#honest buyer

[striders]

Can we get lore on that Matthew McConaughey beef

he enrages me. i want to pop him like a grape

#to be honest though he just skeeves me out and when he was in dallas buyers club a younger version of me vowed to kill him one day

[blacktinnedpeaches]

just made eye contact w/ the middle-aged couple checking out next door's for-sale house while holding a naked doll up to the window (to check the hair length against th elight. obviously)

#me personally putting off the buyers #not much but honest work #(i actually would like new neighbours without a cat tink hates)

[truthproperty]

Navigating Tranquil Waters: Your Guide to Collaroy Beach Living with Nicholas Parpis Buyers Agent from Truth Property

Finding Your Dream Home in the Heart of the Northern Beaches Collaroy Beach, with its long sandy shores and vibrant surf culture, epitomizes the laid-back coastal lifestyle cherished by many. For those aspiring to call this seaside haven home, the journey is as exciting as it is significant. In this pursuit of tranquility and beauty, Nicholas Parpis Buyers Agent from Truth Property emerge as…

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#beachside living #coastal dream homes #Collaroy Beach homes #expert real estate guidance #honest buyers agent #Nicholas Parpis Buyers Agent from Truth Property #Northern Beaches properties #Property Search #seaside paradise #tranquil living

[jaythelay]

I can't stress this enough, if everyone just went "You know, I do deserve better" this fucking planet wouldn't be shit.

You know what I think? I think companies changed culture specifically to lower everyone's standards. I fully believe that they saw people change opinions based on number and guerilla marketed utter self-hatred and a need to believe in Something. We've all had someone just say something just right to utterly destroy your passion for something, and I feel it in my fucking loins, companies are utilizing that self-hatred to keep standards as low as humanly possible.

Lemme put it to you this way: She's not Gonna Fuck You Bro. Have some Standards for yourself.

She's a massive fat fucking conglomerate of rich fucks that eat children. Have some fucking standards for yourself, it's not that she can kill you that you find hot, it's the fact she's a figment of your desires you projected upon honest to god a fucking Sasquatch.

Never fucking defend a company. I can't remotely think of a reason to, like they sell you shit, that's it, fucking end your sub-par relationship with Nintendo or whoever. It's pathetically one sided, no shit the whore you paid is gonna dance and jiggle keys in your face if it makes you giggle and throw more money, you Pay Piggy Useful Idiot.

#pro-consumerism #or whatever the fuck #some dude complicated the verbiage correctly and I now have to remember customer instead of consumer but like #man it's simply a better word to describe buyers as a whole #apparently it implies you Need to Consume #while customer implies you want to consume #and like #bro it's 2023 I don't think those lines are defined nearly as much as some flea market ass place #and as you can tell since I have to tell fucking Adults not to be Pay Piggy Useful Idiots #it's gonna be pretty fucking hard to differentiate consumerism and uh fucking buyerism to this crowd #any crowd #even yours #fuck yours #fuck your crowd #rant but let's be honest it's just speaking truth to the wind

[digitalproductsforyou]

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#EzClix Instant Buyer Traffic Review EzClix Instant Buyer Traffic APP Honest Review EzClix Instant Buyer Traffic APP Previews EzClix Instant

[bakugotrashpanda]

Late Night Games (18+)

Bakugou x F!Reader Pro hero, angst if you squint?

Word Count: 1.7k

Bakugou gets you a sex toy and can't stop thinking about it. Will his favorite cam girl be able to get you off his mind?

Bakugou scrolls through your shopping app lazily. His vision swims slightly as pictures of dildos and vibrators fly up the screen. It’s all part of the game — you landed on space to give someone else your phone and let them purchase a toy for you using your credit card, leaving the definition of ‘toy’ up to the buyer, all under a certain price of course. What wasn’t part of the game was him imagining what you would look like fucking yourself with it; the glow flushing your cheeks as your back arches, the wanton moan that would leave your lips.

“Bakugou, hurry up,” you pout and tip some more of Kaminari’s electric purple concoction — his signature drink for the evening — into your mouth. “How hard is it?”

Hard enough. He ignores the slight tightening in his pants. Shifting, he hopes you didn’t notice the ever-growing bulge. ���All this shit’s expensive. Does it have to be $20?”

“That’s what it says, man,” Kirishima smirks. His thumb and forefinger harden long enough to pop the top off his beer. 

“This game is stupid,” Bakugou grumbles. He scrolls faster. To be honest, he hadn’t been looking at the prices — he’d been too busy thinking of you; someone he wants but can’t have. Someone who only visits him in the quiet hours of the night as he drifts off to sleep, your phantom hand wrapped around his own as he tries to envision you jacking him off. Someone he won’t let himself have.

No, you’re not meant for his life. The lights, the scrutiny, the questions he’s learned to block out. You’re a sweet thing and he won’t ruin you that way. 

His attention returns to your phone in his hand. A bright orange vibrator with a black X at the base. His own product. He’d hated the thought of selling out and slapping his name on a fucking sex toy, but it’d taken off and made it possible for him to put a down payment on a penthouse near his work. Now though, he thinks of you pumping his product in and out of yourself. And that makes it all worth it.

It’s a little more than the game says — $80 more to be precise, but he can cover this purchase. No one will know.

“It’s done,” he says and closes your phone. “No peeking.”

“You’re no fun,” you playfully pout, but you tuck your phone away. “Who’s next? Ochako?”

Bakugou sinks back into the couch, the rush of you wearing off. He half watches as Ochako rolls and lands on a space saying she has to give the person to her right, Kirishima, a ten second lap dance. Both their cheeks are brighter by the end of it, but Bakugou can’t find it in himself to join Mina and Sero in heckling them.

He lasts another half hour before abruptly standing and excusing himself.

In his stupor, he goes through the motions of getting himself home, not really paying attention to anyone around him. His penthouse is cool and quiet — everything he needs after a day of loud action. 

Bakugou sits in front of his computer and stares at the monitor. You’re still on his mind, and as much as he tries, he can’t get the fantasy of you writhing around his cock out of his head. His fingers fly to a website he’s visited countless times before. A site where he found an angel of a cam girl whose voice reminds him of yours if he doesn’t focus on it too hard and he can pretend that it’s you on the other side of the screen in lingerie teasing him.

Disappointment greets him as her schedule says she’s away for the next couple of days. 

He sits there for a moment, fatigue from the day settling in around him like a wet blanket. Maybe it’s for the best that he goes to bed instead of shelling out money to be the top contributor on yet another stream.

Three days later

Bakugou steps out of the bathroom, steam pouring out around him. A few droplets of water roll down his chest. Today had been a shitshow. Not only did he accidentally destroy a load bearing wall of a building that housed a law firm, his patrol partner called out sick and he was stuck with some rando rookie. The boss called it a ‘mentorship’ opportunity. The only thing he managed to mentor the rookie in was how to piss off your boss and the most powerful law firm in the city, and how to stand tall while everyone yelled at him.

He needs to relax and he needs to relax now.

Pulling on a comfy pair of sweats, he sits at his computer and opens the desk drawer. With all the reverence of a religious ceremony, he sets a bottle of lube and tissues on his desk, and pulls on his top-of-the-line headset. He’d paid a premium once he’d found his favorite cam girl so he could all but inject her voice into his body.

With her show about to start, and Bakugou preps himself.

“Hey everyone,” her sultry voice caresses his ears, “Sorry I was gone for so long.” Soft black lace cups her breasts and hangs low on her hips. She runs her hands up and down her sides, nails dragging on the fragile fabric.

New lingerie Angel? Bakugou types out and attaches a generous donation. Time to put the fucking extras watching in their place. Her red lips curl into a smile. Only he gets to call her Angel.

“Good to see you Number One,” she says. Hearing his screen name and nickname as her top contributor for over two years fall from her lips shoots right to his cock. “I did get some new pieces I can’t wait to show off over the next couple shows. And that’s not the only thing.” She leans over, giving the camera a close up shot of her cleavage.

Bakugou slowly pumps his cock at the sight. If he let his mind wander enough, he could pretend it was your chest. He’d tear the lace off effortlessly and run his hands over you, coaxing your nipples into stiff peaks and leave you wanting – begging – for more.

Settling back on her pale pink blanket, she brings a slim box up to her microphone and taps manicured nails against it.

“I recently came into possession of a new toy as well,” she says sweetly. “Haven’t even unboxed it yet, but I don’t know if we’re ready for that yet.” Her smile falls into a practiced pout as she sets the box down out of view. Donations flood in, all begging her to show it off and use it.

He gets it. This is how she makes money. But their small voices aren’t going to be the ones to get her to do it. 

C’mon Angel, show us what ya got? He doubles his previous donation. The corner of her mouth ticks up.

“Since you asked so nicely,” she says and holds the box up to the camera, “I got the latest Dynamight vibrator. I heard this is modeled after the man himself.” She continues talking while she unboxes it, but Bakugou can’t hear her over the ringing in his ears. 

What were the chances that you and his favorite cam girl got the same vibrator he had bought you? Yours should’ve arrived today, and if… No. No, there’s no way… But…

His fingers fly across the keyboard. Get that today Angel?

She stops running her fingers up the bright orange shaft and smiles. “I did! It arrived an hour ago and I knew I needed to bring it tonight.”

No.

With shaky hands, he picks up his phone and types a message. All he needs to do is hit send. If he’s mistaken, he can play it off. But if he’s right… fuck.

[Bakugou]    >> Angel?

He watches his computer monitor. His favorite cam girl, the one he chose for her voice and the fantasy she could give him, the one who was a replacement for the girl he really wants, freezes. Her playful smile turns brittle.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry loves,” she says quickly, “There’s an emergency, but I’ll be back tomorrow, and maybe I’ll stay on extra late, just for you.” Her camera goes dark. Donations fly in, all begging her to come back, asking what happened. 

Bakugou stares, icy dread slithering down his spine.

[Private Audience Requested from Angel]

He shouldn’t have said anything. He could have pretended not to have noticed the similarities. He could’ve been halfway to heaven with his fist wrapped around his cock.

Nevertheless, he accepts the incoming call, well aware that his account is getting charged for what would no doubt be an unpleasant conversation. 

His Angel sits in front of the camera, covered up in a gray hoodie.

“Number One,” she says, all sexy energy gone from her voice. “Turn on your camera.”

Don’t have it He types back.

“Bullshit,” she crosses her arms, “I know you do. You’ve bought enough private shows from me. I’ve seen your cock as you jack yourself off. Turn on your fucking camera.”

Reluctantly, Bakugou does. He keeps it angled to show below his neck. 

“Show me your face.” It’s not a request. 

Show me yours.

“You know I don’t show more than my mouth.”

Then I’m not showing mine

Her mouth, the one Bakugou has imagined wrapped around his length, thins into a disapproving frown. “Well, Number One, then you’ll have to find someone else to shower with your donations.”

Block. She means to block. And she’ll block any other account he makes too. She’d know it’s him — he’s incapable of not being first, being the most prominent person in a room, throwing his money around.

WAIT

He leans forward and scrambles for his camera. Tilting it to his face, he almost feels embarrassed for how he looks in the preview on his end. Panicked. Fearful. Shame.

“Bakugou.” His Angel’s camera tilts up too to see a black and gold mask he’s caught glimpses of before. She removes the mask, and Bakugou watches your face stare back at him, just as pained as he is. 

Silence.

There’s too much silence as you stare at each other. 

He shakily types what could very well be his final message and sends it. So what now?

A/N: no part 2 bb

#bnha imagines #bakugou #bakugou x reader #writing #angst #sorta #i stg if tumblr shits on the quality of the banner. I JUST LIKE HAZY LOOKING THINGS ALRIGHT

[seat-safety-switch]

Nobody likes to shovel snow. That's why we invented cheap, rusty plow trucks. A truck is strong, so it can push a whole bunch of snow at one time, and old trucks are cheap, so nobody cries if they get rusted to bits. Wait, I'll cry about that.

An old truck is like an old, trusted friend: they were with you during the hard moments in your life. Picking up that arcade cabinet you found on the side of the road. Yanking your mom's old azalea bush out of her front yard. Barrelling down a rural road with your loyal dog on the bench seat beside you. Cutting the lights so the revenuers don't see you hiding in those trees, and they pass harmlessly until you can make good your escape, knowing they'll be stuck for hours in that valley maze and you can thermite a few more bulldozers before they figure out where you went. So it's sad whenever a truck is finally disposed of, and becomes condemned to its last useful task: shovelling snow.

Here at Switch Plow Truck Rescue, we don't think it has to be like that. Our team of experienced automotive restorers will immediately drive the truck to California, where it will quintuple in value despite not having been repaired in any real way. The improvement in resale price, however, of being "a California truck" will attract some sucker who is totally willing to spend six times as much money restoring it to stock. The truck survives its ordeal in the salt hell of winterland, we get a stack of money, as-seen-on-teevee custom car paint shops receive important work like "figure out what part of this used to be the floor," and everyone wins.

Sure, there's some risks, like any investment. We are legally required to tell you about them now. A lot of these trucks are so far gone that they blow away in the wind as soon as we get them on the trailer. Sometimes we can't even find them where they're parked: the act of brushing the accumulated snow off the body destroys the truck as well. And we've had to accept as little as triple value when an unusually savvy prospective buyer correctly guesses that a truck that lived in San Diego should still have all of its doors.

There's a lot of flaws in the model, if I'm honest, but would you rather go out there and shovel your driveway by hand, like a caveman, or would you like to commit mild interstate financial fraud through misrepresentation of goods? I thought so.

[rafedaddy01]

Babes, I literally LOVE your writing, frrr! You're so talented! And OML- you write Rafe soo good! If you take requests, I would do ANYTHING for dark!Rafe x pogue!reader (noncon would be great) where reader dares to talk back to Rafe, and he shows her who's actually in charge😩😮‍💨of course, only if you can! I hope you're okay. Love ya!❤️❤️❤️

Rafe x fem.kook.reader

Warnings: NONCON, smut, spitting kink, name calling, not really proof read

Rafe was the type to always be in control and you knew that. To be honest it was really fucking annoying. He’d think that he could control you like you were a dog humping his leg, you were a women. A very much independent women. Rafe knew of your fierce side and often would warn you not to use it.

You being the stubborn bitch that you are would not obey. Which of course would result with a punishment. Sometimes it would be light spanking. Other times it would be him luring orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were passed out. You weren’t gonna lie, at times it turned you the fuck on when he’d dominate you, but other times it would just frustrate you. He’d think that he’d bark an order and you’d obey like a good little lap dog.

Tonight was gonna be different. Tonight you’d take a stand. Put him in his place. Oh how that would be a mistake. But you didn’t know that yet. The two of you attended a party as you always do every Friday night. Rafe often sold drugs there and had quite a few buyers. What do you expect from rich teenage asshole who like to waste their parents money. “Go sit over there and wait for me” Rafe barked out at you as he went off to deal with business. You figured annoying him at the start of the night would be stupid, so you obeyed. With an eye roll ofc.

An hour passed, then two, then three. You decided enough was enough. You downed a drink and stood up, eyes scanning the room for Rafe. You spotted him lining up some coke on the table in front of the couch with people around him. Your blood boiled as he snorted it and a tall blonde next to him had her hand on his thigh. He always did stupid shit like this. But when you’d flirt with others he’d “fucking kill them” quote Rafes words.

You stormed up to him, stopping in a Superman pose with your hands on your hips. He stopped telling his blonde friend something that made her blush and turned to see you. It was almost like he had no shame for letting someone else ogle him while you sat and waited for him, his eyes scanning your pissed off face and leaning back into the couch with a sign.

“Didn’t I tell you to sit out” he spit out as the blonde hand was on his chest now

Your eyes filled with rage as you stared at him.

A smirk lifting the side of your lips. “I got tired of listening to you” you said leaning in closer. His eyes switched to a black scolding stare. He was trying to hold himself together in front of his customers, who still sat on the loungers around the two of you. “What did you say?” He said through gritted teeth as he pushed the blonde away from him.

You threw you head back in a crazed laugh. His eyes squinted at you, yours falling back on his and holding his gaze.

His fists were balled up now. “I. Got. Tired. Of. Fucking. Listening. To. You.” You said slowly. “I’m done Rafe. I’m leaving. Enjoy his small sick” you said the last part to the blonde next to him. You turned on your heel and left the group. You weren’t sure where you were going to how you were gonna get there, Rafe being your ride. But you didn’t want to be here. So you headed outside.

Your eyes filled with tears, but it was like a weight lifted off your chest. You were finally free from Rafes hold and it felt good to stand up for yourself. You started walking on the sand near the water that the beach house was by. Your enjoyed the crisp night air as you made way home. “Y/n! Where the fuck do you think your going!” A voice you knew all too well

“Rafe I told you. I’m done listening. Find someone else to be your bitch!” You shouted

“Y/n.. don’t test me” his warning tone made you laugh crazed again.

Suddenly he was right behind you. Your body froze as you turned around. Your cheeks flushed with heat as your eyes met his. There was nothing behind them. They were dark and vengeful as his chest heaved with his breathing. His hands gripped your wrists and twisted, he pulled you closer to him. His musky scent filling your nostrils.

“Let me go Rafe!” You said tugging your wrists back, but no use. His crazed stare intensified as he held you tighter. “Ow!” You winced as he gripped both your hands with one of his and the other snaking around your throat. It wasn’t hard but hard enough to let you know he could easily choke you if he wanted to. “I think you forgot who your talking to princess” he said coming up in your face that you could taste the alcohol off him

You whimpered as he gripped your throat harder, a small gasp leaving your lips in hopes to get more oxygen in. His lips curled up in a sickening snarl. His eyes darted between yours as he kissed you, you resisted but he squeezed harder.

Your mouth stopped fighting and he engulfed you with his tongue, pushing it past your teeth and practically down your throat. You didn’t want it, but you knew it’s be no use fighting. Tears left your eyes as he continued his fight with his tongue down your throat. He pulled back and you sucked in a breath as his hand let go of your hands, one of his still on your throat. “I think you need to be punished, princess” his tone was husky and it shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.

You spit out and it landed right on his face. Big mistake. His smirk vanished as he used his thumb to wipe it off. “Naughty girl” he growled out as he pushed you to the ground.

You scoot her back into the sand, trying to get away. He shook his head as he gripped your ankles and pulled you back to him, his hand gripping your wrists once again and pushing them above your head. At this point you were wiggling around, fear cascading your body at what you knew he was capable of. But you couldn’t help the wetness soaking through your panties. What the fuck was wrong with you! His lips tangled with yours again.

“Rafe! Please!” You cried as tears streamed down your cheeks, the saltiness stinging your eyes. “Shhh, someone will hear your pretty cries, princess” he whispered in your ear as his kiss travelled down your neck, pecking it softly before pulling back. He hovered over you and his signature smug smirk was back on his face. “You should have obeyed” he said gripping your chin with his free hand.

“Never!” You said back at him. Your own face twisted in a scowl as you stared back at him with a confident stare. It was inevitable to fight him. You knew Rafe all too well and you knew what he was capable of. It was better to give into him than fight against him. “Oh, princess. You just don’t know when to stop”

He let go of your chin and lowered his hand to your jeans, unbolting them and pulling the zipper down, one of his hands still pinning both your hands above your head, never letting go

“Smile, princess. You might like what I do to you” he said.

Your eyes held his gaze as his fingers dipped into your wetness. “Why you so wet, princess?” He teased as his smirk widened as his fingers gathered some wetness on them and brought them to your lips, coating them like lipgloss. “Taste how horny you get for me!” He instructed.

Your tongue darted out and licked them as he groaned, watching you.

His hard on was poking you in the thigh as he slightly grinded it to relieve so tension. His fingers dipped back in your jeans and shimmed them a little lower as he rubbed your clit. “Rafe please!” You whined as you tried wiggling against his hold. “Easy, princess. Wouldn’t want to hurt you” he said as he pinched your clit, making you whimper and jerk at the sensation. You didn’t want this but it was no use fighting the pleasure igniting in your body. “Your dripping, princess. You sure you don’t want this” it was like he was reading your mind.

“I don’t.” You said coldly. His smirk widening. He moved his fingers lower, separating your lips and running two fingers between them. A small moan leaves your lips, his eyes darting up to yours. You turn you head to not look at him. “Hey! Eyes on me or I stop” he warns. It took everything in you not to look at him, but surly your head rolls back to his gaze. “Good girl” he praises, resuming his assault.

“Does that feel good?” He asks at his fingers wiggle there way inside you, curling up in a come here motion and pumping in and out. Your mouth hands open. His fingers are so much bigger than yours and it always felt good when he fingered you. You shook the thoughts out as you remembered he was doing this against your will.

“No” you said, voice strained as he sped up, his thumb circling your throbbing clit. “I think your pussy says otherwise, she’s squeezing me so tight. Are you gonna cum slut? Huh?” He asked, shouting the last phrase a bit to loud. You always loved being degraded at he obviously knew that, using it to his advantage. He pumped faster as your legs began shaking. The familiar feeling of an orgasm creeping up.

You heard him groan as your juices leaked out of you. He was pumping your poor pussy so hard that the squelching sound could be heard from the house if the music wasn’t blaring so loud, covering up your screams. “Go ahead, princess. Let go, show me just how much you don’t want this” he chuckled as he inserted a third finger. Your body shook vigorously as you high took over and any feeling of not wanting it or of hating Rafe and standing up to him washed out of your body. You screeched a high pitched moan as you slumped back down on his hand.

Rafe retracted his hand and brought it to his lips this time, sucking his fingers clean and groaning at your smell and taste. His eyes darted back to you, tears running down your cheeks. He brushed them off with his thumb as he caressed your face, a false hope of love he was giving you. His gaze darkened as his hand reached down to his belt and undid his pants. Your eyes widening at the realization that he wasn’t done with you.

Rafe was practically foaming at the mouth at the thought of being deep inside you. You tried wiggling free once more but a grip on your jaw made you wince in pain. “Open” he ordered. He pried your mouth open as he let his spit drop onto your shaking tongue. He closed your mouth and watched you reluctantly swallow. “Good girl” he said petting your hair like you were some fucking animal.

His dick was free now and massaging your clit as you wiggled. He slid it between your folds and groaned at the way you gripped him. A low moan betrayed your body as he started thrusting. Laying his head on your shoulder, your own rolling to the side and quietening your cry’s. He thrusted into you hard, rolling his hips slightly and loving the moans that snuck out of you.

He felt you tighten around him and he lost it. Diving into you deeper and letting you wrists go to grip the sand on either side of you. Your hand flying to his neck and gripping for dear life as an orgasm approached. Your mind in a sex haze and forgetting about not wanting it. He fucked you relentlessly. “Your never gonna get rid of me” his threat lingered as your eyes fluttered and indulged in the dark pleasure he delivered your body. His own release shaking his body as he groaned as his pumps came to a stop, still deep inside you.

His breathing picked up as you felt his dick re-harden in you. “Rafe get off me!” You said trying to push him off

He pushed you down. “Not a chance, princess. This is your punishment” he growled. “I know you want it, your pussys practically sucking me in” he started thrusting again and you groaned. Your eyes rolling as you let him use you. He was right. There was no getting rid of him. Showing him your attitude would just get you in trouble.

“I hate you!” You cried as pleasure washed through you again. “Yeah” he said with one hard thrust. “But your pussy doesn’t” he continued slamming into you. Relentlessly. His breaths coating your skin and making you shiver, goosebumps evident. “Your my little whore and don’t you forget it” he scowled.

“Please..” you moaned. “Please” he mocked you. “What do you want?” He asked coming down to your neck and biting. “I-I need to cum” you moaned. His fingers dipped to your clit circled it roughly. Edging you on. “Fuck!” You screamed. “Hold it” he sternly said

His dick twitched as he went back to pounding into you, his balls contracting with his second high hitting him and your, oh you don’t even remember how many he stole from you tonight, hit you both like a truck. He slid out of you and landed his sweaty body on yours.

“Your never getting rid of me y/n.” He said breathing heavy, “and I’m in control here. You will fucking listen to me”

@v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #smut #dark rafe cameron #outerbanks #drewstarkey #drewstarkey smut #rafecameron #fanfic #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe outer banks

[sgiandubh]

It all starts with a smoke alarm

This wasn't supposed to happen like that, of course. It was supposed to happen with an ”allow me to introduce myself”, at the least. But hey, I am playing the cards I've been dealt, and since an anonymous ask on Tumblr does not allow pictures or links, this will have to do. We'll have plenty of time later.

Yesterday, I said that reading that Single Report reaped benefits. I have screen capped and summed up all the things that made me rise an eyebrow, to make things easier. Hopefully, this is going to be short: who would wax lyrical about a septic tank, after all?

I did not use my superpowers to do this, but simply the link provided by a very active Anon on several shipper blogs, in order to properly stir shite, I presume: https://corumproperty.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/HomeReport-31.pdf

Armed with my wits and a virtual highlighter, I started to carefully read the whole document. Ownership details aside - this, I discussed yesterday -, I remind you that it should give any prospective buyer a good, detailed idea of the available fittings and current condition of the house put on sale.

In Europe and elsewhere, I guess, inspections of this type are rather a dull and thorough affair. And these people did an excellent job: they checked every single nook & cranny, used binoculars to have a closer look at the roof tiles and listed it all on these papers a good researcher should read, before dropping to conclusions.

This is how we know, for example, that the inspection happened on a rainy day:

.. and that the guttering was overflowing. Does that sound like a well loved, lived-in house to you?

Thought so.

This brought a smile. And the image of a Christmas tree left near a London dustbin in June. Home, sweet home?

Like all properties, this also comes with burglar and fire alarm systems. However, apparently not much has been done, in this respect. Or at least, not recently. Not since February 2022, to be accurate: otherwise, they would have been upgraded. Yet, no such thing: it's up to the buyer to do and pay for the upgrade.

Lived-in? Certainly not after February 2022 and probably even earlier, would be my best guess. But lived-in at some point in time, most certainly.

You see, since I was on the real estate agent's webpage, I also took the virtual tour of the house. It is available to everyone, here: https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AFKibrk8QiD

Now, I don't know about you, but when I visit somebody's house for the first time, I always check the bookshelves: yes, I am a shameless nerd. I am also well aware that the rest of the furniture was staged, it looked that sad, clinical way it does all over the world. Did not expect to find any books in there, to be honest. And yet, there they were.

I didn't bother with the fashion coffee table books, although I thought they were a nice nod to Ms. B's past, and totally the kind of things she might have on her credenza.

A built-in bookshelf in the basement caught my eye. That did not look staged. It looked as she might have left some of her own books in there, like an afterthought, if you want. And people's choices of books are always speaking volumes to me, about who they really are.

It did not disappoint.

More fash-un. And yeah, Tiffany & Co! I knew it!

A Tina Turner bio or memoir. Awww:

Bette Davis and some feminist literature. Her books, I am pretty sure of that:

And, to save the best for last, lo and behold, what do we have here?

Bear Grylls?

That Bear Grylls?

Hahahaha. Of course. I have all the reasons in the world to believe the music producer/PA/whatever is into masculine thrillers written by a world-renowned survivalist, haven't I?

Not a chance in hell, to be honest. I grinned like the Cheshire cat because, ladies, we do know WHOSE book is this, don't we?

Judging by its jacket, well-read. Not a prop.

Belonging to someone with a dry, wicked sense of humor who apparently also left this gem:

A Captain's Duty. At this point in time, I wasn't grinning anymore. I was laughing like an idiot, of course.

Slàinte mhath, ladies. We'll have time for a proper introduction later.

[etincelleart]

Okay so, just so you know: DIllon Goo is friends with one of THE biggest RWDEs on the internet, the one who came up with the "Monty's Vision" creed so many people spout.

If he got his hands on the show, there'd be no Bumbleby, no Nuts and Dolts, nothing like that. It would be COMPLETELY unrecognizeable.

If he doesn't just reboot the show, everyone would hate Team RWBY for "betraying" Ironwood, Robyn Hill and the Happy Huntresses would be treated as irredeemable villains, and Team RWBY's arcs would be based around having to "accept that they were wrong to defy Ironwood" and then "learning to obey authority".

It would not be RWBY anymore.

I appreciate people for telling me because I wasn't aware of this story. I should also say that a lot of people in the fandom should understand that not everyone know about every detail and event that happened in the RWBY history, especially for people like me who discovered the series way later. Just thought I might say it just in case because I saw some people talk about it as if we're supposed to know when that's not the case.

If I can tell my honest opinion it's that at the moment it's too early to confirm anything. This might not happen, this might happen, we don't know, and I don't want to jump to any conclusions or fast opinions with only a few infos I got yesterday and today about that. From what I know this behavior came from Shane, but even if he's friend with Dillon this guy cannot call the shots alone. I think the best thing would be for current CRWBY to be able to finish the story like THEY wanted, like they first imagined it with Monty, and how they imagined it so far. I honestly don't know what good option could be because at the moment it's probably the only interested buyer and the one that fits the best for the show's style. If CRWBY express discomfort and refuse to go for that way for the reasons people told me about, then let respect that because they'll be the one to decide in the end.

I like Dillon Goo and their animations, that's why I supported the idea, but in the end it's for CRWBY to decide and no one else. If they think there might be a problem and they might ruin everything, that's for them to decide.

I should also mention that people's behaviors using events for their arguments is their responsability. On this aspect I'm not aware of everything so I only speak with what I know. But there will always be people who will also distort stuff to be able to use it their favor.

As for the ships, Bumbleby is canon already, undoing that would be really stupid and would sign the end of the story. And Nuts and Dolts isn't canon, it's the fantasy of a lot of people included mine but we don't even think if this was planned to be canon or not at some point, from what I know that's not the case. I understand what you mean because this is not just about ships here, but I'm not gonna jump to conclusions with how little infos I got at the moment

With all of that said, I just hope for a good conclusion for everyone.

#rwby #rooster teeth #dillon goo

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 7

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacation in Dubai she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the middle east looking for her.

Enjoy!

"Okay, how much is that?"

"About 7 000 total."

"Ugh, we're still 13 000 pounds short." You groaned, falling back against your couch.

You and Alicia agreed to sell all the things that she had bought, in order to pay Mr Siddiq back. You managed to sell most of her designer items online, and some of the items that she hadn't even worn yet were returned to the store for a refund. You spent all week living like savages, glued to the computer, making phone calls to meet up with potential buyers.

"I don't understand why we can't eat, though? Or have heat?" Alicia asked, wrapping her body up in a blanket.

"Eating costs." You muttered. "So does heat. All of our money is going to paying back Mr Siddiq. I've told you this."

"Yes, but like you said, we're still 13 000 pounds short. I don't think we will be making that much money in 24 hours and I'm starting to get hungry."

You rolled your eyes. You really couldn't with Alicia. How could her financial judgment have been so poorly? I mean, her mother is an accountant for God's sake. However, it might have been her dad who used to spoil her as a child. The thrill of a man paying for everything she pointed to must be her aspiration in life. But today Alicia's aspirations had gotten you in a lot of debt.

"Would you please pick up your phone, my ass doesn't want to vibrate forever, and I'm pretty sure your boyfriend is calling me now."

It was true, you recognized Ruben's number on Alicia's screen. You stood up to take the call, disappearing into your bedroom.

"Ruben?"

He had been calling all week. But with everything going you weren't in the right head space to talk to him, let alone be honest with him.

"Hey, baby. Is everything alright?" He sounded concern, probably because you were talking to him through someone else's phone.

"Everything is fine. Life is just pretty hectic right now."

"Oh, sorry if I'm disturbing you..."

"It's fine Ruben. Hearing your voice is really what I needed."

"Good." He shriped and you imagined the dimples that came with his smile.

"I've actually got some news that might cheer you up?"

"Really? A man named Mr Siddiq and his entire family sadly passed away in a plane crash?

"Yeah, I'll be in London this weekend for our away game against Chelsea."

"Oh"

"Oh?"

You perked up. "I mean, that's...that's really nice Ruben. But I'm not in London this week?"

"No? Where are you then?"

Don't lie, don't lie, don't lie.

"Stevenage!" You blurred out, immediately regretting it.

"Stevenage? What is that?"

"Um, it's a city. Where I grew up actually. Where my parents live."

"Oh, you're visiting your parents?"

"Yes, so I'm pretty busy."

"I'd love to meet them someday."

"You do?" You paused, Ruben's answer suprised you.

"Of course. Wouldn't you like for me to meet them?"

You had just gotten comfortable calling Ruben your boyfriend, him meeting your parents would mean another milstone reached before you had told Ruben who you really are.

"Sure." You mumbled.

"Let's make it happen someday." He said, sounding happy about the fact.

"Um, I've got to get back to work..."

"Of course. It was nice to hear your voice too. Can I call you again later tonight?"

"Um, sure."

"Alright, talk to you later then. I love you."

"Bye Ruben."

The room fell silent as you ended the call, however the guilt and shame inside you was louder than ever. You dragged yourself back to the living room, handing Alicia back her phone.

"You good? What did he say?"

"He said he loved me." You plotted down on the couch, eyes staring blankly into space.

"Oh my god, really? What did you say."

"I said, bye Ruben."

Alicia frowned.

You turned to her with tears in your eyes. "He's never gonna talk to me again when he finds out."

"Finds out what?" She cought you as you slumped into her embrace. "That you're nothing but a gold digger?"

You sat back up. "That's not funny Alicia."

Her shoulders shrugged when she laughed.

"I am not a gold digger. You on the other hand...."

"Okay, okay. I get, I messed up. I'm the bad guy in all of this. But speaking of gold diggers...." She said, with that look that often haunted your dreams. "Wouldn't it be easiest to just ask Ruben for the remaining money? I mean surely he's good for it, and if he really loves you..."

You batted your eyes. Baffled by what was coming out of Alicia's big mouth. Surley anyone would agree that now would be the only right time to slap your best friend in the face. "Alicia." You said, with the lowest most calmest tone you could extract from yourself. You were convinced that this was the only way that she would understand you, if you were babying her.

"Yes, Y/N?" She said, with that naive twinkle in her eyes.

"Have...you...learned...nothing. You are NOT. I repeat NOT, borrowing money from anyone ever again, especially not Ruben."

"Then how are we gonna pay the last 13 000 back?"

"I'm...." You said, getting up and walking over to grab your coat. "I'm going to talk to someone I trust and know will lend me the money, with a promise that I'll pay him back with interest."

Alicia looked over to where you stood. "It's not Byron is it?"

"That's none of your business." You hissed, slamming the door on your way out.

Byron agreed to hear you out over a beer. You met in a small pub in town and to your suprise Byron agreed to lend you the money.

"And don't worry, you won't have to give me all of it until June."

"It's okay." He said.

"It is?" 13 000 punds was alot of money. However, there was something else on Byron's mind, a question.

"Is this you?" He asked, showing something off his IPhone.

Heat rose to your face seeing a photo of you in the club with Ruben and his friends, Ruben's arm waying over your shoulder as you sat next to him.

"Um..."

You had seen it before, the photo, going around the internet, with the caption talking about Ruben and his new boe. It was first posted on Lauren's Instagram. Lauren who was Ruben's teammates girlfriend.

"Yes, yes that's me." You sighed.

Byron nodded. Of course it was you in the photo, he wasn't blind. People in Stevenage watched Football and knew of the hype around it. You only belong to the few people who didn't.

"How do you know Jack Grealish and Ruben Dias ?" He followed up, in a way that sounded more like you were being accused of a crime rather than asked a simple question.

"I um....met them during a night out with friends." You lied. He wasn't  Ruben, you had no problem lying to Byron.

"And so the two of you...?" He was reffering to Ruben.

"Took a photo and then went our separate ways." You nodded. "Yeah, that's pretty much what happened."

Byron didn't look to believe you, but proceeded. "It's obvious that you're seeing someone Y/N, I mean you never come over for game nights anymore and I've seen you texting someone when you should be paying attention to your class."

You chuckled. "Byron I have no idea what you're point is, but if this is you criticizing the way I teach my kindergarten class then..."

He shook his head. "No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?" You really didn't have the  time. You should get back to the apartment, help Alicia sell her clothes. And Ruben would want to facetime soon.

"I like you Y/N."

"There it is." You sighed.

"And I'm not lending you the money so that you'll finally agree to be my girlfriend, but...."

"But?" You frowned. "There is no but in this Byron. Either you lend me the money out of the kindness of your heart, or you don't. This is not an exchange of services."

"Then, no." He said, fixing his posture as he sat across from you.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

He got up to leave, grabbing his jacket. He looked down on you with pitty on his face. "Life is about choices Y/N, and you seem to keep making the wrong ones."

With that he left.

You got back to your apartment, pretty sure that smoke was coming out of your ears.

"Y/N, there is something you should..."

"Not now Alicia."

You stomped across the living room.

"But you should really..."

"God, not now Alicia." You hissed, not meant to take your anger out on her. Nevertheless the damage was already done as Alicia crumbled where she sat on the couch. "I'm sorry I..." You ran a hand down your tired face. "I just got to facetime Ruben first. I have to tell him that I love..." The handle to your bedroom door pressed down just as you were about to do it. The door opened and he appeared in the frame.

"Ruben?"

He grinned. "You sounded down over the phone so I brought something that might cheer you up."

"W...what?"

He stretched out his arms. "Me!"

Warmth erupted inside you. You stumble forwards, melting into his giant embrace. Although this was a bad thing, a really bad thing that he was here, you really needed to be held right now.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

[nervousimposter]

Notes: I am in the works for part 2 on this. I’m thinking of an explicit scene in Steves POV so that should be out in a few days. 

Part two

Everybody knows the picnic table behind the school was for one specific purpose. One purpose ran by one person, and it was by appointment only, thank you very much. Outside of those business hours, the table was to be avoided. And it was. No one went into the woods behind the school unless a meeting was scheduled. Even on those days that a buyer would traverse that one-minute walk through the woods to the table, they would get the goods, pay and immediately leave. They never stayed beyond the 30 second interaction. No one wanted to spend more time than they needed with the super senior ‘Freak’. Capital F required according to some people. 

But it’s fine. Actually, more than fine. It left that portion of school grounds almost always student free. Eddie took advantage of that. Has been taking advantage of it really. His reputation kept all those pesky people from even wanting to step near the woods leading to the table. Which is exactly what he wanted. A place for him to get away. Somewhere he didn’t need to deal with assholes bothering him or a quiet place to scheme his next campaign. That was all he was trying to achieve. His own little fortress of solitude. And that was exactly what it was starting his junior year. Picnic table paradise. Second run through of senior year though. That brought some changes. One change mainly, but that trickled into many. So, so many. 

It started on that first day of school. Alarm was forgotten to be set, rushed through getting ready, yadda yadda yadda. Pretty familiar school morning for Eddie, to be honest. Got to class just as the bell rang so just took the closest available seat. All that trouble only to realize he didn’t have a pencil. So what does he do? Ask the person in front of him for one. And then he’s staring into Steve Harrington’s eyes. His pretty, pretty brown eyes. And that's where it all started. Pencil favors led to casual conversations which led to services exchanged which led to meeting at the table behind the school. All pretty standard when it came to getting customers for Eddie. But Steve wasn’t like the rest of the student body. He didn’t just grab his goods and go. He sat down. He sat and talked. Not only did he stay during those appointments, he showed up outside of them. Sometimes Eddie would get to the table and Steve would already be there. Eddie was fucked. Royally, royally fucked. 

He held out for five months. The first two were because Steve was in a very committed relationship with Wheeler and seemingly VERY straight. The next three after that was because Steve was clearly heartbroken over whatever happened to him over Halloween and was still seemingly VERY straight. But then came that auspicious day mid-January. A, at this point, regular meet up at the picnic table to shoot the shit had them leaning against each other laughing at something he can’t even remember anymore. The kind of laughter that would end only to start again when they made eye contact. In the lull of comfortable silence after their fit, both of them just trying to catch their breath, Steve turned towards him and grabbed his face. Cradled it, really. Big warm hands just bracketing his cheeks and holding him still as his eyes trailed across his face before landing on his lips. Asking without asking. And of course Eddie kissed him. Kissed him absolutely silly. And that was a month ago. A whole month now of daily picnic table meetups. The picnic table that no one goes to without appointments. Fortress of solitude. Picnic table paradise. Aptly named now that Steve Harrington was involved.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #stranger things fic #steddie ficlet #ficlet

[razorblade180]

Good investment

[couple months ago]

Stelle:How could you use most of our Jade on Topaz!? We don’t even know her!

Caelus:I’m going to be honest with you, she’s very attractive.

Stelle:…Fair. But we have a fire companion! We could’ve gotten Seele.

Topaz:I’ll find chests.

Caelus and Stelle:…

Topaz:Numby fines treasure chests. *holds gently*

Stelle:Will that be enough though?

Several days later

Seele:*walks off train* Yo!

Stelle:…Okay, but let’s not pretend we all didn’t work out buts off.

xxxxx

Memory Hall

Cocolia: Behold!

Topaz and Asta:Haha, no!

xxxxx

Svarog: Initiating-

Topaz and Asta:No!

xxxxx

Caelus:Why do we have so many fragments in this run?

Topaz:I find more.

Stelle:…You what?

xxxxxx

Heliobi Event

Cirrus: Ah ha! I shall gain the spirit fl-

Numby: *jumps the turn order*

Cirrus:What!?

Topaz:Wooo! I’ll be honest. I did not know that would work….

xxxxx

Stelle:Okay, this run is going to be a dangerous. Let’s go for Nihility.

20 minutes later

Stelle:Why is every card elation!?

Serval:We can save this run. We just need to adjust our style. Who can we ask?

Stelle:…

3 minutes later

Topaz:*kills deer* Project Wrapped!

Stelle:There’s no way Caelus’s choice paid off this well. It wasn’t even a purely rational choice! He just thinks your hot!

Topaz:And I’ll continue to make that the choice worth its weight in gold? No buyers remorse in this group!

#honkai star rail #hsr topaz #honkai stelle #honkai caelus #honkai asta #honkai seele #honkai serval

[unbidden-yidden]

Something I don't usually see talked about in political discourse around major societal problems is that you can have more than one position on a given topic because you think there's an ideal solution, a position that is morally the most correct, and a practical position based on the hard reality of the facts on the ground. In a perfect world, these positions would line up: the end-goal ideal would be accomplishable using the most morally correct methods. We don't live in that world, obviously.

A lot of this is the result of my legal background helping people navigate extremely non-optimal systems to get to a liveable solution. (Also probably being Jewish, let's be honest.)

Let's take a scaled-down example; a classic legal problem: Person A sells a house to Person B and pays off their mortgage. Person A then also sells the house to Person C as an investment property, pockets the profits, and disappears into that goodly night. Person B moves into the house unaware that Person C has a functionally equal claim to the property. Person C discovers this problem when they go to record the deed and sue Person B to clear the title.

Obviously Person A is the bad actor here, and if they can be caught, they will owe a house to one party and the value of the house to the other (which that person will have to extract from them slowly over time, because lbr, Person A already blew that cash and likely doesn't have an equal amount just lying around to give to that person.) At the end of the day, either Person B or Person C are going to get hosed for something that wasn't their fault.

Personally, my ideal solution is that actually private property as we currently understand it wouldn't exist, and we would all each have rights and responsibilities to the land and the environment that were proportional, in which case this scenario wouldn't have happened in the first place. My morally correct answer is that the state should have a fund for innocent third party buyers out of which Person C would get paid, and leave Person B alone with good title while the state goes after Person A. My practical answer is that Person B was the first purchaser who is actually living on the property and so their need is greater than Person C's need. That should give Person B the stronger claim to the actual property and give Person C (essentially) a property right in the lawsuit and potential recovery against Person A. That answer gets much more complicated and fact-specific if there are other factors in favor of Person C, such as they have lost their housing and will be homeless if they can't move into what was originally intended to be an investment property.

I think most people have this sort of variable response to large, complex societal issues, but our discourse on the subject suffers a lot when people refuse to acknowledge what sort of place they're speaking from or that different discussions have different purposes (thus requiring different answers.)

[mothandpidgeon]

Forgive Me (Joel Miller x f!reader/ofc)

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/ofc (unnamed, no physical description)

Words: 3.5k

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: masturbation, the male gaze, dub con (looking at nudes without consent), references to p in v sex and blow jobs, references to drugs and alcohol, violence, general Joel Miller angst and self-loathing [let me know if I missed anything]

Summary: When Joel finds himself in possession of some sexy photos, temptation makes him question himself as he's fascinated by a woman he's never met.

A/N: She's back! I think it's been a year since I've posted any Pedro fic. I've been kind of uninspired but mainly focused on publishing my first novel. But Joel's got me all kinds of distracted from revising my manuscript. Please enjoy some angst.

...

It rained. A gray sky blanketed the QZ making everything look even more bleak. As if it needed help. Joel and his customer had taken cover under some scaffolding. Luckily, the weather meant that there weren’t a whole lot of people around, no suspicious glances in their direction. 

Joel opened his wet bag to reveal a pair of work boots to the buyer. Vince’s eyes lit up. 

“Hell yeah,” he said. 

Joel flipped the backpack closed again. These had been hard to come by and he’d gotten pretty good at this beat. Nobody got their hands on any goods without paying first. 

“Alright. I got you, man,” Vince said. This wasn’t his first rodeo either. He’d been doing business with Joel since the very beginning. He bought all kinds of shit— a radio, chocolate, tiny bottles of shampoo. Joel wasn’t sure if Vince resold the stuff but it was better not to know about that kind of thing. 

Vince put his cards into Joel’s hand and Joel counted. 

“What the hell is this?” Joel asked. 

Tucked into the stack of ration cards were a couple of photographs. A quick glance showed him they were all the same woman, naked or nearly naked. Vince had tried to pawn this stuff off on him before. In fact once he tried to pay with porn and Joel had to tell him he only accepted ration cards. 

“Just a little something extra,” Vince said with a wink. He happily took the boots and gave them a once over. “You got my size and everything.”

“I’m not interested,” Joel said and tried to hand the pictures back. 

“Come on,” Vince chuckled. “A stiff prick for a stiff prick.” He gave Joel a friendly slap on the shoulder which only deepened his scowl. 

“See you around.” Vince walked away and Joel had no choice but to tuck the bundle into his jacket. 

When he got home, Joel hid the ration cards away as he always did. He put the photographs into the hole in the floor as well. He hadn’t given them another look since they went into his pocket. Joel might’ve just gotten rid of them but nothing went in the trash without careful consideration. Everything in the QZ had value and these pictures were obviously worth something to somebody. It didn’t feel right to sell them but in a pinch, it would be good to have something that could grease some wheels. 

He put the floorboards back and promptly forgot about them. 

...

Joel’s hand reached into the hole in the floor. It was the end of a long and awful week. The Fireflies were causing trouble which meant the FEDRA rats were out in force. Joel hadn’t done any lucrative business in days. The honest work he could get was as degrading as ever. He smelled like trash and shit. He needed a fucking drink, couldn’t wait to feel it burn in the back of his throat. There was no chance his muscles would uncoil without a couple of shots. As he fished his bottle out of its hiding place, his fingers caught on something else. The slick side of a photograph stuck to his sweaty palm as he drew his hand out from under the floor. It’d been a while since he’d put the nudes down there and he hadn’t thought about them at all since. 

Joel looked at it. Curiosity, plain and simple. It was a Polaroid, taken on long-expired film that gave everything a tinge of sepia. The woman in the photograph looked out at him, a coy smile on her lips. It wasn’t her face that caught his attention. She sat on the edge of a bed, tits bare. One of her thumbs was hitched in the elastic of her panties. 

He pulled the other two out, just to see the variety, and took them over to his bed along with his bottle. The photos got more explicit. In the first she was laying back, completely exposed and touching herself. The other one had her on all fours, looking over her shoulder at the camera, at Joel. 

At first Joel chuckled to himself. He never considered himself to be the type to go for such exaggerated, porny stuff. And he hardly lost control of himself. There wasn’t room for desire in his life. Pleasure wasn’t a part of his vocabulary anymore. From the sludge that passed for his morning coffee to the hard mattress he lay on at night, there was nothing enjoyable to be found around him. 

Still, he felt himself twitching in his jeans. She had a nice body, the kind he used to like when he thought about things like that. She looked soft and he bet she smelled good. 

Joel began to wonder about her, if she’d taken the pictures for her lover. Or maybe for an ex who’d traded them to spite her. Either way, they weren’t for him. She might’ve posed for a creep like Vince to get a few ration cards. 

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like knowing that he was the kind of man who got stiff gawking at her. Joel did all kinds of things he wasn’t proud of but he had a good reason for them. Getting off on some woman’s private pictures just seemed wrong. 

She wasn’t his daughter but she was somebody’s and that made Joel’s gut twist. 

He tossed the photo aside and laid back, draping his forearm across his eyes. For a while he laid there trying to will his hard on away. His muscles were even more tense than before. He ground his teeth and screwed his eyes shut but the image of the woman had burned itself in. Soon he was absentmindedly touching himself through his jeans, dragging his fingertips over the lump in the denim. He craved that release. Each slow stroke made him pulse with want. 

He growled. What fucking difference did it make? Joel was acting all high and mighty like it meant something. He wasn’t any better than the man who’d given him these pictures. He had his own vices and he always felt about an inch away from violence. This poor girl had no idea he was looking at her body, that seeing her flesh was getting him hard. If that was the worst thing that ever happened to her, he told himself, she was lucky. 

Human decency be damned. Joel gave in to that selfish part of him, the animal inside that cared only about his own survival, his own desire. This world had taken everything from him and he was going to steal something from her. He knew what that made him but he didn’t care. 

Joel unzipped his fly, his cock weeping furiously and straining against his boxers. He took up the last photo, the one that was doubled over ass-out, and spit into his other fist. He pulled at himself as he glared at the picture. It felt good. Slick and tight. 

He could see a trail of wetness at her core reflecting the camera’s flash and he imagined how fantastic it would feel to plunge into her, to hold onto her hips and groan and buck against her. He kept tugging on his cock, squeezing at the head and dreaming up the noises she’d make, the sounds of their bodies connecting. He sped up his fist. He wanted her to cry out his name. He wanted her to take him away from all of this shit, just for a minute, just sixty fucking seconds when he could forget. 

A spasm ran up from his groin, an electric shock that travelled up his spine, and he moaned and swore through gritted teeth as he came. His heart pounded in his chest as he lay back, sticky and sweating. The photograph was still in his grip as his breath evened out. 

That wasn’t the last time he used her picture. Whenever he was amped up or way down, he’d retrieve the photos and get to work on himself. 

There was one photograph he favored over the others, the one where she was on her back. He liked to think about standing over her, taking in the sight of her. His eyes would move over every velvet inch of her before he went any further. 

She could be whatever he needed. Sometimes he would imagine her seducing him, straddling his hips and lowering herself onto his cock with a luxurious sigh. Others, he liked her to be sweet and innocent, just for him. When he was having a shitty day, he’d picture himself fucking brutally into her mouth until tears ran down her cheeks. It was messed up and he knew it but the guilt wore off quickly. He had next to nothing in this world, at least he could have this release.

... 

Joel had been waiting longer than he wanted. He’d circled the block three times already and he was getting impatient. He was meeting a buyer who was late and if they didn’t show soon, they’d be out of luck. Joel didn’t like to linger. 

He rounded the corner on the square and did his best to blend in. Another round of executions were underway. Above the crowd, four people were lined up on the catwalk, ropes around their necks. Joel chose to ignore it. He scanned the faces around him until he saw someone familiar. It wasn’t his contact. He wasn’t sure where he’d seen her before. That happened often— he’d spot someone he thought he knew from his past life. Most of the time, it was just a trick of the eye, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the woman on the other side of the square. 

She had her arm around another woman. The other one was more than middle aged and crying, tears running over the wrinkles on her cheeks. The woman, the one that Joel recognized, pulled her friend in close and glanced around. She wasn’t crying but she had a lost expression on her face. That’s when he realized. 

Joel was looking at the woman from the photographs. There was no doubt in his mind that it was her. He’d spent over a year staring at that face. In person, she was just as pretty but her appearance was hidden under the same dirt and weariness everyone in the QZ wore. 

Joel’s chest went tight and he couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t breathe. His body was crushed by shame and disgust. He had violated her and she didn’t even know it. 

The FEDRA officer read out the charges and she squeezed her friend in close so she wouldn’t have to watch the bodies drop. Obviously there was someone up there that they knew. Joel watched her face go stony as the platform fell out. She barely winced, like she was just there to bare witness, but he could guess how she felt. You lost enough people, what was one more friend dying right in front of your eyes?

The crowd broke up and she lead her companion away, a tender hand on the older woman’s shoulder. Joel had no choice but to move and his feet decided to head in the same direction as the woman. He kept his distance because he wasn't following her. At least he told himself that he that. It just wasn’t safe for him to hang around with FEDRA crawling all over. Dusk was falling so she was probably headed home before curfew fell. 

Joel watched her wind down the streets, all the while sick to his stomach. He truly was a creep. He didn’t know why he was going after her. The last thing he wanted was to spook her and it wasn’t like he planned on introducing himself. There was a funny idea in his mind that she might turn around and see him and know, just by looking at his face, what he’d done. Maybe she’d scream at him and slap him in the face. Part of him wanted that. He deserved it. 

She was just helping her friend up the stairs to one of the brownstones when Joel connected with something. He’d been so wrapped up in watching the woman, he wasn’t looking at where he was going. It startled him out of his thoughts to be inches away from a FEDRA officer. Usually Joel kept a wide berth but he’d walked right into the back of his bulletproof vest. The officer turned and put his hands on his hips, narrowed his eyes. 

Joel gave an apologetic nod. 

“Move along,” the FEDRA officer commanded. 

Joel did, unsure he deserved to slip out of a close call like that. 

When he got home, he felt like shit. He pried up the floorboards and dug out the pictures. The face that looked out at him was the same one he’d seen in the square. He snapped his eyes shut and swore under his breath. 

He set the photos down at the kitchen table, then sat on the couch with his bottle. Joel sat there for a long time, watching the pictures like they might spring up and force themselves back into his hand. That night, he hardly slept. 

...

Joel knew better than to do business with someone as skittish as Max. This kid had already chewed his fingernails down to the quick and the way his eyes darted around would make anyone suspicious. But he wanted pills so damn bad, he’d give up more ration cards than they were worth. Joel insisted they meet off the street, in an alley buffeted by a fence and brick walls. 

“You’re a lifesaver for this,” Max said. He couldn’t stop fidgeting and it made even Joel nervous. 

“Mhm,” he grumbled. 

Max knew the drill. He was ready with the cards without being asked. 

Joel was about to reach for them when the worst thing that could happen did. 

“What’s going on here?” a gruff voice called down the alley. Fuck. A FEDRA officer in full uniform was marching their way, one hand on his weapon.

Leave it to Max to split. He made a break for it and blew past the officer leaving Joel to face questioning alone. If he’d been cool, Joel could’ve talked their way out of it but now there was no hope of leaving without trouble.

The officer radioed for someone else to go after Max, gave his position and direction, but he kept his eyes on Joel. He was shorter than Joel and under his helmet, he looked young. Probably born just a few years before the outbreak with no options but joining up. The patch on his chest identified him as DIXON.

“Hands on your head,” Dixon instructed when he was finished.

Joel obeyed, a deep frown pulling at his lips. Dixon scanned him and then reached for his radio again.

“I’ve got some ration cards in my pocket. They’re all yours,” Joel offered before he could make a report.

“You trying to bribe me?” the officer asked.

Joel shook his head. “Everybody’s in need these days. Just trying to help out.”

Dixon scoffed. “Trying to help yourself out of a tough spot.”

Joel clenched his jaw. This motherfucker was obviously one of those types that got off on throwing their weight around. Half of the FEDRA soldiers he’d encountered were happy to bend the rules for the right price. The other half only felt big when they reminded others how small they’d become.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Dixon said, sliding his weapon onto his back so his hands were free. The chainlink fence rattled as he pressed Joel against it. Joel kept his eyes forward as hands searched his hips and down his legs. Dixon went into his pocket and Joel heard the crinkle of a plastic bag. “Pills. No wonder.”

He continued his search as Joel cursed himself. Losing that merchandise meant a nice stack of ration cards was about to evaporate into thin air. Not to mention the fact he was now in deep shit with FEDRA.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel heard. The delight in the officer’s voice made him turn his head. Joel’s stomach fell into his feet when he saw what had been found. Dixon held a Polaroid in his hand.

Joel had been toting the pictures around for two weeks, hoping chance might cause him to bump into the woman again. Sometimes he wandered past the building she went into before curfew, hoping to catch her there again. He could have just destroyed them, lit the corner and let them go up in flames, but he wanted to give them back to her so she knew that they weren’t floating around out there. That scumbags like him weren’t jacking it to her picture. That pigs like Dixon weren’t salivating over them like he was right now. 

“This your girl?” he asked. He raised the visor on his helmet to get a better look. “Damn.”

Joel pressed his lips into a line, shame washing over him again. He wondered if he’d had the same dopey grin on his face when he’d first gazed over her body.

“That’s a nice piece of pussy.” 

Joel seethed and squeezed his hand into a fist in hopes that he could ball up all the swiftly building ire right there.

“Y’know,” Dixon began, finally glancing back up to Joel, “if I got a taste of that, I might be inclined to forget about all this. If she’s any good, maybe I’d even let you keep your pills.”

His fist flew before he even knew it. Joel pounced on him, pinning Dixon against the brick and punching him right in the nose. Dixon fought back, clawing and grunting, scratching at Joel’s face. Joel didn’t care. In fact, he welcomed the pain. He wasn’t defending her, the woman he didn’t know. He wasn’t a hero. Joel pummeled the man the way he’d wanted to beat himself. Pervert. Scum. Monster. Blood gushed from Dixon’s nose and teeth were battered loose and it wasn’t long before he stopped defending himself. Joel finally realized he’d knocked him out. He was holding the officer up with his own bodyweight and when he let go, Dixon crumpled.

Joel stood over him, shoulders heaving with his jagged breaths. Dixon gurgled, a mess of swollen crimson. Joel stooped down and picked up the picture with a bloody hand. He turned down the alley and ran like the cockroach he was.

...

Joel leaned in the shadow of a doorway, his eyes fixed across the street. He’d been laying low, staying as far off of FEDRA’s radar as he could, but he’d been restless. A week had passed since he’d beaten the piss out of one of their officers. His knuckles were still red and raw. 

The sun was setting. He’d been out there for nearly four hours now and he’d need to get going soon if he was going to be back before curfew. There as no way he’d risk being out after dark when things were so hot.

He perked up when a figure rounded the corner. They were rushing, clearly fighting the same clock. It was her. Joel could tell from the other end of the block. He’d been resolved to get her pictures back to her but suddenly he felt like turning tail and going home. The urge only confirmed his worst opinions about himself. 

Joel strode across the street as she approached. He placed himself at the foot of the stairs he knew she was headed towards. 

The woman looked at him with nervous eyes. It stung but he couldn’t blame her. Joel was broad and his face always fixed in a scowl. She should be scared. He’d been no friend to her. 

“Do you want something?” she asked, staying a cautious distance away. Her voice wasn’t what he’d imagined. 

Joel pulled the photos out and she took a step back. He moved towards her, holding them out so she could see that he didn’t have anything dangerous. His fist was still swollen and a smear of Dixon’s blood had stained the white frame of the Polaroid.

The woman’s eyes bounced back and forth between his hand and his face. Finally, seeing that he wasn’t going anywhere until she took what he offered, she carefully plucked the pictures up. 

Her eyes went wide and then narrow. She glowered at him. “Where did you get these?” she demanded.

Joel’s mouth was dry. The accusation in her stare cut him deeper than he’d expected. The scabs on his knuckles burned like he’d scraped them against sandpaper. He looked at her for a lengthy moment and then decided that he’d done enough. 

Joel left her there after a grunt.

He walked swiftly, wanting to put as much distance between them as he could. He didn’t feel any better. It felt like failure. He’d already forgotten what she looked like, serpentine and sensuous, replaced by her hurt and admonition. 

Joel had planned on apologizing, but the words hadn’t come. 

...

My love language is words of affirmation so I'd love any comments or rbs. Thanks for reading, you beautiful person.

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[tartrazeen]

I feel like some folks don't understand what'll happen if Tumblr runs out of money.

I think that's why so many are doing the whole "we have to donate right now or else they can't make the changes we've been asking for" thing.

As a business major...

... allow me to enlighten you on exactly what'll happen if Tumblr fails to generate "enough" revenue.

Here it is!

They sell the site.

That's it.

You may remember this as being "the thing that happened the last time." Which last time, since there have been many? Exactly. Pick any of those blips in the rear-view mirror.

The site doesn't disappear or get deleted. Per capitalism, it fundamentally can't be. Automatic put money into this site, and they will not be leaving without getting money out of it one way or another: by monetizing us through Tumblr Live and tracking and no icons and letting terfs and racists roam free, or by trying to recover their loss if that never works at a turning a profit and they give up 'cause we're too high-maintenance.

This is normal Business. We're fine. Staff is pushing this so hard because they aren't fine, but if they go (i.e. "run out of money"), we get a new stepdaddy.

⁽⁠⁽⁠◝⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠௰⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠◜⁠⁾⁠⁾

And they will sell us long before we ever get to a 'boo-hoo delete the site' point because we live in a society under capitalism. You don't delete money. You sell it off to the next greedy corp. as a last resort so you get anything back on your failed investment.

Here - have some more details about that if you want:

Along with selling the site, someone else buys the site. This is the more important and yet even funnier/easier/more empowering-to-users half of the equation.

When someone sells something, it's to recoup a loss or realize a gain on their side - but either way, it's because there's something that's still valuable within the asset. Part of the sales pitch to new buyers is to therefore say, "Hey, look how profitable this website could be if you were able to tap into it the right way! Uh, why couldn't we do that? Uhhhhhhhhhhh."

The answer to that question relies heavily on why the site's being sold. If it's - as it's currently heading - along the lines of "Users are so delighted to give us money that they'll basically buy whatever you throw at them, but we're not in the business of doing infinite growth, so we're selling this to someone else who can manage that part and we'll start again with a different website." That's the best-case scenario for sellers and buyers. It's their win/win. It's them saying "I would keep making money but I don't have the infrastructure to get it all, so we're selling it to someone who can."

The answer that Yahoo got when they first bought it was some hilarious bullshit like, "Oh, uh, yeah, they're gonna be the .pdf of the future. Don't wanna miss that." Which is hilarious because it was more or less tricking Yahoo into buying a bucket of goblins. That was a win/lose on Yahoo's side, 'cause they fell for it and the old sellers got to escape with their losses cut and some money in their pocket. Same for when Verizon got it, although Yahoo was probably more honest in saying, "We didn't know this site had bees in it." Enough of a win for Yahoo to sell it, a lose on Verizon's side because they didn't know wtf to do with those bees either.

Automatic came in like, "Omg. Bees in a website. With money. We can monetize this. We can get rid of the bees. We'll take that off your hands for you, Verizon!"

And Verizon was like, "oh thank god, give us any cash you can spare"

And Automatic paid that assuming they would figure out how to finally crack through Tumblr's lack of profitability to get our sweet sweet money honey. They're forcing through Tumblr Live, for example, because if it works, they'll eventually find the optimal equation between "lose the unprofitable users" and "make maximum money." It's the same reason EA is in the business of microtransactions and doesn't give a damn about people complain until enough people reject it to actually hurt their bottom line.

If Automatic fails to do that?

They're just another Yahoo and Verizon. They sell it to the next sucker they can trick into thinking the site's a money-maker "in the right hands lmaooooo". They give up, essentially, but there's more money to be had in passing it on while the site still actively has users than it is to destroy the site entirely - because then you can't sell it for as much.

So feel free to dig in your heels and resist every single change! Send all your feedback! One-star the app! Delight in staff saying, "You're just making it harder for us!"

Yeah, good! Making staff's life harder is actually the goal. The harder we are to monetize in XYZ way, the more they have to decide if it's worth a new approach or cutting their losses. The less money they get, the more they have to either revert back to less profitable but tolerated options, or the closer they get to selling the site that's been publicly documented to hate XYZ tactics.

The worse reception these changes get, the closer the users get to an outright revolt, the more other companies go, "Eeee. You can't trick us into thinking they can be monetized." And that pushes Automatic towards one of two options:

Unload their "bad asset" onto someone else ASAP, with as positive of a spin on Tumblr's profitability as they can create

Keep the asset but accept that XYZ feature or tactic isn't getting them the cash they want, so try something else.

It's that simple. They're difficult for users to corner Automatic, of course, because Automatic bought this site with "The users are gonna try to boycott lol" rainy day funds and a lot of optimism that they could 'break' the userbase. But that's a corporate spirit that erodes once they really aren't making the money they thought they would.

Who knows? With enough documented resistance, the next owners might go in ready to embrace the existing Tumblr culture, especially if they can be convinced of how unique it is. You have nothing to lose with Automatic because they aren't interested in that. Quit panicking, this is all normal, and it's quite literally just a waiting game.

Continue to panic publicly, though! That does help. :) No - seriously, that affects Tumblr's external marketability and monetization potential, which further pushes Automatic into one of those two "sell or submit" options lmaoooo

#business #capitalism #tumblr #tumblr live #lmao