He lives with Mr. Cold full time as a cook. Aha, finally.” The car slows in front of a twelve foot tall iron gate with flames twisted into the metalwork. Joe hits the intercom and after a moment the shining mouth of the estate opens. The house itself isn’t quite a mansion, but it sure as hell isn't a cozy cottage for two. 

As they wait in it’s shadow for someone to open the front door, a gust of wind makes them both shudder. 

“Damn, forget how cold it gets up here. Who knows, slick, maybe you’ll finally get some snow.”

“Maybe.” Joe’s hands are in his pockets and he knows without looking that he’s worrying his palms with his nails. Duck doesn’t blame him for being nervous; stepping into the Cold’s orbit is like shoving your hand into a rattlesnake burrow and hoping nothing bites

The door opens on a man who towers over the six foot tall Joe. His short beard and shaggy hair are both auburn, his clothes are sensible outdoor wear, and there’s dirt under his nails. 

Duck likes him instantly. 

“Come on in, Indrid’s expecting you. I, uh, I’m Barclay” he holds out a large hand for each of them to shake in turn. Joe’s cheeks are pinker than they were a moment ago and Duck fights back a laugh; Joseph Stern may swear he’s straight, but put him near a big man with a soft voice and a sweet smile and he goes rose-colored. 

“Ah, I am glad you found the house. It’s so far into the hills that even I sometimes fear I’ve somehow gone past it.”

See, this is why Duck didn’t snicker at Joe’s little blush. Because now he’s staring up a staircase at Indrid Cold and his heart is bouncing like a dog at a stick. The newspaper photos don’t do him justice, don’t convey how his strange features meld together into something Duck never wants to look away from. 

Indrid shakes their hands and shows them to their room, Barclay helping them with their luggage as clouds darken the windows. Their room is bigger than the apartment above their office, with two, huge beds instead one murphy bed and one couch that they alternate sleeping on. 

“The house is yours to wander as you need, and you’re welcome to ask Barclay or myself for assistance should you need it. As I told Mr. Stern, it’s just Barclay and myself here.” He taps his fingers together, “will you be needing anything from us this afternoon?”

“You mind giving us a little tour so we can get a lay of the land?” Duck tosses his hat on the bed as Joseph carefully hangs his on a hook.

“Oh! Of course, a very good idea. Right this way.”

As Indrid leads them through the cavernous house, Duck is struck by how different it is from its sleek, dull exterior. The rooms are painted bright colors, there’s stunning art on every wall, and even the Christmas tree is decked in pink and gold. The garden is a bit overrun, but there’s a swimming pool and a row of climbing vines positioned near the house. When Duck comments on them being a good choice for the climate, Indrid smiles. 

“Thank you. I’m afraid I rather pestered the gentleman at the garden store working out which things could actually thrive here.” He looks out over the covered rose bushes, “this has been ‘my’ house ever since I turned eighteen. Apollo laid claim to the house on the beach, and my father always preferred his penthouse in the city. I find the woods inspire me, don’t you.”

Duck smiles wistfully, “Yeah, I really do.”

When the tour ends, Indrid excuses himself to work on his art until dinner. Duck and Joe use that same span of time to unpack. His partner is quiet, which means he’s thinking, and Duck lets him. 

Dinner is a simple pot roast that he crams into his face faster than is polite. Which is better than Joe does; he full on moans when he takes a bite, causing Barclay’s eyes to widen comically before he collects himself. 

By the time they say goodnight, Indrid has been at his side most of the evening, asking him questions and seeming fascinated by his knowledge of plants, which may be the most good it’s done him in years. 

“Try not to get too friendly.” Joe says as he removes his tie.

Duck locks the bedroom door, “I’m just bein’ polite. We’re their guests. Besides, thought you said Indrid had been officially cleared as a suspect by the cops.”

“He has, but we both know that means very little.” His partner sighs, “we should stay close to them when possible, both to fulfill the bodyguard end of the agreement and see if we can learn what’s going on here. Just…just be careful, okay? Alistair Cold didn’t get where he was without manipulation, and I’d bet he passed those skills to his sons. Which means the line between ‘useful close’ and ‘dangerous close’ with Indrid Cold is thin.”

Joe has a point, but he’s using that voice that makes Duck feel like his partner thinks he’s nothing more than a clueless hick. Which is why all he says is, “Don’t worry slick, I won’t let anyone know you’re jealous that someone else is gettin’ my attention.”

The other detective fixes him with a stern stare, “Go to hell.”

“Gonna go do some rounds instead. Make sure the place is secure.” He tips a hat that isn’t there and steps into the hall. 

As he double checks doors and windows (including testing that his key matches all the locks; Indrid swore only himself, Barclay, and the two detectives had keys to his new locks, but Duck wants to be sure), his thoughts keep wandering back upstairs to Joe. They’ve been partners for two years, and he’s damn grateful that he got paired with a guy whose brain puts Einstein to shame and a face that’d make Cary Grant jealous. He just wishes Joe weren’t wound so tight he can hear his bones cracking. 

And at least three times a week, he wishes he could slap him. Not because he’s mad at him or wants him to suffer. Because he bets those blue eyes would look even better all teary and that Joe would cry out and moan so sweetly when he did it. And then he’d let Duck do more, give him the green light to do every vicious, indulgent thing he’s been too scared to ask for until the other man is a bruised, bitten, fucked-out mess. 

He pads into the living room, stops when he sees two figures asleep on the couch. Indrid stirs, letting out a sleep mumble, before turning to bury his face in Barclays chest. Duck creeps backward to let the lovers be. He’s glad they have each other. 

Because in his fantasies, when the debauchery is done, all he wants is to pull Joe into that too-tiny bed of theirs and hold him until dawn. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

Christmas carols drift from the record player downstairs as Indrid sits in bed, sketching the images of a dream before they fly away. This will be the first Christmas he can remember without endless holiday parties and people sending him lavish gifts that always came with favors to fulfill, without his father hissing for him to act normal and Apollo mocking him every chance he gets. 

It’s the best Christmas ever, even accounting for the probability of being shot. 

Then again, that probability has led to two more charming, handsome men under his roof, which softens the sting. Joseph, gorgeous as he is, still seems wary– of him, and of everything–Indrid understands the sentiment and so tries not to begrudge him his caution. He also walked into the kitchen last morning to find the detective and Barclay having an animated discussion about movies, so maybe one day he’ll see them as friends and not suspects. 

Then there’s Duck, sturdy and understated in his many charms. Indrid would do a great many things for a peek at what’s beneath his slacks and would murder someone for one kiss of that crooked smile.

A knock on the door and a drawl asking if he’s up. 

“One moment.” He stands and, curious as to what will happen, reaches for a thin, short, silk robe instead of the heavy one he wears most days, “alright, you can come in.”

Duck opens the door, “Mornin’, I was wondering if…if uh, if we could, uh.” His eyes are fixed on Indrid’s legs. He can feel them staying there as he wanders to his dresser in search of a water glass. 

“Is there something you wanted to discuss?” Indrid tries not to smile as Duck’s reflection actually shakes itself back into focusing. 

“Yeah, uh, I wanted to go back over the orders you made for the locks. From what you’ve told me about your brother, I think we oughta check to see if there was any way another key was made or if someone sent him the lock diagrams so he could have one made on his own. 

It’s a good idea, but Indrid is more relieved by the fact Duck takes his suspicion of Apollo seriously. His twin was the golden child, respectable and capable of convincing a man in the desert to buy sand, while Indrid was a scraggy black sheep following behind him. 

He turns, takes his time coming toe to toe with Duck, “An excellent idea. I see why the clients of yours I spoke to recommend you so highly.”

Duck blushes, “Heh, Joe’s really the brains. I’m just the muscle.”

“I’m afraid I must disagree. Even if the muscle in question is spectacular.” He reaches out, running a finger up Duck’s chest. 

Warm hands catch his wrist and palm, “Sorry, sugar, no can do.”

“Ah.” He steps back, drawing the robe around him, “that’s alright. I do not blame you for not being interested.”

Strangely, Duck steps forward instead of back, “It ain’t that. I got a rule: I don’t sleep with clients. No matter how cute they are. Helps keep things from getting messy.”

“Sensible.”

Duck smiles gently, “Besides, wouldn’t Barclay be mad I was makin’ time with his fella?”

Indrid shakes his head, “We have an…understanding. Barclay has been in my life since we were children, and been my lover for  over ten years. He knows that even if my heart and eyes find others, that will not change that I’m his.”

Duck steps closer, guiding Indrid’s robe back up his shoulder, “He’s a lucky fella.”

He’s about to say they both are when there’s a tremendous crash from downstairs. They take one look at each other and then run for the door. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

He shouldn’t have let his guard down. 

Barclay knows why Indrid brought the detectives into the house, and he’s willing to put up with a lot to never have to hear a gunshot that close ever again. But something about Stern in particular made him anxious, like he was a hunter and Barclay was a beast lumbering in the woods. Even his polite demeanor,handsome face, and earnest praise of Barclay’s cooking couldn’t cover for that. 

Then, a few nights ago, he’d been unable to sleep and came down to find Stern in the living room in the same predicament. In the light of one, shaded lamp, the detective seemed to fade away, leaving a tired, charming man in his place. They played chess until Barclay nearly fell asleep in his chair. After that, Joseph sought him out more often and Barclay let himself be found. 

They were chatting about movies as he worked on the bread for dinner when he’d asked if Joseph had seen The Fugitive with Henry Fonda. 

“No, westerns aren’t quite my thing.” Joseph pauses mid-sip, “that’s the one you two saw the night Alistair Cold was killed.”

“Yep. Hell of a thing to come home from the movies to find the cops at your door.”

“I’d imagine.” The cup thunks onto the table, “You know, when I spoke with the ticket girl at the theater, she said she remembered you buying tickets alone.”

Fuck. Did Joseph bring up movies just to maneuver him into this conversation?

Barclay  turns from the dough and crosses his arms, “I know what you’re getting at. And yeah, I know you and every private eye from here to San Francisco could point out that it’s really fucking convenient Indrid and I are each other’s alibis. But all that happened is that Indrid was running late, so I bought two and waited in the lobby for him.”

Joseph stands, ostensibly to refill his cup, but all it does is bring him closer to Barclay, “Which means that the witness statements saying they saw you and Indrid leaving the theater when the movie was over don’t mean as much. You could have waited for Indrid in that lobby for quite awhile.

“I could have, but I didn’t. Look, Joseph, I know better than anyone else that Indrid had all the reason in the world to bump off his dad, and that’s before we get to how much he and Apollo are gonna inherit. I also know that there’s one Cold twin capable of killing someone and it isn’t Indrid.”

The detective meets his eyes, “I’d say you’re not the most impartial party when it comes to the Cold brothers. Especially since Apollo doesn’t strike me as the kind to fuck the help.”

A thousand memories flare up in him and he snarls, grabbing Joseph’s shirt and spinning them so the detective is slammed against the counter. Flour dusts the air and the coffee cup shatters on the floor as he brings them nose to nose. 

“If you think for a goddam second that Apollo is harmless and Indrid is a threat, your skull is so thick I could smash it onto the counter and you’d be fine.”

Joseph just looks at him, and for all the blush in his cheeks he looks utterly unafraid. Barclay realizes he didn’t mean a single word of his comment about the help; he was doing it to see how Barclay reacted. To see if his feelings for Indrid could make him into a mad dog.

Two sets of footsteps skid into the kitchen, but he’s not ready to let go.

“Barclay, what on earth?”

“Blue eyes here is really fucking sure you’re the bloodthirsty one and not Apollo.”

Duck’s eyes flick between Barclay and his partner, “You’d better let go of him or he’s gonna start thinking you did it.”

Barclay releases his grip and steps back. Joseph brushes the flour from his shirt, perfectly unruffled. 

“Joseph, I have been over the events of that evening with you three separate times. And that’s not to mention that the police have confirmed my story.”

“Police can be bribed.” Stern straightens his cuffs. 

“Oh for–is that what this is about?” Duck rubs his forehead, “yeah, Joe, they lie all the time. But you and I both know that there’s no way Indrid or Barclay coulda been anywhere near the murder.”

“But-”

Duck shakes his head, “Nope, I no for a damn fact you ain’t slept well the last two nights, and it’s startin to show. Go to bed.”

“No.” Joseph tries to pass Duck, only for Duck to grab his arm.

“Barclay, gimme a hand.”

“Excuse me?” Joseph tries to pull away but Duck doesn’t let go. 

“You won’t be good and go on your own, we’ll take you.” He tips his head and Barclay gets the hint, grabbing Joseph’s other arm and starting to pull. He’s not big on manhandling people, but it’s satisfying to half-drag the pissed-off detective back up the stairs. 

He and Duck let go once they’re in the bedroom, though Duck continues blocking the doorway as he says, “Get some sleep. And if you can’t fuckin stay put, I’ll cuff you to the bed.”

Joseph’s cheeks go redder even as his expression stays flat, “That seems like overkill.”

“Then don’t make me do it.”

Joseph takes a deep breath, “I’m not trying to insult either of you when I say this but: have you considered that being attracted to Indrid is clouding your judgment?”

“Nope. Why, is it cloudin’ yours?” Duck leans against the doorframe. 

“Fuck, Joseph, why are you so convinced it’s Indrid? You’re so desperate to pin it on him it’s like you murdered the guy.”

Joseph’s gaze darkens as it whips onto him.

“Get. out.”

“Okay, okay, we’re going.” Barclay throws up his hands and leaves, Duck shutting the door behind them, “what the fuck, did he actually kill someone?”

“No. But everyone thinks he did. See, Joe was on the force, was on his way to making detective there, there were even whispers that he’d be D.A eventually.” Duck’s steps slow, “you remember the Millicent Green murder case?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Joe was in charge of the investigation. Turns out it was her boyfriend. Not all that shocking, but he was was the police chief. Joe refused to back down, wouldn’t be paid to look the other way. So they hit him with accessory to murder on a smaller case and kicked him off the force. Only reason he didn’t land in jail is that the judge was on the level and threw out the case.”

“That was, in no small part, why I hired him.” Indrid meets them at the bottom of the stairs, “Joseph Stern could not be bought or beaten into going against his moral conscience. And I trusted he would choose a partner of a similar nature.” He glances at Duck. 

“Oh fuck, did the same thing happen to you?”

“Nah. Long story short, the state park I was workin’ at got shut down and turned into an orange grove. I needed cash and had to take some shitty jobs as hired muscle to get it. I actually met Joe throwin’ him out of The Black Swan. He has a way of makin’ people listen to him and the next thing I knew I was helpin’ him solve that case. When it was over he asked me to be his partner.”

Barclay looks back up at the second floor, “It just felt like I was talking to a different guy this morning. More…ruthless.”

“A trait which may come in handy if anyone does come after us.” Indrid muses.

“He can be that way sometimes. But he’s really a good guy. Great, if you can get the stick outta his ass.”

“Or put one there.” Barclay adds.

Duck snickers, “Never managed it, but not for lack of tryin’.”

They settle into their usual routine, Duck hanging around to sweep the kitchen and, Barclay realizes, make sure Barclay is really okay after his fight with Joseph. 

Barclay doesn’t see the taller detective again until well after dinner. Duck is doing a round of the house and Indrid is painting in his studio, so Barclay wanders into the kitchen to start on the dishes. What he finds is Joseph, sleeves rolled up and scrubbing away. 

“I’m so sorry about earlier.” Joseph must know it’s him by his footsteps, “I…I was trying to prove something to myself and forgot who was on the other side of the thing.” 

“Thanks.” Barclay joins him at the sink, “please don’t do that again. Act like you think there’s something wrong with Indrid for loving me, I mean.”

“I won’t.” 

Barclay squeezes his shoulder, feels him relax for a half second before the usual tension returns to the muscle. He grabs a towel from the cupboard. 

“Here, I’ll dry.”

—---------------------------------------------

This might be the glitziest Christmas morning Duck’s ever been part of. Barclay did some last minute decorating, so the whole living room is shiny with tinsel, the tree glowing like a heart in the corner. There’s a surprising number of presents beneath it, and when Duck sneaks a peek he finds that while most are addressed to Barclay, two are for him and two are for Joe.

Barclay is stretched out on the couch, reading, and Indrid moves through the room with a mug of eggnog in hand. He changes out the record, humming as a slow song crackles into the air. 

He reminds Duck of a moth, fluttering about the house at night, ethereal bearing barely concealing something fragile. Something that’s been flapping its wings against a storm for too long. 

Duck stands and offers his hand, “How about a dance, sugar?”

Indrid cocks his head, grinning, “And what about your rules?”

“Ain’t no harm in a dance.” 

Indrid takes his hands and, rather than keep a usual dancer's distance, presses against him. 

“You sure you wanna get that close? I got two left feet.”

“Can’t be any worse than me.” Barclay turns a page.

“Dearest, you are forgetting the time I once took out two waiters at a club with my movements.”

The cook chuckles, sets his book on the end table, “I’m gonna go check on Joseph. Kind of worried that he’s not down yet.”

“Let me” Duck spins Indrid off into Barclay’s arms, “he can get kinda morose on Christmas.”

When he gets to their room, Joe is fully dressed save for his shoes, laying on the bed with a book over his face. 

“You got somewhere to be slick?” 

“I’m trying to maintain professionalism.”

“You can let it slide for one day. C’mon, it’s real nice downstairs.”

“I’m sure it is, but you should get used to those scenes without me.”

“What?” Duck closes the door.

“Isn’t it obvious? Indrid and Barclay both like you. Once we’re done with this job, assuming we’re both still alive, they’ll probably keep you on as a bodyguard and send me home.” His voice is far away, like he’s still half in the book. 

“You’re not gettin rid of us that easily.” Duck teases as he nears the bed. 

“I don’t want to! But none of you will ever want me, not like I-” Joe slams the book across his mouth. 

“You better finish that sentence, slick.” Duck sets his hands on his hips but keeps his voice soft. 

Joe covers his face, “I want all three of you so badly. I, I think I might even be in love with you, Duck.”

He settles on the bed, “How long has this been goin’ on?”

“Six months, maybe more” Joe turns away from him, “I’m so sorry.”

Duck gently pets black hair, “You shoulda said somethin’ sooner. I mean, hell, we coulda been sharin’ a bed and freed up some space.”

A weak laugh, “would have been warmer too.”

It’s like coaxing a scared kitten from under the bed, getting Joe to look at him. His hands have to caress his jaw and trace circles on his cheek before he’ll turn to face him. 

“For a private eye, you can be real fuckin’ blind.” He leans in and kisses Joe as sweetly as he dares, catching a surprised gasp between his teeth. The hope is for Joe to climb into his lap, or pull him down to the mattress, but instead the other man collapses against him even as pleads to continue the kiss. 

“Easy slick, don’t want you droppin’ like a sack of laundry.”

“Easy? Nothing about this is easy, not when I’ve thought about crawling under your desk and blowing you every time I get a look at your thighs, not when wanting you, wanting the others, makes me feel like I’ll float away like a forgotten balloon. Please” he rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “please, I want it to be easy, but I don’t know how.”

Duck gets the best idea of his life and then kisses Joe’s forehead, “I do. Do you trust me?”

Blue eyes gleam in the dark, “with my life.”

“Then you’re gonna do what I, and what the other two, say. Yeah?”

“Yes” Joe drags him into another kiss, moaning when Duck bites his lip. 

“On your feet slick.” He sneaks his cuffs into his back pocket as Joe obeys. When they reach the door, his partner hesitates. 

“Are you sure they want me involved?”

“Positive. But also” he grabs the end of a blue tie and yanks, “you ain’t got a choice.”

Joe moans, footsteps unsteady as Duck leads across the landing and down the stairs. Barclay sees them first, eyes wide as dinner plates as he sways Indrid in his arms. Indrid turns next, breaking into a wicked grin as he takes in the duo descending the stairs. 

“Brought you two a little present.” Duck lets go of the tie and Joe stills, looking at the other two for some kind of sign. 

“Lucky us.” Barclay rumbles, stepping forward and tipping Joe’s chin up to kiss him. 

Duck takes the moment where Joe is too surprised to hold onto the cook to grab his wrists and cuff them behind his back. 

“The hell?” Joe tries to look behind him only for Barclay to drag him into another kiss and not release him until he’s giggling. 

“I know you, slick. You’ll try to take control of the whole scene if we don’t stop you. As this is as much about makin’ you relax as it is findin’ out what’s under those slacks. 

“Duck, you’ve seen me in my underwear.”

“Yeah, but I never saw what was under ‘em, no matter how many times I wanted to yank ‘em down.” He guides Joe over to the couch, where he sits without needing to be told. 

“What, exactly, is the plan?” Indrid hangs back by the fireplace, metallic threads in his robe making him look like an emperor. 

“To show this handsome fella just how bad we want him so that the idea will actually sink into that big brain of his.”

“I see.” Indrid saunters forward, hands behind his back, considering Joe with an unreadable expression. The detective looks up at him hopefully as he approaches the couch, some silent conversation passing between them as Indrid looms over him. 

Then an ink-stained hand catches Joe across the face, loud enough that Duck and Barclay both jump. Joe doesn’t take nearly so long to recover, licking his lips and smiling up at Indrid while Duck is still trying to parse what happened. 

“That’s about as hard as I expected a spoiled heir to hit.”

Another slap, Joe yelping as it hits. Duck takes a half step forward when the sound turns to a moan and Indrid lets out a sharp, menacing laugh. 

“Oh you like that, don’t you pet? All that sophistication and cleverness to hide the fact you’re nothing more than a mutt who needs to be put in his place.”

“Better than being a brat who thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

Indrid crouches so they’re eye to eye, tracing a heart on Joe’s cheek with his finger, “Oh no pet, I don’t think I am better than everyone else.”

Slap

“I know I am.”

“Holy fuck.” Barclay grips the edge of the couch where he’s been standing, tent noticeable in his pajamas.

Indrid smiles at him, “Surprised, dearest? Yes, I suppose you would be. You, my sweet, perfect, beloved beast, never need such a firm hand. You’ve never been anything but good.”

Duck shifts from foot to foot. His cock is twitching at Indrid addressing the others in that way, even though if the pale-haired man tried it on him, Duck would pin him to the floor and ride him until he cried. 

“Joseph? Is this really okay?” Barclay’s voice is going husky.

Joe nods once, then adds, “It’d be better if your boyfriend didn’t hit like a baby.” 

Indrid snarls, but instead of slapping him again he fists his hand into his hair and yanks Joe's head back. His partner cries out as Indrid sinks his teeth into the skin of his neck, not relenting until the moan turns broken and panting. 

“Dearest, please fetch the supplies. Duck, help me make him less decent.” Indrid begins unbuttoning Joe’s shirt. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” As Duck joins them, Joe kicks out a leg, lightly catching Indrid on the shins. 

“Now that ain’t very nice, darlin.” Duck pulls off Joe's tie and binds it around his ankles.

Indrid turns, kissing his cheek before pecking Joe on the lips, “Goodness, I had no idea you two would be this much fun. Are you alright, pet?”

“I feel like I’m flying.”

“If it turns to a fall, tell us.” Indrid cups his face to offer a tender kiss, “none of us want you hurt.”

“Thank you.” Joe sighs, tipping his face into Duck’s hand when he offers it. They stay like that until Barclay returns, at which point Indrid rises and points imperiously at Duck. 

“Take off your pants. Barclay, sit there and put Joseph over your lap so you can, ah, open him up for me.”

“Ohfuck.” Joe actually whines as Barclay obeys and throws him over his lap. 

Duck is enjoying the sight of carefully pressed slacks being bunched around Joe knees that it takes reality a moment to join him in the room. Joe knows the truth, and he’s fairly certain Barclay figured it out when he poked his head into the room to ask a question right after Duck was in the shower and saw the scars on his chest. 

Did Barclay tell Indrid? If he didn’t, how the fuck should Duck go about this?

Indrid’s fingers wrap around Duck’s pants and shove them, and his underwear, to the floor. In retrospect, this is what he gets for stopping to think near a man who looks horny enough to fuck an entire barroom. 

“Mmmm, it seems Barclay was correct.” Eager fingers tease the folds beneath his dick, “are inside visitors permitted?”

Duck snickers at the phrasing, “Sometimes. Depends on how I’m feelin’.”

“Understood.” Indrid brushes their noses together, “go lay down on the couch. Joseph has a mouth that was made to suck cock and I have waited too long to see him do so.”

He positions himself so he’s laying on the couch. Getting where Indrid wants him, especially with the sight of Joe facedown and ass up, moaning into the cushions as Barclay fucks his ass with two fingers. 

The cook pauses from where he’s groping and kissing Joe’s ass, “Put your feet wherever you need to, man.”

That lets him get close enough that he can reach down and drag Joe’s face between his legs. 

“MOH, oohhhhhhhhhhh” Joe isn’t doing much besides moaning but that alone is pretty gratifying. 

Indrid tugs Joe’s hair, “Get to it pet.”

“What–ohfuck–what about you?” Duck turns his head as Indrid kneels by the couch.

In reply, Indrid kisses him, really kisses him, for the first time. It’s like Duck has been holding his breath, diving deeper and deeper in search of something, only to find the treasure glittering at him up at the surface. He sighs into the kiss and Indrid lets out a pleased chirp. 

“It’s like you were meant to kiss me.” Indrid murmurs before bringing their lips together a second time. 

Duck has to agree, lets himself melt into the feeling of Indrid’s mouth on his and the toe-curling steadiness of Joe sucking him off. His climax builds slowly, like a wave far out from shore, and by the time it crashes into him he’s blissfully sprawled on the couch with Indrid nibbling his neck and Joe kissing his thighs. 

“Think he’s ready, baby.” Barclay is practically drooling as Indrid helps Duck sit up and turns his attention onto Joe, undoing the tie on his ankles. Barclay is also ready, his cock fully hard as he kicks off his pants. The cook coaxes Joe to straddle his lap, thighs shaking as he pushed and pulled into position. His hands are still trapped behind him, and Duck watches them flex as Barclay shoves him down onto his cock. 

“SHIT! Ohmygod” Joe slouches forward, “god, Barclay, yes, god you’re amazing.” 

“Thanks baby.” Strong arms circle Joe’s waist as Barclay kisses his neck. 

A constant stream of short, helpless, ecstatic moans leave his partner, and Duck swears he’s never sounded more beautiful. 

“As lovely as you sound, pet, I have another use for your mouth.” Indrid undoes his robe, cock shorter than Barclay’s but already burning it’s image in Duck’s mind. 

The loss of Joe’s moans is made up for by Indrid purring , “Good boy” as Joe takes the head of his cock into his mouth. Had Duck not just cum, he’d be jerking off frantically to Joe being used so thoroughly and expertly. 

After a moment, Joe chokes out something he can’t quite make out.

“So soon? My, you really were meant to be nothing but a rich man’s toy, weren’t you?”

Joe cums with a muffled shout, but the other two offer no relief, and so he writhes in Barclay’s lap, softening cock bouncing helplessly between his legs as tears spill down his cheeks. 

Barclay rams into him hard enough that his partner actually squeaks, and an instant later Indrid pulls away, cum painting Joe’s flushed face and chest. 

In the chorus of panting that follows, Barclay manages, “Keys?”

Duck quickly undoes the cuffs, catching Joe as he collapses into his arms. He’s never looked this relaxed, this vulnerable.

This happy. 

“You with me, Joe?”

A slow, satisfied nod, “I’m here. You’re a genius.”

“See, he agrees with me.” Indrid flops into Barclay’s lap, peppering his face with kisses and cooing things meant for only the cooks ears. 

Gradually, the four of them rearrange into more comfortable positions on the couch, Barclay wobbling off and returning with coffee for each of them. As Joe cuddles between Barclay and Duck, Duck puts his lips to his ear. 

“Merry Christmas, darlin.”

Joe kisses him, soft as mountain snow, “Merry Christmas.”

#OT4: government men and their cryptid boyfriends #winter fills #detective au #noir au #sternclay #indruck #agent stern/duck newton #inclay #indrid cold/agent stern #trans duck newton

[janeblr]

Just got yelled at by a resident’s son because his mom wasn’t wearing a sweater. Sir it’s 80 degrees out and her windows are open. If I put a sweater on her she’ll cook.

Idgaf how many thousands of dollars you pay for your mom to live here, I don’t get paid enough to be yelled at by a grown man in his right mind

#mypost

[weabooweedwitch]

People really don't realize how dehumanizing working in retail is. Our society would literally fucking collapse without employees to manage stores and we're the lowest paid, most disrespected among the workforce besides like garbagemen? I'm either on my feet or ringing for my entire shift, carrying boxes, doing manual labor, helping people get their food, and I get paid only so many dollars above minimum wage. And what's worse is that, comparatively, my job pays a lot more than other retail jobs right now, so I'm "decently paid" but obviously as we all know the average wage in America is criminally low. Like I "make a decent wage" but not enough to afford the cheapest possible rent without a roommate, as is the case in most places in America

I just constantly have to ask myself why bother working at all when the system is set up in such a way where if you don't come from money or have the money to go to college you're just fucked and permanantly segregated to being in poverty forever, and even then, there are hundreds of thousands of people getting college degrees and then finding out their job wants an even MORE in depth degree and even MORE qualifications

Just. God. Is there anything in this country that isn't fundamentally broken

[adventuresofanoverachiever]

Student Loan Debt Is Not Just Useless Degrees

Student loan debt has been a hot topic in the news lately, and many people are vocal with their thoughts.  I wanted to use this post as a way to counter some of the negative comments I see about student loans using my own personal experience with my $200+ in student loan debt.

1.) “They learned absolutely nothing in college and obtained worthless degrees with absolutely no future.“

Many of those with my current education combo are nearing retirement age, and I’ve heard from several different employers (in different sectors) that it’s a growing concern that more younger veterinarians need to enter my particular field of study (related to research).  I had no issues finding a job after graduation.  Throughout my studies, I had several job offers, and I’ve still received the occasional verbal offer (”You’re a vet, our clinic needs more help.”)

2.) “Maybe they should be saving their Starbucks latte money to pay off their loans.”

I don’t drink coffee, and I don’t drink alcohol.  Yes, I will occasionally get a fancy frappe (or bubble tea), but not often and usually when I hung out with friends.  I was guilty of eating a ton of fast food during school, but I ordered things mainly off the dollar menu.  I also skipped breakfast.  Although I’d occasionally do a weekend trip (once or twice a year), I haven’t had a major vacation in many years (brought work with me if I did travel with family/friends), and I traveled cheaply.  I do have dogs, but what’s a veterinarian without a pet?  Veterinary care was cheap while I was in school since I got discounts on everything.

3.) “You signed the loan papers, you owe the debt!”

I did agree to take on the debt, and it’s my burden to carry.  I was also counseled on loan repayment options too, and I knew that income-based plans (which forgive loans after 20 or 25 years of payments) were an option.  I was also informed on the Public Service Loan Forgiveness Program.  I knew going into my debts that forgiveness programs existed and would be a viable option for my career goals.

4.) “If you don’t like the high cost of tuition, There are plenty other options that don’t require you to go to college and pay that much”

I came from a low-income family, and I am a first-generation college graduate.  If it wasn’t for student loans, I would not have been able to obtain my degrees in the first place. College isn’t for everyone.  Sure, there are high-paying jobs that don’t require a college education, but college definitely was for me.  Is it fair to deny me the opportunity to attend veterinary school because I was born into a family that couldn’t financially support my education?

5.) “These students who owe hundreds of thousands of dollars b/c they went to an expensive college...it's on them to pay for it. “

For my undergraduate education, I went to an in-state public university.  I was forced to attend veterinary school at an out-of-state school because my home state does not have a veterinary school.  Veterinary school is expensive, and many students are only accepted into one or two schools if they receive an acceptance at all.  Veterinarians are not paid enough for the debt they incur.  While I may qualify for PSLF, the majority of my classmates will not.

6.) “I went to school with a full scholarship.”

I had a full tuition scholarship for my undergraduate education and a partial scholarship for living costs.  It’s extremely difficult to get a full ride scholarship for veterinary school.  I don’t know anyone in my class that had one.  A lot of scholarships are geared towards undergraduate students, and the scholarships for veterinary students are limited and highly competitive.  I had a partial tuition waiver and scholarship for my veterinary school education due to my specific program, but it only partially covered my tuition.  My living expenses were 100% covered by loans during veterinary school.   I received a graduate stipend and tuition waiver during my grad school years (except my last semester), but it was not nearly enough to cover all costs (especially medical - student health insurance was awful). 7.) “I worked 4 jobs to put myself through college”

I held a few jobs with variable hours to earn a little extra income during undergrad; however, in order to remain competitive for veterinary school, I spent a majority of my time outside classes volunteering and shadowing.  This is all while pursuing a double-major and minor.  Holding a job during vet school is not feasible for most, although I did make some funds during the summer between my first and second year of school.  There was also a period of time in the lab where I was not paid, but I had to be in the lab when I was not in class.

8.) “further education is free if you join the military”

A few of my classmates did go into the army after their 1st year of veterinary school, but that program is ultra-selective and only accepts a few people a year (usually 0-2 per school).  Yes, I could consider applying for it now that I've finished schooling, but I’m personally pursuing a different avenue for loan repayment.  It’s also not a decision to be taken lightly, and it doesn’t work for everyone.

9.) “My son worked 3 jobs to pay his student loans off. If he can do it, so can everyone else. It's called responsibility “

At my current income-based payment plan, the interest I would incur is more than my payments.  I could take on a second job, but even with that, I’d barely be making much progress and would burn myself out.  I’m in a higher income bracket than I was growing up, but it definitely doesn’t feel like it.  My loan payments are on pause, but I’ve got a higher cost of living and have been working to pay off some other debts.  For many veterinarians, they are already working well past the normal 40 hours a week.  There’s no way they could take on a second job, and many veterinarians are already burnt-out from the spike in pandemic pets.

10.) “If the government wants to jump in and help with outrageous student loans, then cancel the interest. The banks still get their money, the student will still learn responsibility, and the taxpayer won't be saddled with even more debt they didn't accumulate.”

Canceling $10,000 of my student loan debt would only partially erase some interest on my student loans, so it’s not placing my educational burden on the taxpayers. Canceling all interest on my student loans would erase well over the proposed $10,000 loan forgiveness, so that would be a better deal for me personally.

And the most recent one I’ve seen: 

“So the people that have become doctors, lawyers we’re gonna cancel their debt?“

Veterinarians don’t make much for the debt they incur.  I know individuals with only an undergraduate degree in engineering that make well over my salary.  Some of them have been out of school for a while and are experienced in the real world, so I’m sure that contributes.  However, my point here is that it’s not fair to single out individuals with a professional degree.  A professional degree does not equate to a high salary in all cases.

I’m not looking for sympathy from the Tumblr world, and I know there are many who are in a much worse situation than me.  There are people who are struggling to live with their student loans.  Some of them made bad decisions in their education, but that’s not the case for everyone with student loan debt. The main purpose of my post was to point out that there are quite a few misconceptions about individuals with student loan debt. 

 I may be in crippling student loan debt, but I have a plan to tackle it.  I can handle it, and I’m not personally asking the government to forgive my student loans without me doing something to earn it.  I do, however, think student loans are in need of an overhaul (lower interest rates, revamped forgiveness programs, etc).  

#vet med #student loans #cost of vet school #VetMed #student loan debt #veterinary school #vet school

[affiliatemarketinguides]

Is Affiliate Marketing Profitable

Affiliate marketing seems by many people as a waste of time or scummy and frat business. In this post I will show the pros & cons and by the end of reading this post you will exactly be informed about affiliate marketing.

As my own journey to affiliate marketing, I will show youreasons why affiliate marketing is not waste of time and will show you some tips and tricks to be successful affiliate marketer.

Some people talk about affiliate marketing is waste of time because they do not have any knowledge about affiliate marketing..

Is Affiliate marketing waste of time

The answer is not. affiliate marketing has been used as a business for many years some people do not understand affiliate marketing what real is. in this post I will show you what is affiliate marketing.

Affiliate marketing: is promoting others product or service which you do not own, and you will make money whenever you refer a customer to buy a product or service.

As a affiliate marketer you are the middle man between a company and customeryour job is to promote that product to your customer and get paid from a company.

As an example: I have audience on the internet on my blog or social media followers and I want to make money from this traffic what I am going to do is to find a relevant product or service in my niche or area to promote their product and service to my audience.

let’s learn some benefits of affiliate marketing.

Why affiliate marketing is not waste of time

Many people believe that affiliate marketing is waste of time because it takes too much time and effort to get started. However, affiliate marketing can very profitable if you know what you are doing.

The key is to find products that are not too competitive and offer good commission.

Affiliate marketing is the best way to make money online even you do not have knowledge, money and website or blog. People make with affiliate marketing as their own business they make thousands of dollars every month becauseit is a real business model.

10 reasons why people want to start affiliate marketing:

Does not require money

No skill requires

Can be started as a side hustle

Best online business for students

No degree requires

Affiliate marketing can help you earn money without limitation

You do not loss anything

Make money passively while you are sleeping

Do not need to deal with your audience to buy a product

 Noting is scummy

Can you make money as a beginner with affiliate marketing?

Yes, but if you do it correctly. in this section I will show you the secret way to make money with affiliate marketing.

The first step is topick your nichewhich has very low competition and the best way to pick your niche is by doing and finding new products to write a review that’s brand new and no one is talking about.

Best products to write reviews about is digital products because it pays recurring commission and in the other hand physical products pays per each sale that has been made by your costumer or they pay 1 – 10 percent recurring commission which is low.

 you can find new products on capterra.com and find the product and software that you are interested on. To find a prefect product or service in capterra.com you need to focus on two main things:

high volume

Low competition

Has low CPC ($0 – 1$)

After find product on capterra.com then search each product on google to find the volume and low competition product.

Can you start affiliate marketing without money?

Affiliate marketing is promoting others product to your audience that audience might be from your Blog, Forum, landing page or PPC and all these staff require money. But here is the truth you can still make money with affiliate marketing without money and without having blog, forum etc.

 the first step is to create a content for example write an article in whatever niche you are, focus on the quality of your content not on quantity. Write valuable content that everyone will love it and make a parches through your affiliate link.

 Next step is to apply for affiliate programs that’s relevant to your niche, but the problem might be you do not get approval in the program.

do not warry you can sign up toinstant approval affiliate programsthat require nothing likeJavzoo,digitastor24andcj there are a lot of affiliate marketplaces out there that you can join.

 The next step is to publish your content on the internet I do not mean to spam all over the internet like pasting your affiliate links in Facebook without any valuable content or in Instagram and so on.

you do not make money by just writing a piece of content and that publish it on the internet you make money by solving others problem like reviewing a particular product or service and then you are publishing it on your Facebook page, Instagram and Tumbr etc.

My advice for you is to have a blog because people are searching on google for products to buy in the other hand social media is not like google, they are not searching for products to buy but you have still a chance if you do prefect marketing.

Affiliate marketing can’t be profitable if

1.do not have audience

Affiliate marketing is all about promotingproduct if you do not have audience then who will buy from you when you do not have audience.

Those who do not have audience on website or social media platform where they are going to promote affiliate links.

most people fail because they spam, they just paste the link in comments or share it on social media platforms without giving any value to their content.

That’s why they called it is waste of time and effort, do not spam. Spamming is unethical and unprofessional practice that should be avoided at all costs. Spamming is the best way to get band your account on the internet.

2.Can’t rank in competitive niches

In this part we will be discussing why you can’t rank in competitive niche for three reasons:

The first reason is that the competition is too high. There are so many other websites that are competing for the same keyword and there is all vying for a higher ranking than you.

The second reason is that your website does not have enough content to compete with the other websites out there. you need more content to give people what they want in order to rank higher in search engine results pages.

The third reason is that you can’t rank because you do not have enough backlinks, for competitive niches it is much hard to earn backlinks.

You can’t rank for competitive niches like the best software for YouTube, when you are just starting you only have to fucose on one specific topic.

 3.Creating Low quality-contents

Creating low quality contentwill lead you to nothing and spam, whatever niche you are in there is a lot of good information out there if you do not create unique and better content than your competition than no one will like your content.

Low quality content is not only hard to read but is also has the potential to harm a blog’s reputation.

The low-quality content is a problem because it has the potential to mislead readers and create a negative impression of the blog or brand.

The low-quality content can be identified by looking at the content’s length, readability, and keyword density.

If the content is too short and does not have enough keywords, then it may not be relevant to that topic. Low quality content will lead you to low user experience and low conversion.

Conclusion

Affiliate marketing is a real business model that you can make money with affiliate marketing without any limitation every single month.

it seems like waste of time because everyone can start they apply for affiliate program and they spam all over the internet and that’s why they fail and seems like waste of time.

it can be very profitable if you do it with right strategy.

If you have any question fell free to ask them in the comments bellow i will answer all of your questions.

for more guides:

#affiliate marketing #content marketing #email marketing #blogging #digital marketing

[bro3256]

Importing Video Games from Japan

I’ve been collecting video games for several years at this point, prices for these games were reasonable during the first few years I started collecting. The most I paid for a video game at that time was about $80. In recent years though prices have ballooned to a stupid degree that buying games locally has been a challenge for me and many others. This especially didn’t help during the whole hype around video games being valuable with many articles being written about how your video games are worth thousands if not millions of dollars when that has never been the case.

While the market has started to cool down prices are still very dumb, even at local game stores I’ve started to notice a spike in price for a lot of games. So I wanted to find a solution to being able to continue collecting while also not having to deal with this price spike. One solution I found that worked for me was simply importing video games directly from Japan.

Prices for video games over in Japan have not seen this level of increase in value, it’s been pretty stable for decades with only minor fluctuations with a handful of items. I started importing various items in 2020 and I don’t regret going through the hoops needed to get these items shipped to where I live.

It’s important to note that in order to get items from Japan shipped outside the country, you will need to find a proxy service that will be your middleman of getting your goods shipped over to your residence. I won’t be suggesting any particular proxy service in this post so I would highly recommend doing your own research if you’re remotely interested in importing video games or other items.

(many of these storefronts recommend using Buyee but I would still advise doing your own research)

But once you find a proxy service that works for you (or you just so happen to know someone living in Japan that can help lol) it’s now up to finding what you specifically want. I would recommend searching directly through the Japanese storefronts in question and using Google Translate to search your items.

One very useful term I would suggest looking up is Junk (ジャンク) as you’ll often find listings full of games and consoles that are simply listed as untested most of the time. I’ve bought from plenty of listings that label items as junk yet they worked perfectly fine when tested. I would still keep and mind as to the condition of the item as well as any extra comments the seller might have left.

Okay then, you found your items and you’ve bought them, the big question now is how much shipping will be for everything. Well get ready to pay a good amount for shipping. The cheapest option will usually be surface mail and expect your goods to arrive in about a few months time if you choose surface. It’s a long wait but it’s worth it in my experience. Otherwise if you’re willing to pay a little bit more, your goods should arrive in a few weeks at most. I’d also recommend buying items in bulk so you don’t end up paying an absurd amount on shipping for a single item.

That’s pretty much all I have to say regarding getting these imported games, expect to spend a good hour or two surfing around various listings you come across and while in general games are cheaper, shipping prices might cost you an arm and a leg.

Although fair warning regarding price checking sites (such as pricecharting.com), keep and mind that many of these websites pull their data from eBay and not from the Japanese store fronts you will be buying from. This has resulted in a lot of Japanese video games selling for an absurd markup you’d find with any other game sold online and locally. So I would not take that big number you see at face value, check the data below and compare that to what’s currently being sold on other store fronts.

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Justin Trudeau Is No Match for a Polarized World (NYT/opinion) Political careers often end in failure—a cliché that exists because it too often happens to be true. Justin Trudeau, one of the world’s great progressive leaders, may be heading toward that moment. In a recent interview he acknowledged that every day he considers leaving his “crazy job” as Canada’s prime minister. Increasingly, the question is not if he will leave but how soon and how deep his failure will be when he goes. At stake is Canada’s contemporary liberal society, the legacy of the prime minister’s father and predecessor, Pierre Trudeau. For several years now, polls have shown Mr. Trudeau’s Liberals at lows from which no Canadian political party has ever recovered in elections. In a recent by-election in the Greater Toronto Area, the Conservative Party beat the Liberals by a lopsided 57 percent to 22 percent. But polls and by-elections can be poor predictors of election viability. A better indicator is the flummoxed figure of Mr. Trudeau himself, who seems increasingly out of touch.

College Protests Over Gaza Deepen Democratic Rifts (NYT) Nearly seven months after the Israel-Hamas war began, the demonstrations convulsing college campuses nationwide are exposing fresh tensions within the Democratic Party over how to balance free speech protections and support for Gazans with concerns that some Jewish Americans are raising about antisemitism. From New York and Los Angeles to Atlanta and Austin, a surge in student activism has manifested in protest encampments and other demonstrations, drawing significant police crackdowns and sometimes appearing to attract outside agitators. The protests also have emerged as the latest flashpoint in the internal Democratic debate over the war. Since the Hamas-led attack on Israel on Oct. 7, and the Israeli military response that has killed more than 30,000 people, according to local authorities, the fight over American policy toward Israel has been especially pronounced on the left.

Many in Gen Z ditch colleges for trade schools. Meet the ‘toolbelt generation’ (NPR) Sy Kirby dreaded the thought of going to college after graduating from high school. He says a four-year degree just wasn’t in the cards for him or his bank account. “I was facing a lot of pressure for a guy that knew for a fact that he wasn’t going to college,” Kirby says. “I knew I wasn’t going to sit in a classroom, especially since I knew I wasn’t going to pay for it.” Instead, at the age of 19, Kirby took a job at a local water department in southern Arkansas. He said the position helped him to develop the skills that helped him start his own construction company. Now at age 32, Kirby finds himself mentoring many of his employees, who also opted to learn a skilled trade rather than shelling out tens of thousands of dollars to pursue a degree that they wouldn’t use after graduating. Kirby is among the growing number of young people who have chosen to swap college for vocational schools that offer paid, on-the-job training. Skilled trades are making a comeback, especially among members of Generation Z.

Pope Francis visits Venice, says his work isn’t easy (Reuters) Pope Francis made his first trip out of Rome for seven months on Sunday with a packed visit to Venice that took in an art exhibition, a prison and a Mass, with the 87-year pontiff acknowledging that life could be hard. “Please pray for me because this work is not easy,” he told thousands of faithful gathered in St Mark’s Square. He started the day by flying by helicopter into a women’s prison where the Vatican has set up an exhibition that is part of the Venice Biennale—a prestigious international art show that has never been visited by a pope before. The unusual decision to house the Holy See pavilion in a jail highlighted Francis’ repeated calls for society to rally around the poor and neglected, including prison populations. “Prison is a harsh reality, and problems such as overcrowding, the lack of facilities and resources, and episodes of violence, give rise to a great deal of suffering. But it can also become a place of moral and material rebirth,” he told inmates and guards on Sunday.

Russia arrests more journalists in intensifying crackdown on dissent (Washington Post) Russia has arrested two Russian journalists on “extremism” charges in recent days, the latest moves in a continuing crackdown targeting independent reporters and media outlets. A third Russian journalist, with Forbes Russia, was charged with publishing what authorities called “fake news.” The increasing use of anti-extremism laws to prosecute reporters—one piece of a larger campaign to stifle domestic dissent during Russia’s war in Ukraine—is likely to have a further chilling effect on the few independent journalists still operating in Russia. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Putin has jailed hundreds of activists, opposition politicians and other perceived enemies, part of what Amnesty International has called an effort to “blindfold” the Russian public.

With U.S. aid resumed, Ukraine will try to dig itself out of trouble (Washington Post) A long-awaited influx of U.S. weapons will help Ukraine to blunt Russia’s advance in the coming months, Biden administration officials said after Congress passed a major aid package, but an acute troop shortage and Moscow’s firepower advantage mean that Kyiv won’t likely regain major offensive momentum until 2025 at the earliest. A U.S. defense official, who like some others spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss Western projections, said the aid would give Ukraine the chance to better cope with continued Russian attacks “whether on the front lines or in the skies” and more effectively defend troops and civilians alike. “But time is precious,” the official said. “And time shouldn’t be wasted.”

Millions of Afghans made Pakistan home to escape war. Now many are hiding to escape deportation (AP) Born and raised in Pakistan to parents who fled neighboring Afghanistan half a century ago, an 18-year-old found himself at the mercy of police in Karachi who took his cash, phone and motorbike, and sent him to a deportation center. Scared and bewildered, he spent three days there before he was sent back to Afghanistan, a place he has never been to, with nothing but the clothes on his back. The youth is one of at least 1.7 million Afghans who made Pakistan their home as their country sank deeper into decades of war. But they’ve been living there without legal permission, and are now the target of a harsh crackdown on migrants who Pakistan says must leave. Some 600,000 Afghans have returned home since last October, when the crackdown began, meaning at least a million remain in Pakistan in hiding. They’ve retreated from public view, abandoning their jobs and rarely leaving their neighborhoods out of fear they could be next for deportation.

Intense heat prompts Philippines to order millions of public school students to stay home (AP) Scorching temperatures in Manila have prompted the closure of all public schools for in-person lessons, meaning millions of students are staying home. The Philippines is among the worst affected by the sweltering weather in Southeast Asia where the intense tropical summer heat worsened by humidity had forced on and off in-person class cancellations in recent weeks and sparked fears of water shortages, power outages and damage to agricultural crops.

Palestinian leader appeals to US to stop Israel's Rafah offensive (BBC) The Chief of the General Staff of the IDF, Herzi Halevi, has approved plans to continue the IDF’s war in Gaza and begin its ground invasion of Rafah, where over a million Palestinians have been forced by Israel’s invasion of Gaza. Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas has called on the U.S. to block the IDF’s offensive, but the White House has already expressed doubts about doing that. While the storm brews over Rafah, U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken has headed to the Middle East to start a new round of ceasefire talks. A group of U.S. officials has pushed Blinken to end U.S. military aid to Israel, claiming that the IDF is using American arms to violate international humanitarian law. The report involves the testimony of four separate bureaus and cites eight separate incidents where the IDF allegedly violated Palestinians’ human rights. It also highlighted 11 incidents when the IDF “arbitrarily restricted humanitarian aid” to Gazans.

Israeli officials concerned about possible ICC arrest warrants as pressure mounts over war in Gaza (AP) Israeli officials on Monday appeared to be increasingly concerned that the International Criminal Court may issue arrest warrants against the country’s leaders, as international pressure mounts over its war with Hamas in the Gaza Strip. Meanwhile, Israeli airstrikes on the southern Gaza city of Rafah overnight and into Monday killed at least 22 people, including six women and five children, one of whom was just 5 days old, according to hospital records and an Associated Press reporter. The ICC launched a probe three years ago into possible war crimes committed by Israel and Palestinian militants going back to the 2014 Israel-Hamas war, but it has given no indication such warrants are imminent. There was no comment from the court on Monday.

As Anger Grows Over Gaza, Arab Leaders Crack Down on Protests (NYT) Like other governments across the Middle East, Egypt has not been shy about its position on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Its denunciations of Israel over the war in Gaza are loud and constant. State media outlets broadcast images of long lines of aid trucks waiting to cross from Egypt into Gaza, spotlighting Egypt’s role as the sole conduit for most of the limited aid entering the besieged territory. Earlier this month, however, when hundreds of people gathered in downtown Cairo to demonstrate in solidarity with Gaza, Egyptian security officers swooped in, arresting 14 protesters. Back in October, the government had organized pro-Palestinian rallies of its own. Yet at those, too, it detained dozens of people after protesters chanted slogans critical of the government. It was a pattern that has repeated itself around the region: Arab citizens’ grief and fury over Gaza’s plight running headlong into official repression when that outrage takes aim at their own leaders. Out of step with their people on matters of economic opportunity and political freedoms, some governments in the Arab world have long faced added discontent over their ties with Israel and its chief backer, the United States. Now the Gaza war—and what many Arabs see as their own governments’ complicity—has driven an old wedge between rulers and the ruled with new force.

Disaster hits Kenya (Foreign Policy) Flooding killed at least 71 people near Mai Mahiu, Kenya, and injured more than 110 others, authorities confirmed on Monday. Police initially blamed a burst dam; however, the Ministry of Water later said a river tunnel blocked by debris caused the flash floods. Search and rescue efforts are ongoing, Interior Minister Kithure Kindiki said. Heavy rains in Kenya have killed more than 140 people and displaced over 185,000 others in recent weeks, with close to 10,000 people forced to flee Nairobi alone. Other East African countries, including Tanzania and Burundi, have faced similar downpours and landslides. Senior Kenyan officials fear that the death toll could increase in the coming days.

#headlines #news

[the-creepy-guy-around-the-corner]

Excuse the screaming on here, don't want to scream on twitter because thats easier to connect back to me and this is stupid enough I really don't want to talk to folks I know IRL about this.

And this is gunna be like mega privileged problems so putting it in a cut just need to scream to the void

Aghhhhhh my dad is selling his business. Which is fine, but I still rely on my parents for support a lot financially. I feel awful, I'm a grown ass adult with a full time job but life is expensive and my parents agreed to help support me because I'm super passionate about my job but it's a job that famously does not pay well. For about ten or fifteen years I got REALLY lucky, dads business was doing amazing, I got to live a very privileged fun life for I'd say about ten years. I got two college degrees out of it, got to live in multiple countries, traveled a lot, got to enjoy expensive hobbies, I built a wonderful wardrobe and collection of nice things..... and just the general feeling of not having to stress about bills or basic expenses. Then dads business got stolen from to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars this last year, and he ate the whole cost so no one else would be effected benefits or jobs wise. So I tightened my belt so I could ask less from them, and I'm now barely scraping by. Each paycheck I now have a hundred or so to my name before I get paid again. Ive hardly been able to touch the debt I've been trying to pay down. And now that he's selling the business that flashing light of 'no help' is getting bigger and closer and I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. Sort of panicked and went on a huge spree canceling as many subscriptions as I can (I already deleted most of them, but it broke my heart to start canceling subscriptions to friends patreon's or artists I want to support or to favorite games and such), deleted all of my worst spender apps from my phones, and looking into more side gigs. I really have no room to complain, this is no more than most people have to do and I'm honestly still incredibly lucky and blessed. But I'm going to miss being able to pick up the bill for friends or buying them presents, I'm really going to miss leaving huge tips on places, and GOD I am going to miss traveling, I already do. My friends are planning a trip to Japan rn and I'm so happy for them but I know I cant afford it no matter how much I want to go.

But most of all I'm going to miss the lack of stress. I went from never having to look at the price of the menu at a nice restaurant to eating nothing but tuna fish sandwiches for the rest of the week because I don't want to spend more money on food. Like I'm gunna be fine, I'm not going to starve, but the stress of money has been dwindling my already not super great mental health and the knowledge that it will always be this way from here on, is frankly fucking terrifying. Spending the rest of my life doing the mental gymnastics I need to make sure I have enough money for bills each month, and knowing I wont be able to buy a house or really build up savings (at least not until my parents die, and I am understandably not wanting that to happen either) is fucking depressing.

Especially knowing that if I have kids I wont be able to give them the opportunities I had growing up. I've for so long tied my self worth to gifting things to others, buying meals, treating my friends and so on. I really am going to have to tackle how I view my self worth and what I bring to the table friendship wise because gifts and generosity are things I just cant afford right now and with the job I have I don't know if I ever will again. (well.... unless I marry rich lol) I'll figure it all out, look for more expenses I can cut, look for more side jobs and so on. I'm probably making it out to be worse than it is, but having such a radical change in lifestyles has a bit of whiplash that really stings. Hopefully after a while I can start paying down my debt more which will help with interest rates, and if I keep cutting down on expenses maybe I'll be able to start saving. I doubt anyone has read this, if you did thanks for listening to me whine and I hope you have a good day.

#Fuck capitalism