#just rent properties barely exist

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part five

“something I’m not, but something I can be”

A/N: big disclaimer for this chapter: I do not know if this is actually how the porn industry functions. And while Brazzers is a real porn site, I don’t have any knowledge of how they run things on their site. For the sake of fiction, and the storyline, I wrote Joel’s era in Brazzers as a very very toxic work environment. Please heed the warnings. This takes place pre-miller-co. Joel and baby love have not met yet. Joel does however have a girlfriend during his time at Brazzers. Oh, and I listened to what was I made for on repeat while I wrote this 🥺 thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing and being my little cheerleader through this series 💗 and thank you to all my other friends for your endless support on my silly lil stories! (Y’all know who you are and how much I love you!)

~word count: 3.1k~

Summary: it’s Joel Miller’s 30th birthday. 30 years of existing, 12 years working for Brazzers, and what does he really have to show for his life outside of being a pornstar?

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: angst, implied smut, toxic work environment, implied workplace abuse, mentions of the porn industry, misogynistic comments/behavior towards women in the porn industry (not by Joel), feelings of body insecurity, shame, mentions of smoking, grief, resentment, language, mature themes, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Los Angeles, CA. September 26, 2009

An alarm clock blares on Joel’s nightstand, the shrill sound pierces his eardrums, sending his arm flying out from under the covers, smacking the top of the device, silencing it with a heavy groan rumbling up his chest.

6:00 a.m. the sun has barely just begun to peek over the mountains, the bustle of LA traffic, late-night goers returning home, early-morning risers preparing for another droning day.

The big 30: The age where you were expected to have your shit together. No more making foolish mistakes, no more job hopping, you should be married with kids and have a house with a white picket fence and drive a minivan. You should be invested in the stock market, your lawn should be properly trimmed, maybe you even make enough money to own a vacation home.

Joel hadn’t a fucking clue what he wanted out of life. He wasn’t married. He didn’t have any kids. He lived in an apartment with his brother Tommy, splitting the rent between their paychecks. LA never felt like home to him. He liked the palm trees and the beach. He hated LA traffic, smog, and that stupid Hollywood sign that alluded to a lifestyle that only the ‘chosen’ members of high society would get to indulge in.

City of Angels? Not even close.

30 years old, and feeling like he had nothing to show for his life outside of being a pornstar. A branding identity that shamed him more times than he was willing to admit. Is this all I’m good for?

Brazzers was the bane of his existence for 12 years, and yet every time he would try and put his foot down and quit, he was lured right back in. He loved sex just like anyone else. He loved the intimacy, the closeness, the connection to another human being. Above all, he loved making his partners feel good. To make them come, fall apart on his tongue, fingers, or his cock. To hear their pleasured cries, high-pitched real moans of his name.

It was euphoric for him, to make another person feel so good that they completely lose themselves in the moment, in the feeling of the rite of movement. He used to think that this was enough, that the act of sex and unbridled pleasure was all viewers would want to see. He thought he was enough.

But in the adult film industry, sex was never just enough.

He didn’t like being told how he should fuck.

Yank her hair harder.

Slap her around a little.

Squeeze her cheeks till she cries.

Choke her.

I want to see bruises on her ass, Joel.

Fuck her like you mean it, like you hate her. Like she’s your bitch. Your property.

Are we making a porno here or what? Don’t wipe her tears. That’s not what men want. They want to see a cunt being pounded. C’mon, Joel. This is supposed to be a male fantasy!

He learned how to dissociate and remove himself from the scene entirely. He worked on autopilot, tuning out the jarring voices that demanded more from him and his partner(s). And when the passion faded, he struggled to stay hard and on top of his game.

And even with the warm, wet mouth of a fluffer sucking his soft cock, he wasn’t turned on. Not in the slightest and he could feel the shame creeping up on his neck as the director barked at him to get his shit together.

“What do you mean you’re not able to get hard, Miller? You got a hot piece of ass under you, man! What the hell else do you want? Y’know, would it really hurt for you to be more like your brother?”

“She’s got a name, you know.” Joel bit back, grinding his jaw back and forth. The blatant disrespect that women faced on a day to day basis was downright disgusting.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You make pornos, Joel! Or did you forget? Stop acting like a fucking sissy and do your goddamn job.”

“I need a minute,” he gruffed out and gently pushed the fluffer's mouth off of his cock. He strode past the director and the rest of the set crew and pulled his boxers on in a haste.

“Fine. You get 10 minutes, Miller. And when you get back, I expect you to be fucking ready, and hard.”

Joel didn’t respond as he shucked on his shorts and threw on his hoodie, grabbing his phone and pack of cigarettes to stuff in his pocket. He averted making eye contact with the director, shoulder checking him on his way out of the room.

10 minutes, Miller!

Fuck you is what Joel really wanted to say as he walked at a fast past towards the nearest exit in the long hallway.

-

The sun was blinding the moment he stepped outside into the back alley. He whipped his phone out, nervously pacing back and forth as he dialed Tommy’s number, listening to the dial tone ring and ring.

“Hey, you old fart! Feelin’ 30 yet?” Tommy said playfully.

“Yeah. I’m feelin’ 30 alright.” Joel grumbled, sinking back against the side of the building.

“What’s up? I know how much you hate your birthday, but why do you sound so—”

“I’m fuckin’ quitting, Tommy. I can’t do this shit anymore. I can’t fuckin’ do it. I’m about five seconds away from stormin’ back in there and beatin’ the living shit out of the director.” He snapped, carding his fingers through his hair, gripping the roots tightly. “I’m throwin’ the towel in, and I ain’t lookin’ back.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold on now, what the fuck happened? Are you sure you just want to—”

“Tommy.” Joel warned him, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t start this with me, okay? I need to know if you’re with me on this because I sure as hell ain’t leavin’ you out here on your own.”

“I ain’t a kid anymore, Joel. If you want to quit for your own reasons, that’s fine, and I support you, but that doesn’t mean that—” he sighed deeply, weighing out his words in his head before he said, “of course I’m with you on this.”

“I’m not gonna force you to quit, Tommy. I jus’ don’t think this cesspool is fuckin’ good for either of us. Talked to a few others that were thinkin’ of quitting, but no one has pulled the trigger yet. We can do some amateur work till we find our footing again, and I want to move back home, Tommy. I want to move back to Texas. I fuckin’ hate this state. Everythin’ is too damn expensive.”

“I’ll follow you wherever you go, Joel. You know I will. But what about…Carmen and Sarah? You jus’ gonna pack your shit up and not tell her?”

Joel felt his heart twist and clench, knocking the air from his lungs because for the first time in his 30 years of life, his heart was going to be broken, and there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable from happening.

“She’s never gonna accept me for who I am and my job, Tommy. She resents it, I know she does. And Sarah will eventually resent me too. She’ll grow up and feel ashamed that her stepfather is a fuckin’ pornstar. They both deserve better than what I can offer them. It’s not like I can just start over and get a respectable job! What established company is gonna hire a guy who’s CV consists of a highschool diploma, a year of working construction jobs and 12 years in the adult film industry?”

Tommy felt his heart break for his brother, splitting right down the middle. “Joel…” he trailed off.

“Her friends treat me differently, and everytime I’ve brought up the potential of meeting her family, she changes the subject on me, Tommy. And you know what? I don’t blame her. Who the fuck would want to introduce their pornstar boyfriend to anyone, let alone her family? I jus’ figured I’d cut her losses sooner rather than later. And even if things were to work out, and I get a new job, a new life, am I just supposed to accept the knowledge of knowin’ that the entire time we have been together, she’s resented my job? Some things just aren’t meant to work out, and that’s fine. I’ll let her go and she’ll meet a nice, normal, man with a good stable job who doesn’t fuck for a living.”

Joel Miller. Paging, Joel. You’re needed on set. Hurry the fuck up—

“Fuckers.” Joel muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet. “I gotta go, okay? I’ll text you in a bit.”

“Wait, Joel,” Tommy started, trying to think of what he could possibly say to his brother that would make the situation better. “Everythin’ is gonna be okay. It’ll all work out in the end.”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied flatly. “I’ll see you.” he ended the call, shoving his phone back into his hoodie pocket and pushed open the exit door just as his name was called over the intercom again.

This time he was going to put his foot down for good. He wasn’t going to be lured back in. He was done. His mind was made up and there would be no turning back.

-

“Fucking finally. I said 10 minutes, Miller. You’re lucky I even gave you that.” The director scoffed and snapped his fingers at the fluffer to do her job.

Joel stopped her with a gentle hand along her shoulder before he made direct eye contact with the director. “That won’t be necessary.”

“What the fuck do you mean that won’t be necessary? We were supposed to be wrapped up with this shit already. I have a freshie to introduce to you afterwards, so if we can just get a move on—”

“I said, that won’t be necessary.” Joel calmly reiterated as he grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder.

“Boy, you better fucking start talking. What do you mean that won’t be necessary?!”

“It means that I quit. And I hope that freshie and every other woman here fuckin’ quits while they still have the chance.”

The atmosphere in the brightly lit room immediately shifted and the tension was palpable. Joel’s onscreen partner was shocked, the fluffer was shocked along with the rest of the film crew.

“You have gotta fucking joking me right now.” The director laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You got some fucking nerve, Miller.”

Joel shrugged, glancing around the room before he turned towards the door, grasping the handle in his palm and pushed it open. He paused, looking over his shoulder, giving his onscreen partner a small, reassuring nod, “oh, and just a little word of advice? If you want sex to sell, and for Brazzers to not tank like the fuckin’ stock market, start by treatin’ women in the industry with respect. Jus’ a little food for thought. Pass that onto the CEO, and then tell him to shove it right up his ass.”

He walked out after that, listening to the director holler his name and something along the lines of, you’ll be back. They always fucking come back!

And on his way out, his shoulder gently made contact with another body rushing up the stairwell. “‘S’cuse me.” He rasped.

You didn’t get a look at the stranger's face on your way up. You were too focused on the fact that you were running late, and couldn’t afford to be potentially fired.

He didn’t get a look at your face either.

-

Joel opted to be alone for the rest of the day, sitting on the hood of his car, smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes while he watched the clouds roll by, and tourists stop to take pictures of the infamous Hollywood sign. He thought about his life up until this point.

30 years on this shithole we call earth. 12 years spent in the adult film industry, and never had he felt so lost and alone. Hours away from ending his first ever long term relationship and leaving the past behind.

Fuck 30. He thought to himself.

The inevitable settled into his bones as the sun slowly began to set behind the mountains, creating stunning hues of pink, oranges and purples in the sky. His phone buzzed on the exterior of the hood of his car, tearing him away from his thoughts when Carmen’s name popped up on the screen.

Hey, birthday boy. Are we still on for Thai food tonight? x.

Hey, baby. Yeah, of course. Can’t wait to see you.

5 missed calls from Tommy

10 messages from Tommy.

What happened to fucking calling me later, Joel?!

Why is your phone going straight to voicemail!

Can you just let me know that you’re okay?!

Joel.

Dude.

Pick up your phone!

And you call me the bad texter?!

This isn’t funny.

I didn’t sign up for the silent treatment!

If you’re dead in a ditch somewhere I’m gonna fucking kill you!!

He typed out a quick message to his brother informing him that he was in fact still alive and that he would be home soon.

What he wasn’t expecting was Carmen and Tommy to host a surprise birthday dinner at his apartment. He wasn’t mad at his brother for not giving him a heads up, and it wasn’t like Tommy could tell Carmen a simple, hey, by the way, my brother is going to break up with you and he wants to move back to Texas!

But all Joel could feel now when she pressed her lips to his in a sweet kiss, and planted a silly little party hat on his head, was guilt. An overwhelming tidal wave of guilt and shame for what he was going to do. And throughout the evening his guilt began to fester like an untreated wound. Bubbling pus leaked from his heartstrings like a broken faucet when he opened his unexpected present from Carmen.

It was a pocket wrist watch with an olive green strap that fit his wrist perfectly.

“You’re always misplacing your phone, so I figured that this would help you tell the time better? I know it isn’t much—”

He interjected softly, looking over at her with a small smile tugging on his lips, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I’m so sorry.

And when Tommy stepped outside for a smoke and to give Joel and Carmen a bit of privacy, the energy shifted and Joel could feel the thread between them being pulled tight, threatening to snap at any given moment.

“Joel, is everything okay? You’ve hardly said a word to me tonight.”

And instead of responding, he got up from the couch in a haste, trying to keep his nerves at bay, but truthfully? He was panicking and it was written all over his face. “I’m fine, Carm. I jus’—I need some air.” He walked the short distance to the little balcony, pulling the door open as he stepped outside into the cooling night air.

Lights shimmered in the distance, palm trees swayed from a breeze off the coast. 30 years old and he felt like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet. Can I fix this? Can I make it work?

He stared down at the watch on his wrist, the tiny spokes ticking away as he rested his forearms along the paint chipped railing, listening to the soft squeak of the sliding door being pulled open as the blood rushed in his ears.

He tapped his foot nervously, jaw ticking under the fading light at the realization that there was no turning back.

“Do you love me?” He suddenly spoke, teeth grinding down on the inside of his cheek, the taste of copper bursting on his tongue. A reminder come morning when he would awake to the same soreness in his mouth that he feels in his heart.

“Joel…” she trailed off, standing alongside him, rubbing her arm as a self-soothing gesture.

“Do you love me…unconditionally?” His question hung heavy in the air, and when she didn’t immediately answer, tears began to prick the corner of his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.

“Baby, please…why are—”

“Please don’t call me that right now, Carmen. Please.” he sniffled, staring back out over the railing at the shimmering mirage of Los Angeles. “If you did love me unconditionally, you would have answered me right away. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I jus’—I know you resent me for being a pornstar. I’ve known about it for a while,” he said softly, feeling a tear rolling down along the side of his nose and drip down over his lips. His dewy eyed gaze met hers briefly, before he looked away. “And I also know that you would never ask me to quit, but you and I both know that’s what you want from me.”

There was no point in trying to deny it any longer. There was no bad blood, no bitterness. Just two adults facing the reality that is life. And sometimes…relationships don’t work out. The passion fades and resentment rears its ugly head.

“And no matter how many times I have tried to earnestly explain to you why I chose this career path, you will never understand. And I would never try to force you to. But it’s not fair to you, myself, or Sarah to continue this relationship when you will never accept me for who I am, Carmen.”

“You’re right, Joel.” She said quietly, her own tears beginning to brew along her waterline. “I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed the lump growing in his throat and the sob threatening to leave his lips, “I am too.”

There isn’t much left to say as they hug for the last time. She wishes him well in life and he does the same. There’s a new ache in his chest at the thought of him no longer being involved in Sarah’s life anymore. But he believes she’ll be better off without him, too.

And when she leaves his apartment for the last time, taking almost 3 years of memories along with her as the front door clicks shut, and her echoing footsteps down the hall become softer and softer, he lets out the sob he had been suppressing, sinking down to his knees in defeat.

Tears stream down his cheeks as a car horn blares below on the street.

Fuck you, asshole! Get out of the road! The owner of a sleek BMW yells with the window rolled down to a teenager crossing the street on his bike.

30 years old and heartbroken. So much for having his shit together.

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[thesalemwitchtries]

Dreaming Of a Grave: Chapter Two

Word Count: 3,190

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Named! Fem! Enhanced! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries sustained through physical assault (no implication of sexual assault at all, so maybe goons beat reader up in her apartment, but they weren't total pricks about it?), There is mention of a man being a creep towards young girls and physical violence against him because of it, the girls are fine, mention of distrust of police/government, Also I didn't change Mrs. Cardenas' existing dialogue, but for everything I created it's in Spanish, because the broken English being spoken when two other speakers are present and when she understands English just fine and then also being killed off for white male plot reasons... none of that sits right with me, so she speaks Spanish and Foggy is accommodated by Matt and Karen, as is perfectly common in an American setting I feel. I know that it was for an English speaking audience but still, subtitles or something. Also when they address her in Spanish they call her Sra, just because I've never spoke to someone in their native language and used an English title, it just was too weird for me to write it that way idk.

Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading! Any comments or feedback are much appreciated!

Also I am not a native Spanish speaker, I've been studying it for a long time, but I've been practicing French and Arabic more lately, which sometimes are all jumbled together in the Non-English half of my brain, so if you see something wrong or funky, please let me know, I would rather be corrected than go around not knowing, especially since it's my favorite language.

Another person might have struggled to focus when faced with the amount of turmoil that Matt Murdock was currently against. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily for those who cared about him, Matt had been capable of excellent focus ever since he was young. Beyond being able to tune out any extra input or hone in on the important bits, when Matt cared about something, he could drive out everything except for his goal. 

His problems with Fisk, the Russians, keeping Claire safe, that could all wait until after work. For now, his attention was locked in on the nervous woman who’d walked into their offices, claiming to have been directed there by Brett’s mother. 

Karen helped to translate as Mrs. Cardenas spoke, given her soft voice and more gentle demeanor, Matt felt content to let her do the questioning while he listened in. According to Elena, two weeks ago men came to her apartment building and tore into the walls with sledgehammers, leaving many people without power or water. Their landlord refused to answer them or help, and when they went to the police, they were told that there was nothing to be done, it was an issue for the city to solve. 

A whole building of people and families, left completely on their own. They deserved to have hope that justice would be served on their behalf. Nelson and Murdock could give them that, though it may take a few months in the courts.

The case that Mrs. Cardenas had brought them was daunting, to say the very least. 

Armand Tully had a reputation as a predatory landlord. His properties were rent-controlled by the city, which was the only protection that tenants had against his greed. Buildings crumbled under his purview. Leaky pipes, faulty wires, and poor security all combined to leave only the most desperate candidates willing to build their lives in his apartments. 

Tully presided over another twist in the cycle of poverty, ensuring his tenants had to spend their own money on these repairs and legal fees, money that could’ve been saved to afford a better landlord.

Worse still, no one could fight Tully. He kept barely within municipal code, and allowed other suits to be tied up in civil courts for as long as possible before doing the right thing. Matt and Foggy had detested running into his cases when they were interning, it felt like a betrayal of their roots.

To Matt, Wilson Fisk was like a blackout rolling through Hell’s Kitchen. Even when Fisk wasn't the direct cause, the increasing spread of darkness through the city was emboldened by his mere presence. The worst sides of everyone around him were encouraged, their greed and cruelty nurtured to monstrous levels.

People feared the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for the pain left in his wake, but he wasn’t the one inspiring lowlifes like Tully to start smashing in the walls of family homes. All for a quick buck and an investment opportunity. 

Elena’s voice wavered as she explained that the tenants had exhausted all of the options that they could. They were desperate, and it was a relief for Matt to know that at least he was still capable of making one right decision, it could even be easy.

Talking with Claire had him questioning if he really was doing more harm as the Devil than good, it certainly hadn’t been good enough to help protect her last night. However, if Matt hadn’t decided to leave Landman & Zack, he would be defending an asshole like Tully against a vulnerable woman like Mrs. Cardenas right about now. 

Maybe he wasn’t doing the right thing as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, in fact he was pretty sure that he wasn’t, but he couldn’t stop. The work had to be done, and if the city was going to paint people with sin, Matt would prefer it to paint him. If it did, then the people who deserved better could finally have better. Matt Murdock would be there in the daylight, always ready to listen out for the weak, to help them the way that God and his father wanted him to.

Karen walked around the table to offer Mrs. Cardenas a box of tissues. Meanwhile, Foggy was already moving on to next steps, thinking aloud about strategy; “This says Tully offered them 10,000 dollars to give up their rent control and vacate the premises. Maybe we can pressure him into giving a better payout.”

While that’d be the easiest solution, Matt knew before she spoke that Mrs. Cardenas wouldn’t go for it. He could hear her head and gold earrings shake in unison, and a whiff of aerosol hairspray accompanied the resolute motion.

“No, Señor Foggy. We do no want money. We want to stay in our homes,” she pleaded, barely holding back her tears while trying to get them to understand her position. Matt already understood, he wouldn’t want to leave his home either. 

Matt remembers when aliens tore a hole in the sky and started smashing Hell’s Kitchen apart— as if anyone could forget something like that. He’d been sheltered with Foggy in their broom closet of an office at Landman & Zack, desperately trying to understand what was happening, worrying about the Nelson’s, and dreading the possibility that he may die before passing the bar. Below the more urgent panic, as the trembling ground and ear-splitting attacks slowed into one of the worst headaches of his life, Matt worried about Hell’s Kitchen, his apartment, if there would be even a scrap of home left to return to. 

He had prayed for a long time that day. Just as he was about to reassure her, Mrs. Cardenas took a shaky breath and continued speaking. 

“Hay algo más. Los obreros, son solamente un ‘city issue’. Pero, uno de mis vecinos, Ms. Charlotte, ella fue… atacada por ellos.”

“They attacked her?” Karen gasped, pen almost falling from her grip. She and Foggy exchanged a frantic look, and Matt’s back straightened, posture growing as stiff as the curl of his frown.

“Pienso que si, pero no me digas lo que sucedió—”

“She thinks so, but her neighbor won’t tell her what happened,” Karen translated, stumbling over the words a little in her shock.

Mrs. Cardenas grabbed another tissue from the box that Karen had provided for her as she spoke, explaining that she thought that her neighbor had been hurt while standing up to the workers.

With Karen intermittently translating for Foggy, Elena explained that once, an older man had been following some of the building’s young girls home from school. Rumor has it that when Charlotte found out, she began walking home with them to keep them safe. One day the creep dared to say something inappropriate, and Charlotte maced him. She then allegedly stomped so hard on one of his hands that the story says she broke every finger. Allegedly.

He never returned, and she leads a pigtailed parade into the building almost every afternoon.

Elena figured maybe Charlotte had tried to stop the damages, having been one of the only younger adults there that day, working from home. Many of the working tenants were out, leaving only children, older residents, and few others. People had been scared, many of the children down Elena’s hall had gone to hide in her own apartment. Mrs. Cardenas also swore that she’d seen Charlotte injury-free just that morning before the workers arrived.

“La próxima día, la ví en el vestíbulo. Charlotte tuvo moretones en la garganta y las muñecas, y en el pómulo— la piel está rota.” Mrs. Cardenas spat out the list of injuries as if they stung, jerkily motioning to her own body as she spoke. Karen turned her mouth into the palm of her hand and closed her eyes, Foggy looking between her and the stone-faced Matt.

“What does that mean? Guys, what happened?” 

Foggy’s question was absorbed into the tense silence of the conference room. 

Matt pulled his hands from the table and tightly knotted them in his lap. It was good that his glasses shielded the old woman acrost him from the full force of his glare, Mrs. Cardenas wasn’t the intended recipient of his rage. No, it was someone else entirely that he’d be searching for that night. The Devil had heard its name being called, and wanted nothing more than to punish the kind of worm that would beat a young woman in her own space. His fingers twitched, knuckles turning even whiter from the force of his restraint.

“Seriously, what did she say?”

Sensing the lump in Karen’s throat, Matt took it upon himself to answer Foggy’s question as best he could through the gritted frown on his face. He translated what Charlotte looked like when Mrs. Cardenas saw her in the building lobby the next day, from the bruises on her neck and wrists, to the one on her cheekbone that came from a hit so hard that the skin had split open.

“Jesus, and they still claim that these were contractors? Maybe brutes for hire, but certainly not plumbers.” Foggy scoffed, shaking his discomfort off in the only way that he knew how. Unknowingly, he’d set the Devil to work inside of Matt’s head, achingly familiar with the work of hired goons. Maybe there was more at play here. Or, you could be obsessed and paranoid.

“Did she say anything about what happened? Give some story or excuse?” Foggy asked, leaning in across the table. Karen picked her pen up again, turned to a fresh page of the notepad and copied down the injuries that Elena had described. The gentle scratching filled Matt’s ears as he thought. He arranged a tentative plan of action, the rest of the day could be spent on gathering information, and once the sun had fully set, he’d let the Devil pick his favorite of all the violent thoughts running through his head.

 “Excuse? No, no. Ella no hablará con nadie sobre eso. Intenté muchas veces, y nada. Brett, el hijo de Bess, lo vistió, sin uniforme, sin placa. Pero ella, no… no budge.”

Shifting in her seat, Karen turned toward Foggy and Matt, head bowed towards the table as she spoke; “She won’t talk to anyone about it, Brett Mahoney visited without his badge and uniform, but she still wouldn’t explain.”

“Sra. Cardenas, por qué Charlotte no se ha ido a hacer una denuncia? No es ‘city issue’, eso es criminal, asalto con agresión.” Matt asked, wanting to know why an assault charge hadn’t been filed. Were there more cops on Fisk’s payroll then he’d thought? Maybe they’d dismissed the charges to cover up what had been done.

“Si, yo sé, y le dije. Nada.” Mrs. Cardenas spread her hands in defeat as she explained that even though she’d explained this to Charlotte, it had done nothing.

“Mrs. Cardenas, if those men hurt her, why won’t she file a report?” Foggy asked, brow furrowed as he tried to understand this neighbor. There were many reasons why victims of various crimes didn’t come forward, maybe if they could help to ease her fears, then they could move forward with charges. 

It would certainly make the civil case more valid if they were also filing criminal charges against the workers. 

“Pienso que está herida y tiene mucho miedo. Más por los funcionarios que los obreros. Ella fue tajante, no quiere hacer una denuncia, no quiere hacer nada sobre eso.”

This wasn’t good news for the civil case. Injured and scared, Charlotte wasn’t willing to file a report because she was more afraid of the officials than of the workers returning. She was firm about not doing anything. Matt wondered if someone had already convinced her not to step forward. Like that one scumbag had said, there’s gonna be another light in another window.

“Sra. Cardenas, vamos hacer todo que podamos. Foggy hablará con su abogado de la gentador esta tarde, y hablaré con tu vecina sobre sus opciones para ayuda. Estarámos en contacto.”

It was such a relief to hear that something would be done, to have a plan, and Elena sighed, reaching across to squeeze Matt’s hands, “Gracias, Senor Murdock. Muchas gracias.”

Karen led Mrs. Cardenas out of the office, and Matt explained to Foggy that he was going to be spending his afternoon speaking with Tully’s lawyers on behalf of the tenants.

“Tully’s lawyer?” Foggy asked, exiting the conference room hot on Matt’s heels, “Do you know who reps him?”

Matt grabbed his cane from the corner, not even attempting to hide his laugh before he turned back around, “Yeah, I know.”

“Landman and Zack!” Foggy insisted, arms gesturing at his sides in a way that agitated the air, the smell of anxiety wafting towards Matt. Apparently deciding that Matt didn’t quite get it, Foggy leaned forward, voice straining with hushed emphasis, “Landman and mother-freakin' Zack, man!”

Karen and her soft perfume breezed through the door behind him, having guided Mrs. Cardenas to the taxi waiting for her on the street below. 

“Ooh, sounds impressive.” She made her way to her desk with the notes and information from their meeting, “Are they looking to hire?”

“Oh, you wouldn't be happy.” Matt said, gesturing to Foggy with his cane, “We used to intern there.”

“Oh, right.” Karen bobbed forward over the desk, how could she have forgotten about the first thing that Foggy brought up whenever the cooling fall air came in through cracks in the windows, or when the lights flickered, or if Matt breathed too loudly. Karen had made the mistake one of her first mornings on the job of thinking out loud about how nice a bagel would be for breakfast. Matt had groaned from his open office, and before she could ask, Foggy was suddenly opining in the reception space about a place where there were all the free bagels that you could eat, every. single. morning.

Foggy flicked his hands around in annoyance, defeat and coating his dry words, “And they offered us a job, a great job. Which we turned down to go off and save the world. Now they hate us.”

Karen and Foggy shared a smile as he finished his speech, all of them knowing that he wouldn’t change a thing, even for free bagels. As much as he complained about their circumstances, Matt knew that he loved what they were doing, that Foggy wouldn’t have survived long in a place like Landman and Zack. 

Letting Foggy in was easy, it was impossible not to really, and staying friends with him was even easier because Matt saw that Foggy was one of those people that was effortlessly good. Unlike him with his devilish shadow, Foggy didn’t have to struggle to make the right choice. Greed and desire could tempt as much as they wanted, he wouldn’t cave, even if he pretended differently. When he knew something was wrong, Foggy Nelson would not do or endorse, and having him by his side always made Matt feel more at ease.

Already, he was moving away from sarcastic complaints, turning back to Matt so they could start working on a plan for how to approach this case. “We'll need to load for bear if we're gonna take them on.” 

“I'll hit the precinct to check for complaints against Tully.”

Foggy’s panicked objection was cut off by Karen calling out, “Is that before, or after you go talk to Elena’s neighbor like you said you would?”

He released the hand that he’d had on the doorknob, he’d been so close to leaving. Unfortunately Karen seemed to have her own radar for picking things up, and she wasn’t always keen on offering slack. Matt could sense, but was in no way fooled by the innocent tilt of her head. Beside him, Foggy’s eyes narrowed. Just one step and he’d have been out the door, no such luck.

“After,” Matt nodded, having to accept defeat, “Thanks, Karen.”

“No problem,” she chirped back, mirroring the sarcastic smile that he’d given her. Hands spread between the two, Foggy abandoned his professionalism in favor of once again being annoyed at Matt Murdock.

“Wait, wait, hold on. How is it that I’m going to Landman and Zack, while you go and talk with the damsel in distress?”

It’s not as if Matt could say that he was going to speak with the neighbor not just for the case, but also for an illegal extracurricular activity where he would be using his super senses to try and identify the assailants. Matt sighed, shifting on his feet. Half-truth it is.

“Well, from what Mrs. Cardenas described, it seems like the only way that Ms. Tanner would answer the door for a man in a suit is if he looked like he needed help. What was it that you call it again?”

Foggy threw his head back, groaning for a long moment before facing Matt again. Though his face spelled his disapproval, his eyes shone with the reminder of their first meeting and love for his friend.

“The ‘wounded duck’, you’re gonna wounded duck yourself.” Foggy said, one hand on his hip and head bobbing. His free hand leveled an accusatory finger at Matt. “I swear she better not be hot, because this is becoming cosmically unfair. You need a new phone for all of your girls, and now I’m going to play chum while you’re off being a hero.”

“Chum?” Matt laughed, hearing Karen tilt her head in confusion, before her hair rustled with a shake and she focused back on organizing the new files. There were maybe three whole files in the whole cabinet, but Matt could hear her moving them around repeatedly on slow days. So, almost every day.

“Yeah, chum!” Foggy burst out, leaning forward to hiss out a plea to Matt, “I can't go to L and Z alone. They're gonna shark attack me, Matt. Look at me, I'm delicious.”

“Well, take Karen.” Matt said through his chuckling, pointing over at the woman who had been trying to mind her own business.

“I-I mean, yeah, if she wants to.” Foggy stumbled and shrugged, taken completely unaware by Matt’s suggestion. His heart raced despite the way that he was trying to play it cool, and Matt fought off a smirk.

“Oh,” Karen straightened with her own surprise at the action, before tossing her hands up. “Sure. Never seen sharks feed up close before.”

Matt chuckled as they all prepared to leave the office, “Try not to splash too much. It attracts 'em.”

“You both are so funny.” Foggy huffed in mock despair as he turned to grab a coat. The two just laughed louder. “That piece of notebook paper on the door has my name on it first, you know. Which means that only one of you is allowed to mock me at a time.”

Already out in the hall, Matt called over his shoulder, “Of course, that’s why we were taking turns.”

“Oh wounded duck off, Matt!” Foggy cried, and the laughter of his friends followed Matt all the way down the stairs and out onto the street.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil #slim ficc #matt murdock #dreaming of a grave #doag #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock x enhanced!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #daredevil x female reader

[fawn-wickenshire]

My Other Stardew Valley OCs!

I've had these OCs for a while, but I've finally decided to share them! They exist in a separate universe to Fawn and aren't related to her story at all.

Mel Josephine Matthews

Mel is the oldest of the three. She's the most stoic, responsible, and strong both physically and emotionally. Mel can get into fights with her younger sister Sydney, who is a stark difference to her. She expects Syd to be more responsible than she is and will push her too far sometimes, but she has her heart in the right place. Mel enjoys art of all kinds, but is partial to poetry and painting, something she used to practice in her younger years.

Mel is twenty-eight years old as of the start of her story. She is 180 cm (5'10"). She is friends with Elliott, Maru, Leah, and Shane (though her relationship with Shane started out as enemies). Her main skills are farming and fishing.

(Made using this portrait creator.)

Sydney Locke Matthews

The rambunctious middle sister, Sydney--or Syd, as she prefers to be called--is a firecracker of energy. She's always looking for something to do, and will often throw herself down into the mines in search of adventure. Still, she's not very responsible, having been fired from her only job; a job she struggled to get. And she's a terrible farmer, but she is the most loyal and ready-to-go sister of the bunch.

Syd is twenty-five years old as of the start of her story. She is 157 cm (5'1") tall. She is friends with Sam, Sebastian, Abigail, and Harvey. Her main skills are mining and combat.

(Made using this portrait creator.)

Adeline Iniya Matthews

Adeline is the youngest of the three sisters and is not biologically related to them, having been adopted. Her past is shrouded in a sense of mystery, but she doesn't pay it much mind. Adeline is the sweetest of the girls, having also perfected her customer service smile over the years from her work. She's a lover of flowers and bees, spending most of her work on the farm producing bouquets and honey.

Adeline is twenty-two years old as of the start if her story. She is 167 cm (5'5") tall. She is friends with Alex, Haley, Emily, and Penny. Her main skills are farming and foraging.

(Made using this portrait creator.)

Main Plot

The girls' story starts with them moving tot he valley. Mel was the one who inherited the farm from her grandfather, but that was because at the time there was only her and Sydney, and her grandfather trusted her more with the property.

At the time of moving, Mel has just quit her job as a customer billing attendant at Joja Corp. Her sister Sydney has been living with her for a few months after being fired from her job at a fast food place and having no way of paying her rent. Mel, who can barely afford to take care of herself, reluctantly decides to take up on her grandfather's offer.

Adeline, however, did not originally plan on joining them. Only after one of her workplaces was caught in a massive fire, leaving her with not enough money to pay off her rent and university/college debt, does she decide to move. She's easily the most annoyed about the move, having been working towards getting a Bachelor of Science in Marketing. Even after moving, she still has to pay off her debt, leaving her even more annoyed.

That's the main gist of the beginning of the story, but I have more planned. At some point Sydney and Adeline get their own small houses on the property to give some distance and privacy between them all. They have the basic farm, but sort of haphazardly split it between them all.

#i searched really hard for typos and whatnot in this but let me know if i missed something lol #wickenshire.txt #mel matthews #farmer mel #sydney matthews #farmer sydney #adeline matthews #farmer adeline #matthews farmers #matthews sisters #sdv #stardew valley #sdv oc #sdv ocs #stardew oc #stardew valley oc #sdv farmer #stardew farmer #stardew valley farmer

[uboat53]

I've read and seen a few things recently that have sparked a thought, LONG RANT (TM) time while I work it out?

INTRODUCTION

So, about a week ago, I read a piece on Tumblr by Cory Doctorow in which he argues that the right side of the American political spectrum has become so enamored of property rights that it cannot focus on human rights. I also recently watched a clip of George Carlin on Real Time With Bill Maher from some time ago talking about the situation after Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans in which Bill Maher made the following point:

"…as if, in the middle of this crisis where so many people are dying already, what we need to do is shoot Tyrone because he's getting out of Circuit City with some soggy tweeters."

I'll link both of these at the bottom if you're interested in checking them out, they're both fascinating reads/listens on their own.

The thought this sparked in me is this: one cannot successfully promote human rights if they are placed equal to property rights, and this is the fundamental problem with any attempt that the right-wing, be it the MAGA movement, the conventional right, or the libertarian right, to make people's lives better. This gets a bit into the weeds, but let me work through this because I think it's important.

CAPITALISM VS. CAPITALISM

The first thing we have to address is the term "capitalism" which gets thrown around by the right and the left with barely a care in the world. The thing is, they mean two different things when they say it.

When the right says "capitalism", they really mean free-markets. In other words, their capitalism is just the economic idea that supply and demand will determine a natural cost for any good or service and that any other form of intervention will distort that natural cycle. Based on my experience, this is what most Americans think of when they think of the word capitalism.

When the left says "capitalism", on the other hand, they're talking about an economic, philosophical, and political system in which capital is prioritized over labor. For example, it can mean that capital is taxed at lower rates than labor and laws prioritize the protection of capital over the protection of labor. They've had a hard time talking to people about this because, well, that's not what most people think of when they hear the word capitalism and people on the left tend to be terrible communicators in general which is a whole other issue.

The reason I focus on this is because I'm going to be focusing on the left's version of "capitalism". Unfortunately, I don't have a better word for it, so I wanted to very clear what I meant before I started. We're talking about a system where capital is prioritized over labor, not a system of supply and demand.

RENT SEEKING

Before we discuss things in a bit more detail, there's one more concept that I need everyone to have in their heads. One of the main reasons why unregulated markets tend to spiral into oligarchies is a phenomenon known as "rent seeking". Rent seeking is, according to the Wikipedia article, "the act of growing one's existing wealth by manipulating the social or political environment without creating new wealth." This can happen by manipulating regulations, but it can also happen simply by using the power of property to lock out competition.

Here's the Wikipedia article itself if you're interested.

Let's take, for example, someone who owns land. A person who develops capital and wealth by improving that land is not rent seeking, but a person who simply owns the land and charges for its use is. This person adds nothing to the collective wealth of a society and simply siphons the existing wealth into their own pocket by virtue of the ownership of property.

In any functional, real-world economy, there will always be some degree of rent seeking, but when capital is valued over labor, then rent seeking can grow to the point where it threatens the stability of the system. Not only are rent seekers unproductive, they actively drain resources from productive activities, making them particularly damaging to the prosperity of a society.

PREFERENCE FOR CAPITAL OVER LABOR

I mentioned a system that values capital over labor, so let me expand a bit on that. In our system, the highest long-term capital gains rate, the rate at which capital gains are taxed, is 20% for high income individuals. The highest income tax rate is 37%. I should note that "long-term" isn't actually all that long, you only have to hold an asset for a year for it to fall under this bracket.

In other words, if you make over $44,726 (as of the 2023 tax year), you're better off making that income as a capital gain than by working for it.

This is the most obvious thing I mean by a preference for capital over labor, but there are hundreds of small and hidden ways that we favor capital as well. There are tax incentives that state and local governments give to capital investment, there is the fact that wage theft is overwhelmingly the largest crime in dollar value in the United States yet is rarely prosecuted, and there is the proliferation in the last few decades of right-to-work laws which were designed to undermine unions with no similar effort to undermine groups that advocate for capital.

I could go on and on and on but the basic conclusion is this: in hundreds of ways both large and small over the last several decades, the United States has systematically advantaged capital and disadvantaged labor to the point where it is far more advantageous to own capital and even rent seek than it is to work.

THE ECONOMIC PROBLEM WITH ABSOLUTE PROPERTY RIGHTS

Now to property rights. If we look carefully, our system which advantages capital also advantages rent seeking as it does not discriminate between the productive and unproductive use of capital. There are certainly limits, a machine that is unused provides little profit, but things like land, buildings, and even machinery can provide profits to their owners even when those owners take little or no effort to improve them.

In fact, there are many investments in which rent seeking, perversely, may be MORE profitable than productive improvement due to the costs of improvement. In economic theory this is impossible as other productive investments would exist that could provide greater profit due to their productivity. In the real-world, however, inefficiencies exist that mean that this is often not the case.

In a healthy society, these inefficiencies would be addressed by regulation and policy, but a belief in absolute property rights prevent these remedies. When taxation and other, similar, methods are off the table, it makes it impossible to correct for these inefficiencies. This leads to a situation where more and more wealth is eventually captured by unproductive assets and activities, diminishing the overall wealth of society and, thus, diminishing human well being.

THE HUMAN PROBLEM WITH ABSOLUTE PROPERTY RIGHTS

The other problem with property is the simple question of what happens when someone does not have enough of it to meet their material needs? Certainly not everyone needs an X-box, but there are people, for example, who need life saving or even just health preserving care but cannot afford it. I think the rights to life and health can generally be accepted as the most basic of human rights, so how to achieve them?

Well, in just about every system that has ever been able to meet these needs, the solution is simple: property is taken in some form or another from those who have more than enough to meet their needs and used to help those who do not have enough do so. This is true for just about every type of civilization that has ever existed, from simple tribal groups to the modern administrative state, and every failure to meet those human rights stems from a failure to redistribute resources to meet them.

However, once property rights are elevated to the same level as human rights or higher, then this it no longer becomes possible to satisfy human rights. At the most basic level, human rights require some form of currency in order to meet and, if it is not possible to take that currency, it is no longer possible to satisfy those rights.

I should note that there are some who claim that this should be voluntary rather than mandatory, but I think it's a fair point to make that no voluntary system has ever come close to doing as much to meet basic human rights as mandatory systems have and the onus is on anyone who argues this to provide evidence that this is even possible.

THE PROBLEM WITH THE RIGHT

Once you put all of this together, the fundamental problem with the way the right-wing of our political system places property rights equal to human rights becomes clear. A system in which no private property can be taken in a legal way creates a scenario in which rent seeking siphons more and more wealth from the productive economy AND there is no way to use this wealth to meet the material human rights needs of those who will be immiserated by this condition.

I should note that I'm not caricaturing the position of the right here, the belief that property rights are equivalent to human rights is a widespread one. You can see it, for example, when the Libertarian Party of New Hampshire declares that publicly produced, free insulin is equivalent to the enslavement of African-Americans because it interferes with the property rights of pharmaceutical companies or simply the monomaniacal Republican focus on tax cuts and opposition to tax increases to "let people keep what they earn" as the solution to just about every problem.

In every case, for those on the right, property rights have not only become equal to human rights, they have become THE human right.

CONCLUSION

As I said, I'm still fleshing this out, but I think it's clear that treating property as an inalienable right prevents us from addressing basic human rights such as the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

If you've got any thoughts or questions, I'd be very interested to hear them. I hope you enjoyed this or at least found it thought provoking.

ADDENDUM

If you're interested, here is the Cory Doctorow piece I read that discusses this issue from a different perspective.

And this is the episode of Real Time with Bill Maher that I mentioned earlier.

#long rant (tm) #politics #us politics #republicans #libertarians #right wing politics #political philosophy #economics

[aquitainequeen]

The Events At Poroth Farm Read Along: Affidavit

Until August 20th, stay tuned for the unfolding of the terrible truth about The Events at Poroth Farm, by T.E.D Klein!

Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin...

***

As the novella begins, the summer is over, but Jeremy’s hotel room is like an oven. Instead of finishing his preparations for the course on gothic literature that he would have been teaching at Trenton State in the fall, he’s spent the past few days shut up in his sweltering room with the windows locked tight, not daring to leave. The place where he spent the past few months, Poroth Farm, is now a crime scene, while the residents of the nearby town of Gilead whisper of bad crops, polluted well water and rural murder.

Jeremy knows the truth, and he’s going to tell his story…just as soon as the telephone in his room stops ringing, and as long as whatever he desperately fears — whether it’s something waiting on the other end of the line, or an ordinary youth in red sunglasses, sitting on the courthouse steps opposite Jeremy’s hotel for almost as many days as he’s been hiding there — allows him the time to tell it.

A sense of humor- that's one quality I never noticed in it. I saw only a deadly seriousness and, of course, an intelligence that grew at terrifying speed, malevolant and inhuman. If it now feels itself safe enough to toy with me before doing whatever it intends to do, so much the worse for me. So much the worse, perhaps, for all. I hope I'm wrong. Though my name is Jeremy, derived from Jeremiah, I'd hate to be a prophet in the wilderness. I'd much rather be a harmless crank. But I believe we're in for trouble. [1]

While working out how best to begin his affidavit, Jeremy muses on the wilderness that can still be found in rural New Jersey, and the numerous tiny towns that can exist so close to major cities while both are nearly unaware of the other’s existence; religious communities that have remained virtually unchanged since the late 1800s, when technology such as telephones and telegraph truly began to link up America. Jeremy travelled into such a wilderness to one of those towns, Gilead, twenty miles north of Flemington, in quest of solitude. Two members of the close-knit community in Gilead were the Poroths, a married couple barely a few years older than Jeremy who had come to farming relatively late, having purchased their property only the previous year. Looking to supplement their income while they built up their farm, they advertised for a tenant to rent one of their refitted outbuildings behind their farmhouse, and Jeremy, seeking a place where he could read without distraction, saw the immensely secluded location as the perfect spot for his studies.

Jeremy goes into some detail describing the friends he never expected to make, and whom he’s clearly lost. He muses on their physical similarity, due to the limited gene pool in Gilead – both of them were tall, black haired, incredibly pale despite their work in the sun, and seeming at first glance to be siblings rather than merely third cousins - and on the dichotomy of the pair; while belonging to a tiny Mennonitic order and possibly only allowing someone like Jeremy (a dyed in the wool sceptic) to stay on their property because of Sarr’s affinity for the prophet Jeremiah, they were considered young liberals by most of Gilead, with Sarr obtaining a bachelor’s degree in religious studies from Rutgers, Deborah attending community college for two years, and the sheer fact that they owned a television set – ‘in light of what was to come, however, it is unfortunate they lacked a telephone.’ [2] He muses how a visitor to the farm would initially think Sarr moody, stoic and silently judging them, until they realised ‘his reserve was not born of surliness but shyness’. By contrast, Deborah bubbled over with enthusiasm whenever she forgot the formality of her order, with ever increasing verbal and physical affection to both guests and the couple’s seven cats. Alcohol only increased their differences; ‘Deborah would forget the restraints upon women in the order and would eventually dominate the conversation, while her husband would seem to grow increasingly withdrawn and morose.’ [3] In hindsight, Jeremy wonders who really was the stronger of the pair, as he only ever saw them quarrel once.

His plan, now, is to turn to certain portions of the journal he kept throughout the summer in preparation for his anticipated course. Initially meant to record the books he read each day and to keep track of how he’d react to relative and extended solitude, it’s now the sole chronicle of the beginning, unfolding and climax of the terrible events at Poroth Farm. Once his affidavit is completed, Jeremy plans to sneak outside to mail them, and then leave New Jersey for good, clinging desperately to his optimism even while knowing that his fate ‘perhaps […] depends on what’s beneath those rose-tinted spectacles’ [4] of the boy on the steps.  

The first diary entry begins on June 4th…

[1] The Events at Poroth Farm, by T.E.D. Klein, originally published in From Beyond the Dark, edited by Edward P. Berglund in December 1972; this edition found in The Cthulhu Mythos MEGAPACK ®: 40 Modern and Classic Lovecraftian Stories, Loc 2093 of 17308

[2] Ibid, Loc 2188 of 17308

[3] Ibid, Loc 2203 of 17308

[4] Ibid, Loc 2203 of 17308

(If you want to read along and delight in T.E.D. Klein's magnificent novella, you can find it in American Supernatural Tales (Penguin Classics) or The Cthulhu Mythos MEGAPACK ®: 40 Modern and Classic Lovecraftian Stories. If it turns out that I get a cease and desist from Klein et al, go and read the novella regardless!)

#the events at poroth farm #t.e.d. klein #Theodore “Eibon” Donald Klein #the events at poroth farm read along #long post

[kittycuntcellphone-kus]

Excerpt from a fringe internet website:

Every fan of mystery knows of the strange tale of the thirty-second issue of Katopugo, a highly sought after collector's item among enthusiasts of the magazine and mystery fanatics alike; this status being due to a variety of unique qualities. For one, the issue been largely written in Anglican, and for all intents and purposes was borderline an prepared for foreign release as opposed to Katopugo's typical domestic release. To add onto this, this magazine was also the least printed of all previous releases, including its first prints in the 70's. It's suspected that the issues were largely due to a mixture of a massive print error, confusion regarding the contents of the issue among operators that mainly spoke Arulanto, and various issues with print companies. Katopugo's publishing side of operations managed to only close a deal with the small print firm RTB, the limited facilities resulting in only around 9,000 to 10,000 copies being produced, with many containing print errors due to rushed work made to make the deadline for the quarterly Katopugo release schedule. This amount was barely enough to send to all of their subscribers, and due to the age of the issue, and the period's lack of consideration for the history of such a publication, many copies since fell into disrepair, were tossed away, or were otherwise damaged. This leaves us with very few original print releases of this issue, with most under private collection and very few digitized, and any scans having errors, issues, and low quality problems. The strangest part of the whole story, and the main reason the issue is so sought after and eye catching, is the mystery of one model, Catstopher Colombus, who - as far as records are concerned - does not exist and has never existed. There are no records of a Catstopher Colombus having ever been born, there are no banks with accounts under this name, and indeed there is no property owned or rented by a Catstopher Colombus. In interviews from curious fans it was found that even the photographers and directors didn't know much of him. In a 2009 interview Johano Molenko, the lead photographer, stated, "None of us really knew the cat, we just knew he was proper fit and that he could be worked nicely into our lineup of models for the issue. He gave no problems to staff during the shoot and seemed to leave just as soon as he came, completing his work and departing. Strange thing was, I heard this story from payroll that when they began working out his check, they got into this huge fiasco with the banks, and well that's when they - and I guess we - found out that in name he didn't exist. The whole issue was such a mess that we never stopped and thought about it in the moment, but it's something I go back to in my mind from time to time, It's funny to think and talk about but really, it's generally bizarre. What happened to the guy?" Nobody knew about the whereabouts of Catstopher Colombus...

... Until now, of course. You are reading the right page for information on the Katopugo issue 32 mystery at SMUT (The Sanctum for Multi-Universe Teachings), for we've studied the facts, we've read between the lines, and we know we have the simple truth. Some theories believe it may have been that he was a spy of Dubrovnik, or that he was catnapped by the government, or that he perhaps was even secretly a member of the S.R.Ŝ.A, but the truth is MUCH stranger - that Catstopher was not the same as all of us, but that he had knowledge of ASS. Astral Spirit Shipping is a catch-all term we use for a method of inter-dimensional travel that first brings the mind, and then the body between realms. Science has already proven the existence of dimensions time and time again (See Hadley "The True World of our Fractured Universe"), Catstopher (Nicknamed Catty by fans of the Katopugo mistery) held knowledge hitherto forbidden, and he used them to cross the threshold into the beyond after his work was finished in our world. In the next link we explain how he did it, how ASS works, and how you could use ASS with knowledge given to you by us.

Well well well! Once again we find ourselves at that annual closing point, the end of the last year and the beginning of the next -- at least with regards to my physical body, I'm not some kind of walking New Year's day. Once again I've found that any anxiety during previous months about the upcoming birthday was silly, as nothing really feels different. Honestly speaking, I just feel well. I certainly can't complain about my current situation, and am grateful for everything I have in life. From a nice stable home, to my family and my friends, and of course grateful for you all, for without you I wouldn't have been able to basically succeed in a childhood dream; to do commission work. I find it insane to think that I can shut up shop for a time to focus on other things and personal work, and then when I open up find myself with people popping in, asking for work. I wouldn't have expected even one person years ago. I suppose what I'm saying is thank you all, you have been incredibly kind to my work, and have brought me great joy to be able to do the work I love. Other than that, I have plans for the future I'm still working at, some near, some potentially far. I have much commission work to do, I have been very diligently working at the queue and I am extremely grateful for the patience of everyone waiting, especially since I've taken much longer to get person to person than I used to, though I choc this up to higher personal standards and artistic growth. As for things I'm putting into motion, I have an art piece in the works right now, though inbetween wrapping up commission work and other things I don't know when it should be out. I've also had another project collecting dust on my hard drive, so one of these days I may pick it up and resume it. I've been holding back on going too deeply into it on mentioning it because I want it to be surprising when it comes out, but it'll be something more audio than visual. This year has been confusing, coming to grips with new places, meeting new people and keeping up with people. Things certainly don't get too much more simple with only time, or whatever would read as philosophically profound. The core of it all is that I'm well, and I'm very glad to be doing well and feeling well. Thank you for all of your amazing support, I'm sure next year will be just as awesome!

Here's something fun and pretty. ^^

Cheers!

#cat #anthro #furry #reference sheet #ref sheet #fursona #sona #OC #Character #Magazine #Magazine Page #Fake Magazine #Drawing #Art #Birthday

[mitigatedchaos]

[ anon, on the sideblog ]

Your idea isn't not interesting, but isn't it just Georgism with a little bit of Blut und Boden thrown in to make things weird for everybody?

Well I'm not talking about a land value tax, for one.

The mechanism can easily be extended to immigration by either having citizens act as sponsors or having immigrants start at zero and draw from the allocation pool over time like everyone else.

(Also to clear up some potential confusion - the land allocation is about the maximum amount of land under your possession without having to rent it from someone else. You can swap land. You can move, and also you can rent.)

Remember, the remainder of the parent's (or migration sponsor's) land allocation (which will inevitably exist) will go into the allocation pool. (You can make it half if you're being aggressive, rather than 1/N.)

But I actually designed the mechanism for resource allocation under the conditions of life extension.

Life extension allows the total population to rise towards carrying capacity even if the population growth rate isn't that high. This presents a situation where either A) new people don't get to have things (total private property), or B) for new people to exist, stuff has to be taken away from old people (averaging all resources among all living people).

You can get around this if you impose fertility controls ("you may only have X children"), but that requires imposing fertility controls. You have to be willing to violate bodily autonomy, imprison people, and suppress religion in order to impose fertility controls.

So if it's unfair for old people to die just so someone else can have a kid, and it's unfair to actively prevent people from having kids, and it's unfair for kids to be born without a resource allocation...

Then we divide up the parents' resources and give the kids the same share of the total allocation pool of freed-up resources as everyone else over time. This causes adherents of vertically-transmitted hardcore natalist ideologies - the kind that push everyone towards bare subsistence, which sucks and eats away the buffer that prevents conflict to survive during bad years - to hit the limits they would impose on everyone else early.

(Note that if the population isn't close to the limit yet, this mostly means that children of natalists will work more hours for others while waiting for allocation to kick in. Since life extension isn't immortality (still plenty of ways to slip and fall), there's still going to be a stream of allocation being added to the pool.)

If the population is declining, then more allocation is being freed up, and for the people who do have kids, their kids will get more stuff, rewarding having more kids under those conditions.

These kinds of problems can still crop up if you have a world federation with open borders, where plots of land under the allocation scheme can be swapped across territories.

Ethnic or religious demographic competition can continue even if national competition does not - you've probably seen people brag about it from time to time - and this has the same disincentivizing effect under those conditions, reducing incentives for nationalism.

#anons #asks

[sugarbundust]

updates; blurb; semi-rant

ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ At the home-stretch! Wanted to try to post early, but the last few days have been a bit chaotic.

tl;dr til next bold point - Money issues, and a random ass deer deciding it wants to live rent-free in my yard lmao

So many job interviews while being on/off sick, and then got sent bills for additional things we didn’t anticipate having to deal with (like a giant tree in our front yard the township decided it wants to cut down, but the law in our State is we have to pay??? I’m;??;). So I had to try and sell a bunch of things for quick cash, because they won’t work with us for a payment plan.

Goodbye special edition Pokémon Nintendo Switch, and majority of our games and manga. 😑 (Also why are these town services so expensive????) 

I’m incredibly salty. I keep telling myself it’s only monetary goods we can rebuy when we’re not hurting financially, but it’s still upsetting. I hate having to sell stuff. Our savings are pretty much depleted by now, so that’s a looming cloud that’s just the best. /s 

Got some positive news about one potential source of income, though, so knocking on wood that that works out. 🤞🏻

Then today we found out a pregnant deer somehow got into our gated backyard and had a baby, and it was in the middle of a rain storm so bad you could barely see. 😵‍💫 

For context, I live in a town. Deer like this don’t ever wander around here. I can count on a single hand the amount of times I’ve seen them (and never in our yard!). They’re way, way more common farther up by the river, which is like a half-hour drive, so I guess it wandered and got lost? They just... they don’t live here lmao it’s too many people/cars, no shelter or trees for them to hide, etc.

And I don’t say all that because I’m enamored by the fact that they exist—I’m actually very used to deer being around, due to living in areas where they’re far more common. They would run in huge herds through my parents’ property when growing up, along with bear and the like. 

It was just super weird to see one at random when our gates are too tall for them to normally jump???? Like, we don’t even know how she got in?? The baby deer couldn’t get out on its own, we had to help them both leave and stay united, and also panic that they don’t go running into a street with cars. @w@

So that was fantastic way to start the day, being in the heavy rain with a dog that I had to walk, and being surprised by and then advanced on by an angry/panicked mother deer. I don’t need to be trampled lmao and right after I woke up, sans coffee 😂 It was a good thing I had my dog on a leash for all parties involved lmao 

It’s one of those weeks where it’s like, what else can happen?

Also, for those wondering, yes, both deer are fine. 

Now, the positives! Got a lot of editing done last night. Went through over half of the chapter, making it more coherent and trimming fat. Only a small chunk left to go, and then I can post and start drafting the next chapter. Got a bunch of ideas for that, but I’m trying to figure out how far I can stretch things before the fighting/action-scenes begin again. I don’t want to have another mini arc turn into a full-blown ten chapter episode (thank you again, Shinsou). 😂 But there are a few things I want to touch on before we get to the 1-VS-1s. I hope it will be entertaining!

Also had to redo my embedded blockquotes all over again (Thank you AO3 for not following my inputted HTML every time I Save Draft.) lol, so I’m really hoping mobile-readers are going to be okay 🥲  It’s actually worse than the chapter with Aizawa’s learned packet breakdown. OTL If it’s not easily legible when posted, I sincerely apologize!! I tried for a ridiculously long time to make it work 😭 

I’m not going to do deep-set blockquotes going forward. This was it lmao. I understand now why most people just create graphics and embed them into their work 😭💀 Rich Text to HTML conversion was hard enough already. (Why did I make so much more work for myself? lol I always seem to do this. 😂)

But alas. Gonna try to finish tonight! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ I hope it will be worth it! ❤️

#updates #blurb

[grosscrawford24]

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[communist-manifesto-daily]

The Communist Manifesto - Part 10

Let us now take wage-labour.

The average price of wage-labour is the minimum wage, i.e., that quantum of the means of subsistence which is absolutely requisite to keep the labourer in bare existence as a labourer. What, therefore, the wage-labourer appropriates by means of his labour, merely suffices to prolong and reproduce a bare existence. We by no means intend to abolish this personal appropriation of the products of labour, an appropriation that is made for the maintenance and reproduction of human life, and that leaves no surplus wherewith to command the labour of others. All that we want to do away with is the miserable character of this appropriation, under which the labourer lives merely to increase capital, and is allowed to live only in so far as the interest of the ruling class requires it.

In bourgeois society, living labour is but a means to increase accumulated labour. In Communist society, accumulated labour is but a means to widen, to enrich, to promote the existence of the labourer.

In bourgeois society, therefore, the past dominates the present; in Communist society, the present dominates the past. In bourgeois society capital is independent and has individuality, while the living person is dependent and has no individuality.

And the abolition of this state of things is called by the bourgeois, abolition of individuality and freedom! And rightly so. The abolition of bourgeois individuality, bourgeois independence, and bourgeois freedom is undoubtedly aimed at.

By freedom is meant, under the present bourgeois conditions of production, free trade, free selling and buying.

But if selling and buying disappears, free selling and buying disappears also. This talk about free selling and buying, and all the other “brave words” of our bourgeois about freedom in general, have a meaning, if any, only in contrast with restricted selling and buying, with the fettered traders of the Middle Ages, but have no meaning when opposed to the Communistic abolition of buying and selling, of the bourgeois conditions of production, and of the bourgeoisie itself.

You are horrified at our intending to do away with private property. But in your existing society, private property is already done away with for nine-tenths of the population; its existence for the few is solely due to its non-existence in the hands of those nine-tenths. You reproach us, therefore, with intending to do away with a form of property, the necessary condition for whose existence is the non-existence of any property for the immense majority of society.

In one word, you reproach us with intending to do away with your property. Precisely so; that is just what we intend.

From the moment when labour can no longer be converted into capital, money, or rent, into a social power capable of being monopolised, i.e., from the moment when individual property can no longer be transformed into bourgeois property, into capital, from that moment, you say, individuality vanishes.

You must, therefore, confess that by “individual” you mean no other person than the bourgeois, than the middle-class owner of property. This person must, indeed, be swept out of the way, and made impossible.

Communism deprives no man of the power to appropriate the products of society; all that it does is to deprive him of the power to subjugate the labour of others by means of such appropriations.

It has been objected that upon the abolition of private property, all work will cease, and universal laziness will overtake us.

According to this, bourgeois society ought long ago to have gone to the dogs through sheer idleness; for those of its members who work, acquire nothing, and those who acquire anything do not work. The whole of this objection is but another expression of the tautology: that there can no longer be any wage-labour when there is no longer any capital.

#the communist manifesto #communist manifesto daily

[astrabear]

Thinking about the Sims economy (because it's Saturday and I don't want to do laundry). It's clearly a market economy, but not really capitalism. Generational wealth exists now (it didn't always; in earlier versions of the game if you moved away from your parents you were on your own. You only got their money if you lived with them when they died) but for the most part Sims make their money by selling their labor. Even at the top of the business career track you're an employee, not an owner.

The petite bourgeoisie exist, but making a living as a small business owner is complicated and difficult. I've never tried, but I don't think it's currently possible to run a business without being actively engaged in some way. You can't just, like, buy a chain of restaurants, hire staff and managers, and sit back and wait for money to come in.

You also can't buy multiple businesses without already being very rich because the Sims economy does not allow credit. You can borrow small amounts of money from an individual Sim and you can get student loans for university, but other than that everything is cash up front and paid in full. You can't make money on investments yourself except in very specific circumstances.

Basically, while there is a wide range of income, Sims society is largely classless. (It helps that it is nearly a true meritocracy with no scarcity. You can succeed in anything up to the limits of your abilities and you're not competing with anyone.)

But next month a new expansion pack is coming out... and this pack will introduce landlords. Not the ones that currently exist, which are NPCs who collect rent and do repairs and otherwise barely exist. No, soon the players will be able to own multiple properties and control other Sims' living conditions and make money through ownership rather than work.

Does EA understand what a profound societal shift this is? Do they realize they are transitioning into a whole new stage in the historical materialist framework? What will the consequences be? Will we ever get a "class consciousness" trait? Does this all end in a revolution expansion pack?

#the real question is whether the vampires will object to a new group of bloodsuckers #the sims #the sims 4 #historical materialism #I could of course choose not to buy it #but come on #how likely is that

[ukimmigrationmatters]

Housing Market In Deep Trouble - Interest Rates And Bond Yields Rising, Buy-to-Let Properties No Longer Viable

The housing market is heading for serious trouble in the UK, US and many other countries as the worldwide economy slows.

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I think house prices will continue to fall, especially with higher interest rates on the way and landlords selling up for a number of reasons.

 Will there be a property crash? Quite possibly depending on future government action. Right now, they are doing little to help property owners and especially landlords.

 Should the government bring back mortgage tax relief for residential homeowners? This was abolished by the then Labour Chancellor Gordon Brown.

 Bond yields rise

 More bad news to come – The FT reported rising Bond yields today and food prices are set to soar again following the destruction of the dam in Ukraine which has flooded and destroyed thousands of square miles of Wheat and Soy fields.  This will put more pressure on inflation.

 Is the ‘buy-to-let’ market dead?

 Buy to lets deals just don’t add up anymore with higher rates. I’ve been offered properties which have great yields and would’ve looked amazing with lower interest rates. But when you look at the deal in light of a 5% or 6% interest rate (even on an interest only mortgage) the rent barely covers the payments.

 When you factor in other costs, such as service charges, repairs, insurance, agency or management fees, voids and so on the real ‘yield’ is negative.  

 I’m also hearing directly from landlords who are selling their perfectly good properties due to higher interest rates and because they are higher rate taxpayers.  

 Higher interest rates, together with George Osborne is helpful Sec 24 tax changes have made their existing buy to let property unviable.

 If your properties are in a limited company you are not affected by the tax changes, but moving your property from your personal name into a limited company can trigger CGT and Stamp Duty, plus other costs, if not done correctly.

 See: – Transfer Property Into A Limited Company Without Paying CGT or Stamp Duty https://youtu.be/mtGq7WaVxLA

 See also:

Watch More Mortgage Misery For Property Buyers As Bank Raise Rates Again:

https://youtu.be/BNe5eV37iiM

Interest Rates Will Rise, Property Prices Will Fall And Opportunities Will Open Up:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ziTf2jOagB8&t=179s

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[lockkim5]

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[aboutpaintingcontractorblog]

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However, this technique does not supply much details regarding a certain specialist. If you're trying to find a particular brand or color, you could need to get in touch with the paint supplier directly. One more essential step in employing a painting contractor is preparing a contract. This paper needs to be as detailed as feasible so that you're specific that whatever will be done correctly. Additionally, you should have a strong rate for the materials and also labor. An established cost will stop you from being stunned with charges later on. Paint contractors generally operate in the house improvement and property maintenance industry. Some are independent specialists who work for private property proprietors, while others benefit residential or commercial property maintenance companies and real estate companies. Their task summaries might consist of painting the interior and exterior wall surfaces of structures. Get more info here about the best Scottsdale painting company.

Some may even specialize in a specific kind of structure. Depending on their experience, they may function directly for clients, while others may benefit realty firms, rental agents, as well as building maintenance business. If you're thinking about employing a paint professional, ensure you pick somebody who has the essential training and experience. Painting contractors call for specialized tools to complete a task appropriately. They require to stock up on supplies and also change busted ones, and also they might not have the essential power tools to complete your project. However, some paint contractors are able to rent the devices they require for paint jobs. Prior to the contractor begins painting, he or she need to prepare the surface area. This is crucial to accomplishing a top notch coating. This preparation might entail completing any type of fractures, removing old paint, and also using primer to a bare surface. Some painters likewise clean up the existing paint to produce a secret for the brand-new paint.

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[thingstotellthem]

oh fuck I just realized that there was signs before.

I knew things were getting worse when I had to do special "training" all focused on the fact I didn't exist, and the whole "you are not a real human and never will be" thing just.. hurt. But there were signs earlier that I was too naive to notice.

The whole "star children" thing, that's all about believing that the kid is an alien. You never saw me as a person, not even as a human. No wonder it was so easy for you to do all that you did, it barely counted as abuse because hey! this kid isn't human! it's a fucking mimicry, just tricking everyone!

fuck I just.. you're manipulation spreads to other people, you purposefully made multiple adults that could have been in my life view me as a non-human entity, worthless. What the hell am I supposed to do with that knowledge? I already got beaten and abandoned by my blood-related parents, and now this?

All I ever wanted was some kindness, a place to call home, literally anyone to just be a friend. I was a child, I'm not even fully grown and I have to live with the knowledge that I've never been wanted or loved or cared for or even just.. viewed as a fellow human?

The most fucked up part about it is that I don't know how to be like a real human. I don't walk right or talk right and I get too focused on things that don't matter. And I don't know if that's because your parenting style is straight up neglect (YOU HAD A SERIOUS CONVERSATION WHEN I WAS 11 ABOUT HOW A NEGLECTFUL PARENTING STYLE IS THE HEALTHIEST WAY TO PARENT) or because of all the abuse or just.... everything.

This is stupidly long but I have so many thoughts and I just.. I just want to matter. I just want connections, a family, even a friend. But instead I practically ran away from you, had to stay with an abusive alcoholic for a while (the only place you let me go. haha, bet you're loving that my only interaction with others ends up with me getting hurt) and now I'm in some random bedroom in a strangers house.

A stranger who makes me uncomfortable and stares whenever I leave my room, who makes odd comments and has the keys to my room. A stranger who collects rent off of people in need and lies about living off-property. Who yells in phone calls in the middle of the night and drinks and drinks and smokes and drinks. But hey, even if I end up destroying myself here I'm out of your reach..

I hate knowing that I'll never have the experience seemingly everyone else does. I hate knowing I'm trapped in a life I don't want. I hate not knowing how to be like a real person, I hate that I never was considered a real human person. I hate that I still remember the touch of your hands, and how I only expect that from others. I hate that my only friend I've managed to have told me she's only my friend because of how much she pities me, that she doesn't worry if I'm in a bad situation because she knows I'm hard to kill.

I hate that you messed up my life so much that it's not even mine. I hate that so many people saw the signs and no one ever tried to help, fuck I've had teachers make fun of me for being abused! I just.. I'm so tired. I wish things were better. I wish I knew what having family was like. I wish I hadn't been orphaned multiple times before I turned fucking 20. Because your parenting? At best I'm declaring myself an orphan from you, at worse I never stopped being one.

I wish I could go to school, at the very least there'd be a fucking counselor, but instead I have to work at a job I'm barely qualified for, disappointing the people there while I get more and more trapped and alone.

See you at christmas I guess. God knows I don't have anyone else that would want to see me..

#actuallyabused #actuallytraumatized #emotional abuse #physical abuse #neglect #parental abuse #alcohol tw #smoking tw #anon #♥