#cortado group

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Surveillance pricing

THIS WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Correction, 7 June 2024: The initial version of this article erroneously described Jeffrey Roper as the founder of ATPCO. He benefited from ATPCO, but did not co-found it. The initial version of this article called ATPCO "an illegal airline price-fixing service"; while ATPCO provides information that the airlines use to set prices, it does not set prices itself, and while the DOJ investigated the company, they did not pursue a judgment declaring the service to be illegal. I regret the error.

Noted anti-capitalist agitator Adam Smith had it right: "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices."

Despite being a raving commie loon, Smith's observation was so undeniably true that regulators, policymakers, and economists couldn't help but acknowledge that it was true. The trustbusting era was defined by this idea: if we let the number of companies in a sector get too small, or if we let one or a few companies get too big, they'll eventually start to rig prices.

What's more, once an industry contracts corporate gigantism, it will become too big to jail, able to outspend and overpower the regulators charged with reining in its cheating. Anyone who believes Smith's self-evident maxim had to accept its conclusion: that companies had to be kept smaller than the state that regulated them. This wasn't about "punishing bigness" – it was the necessary precondition for a functioning market economy.

We kept companies small for the same reason that we limited the height of skyscrapers: not because we opposed height, or failed to appreciate the value of a really good penthouse view – rather, to keep the building from falling over and wrecking all the adjacent buildings and the lives of the people inside them.

Starting in the neoliberal era – Carter, then Reagan – we changed our tune. We liked big business. A business that got big was doing something right. It was perverse to shut down our best companies. Instead, we'd simply ban big companies from rigging prices. This was called the "consumer welfare" theory of antitrust. It was a total failure.

40 years later, nearly every industry is dominated by a handful of companies, and these companies price-gouge us with abandon. Worse, they use their gigantic ripoff winnings to fill war-chests that fund the corruption of democracy, capturing regulators so that they can rip us off even more, while ignoring labor, privacy and environmental law and ducking taxes.

It turns out that keeping gigantic, opaque, complex corporations honest is really hard. They have so many ways to shuffle money around that it's nearly impossible to figure out what they're doing. Digitalization makes things a million times worse, because computers allow businesses to alter their processes so they operate differently for every customer, and even for every interaction.

This is Dieselgate times a billion: VW rigged its cars to detect when they were undergoing emissions testing and switch to a less polluting, more compliant mode. But when they were on the open road, they spewed lethal quantities of toxic gas, killing people by the thousands. Computers don't make corporate leaders more evil, but they let evil corporate leaders execute far more complex and nefarious plans. Digitalization is a corporate moral hazard, making it just too easy and tempting to rig the game.

That's why Toyota, the largest car-maker in the world, just did Dieselgate again, more than a decade later. Digitalization is a temptation no giant company can resist:

https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c1wwj1p2wdyo

For forty years, pro-monopoly cheerleaders insisted that we could allow companies to grow to unimaginable scale and still prevent cheating. They passed rules banning companies from explicitly forming agreements to rig prices. About ten seconds later, new middlemen popped up offering "information brokerages" that helped companies rig prices without talking to one another.

Take Agri Stats: the country's hyperconcentrated meatpacking industry pays Agri Stats to "consult on prices." They provide Agri Stats with a list of their prices, and then Agri Stats suggests changes based on its analysis. What does that analysis consist of? Comparing the company's prices to its competitors, who are also Agri Stats customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

In other words, Agri Stats finds the highest price for each product in the sector, then "advises" all the companies with lower prices to raise their prices to the "competitive" level, creating a one-way ratchet that sends the price of food higher and higher.

More and more sectors have an Agri Stats, and digitalization has made this price-gouging system faster, more efficient, and accessible to sectors with less concentration. Landlords, for example, have tapped into Realpage, a "data broker" that the same thing to your rent that Agri Stats does to meat prices. Realpage requires the landlords who sign up for its service to accept its "recommendations" on minimum rents, ensuring that prices only go up:

https://popular.info/p/feds-raid-corporate-landlord-escalating

Writing for The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein lays out the many ways in which these digital intermediaries have supercharged the business of price-rigging:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-05-three-algorithms-in-a-room/

Goldstein identifies a kind of patient zero for this ripoff epidemic: Jeffrey Roper, a former Alaska Air exec who benefited from a service that helps airlines set prices. ATPCO was investigated by the DOJ in the 1990s, but the enforcers lost their nerve and settled with the company, which agreed to apply some ornamental fig-leafs to its collusion-machine. Even those cosmetic changes were seemingly a bridge too far Roper, who left the US.

But he came back to serve as Realpage's "principal scientist" – the architect of a nationwide scheme to make rental housing vastly more expensive. For Roper, the barrier to low rents was empathy: landlords felt stirrings of shame when they made shelter unaffordable to working people. Roper called these people "idiots" who sentimentality "costs the whole system."

Sticking a rent-gouging computer between landlords and the people whose lives they ruin is a classic "accountability sink," as described in Dan Davies' new book "The Unaccountability Machine: Why Big Systems Make Terrible Decisions – and How The World Lost its Mind":

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

It's a form of "empiricism washing": if computers are working in the abstract realm of pure numbers, they're just moving the objective facts of the quantitative realm into the squishy, imperfect qualitative world. Davies' interview on Trashfuture is excellent:

https://trashfuturepodcast.podbean.com/e/fire-sale-at-the-accountability-store-feat-dan-davies/

To rig prices, an industry has to solve three problems: the problem of coming to an agreement to fix prices (economists call this "the collective action problem"); the problem of coming up with a price; and the problem of actually changing prices from moment to moment. This is the ripoff triangle, and like a triangle, it has many stable configurations.

The more concentrated an industry is, the easier it is to decide to rig prices. But if the industry has the benefit of digitalization, it can swap the flexibility and speed of computers for the low collective action costs from concentration. For example, grocers that switch to e-ink shelf tags can make instantaneous price-changes, meaning that every price change is less consequential – if sales fall off after a price-hike, the company can lower them again at the press of a button. That means they can collude less explicitly but still raise prices:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags

My name for this digital flexibility is "twiddling." Businesses with digital back-ends can alter their "business logic" from second to second, and present different prices, payouts, rankings and other key parts of the deal to every supplier or customer they interact with:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Not only does twiddling make it easier to rip off suppliers, workers and customers, it also makes these crimes harder to detect. Twiddling made Dieselgate possible, and it also underpinned "Greyball," Uber's secret strategy of refusing to send cars to pick up transportation regulators who would then be able to see firsthand how many laws the company was violating:

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/03/technology/uber-greyball-program-evade-authorities.html

Twiddling is so easy that it has brought price-fixing to smaller companies and less concentrated sectors, though the biggest companies still commit crimes on a scale that put these bit-players to shame. In The Prospect, David Dayen investigates the "personalized pricing" ripoff that has turned every transaction into a potential crime-scene:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-04-one-person-one-price/

"Personalized pricing" is the idea that everything you buy should be priced based on analysis of commercial surveillance data that predicts the maximum amount you are willing to pay.

Proponents of this idea – like Harvard's Pricing Lab with its "Billion Prices Project" – insist that this isn't a way to rip you off. Instead, it lets companies lower prices for people who have less ability to pay:

https://thebillionpricesproject.com/

This kind of weaponized credulity is totally on-brand for the pro-monopoly revolution. It's the same wishful thinking that led regulators to encourage monopolies while insisting that it would be possible to prevent "bad" monopolies from raising prices. And, as with monopolies, "personalized pricing" leads to an overall increase in prices. In econspeak, it is a "transfer of wealth from consumer to the seller."

"Personalized pricing" is one of those cuddly euphemisms that should make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. A more apt name for this practice is surveillance pricing, because the "personalization" depends on the vast underground empire of nonconsensual data-harvesting, a gnarly hairball of ad-tech companies, data-brokers, and digital devices with built-in surveillance, from smart speakers to cars:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/12/market-failure/#car-wars

Much of this surveillance would be impractical, because no one wants their car, printer, speaker, watch, phone, or insulin-pump to spy on them. The flexibility of digital computers means that users always have the technical ability to change how these gadgets work, so they no longer spy on their users. But an explosion of IP law has made this kind of modification illegal:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

This is why apps are ground zero for surveillance pricing. The web is an open platform, and web-browsers are legal to modify. The majority of web users have installed ad-blockers that interfere with the surveillance that makes surveillance pricing possible:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But apps are a closed platform, and reverse-engineering and modifying an app is a literal felony – several felonies, in fact. An app is just a web-page skinned with enough IP to make it a felony to modify it to protect your consumer, privacy or labor rights:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

(Google is leading a charge to turn the web into the kind of enshittifier's paradise that apps represent, blocking the use of privacy plugins and proposing changes to browser architecture that would allow them to felonize modifying a browser without permission:)

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

Apps are a twiddler's playground. Not only can they "customize" every interaction you have with them, but they can block you (or researchers seeking to help you) from recording and analyzing the app's activities. Worse: digital transactions are intimate, contained to the palm of your hand. The grocer whose e-ink shelf-tags flicker and reprice their offerings every few seconds can be collectively observed by people who are in the same place and can start a conversation about, say, whether to come back that night a throw a brick through the store's window to express their displeasure. A digital transaction is a lonely thing, atomized and intrinsically shielded from a public response.

That shielding is hugely important. The public hates surveillance pricing. Time and again, through all of American history, there have been massive and consequential revolts against the idea that every price should be different for every buyer. The Interstate Commerce Commission was founded after Grangers rose up against the rail companies' use of "personalized pricing" to gouge farmers.

Companies know this, which is why surveillance pricing happens in secret. Over and over, every day, you are being gouged through surveillance pricing. The sellers you interact with won't tell you about it, so to root out this practice, we have to look at the B2B sales-pitches from the companies that sell twiddling tools.

One of these companies is Plexure, partly owned by McDonald's, which provides the surveillance-pricing back-ends for McD's, Ikea, 7-Eleven, White Castle and others – basically, any time a company gives you a hard-sell to order via its apps rather than its storefronts or its website, you should assume you're getting twiddled, hard.

These companies use the enshittification playbook to trap you into using their apps. First, they offer discounts to customers who order through their apps – then, once the customers are fully committed to shopping via app, they introduce surveillance pricing and start to jack up the prices.

For example, Plexure boasts that it can predict what day a given customer is getting paid on and use that information to raise prices on all the goods the customer shops for on that day, on the assumption that you're willing to pay more when you've got a healthy bank balance.

The surveillance pricing industry represents another reason for everything you use to spy on you – any data your "smart" TV or Nest thermostat or Ring doorbell can steal from you can be readily monetized – just sell it to a surveillance pricing company, which will use it to figure out how to charge you more for everything you buy, from rent to Happy Meals.

But the vast market for surveillance data is also a potential weakness for the industry. Put frankly: the commercial surveillance industry has a lot of enemies. The only thing it has going for it is that so many of these enemies don't know that what's they're really upset about is surveillance.

Some people are upset because they think Facebook made Grampy into a Qanon. Others, because they think Insta gave their kid anorexia. Some think Tiktok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama bin Laden. Some are upset because the cops use Google location data to round up Black Lives Matter protesters, or Jan 6 insurrectionists. Some are angry about deepfake porn. Some are angry because Black people are targeted with ads for overpriced loans or colleges:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/06/04/meta_ad_algorithm_discrimination/

And some people are angry because surveillance feeds surveillance pricing. The thing is, whatever else all these people are angry about, they're all angry about surveillance. Are you angry that ad-tech is stealing a 51% share of news revenue? You're actually angry about surveillance. Are you angry that "AI" is being used to automatically reject resumes on racial, age or gender grounds? You're actually angry about surveillance.

There's a very useful analogy here to the history of the ecology movement. As James Boyle has long said, before the term "ecology" came along, there were people who cared about a lot of issues that seemed unconnected. You care about owls, I care about the ozone layer. What's the connection between charismatic nocturnal avians and the gaseous composition of the upper atmosphere? The term ecology took a thousand issues and welded them together into one movement.

That's what's on the horizon for privacy. The US hasn't had a new federal consumer privacy law since 1988, when Congress acted to ban video-store clerks from telling the newspapers what VHS cassettes you were renting:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

We are desperately overdue for a new consumer privacy law, but every time this comes up, the pro-surveillance coalition defeats the effort. but as people who care about conspiratorialism, kids' mental health, spying by foreign adversaries, phishing and fraud, and surveillance pricing all come together, they will be an unbeatable coalition:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Meanwhile, the US government is actually starting to take on these ripoff artists. The FTC is working to shut down data-brokers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

The FBI is raiding landlords to build a case against Frontpage and other rent price-fixers:

https://popular.info/p/feds-raid-corporate-landlord-escalating

Agri Stats is facing a DoJ lawsuit:

https://www.nationalhogfarmer.com/market-news/agri-stats-loses-motions-to-transfer-dismiss-in-doj-antitrust-case

Not every federal agency has gotten the message, though. Trump's Fed Chairman, Jerome Powell – whom Biden kept on the job – has been hiking interest rates in a bid to reduce our purchasing power by making millions of Americans poorer and/or unemployed. He's doing this to fight inflation, on the theory that inflation is being cause by us being too well-off, and therefore trying to buy more goods than are for sale.

But of course, interest rates are inflationary: when interest rates go up, it gets more expensive to pay your credit card bills, lease your car, and pay a mortgage. And where we see the price of goods shooting up, there's abundant evidence that this is the result of greedflation – companies jacking up their prices and blaming inflation. Interest rate hawks say that greedflation is impossible: if one company raises its prices, its competitors will swoop in and steal their customers with lower prices.

Maybe they would do that – if they didn't have a toolbox full of algorithmic twiddling options and a deep trove of surveillance data that let them all raise prices together:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-06-05-time-for-fed-to-meet-ftc/

Someone needs to read some Adam Smith to Chairman Powell: "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[julietsf1]

masterlist <3

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my personal favourites are marked with a little star!

currently I've written fics for franco colapinto, lando norris, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, kenan yıldız

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franco colapinto

irritating but irresistible (8k words) Alex Albon’s sister is not happy with Logan’s new replacement who seems to be very sure of himself.

Best Day Ever ☆ (6k words) Oscar's win and Franco's first points have to be celebrated. With her best friend Lando playing matchmaker and the tension between Y/N and Franco simmering, the night promises to be anything but ordinary. Sparks fly on the dance floor, but is Y/N ready to admit what’s really going on?

Post-Race Snuggles (1k words) After an intense Singapore GP, Franco’s idea of the perfect cool down is snuggling up in his girlfriend’s lap

From Raya to Rivalry (9k words) Carlos Sainz's little sister is pushed to the limit when rookie Franco Colapinto, who stood her up after a flirtatious encounter on Raya, re-enters her life—without any sign he remembers her at all. Between race weekends and time with friends the tension between them becomes impossible to ignore. Will Franco finally remember why she’s been driving him mad all along?

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking (1.2k words) Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night

Push & Pull (6k words) She has always kept Franco at a distance, teasing and confident that he’d never give up on her. But when he suddenly pulls away, she can’t stop thinking about him, realizing she might care more than she’s let on. Could it be that he’s been waiting for her to figure it out all along?

The Secret Admirer ☆ (7.5k words) She thought the biggest challenge this season would be her dynamic with her cold teammate, but mysterious notes and gifts start to complicate things. Who’s behind it, and what happens when she finds out?

Hurricane (5k words) When a hurricane leaves Y/N stranded at Charles’s Monaco apartment with a few of his friends, Y/N has to navigate both the storm outside and the one brewing inside.

Focus with Franco (2k words) Studying for exams is tough, but trying to focus while your yapper boyfriend, Franco, is around? Impossible.

Frights & Feuds (6.5k words) She and Franco never liked each other, but leave it to Lando to throw them into matching costumes at his Halloween party.

Love at first fright (2.2k words) You don’t know what is scarier, the haunted house where you are interviewing Franco or the way your heart speeds up around him.

Factory Reset (6k words) After a major crash, Franco Colapinto is sent to the Williams factory to work alongside the engineers repairing his car. Tensions run high as he’s forced to confront the realities of their work and the sharp wit of performance engineer Y/N. What begins as a clash of worlds becomes an eye-opening experience for both.

Holly Jolly Faking ☆ (8k words) Two people who can’t stand each other agree to fake a relationship to avoid meddling friends and unwanted matchmaking during their Christmas weekend away. What could possibly go wrong? [st. mleux reader]

A Technical Mistake ☆ (7k words) peaceful paddock mornings of stocking caps and shirts are flipped upside down when Franco Colapinto, a charming stranger she assumes is part of the tech crew, comes into her store and gives her weekend an unexpected turn.

The Sparks at Midnight (2k words) NYE at Lando's: a jar full of resolutions, a group of friends gathered around the fire to laugh, tease, and guess whose secrets were written on each slip of paper. With one very special resolution shaking things up for Y/N.

Crushes and Cortados (2.5k words) as a barista you see a lot of weird customers in a day, and this one Argentinian boy who keeps coming in every day is definitely one of them.

Ramentic Gestures (2k words) Franco thinks switching bowls is the chivalrous thing to do—until he takes a bite and realizes he’s made a terrible mistake

lando norris

The Idiot I Call Mine ☆ (7.1k words) best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently.

For her (3.2k words) She came to support him. Instead, she was met with hate and a paddock full of people who acted like she didn’t exist. But if there was one thing about Lando Norris, it was that he loved out loud

The Line We Never Crossed (7.5k words) Lando Norris has been treating you like an afterthought all season, which would be fine if you hadn’t nearly kissed him last year. your new job in the paddock means you can’t avoid him, and his petty cold shoulder act is starting to feel personal

Strawberry Season ☆ (6.7k words) she was his plus-one, his accessory, his afterthought. but Lando Norris? he made her laugh before her boyfriend even noticed she’d stopped smiling

charles leclerc

The Potion Project (12k words) When a week-long potions project pairs two opposites, something starts brewing between them as well (harry potter inspired)

Home Again (4.5k words) eight years, one city, and a thousand unspoken words—will a chance encounter in London bring closure, or is there more in store for Monaco's golden boy and the one who got away

kenan yıldız

Perfect Fit ☆ (8.5k words) Being Kenan’s stylist was supposed to be about clothes. Not lame excuses to spend time, lingering touches, and the slow realization that you might be in over your head

All is Fair in Love and Pastries (8k words) She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel.

Off Limits (18k words) Jude had one rule: his sister was strictly off-limits. Kenan really tried to listen, really did. But then you smiled at him, and, well—there was no coming back from that.

oscar piastri

Overtaking Your Expectations (3k words) Your biggest mistake this weekend? Underestimating Oscar Piastri. Now, he’s making sure you know it

[maincharactermuse]

THE ONE WHERE SHE FLIRTED. (1)

(Find my master list here.)

The café opened at seven.

Y/N liked to be there by six — when the streets of Hampstead were still quiet, still belonged to the foxes and delivery vans and the occasional jogger. Inside, the café was warm and quiet, her own little world slowly waking up.

She flicked on the lights, warm-hued bulbs strung across beams, soft glows from mismatched sconces. The space came to life gently. Wooden tables, each slightly different in shape and history, were paired with an eclectic mix of chairs, some thrifted, some inherited, none boring. Plants trailed from shelves and hung in hand-tied macramé, their leaves glossy from her near-religious watering schedule. The walls bore hand-drawn chalk art and framed polaroids from over the years - regulars, staff birthdays, someone’s dog that had become a café mascot.

This place was hers.

She’d built it from scratch, scraped together savings, worked long hours, painted every wall herself. After the accident - after the grief had nearly consumed her - this café had been her lifeline. Every batch of sourdough, every grind of coffee beans, every song that played from the vintage speaker tucked behind the counter: it all meant something. This was her heart stitched into bricks and mortar.

“Morning, boss,” came Ryan’s voice, already halfway through steaming milk as if he owned the place… which, to be fair, he sometimes acted like he did.

“Morning, Ry. You beat me?”

“I slept with a barista last night and had to sneak out early anyway. Figured I’d make myself useful.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m charming,” Ryan corrected. “And I make a mean oat flat white.”

Jules had already started banging pans in the kitchen, her signature cinnamon buns baking up warm and sticky. Toby, hood up and earbuds in, was unstacking chairs and pretending not to hear Ryan singing along to Stevie Nicks.

It was shaping up to be a good day.

———————————————————————————

The morning rush came in waves with joggers and freelancers, mums with prams, a local poet who always asked for hot water with lemon and then stayed for hours writing in the corner.

The bell above the door jingled, low, familiar, and Y/N didn’t even glance up at first. She was focused on the group order in front of her: two cappuccinos, one chai, an oat cortado with extra cinnamon. It was muscle memory by now, her hands moving with practiced ease.

But then she felt it - that subtle shift. A stillness, just behind the usual hum of the café. Not dramatic. Just… different.

She looked up.

The man who had walked in stood just inside the doorway, shoulders slightly hunched like someone trying not to draw attention but somehow doing exactly that. He wore a simple black coat, dark sunglasses, and a beanie pulled low over his curls. Not that tall, but his presence filled the room like warmth flooding in through a window cracked just open.

He glanced around, then made his way to the counter.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft. “Could I just get a flat white, please?”

“Just a flat white?” she asked, brow raised playfully.

He smiled faintly. “Unless you’re telling me I’ve made a mistake.”

“Well, it’s not wrong, per se, but it’s a little… safe.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Is this how you treat all your customers? Shame their drink orders?”

“Only the ones who seem like they can take it.”

He tilted his head slightly, amused. “I’ll brave the judgement.”

She grabbed a cup. “Name for the order?”

He hesitated for half a beat. “Harry.”

She nodded. “Alright, Harry. Let’s get you something barely passable.”

Behind her, Ryan leaned against the pastry case, arms crossed, silently watching the whole interaction with an eyebrow halfway to heaven. But he didn’t say anything. Not yet.

As she started the machine, Y/N noticed the man, Harry, glancing around the café. His eyes lingered on the corner table where sunlight pooled in a perfect golden wash across the reclaimed wood.

“That one,” she said, nodding toward it, “gets the best light until about eleven.”

He looked back at her, eyes curious behind the sunglasses. “Good to know. Is it reserved?”

“For people with excellent taste in natural lighting? Yes.”

His smile widened. “And judgmental baristas?”

“Also yes.”

She passed him the coffee, a real one, actually good, and their fingers brushed just slightly. Not enough to mean anything, but enough to notice.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Try not to spill it,” she teased. “The seat might be perfect but the tables are uneven.”

“I’ll live dangerously.”

He turned and made his way to the corner table, and as he settled in, the light hit him just right - soft and gold and quiet.

Y/N blinked a little, feeling like the air had shifted again.

Behind her, Ryan cleared his throat.

She turned.

“What?”

“Was that you flirting?” he asked, completely deadpan.

“Flirting? No. I don’t flirt.”

Ryan scoffed. “Babe. You flirted. You did the eyebrow thing. You told him his drink was boring. That’s textbook Y/N banter-flirting.”

“I was serving a customer,” she insisted.

“Call it what you want, but that was banter and blushes, babe. Banter. And. Blushes.”

“I did not blush.”

“You’re blushing now.”

She grabbed a cloth and chucked it at his shoulder. “Go do the dishes with Jules.”

Ryan grinned and sauntered off. “Love is in the air!” he sang on the way to the back.

Toby, still arranging chairs near the front, looked up and offered dryly, “That was definitely flirting.”

She pointed a warning finger. “This is your second week. Be kind.”

He shrugged. “Just saying. You never tease anyone who orders a flat white unless they’re hot.”

Y/N’s face flared warmer than she wanted to admit. “Go restock the napkins or something.”

———————————————————————————

As the hour passed, the café settled into its morning rhythm. Harry stayed tucked into his corner, writing in a notebook, occasionally sipping his coffee with quiet satisfaction.

And just before he left, he came back to the counter.

“That was genuinely one of the best coffees I’ve had in a while,” he said.

“Well,” she replied, arms crossed over her apron, “next time maybe you’ll order something more adventurous. Give me a challenge.”

He smiled again, tucking the notebook under his arm. “I’ll try to impress you.”

“Tall order.”

He lifted the cup slightly in a mock toast. “Thanks again. For the recommendation… and the abuse.”

“My pleasure.”

And just like that, he slipped out the door and the bell jingled behind him.

The bell jingled behind him.

Y/N stared at the space where he’d stood, a little too long.

Then Ryan’s voice came from the back, sing-song and smug: “Told you.”

[horoscope1078]

:)

Hector had many talents, defending, passing, looking effortlessly good in any lighting, but above all, he excelled in one thing... being the main character. And today, as he strolled through Barcelona with you, he was in peak attention seeker mode.

“Babe...” he said, stopping dramatically in the middle of Plaça de Catalunya. “Do you realise how lucky Barcelona is right now?”

You blinked. “Uhm... why?”

He gestured to himself. “Because I am here. Gracing these streets with my presence.”

You snorted. “Oh, right. Barcelona must feel so honoured.”

Hector nodded seriously. “Exactly. But even luckier than Barcelona…” He turned to you, eyes twinkling. “…is you.”

You groaned, shoving him lightly. “You are too much.”

Hector gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Me? Too much? Babe, I’m just the right amount of fabulous.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. The streets were buzzing with life, tourists snapping photos, locals sipping their cortados, and somewhere in the distance, a street musician played a lively Spanish tune. It was the perfect Barcelona afternoon. And yet, Hector still needed to be the centre of attention.

As you walked along La Rambla, he suddenly grabbed your hand and twirled you like you were in a ballroom dance.

You squealed. “Hector! What are you doing?”

“Giving the people a show!” he said, spinning you again. “I mean, if we’re going to walk around, we might as well do it with style.”

You giggled. “You are so extra.”

He smirked. “And you love it.”

You hated that he was right. You continued walking, but Hector still couldn’t just be normal. That was too easy. When you passed a group of young Barça fans, he made sure to accidentally stretch his arms, subtly drawing attention to himself. It worked instantly.

“¡Eh, es Hector Fort!” one of the kids shouted.

Hector grinned. “The one and only.”

They rushed over, asking for selfies, and of course, Hector happily obliged, posing like a superstar, flashing his signature grin, even ruffling one kid’s hair like he was royalty blessing a subject. You stood to the side, watching in pure amusement.

When he was done, he strutted back to you. “See? They love me.”

You laughed. “I swear, if your ego gets any bigger, it’s going to need its own zip code.”

Hector gasped. “That’s not true. My ego is perfectly sized.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You reached a street vendor selling churros, and Hector turned to you with wide, dramatic eyes.

“Babe” he whispered. “We need them.”

You chuckled. “Ok ok. But I’m paying.”

Hector gasped in horror. “Absolutely not! My queen does not pay when her football prince is around!”

You rolled your eyes. “Football prince? That’s a new one.”

He winked. “I’m full of surprises.”

Hector paid for the churros with a proud flourish, like he had just gifted you diamonds instead of fried dough.

As you walked away, he took a dramatic bite, closing his eyes. “Oh my god. This is art.”

You giggled, taking a bite of yours. “Mmm, ok, I admit, this is really good.”

Hector smirked. “See? Another example of how I bring greatness into your life.”

You playfully shoved him. “Please, you didn’t invent churros.”

“No, but I did introduce you to these churros. Which is basically the same thing.”

You shook your head, laughing. You wandered toward the beach, the salty sea breeze mixing with the scent of street food.

Hector suddenly stopped and turned to you. “Babe. I have an idea.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Oh no.”

“Let’s take one of those touristy couple pictures.”

You groaned. “Hector, no.”

Hector pouted. “Come on! You know you want to!”

You sighed. “Fine. But only if you don’t do something ridiculous.”

Hector beamed. “Deal.”

Five seconds later, he was doing something ridiculous. Instead of a normal, cute couple pose, he dipped her backward dramatically, extending his arm to the sky like he was in some grand romantic movie.

You shrieked. “HECTOR!”

A random passerby had taken the picture and laughed as they handed you phone back.

Hector grinned down at you. “Now that is a legendary photo.”

You glared at him. “You are impossible.”

He smirked. “And yet, you still love me.”

You tried to hide your smile, but he caught it. You strolled back toward the city centre, and Hector suddenly sighed dramatically.

“What now?” you asked.

He gave you the biggest, most exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. “You haven’t complimented me in at least ten minutes.”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. I am suffering.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Ok, fine. You’re charming.”

Hector grinned. “Go on.”

“You’re funny.”

“And?”

You sighed. “And you look really cute today.”

Hector clutched his heart. “Babe, you just saved my life.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are such an attention seeker.”

“And you enable me.” he smirked. “That’s why we’re perfect.”

You couldn’t even argue with that.

As the sun set over Barcelona, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink, you realised something. Yes, Hector was dramatic. Yes, he was an attention-seeking menace. But he was also yours. And honestly, you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[to-star-lake]

alternative timeline / ending where:

after infiltrating the PLF, Hawks thinks Twice is an asset to develop for intelligence. But after spending some time with him, Hawks found himself softened by Jin's optimism, his humor, his innate kindness. And so he starts asking Jin to dress in plain clothes, and go out drinking with him, go out for coffee with him; go out beyond the world of the LOV and the PLF and just enjoy the world with him, two comrades.

Hawks would slowly start showing his hero side in front of Jin; when leaving a bar late at night, he'd initiate chasing away a group of drunken men from harassing a young woman. And Jin would follow his lead, afterwards being shy, tripping over his words as the young woman thanked him repeatedly.

Jin didn't think of this as hero work; he just saw a friend, someone he admired even, doing something, and when he joined, he felt good, he felt whole.

The truth of Hawks' betrayal left Jin confused and hurt, but he'd overcome his trauma through months of Hawks' comraderie, which in turn, strengthened his relationships with the other LOV members, and he was able to use his quirk to save his friends, all escaping the fallen Gunga Villa on Machia's back.

Even after that, when Jin would go out in the early morning to get a cortado (a habit he picked up from Hawks), if he saw an elderly woman crossing the street, or someone struggling with their groceries, he'd quietly lend them a hand.

\

Dabi couldn't show it in front of Shouto, but he was deeply distressed to find out the villain he set loose almost killed Natsuo. Not long after Gunga, he'd quietly gone in disguise to see Natsuo at university. He felt a strange surge of heat boiling up to his eyes (a feeling he knew meant tears would rise, but could not fall from his tear ducts that have long since burned), seeing his brother, once his closest confidant, with a group of friends, sharing a meal, discussing their coursework. He'd even seen Natsuo with a girl a few times, one girl specifically, and he'd even felt a smile creep up the corners of his lips. He wondered if that was Natsuo's girlfriend; couldn't be because of how nervous he acted around her. Must be a crush, he thought. And he felt an urge to make himself seen, and give Natsuo a hard smack on the back, and laugh at him, and lend some brotherly advice.

Natsuo did actually notice. He'd noticed the first time a poorly disguised hooded figure suddenly started appearing in the shadows near him at all times. He knew immediately who it was. But he didn't say anything at first. He wasn't afraid, and he knew he wanted to confront him- his stupid big brother. But he just didn't know what to say. Until finally one night, on a quiet street as he was walking home alone after a late night study session at the library, he turned and confronted him head on.

Natsuo ran to him, ran into him, his arms flailing between embracing his long-lost brother and hitting him with loose fists against his chest. "You stupid, stupid big brother," he cried.

Since then, Dabi would sneak out, in his poor excuse for a disguise, and meet Natsuo at darkened pubs late at night. They talked about everything, and Natsuo listened to him. And he was slowly getting used to being called Touya again. Eventually, Fuyumi joined them, she too, sobbed uncontrollably upon seeing Touya's face. Eventually, they brought him to see their mom, and ultimately, even ran into Shouto.

He'd never really been able to put a name to how he felt about Endeavor. Oh, he knew what it was. But saying it made him feel weak, without resolve. But he knew; what he wanted, what he craved, was validation from his father. But after the time spent in secret with his siblings, he slowly developed a soft, warm kind of contentness that salved the crackling dryness and heat in his heart. He still hated Endeavor, but he came to find that in their own way, they did too, and there was some validation in that.

\

After her encounter with Ochaco at Gunga, Toga would often sneak off and look for her and Izuku, being so bold as to follow them to the UA campus at one point. She'd hide, far away, with a pair of thrifted binoculars (by thrifted, we mean stolen), and watch Ochaco and Izuku from afar as they practiced and sparred on the athletic fields behind the school. She was seething with anger at them, both of them. And at the same time felt an itch, an irrepressible urge to be near them, to share in the same space as them, the way you craved closeness to a first crush.

Ochaco noticed first, and one afternoon after filling up her water bottle at a cooler behind one of the annex buildings, chased Toga almost three miles into the woods before she caught her. Toga thrashed, she didn't have any of her gear with her, and the only thing she could think to do was bite Ochaco, anywhere she could latch her teeth on.

The blood which she always thought tasted so sweet, which would allow her to become those she loved, tasted bitter and acrid in her mouth, mixed with tears she resented. And after almost a half an hour of fighting this way, she felt worn down and exhausted, and so she just sat there, and let Ochaco hold her.

Ochaco would sneak up to the woods to look for Toga in the weeks after that. She'd bring a small bag of snacks; candy, chips, and an MP3 player loaded with music she loves and thinks Toga would like too. At first, Toga kept her distance, hidden, crouched behind a tree or a bush the way a feral animal would as they tested the waters.

But soon, she found herself sitting on a picnic blanket with Ochaco, and eventually Izuku joined too, munching on snacks and drinking way too much sugary fizzy drinks, talking of dreams and first loves, high on happiness.

\

When Izuku was forced out of Tomura's subconscious and saw Kurogiri's portals appear and his friends, Aizawa and Class 1A emerge, so did the LOV.

And together, they made one final attempt to penetrate Tomura's subconscious.

Toga, Twice, Mr. Compress and Spinner, and Touya too, surrounded Tomura's body, crackling like static. Tomura was confused to see them, his face flashing between that of a small, scared, crying child, to the bewildered crimson eyes filled with madness of his adult self. He'd been fighting against the will of AFO for what felt like an eternity now. And he was tired.

Seeing his friends here, he wondered if he could just go back. He thought of quiet days in the dingy little LOV hideout where Kurogiri would make him sugary drinks, where he'd play video games until dawn, when he'd still hear Twice and Toga's giggles through the paper-thin walls, where he'd hear the muted sounds of a newsreel being played of Stain that Spinner must've been watching, where in the latest hours, he'd hear the door open and the bell above it ring, and the light footsteps from Dabi's boots would enter, and he'd no doubt sink onto the couch, smelling of ash and smoke.

Their hands reached for him, and for a moment he had a terrifying flashback to the hands of his family, all clinging onto him, holding him back, holding him down, the effort it took to drag along all this weight with him his whole life-

But then he noticed. Their hands weren't gripping his arms or his neck or his face. Their palms were flat against his back, as though they were propelling him forward. Their hands wrapped around his arm, extended to ward off AFO's will, to hold him, to support him, to lend him their power.

Shigaraki Tomura defeated All For One, with the help of his friends in the League of Villains.

And in the aftermath, they'd all be arrested for their crimes. But at the behest of All Might, Hawks, and Endeavor, they were allowed to share a common space at Tartarus, to rehabilitate. They may be imprisoned for life, in this small dark space on a far-off island. But Tomura didn't mind. He was with them, his chosen family. They were his heroes. And he was their's.

[ass-arius]

kck annoying archvillain that doesn't realize they're more of a nuisance than a nemesis post-graduation. I'm talking cartoon evil villain levels of incompetence. I'm talking dr drakken. doofenshmirtz. I'm talking megamind. mojo jojo. The only thing they have going for them is the Gimmick and after high school kipperlilly's isn't as charming anymore

she goes to government mandated villain reform and regular evaluations and smiles and says she thinks she's getting better :) and then she goes home and all her walls are pepe silva but it's just the bad kids who are now Grown Ups and semi-retired from adventuring. every now and then she tries to get them with some freeze ray contraption and they go SIGH kipperlilly why are u like this and send her back to jail.

sometimes her plans actually work a little too well and the bad kids come back together to thwart whatever convoluted evil plot to take over elmville she's made this time. riz shows up late with cortados bc he saw one of many of kck's names in the group chat and decided it wasn't a big enough threat and it drives kipperlilly so blindingly crazy with anger that gorgug can just get up behind her and knock her out. adaine writes a spell called cuntface cage and it's an arcane prison to carry kipperlilly to jail, specified to her proportions. it's shaped like a birkin bag.

[grey-and-lavender]

Good morning good morning!

I got sleep!!! 8.5 hours of it and woke up before my alarm (The lover was home sick from work so around to call me as I got up, which is always a treat. That ldr breakfast facetime is a classic.). I fed the cat and made some breakfast and two cortados (one for breakfast and one to bring to the office. The latter is still sitting on my kitchen counter at home. Tragic).

I am on campus for the morning to go to some talks and then this afternoon I am going home to prep some stuff for my new mattress that is being delivered tomorrow. I am SO excited! Then I uh, get the new car.

I'm going to drive to my parents' place to drop off the rental car (thank you Mazda for your objectively lovely car that I have hated every second of driving), and stay the night because there's going to be some snow this evening and tomorrow morning. Tomorrow I come back with the new car, get to bug my building for some new paperwork and then this entire chapter can be more or less closed.

But for now, some reading and then a coffee hour where I'm going to get some updates on one of the research groups I'm involved in.

How is your week finishing up?

[soppi-studies-abroad]

29.09.-01.10.

Villanueva de Guadamejud

Cuenca - a weekend in the mountains

This weekend I went on an Erasmus trip to the mountains in Cuenca.

We stayed there with around 30 people from Erasmus for two nights and I stayed in a room with 12 girls.

We had two costume party’s. The first night was a movie party, for which reason I dressed up as a pirate as I was in the group of the movie ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’. Moana was in the group of the movie ‘Shrek’ and was dressed up as one of the blind mice.

The next day we had a little yoga session and me and moana went to a little coffee place and enjoyed the view.

In the evening we had another costume party with the theme ‘the 20’s’.

We even played a murder mystery game and the next day went on a hike.

All in all the coordinator really put a lot to afford in the weekend and I’m thankful I could be a part of it!

I mostly enjoyed the sunsets and discovering the little village we stayed in. 🌅

Cuenca - Días en las montañas

Este fin de semana fue a un viaje de Erasmus en las montañas en Cuenca.

Quedemos ahí por dos días con más o menos 30 estudiantes de Erasmus y quedé en una habitación con 12 personas.

Había 2 fiestas de disfraces. Una fiesta de películas diferentes y una de los ‘20’s’. La primera noche me he disfrazado de pirata porque fui parte del grupo de la película ‘Píratas del Caribe’.

Mi amiga fue parte del grupo de la película ‘Shrek’ y se ha disfrazado de uno de los ratones ciegos.

El sábado tuvimos yoga en la mañana y después moana y yo disfrutemos un cortado en un café muy mono.

También juguemos un misterio de asesinato y el domingo caminemos. Todos los organizadores pongan mucho esfuerzo en el viaje y por esto estaba muy bien!

Los puestos de sol estaban lo que disfruté el mejor! 🌅

[the-fourth-marauder]

Something I’m writing called bitter coffee not finished

### Espresso, iced mocha, pumpkin spice and cortado

Espresso, iced mocha, pumpkin spice, and cortado. These four enchanting words weave their way into my mind, etching their presence into my mine like permanent ink. Day after day, I find myself eagerly anticipating their arrival, knowing they will grace my ears just moments before closing time. The rhythmic routine of tidying up the chairs and reorganizing the bookshelves serves as a backdrop to my gaze, which instinctively drifts towards a huddle of students. Their animated voices intertwine with the aroma of coffee that envelops them, stirring a mysterious curiosity within me. While their names remain a secret, the palpable warmth of their camaraderie beckons my longing to join their circle, to immerse myself in their lively discussions. It feels as though destiny is teasing me, daring me to keep the doors open a little longer, just to bask in the captivating atmosphere they create."

"With intrigue and hushed excitement, I gather the courage to speak softly, suggesting, 'May I keep the cafe open a tad longer?' My words hang in the air, respectful of their animated conversation. The anticipation swells between us as their glances exchange, considering my proposal. Their response could range from enthusiastic agreement, urging me to extend our closing hours, to polite gratitude, assuring me that it's unnecessary. Eagerly, I await their decision, my mind playing through every possible scenario that could unfold. For weeks, perhaps even months, I have been building the courage to ask, always holding back out of fear of disrupting the delicate painting that unfolds before my eyes."

"With bated breath, I await their response, my heart pounding in my chest. The possibilities race through my mind, imagining the potential outcomes. For so long, the fear of shattering this perfect painting has kept me silent. But in this moment, fueled by an exhilarating surge of bravery, I dare to propose the possibility of extending our time together. Will they accept, urging me to keep the doors open and granting me the chance to immerse myself in their captivating world? Or will they kindly decline, assuring me that it is unnecessary, leaving me with the bittersweet taste of a missed opportunity? The outcome remains a mystery, but the anticipation of their response keeps my hopes alive."

"Not only do they say yes, but they extend an invitation for me to join them. A rush of joy and excitement floods over me as I accept their gracious offer with a grateful smile. Casting aside my cleaning duties, I approach their table, feeling a sense of belonging and anticipation. They create a space for me to sit, inviting me into their circle of friendship. As I settle in, conversation seamlessly weaves around the topics of books, life, and dreams. Time slips away as we share stories, laughter, and the warmth of companionship. In this moment, I realize that my fear of disrupting the atmosphere was unfounded. I have become a part of something beautiful, a living artwork that continues to unravel before my very eyes."

### Mocha and cortado

The first of the group addresses me, a man I affectionately call "Iced Mocha." He is the loudest of the bunch, his voice ringing through the air, captivating everyone with his animated gestures and cheesy expressions. His posh accent adds a touch of charm to his words, paired with dramatic mannerisms that somehow make him endearing.

As Benny continues to engage in the conversation, his charismatic presence fills the air. I couldn't help but notice his distinct appearance—an embodiment of old money with his blonde hair and elegant attire. It's as if he stepped out of a classic novel, exuding a refined aura that harkens back to a bygone era. His refined taste in fashion and his effortless grace lend him an undeniable air of sophistication. It's intriguing how his appearance aligns with his posh accent, creating an intriguing blend of charm and allure. “I’m just going to get a book from the shelf like the intellectual i am” Benny exclaims loudly before strutting over to the kids followed by laughter and whoops from the group before he goes and sits on the beanbags and starts reading Clifford the big red dog.

“Such an intellectual” Cortado (fleance) teases in a. blunt sarcasm drawing my mind and attention to him. He is handsome man sporting a trench coat navy stitching, he holds an aura of mystery that piques my curiosity. Fleance possesses an enigmatic presence, like a lingering shadow that subtly captures one's attention. His dark, tousled hair matches the intensity of his gaze, which holds an element of both depth and contemplation. There is an undeniable air of quiet confidence that surrounds him, as if he carries a secret world within. Fleance's reserved nature only adds to his allure, creating an aura of intrigue that beckons exploration. It becomes clear that there are depths to this individual that I am eager to understand.

I can't help but notice that Fleance's gaze subtly shifts towards me from time to time. There is an air of secrecy in his eyes, as if he harbors thoughts that he wishes to keep hidden. The glances are fleeting, yet filled with an intensity that is hard to ignore. I find myself wondering what might be going on in his mind, what secrets or mysteries he may be guarding. The curiosity begins to take hold, leaving me intrigued and captivated by Fleance's enigmatic gaze. It sparks a silent connection, a subtle understanding look, the kind of look that tells 1000 words and nothing at all before picking up his book, a copy battered, Song of achilles so worn and loved i can tell how many times he’s read it.

### Espresso and pumpkin

"As the evening unfolds, my attention is immediately drawn to two captivating figures seated opposite me. Pumpkin Spice, or Clara, exudes an air of quiet confidence with her striking blonde wolf cut and kind, brown doe eyes. Her thoughtful gaze hints at a depth of wisdom unshared. On the other hand, Espresso, or Lexy, commands attention with her vibrant red hair, a reflection of her free-spirited nature. Her expressive gestures mirror Benny, wafting her hands about as she shares her stories.

Side by side, Clara and Lexy lean towards each other with magnetic attraction, engrossed in a conversation that weaves a tapestry of stories and experiences. Their glances exchange curiosity and genuine interest, and with every word spoken, their connection grows stronger, unlocking hidden worlds within each other.

Their topics range from mundane details to profound moments that shaped their lives. Clara recounts tales of wandering through bustling city streets, stumbling upon hidden gems. Her voice carries a quiet excitement, knowing that life's greatest adventures often lie in the simplest of moments.

On the other hand, Lexy shares vibrant escapades - chasing sunsets on remote beaches, dancing under moonlit skies, and embracing the thrill of new experiences. Her eyes sparkle with a zeal for life, and her words, laced with contagious enthusiasm, draw everyone in. Lexy's boldness inspires Clara to break out of her reserved nature and take up more space in the conversation, while Clara's introspection encourages Lexy to delve deeper into the meaning behind her adventures.

As their conversation flows effortlessly, each story building upon the next, an intricate tapestry of experiences and emotions unfolds. Clara's gentle voice weaves intricate details, painting vivid pictures of the world around her. Lexy's animated storytelling, with colorful descriptions and lively gestures, brings her tales to life, as if a way to open herself up and be more vulnerable.

Clara's empathetic nature provides a safe space for Lexy to express her vulnerabilities, while Lexy's infectious optimism uplifts Clara during moments of doubt.

Listening to their exchange, I am drawn into their energy and the magnetic connection they share. The solace and support they find in each other's presence are palpable, tempting me to chime in, eager to contribute to the lively atmosphere without intruding.

### Count me in

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the world with a warm, golden hue, the café lingers open, defying time's usual rules. Captivated by the company we share, we remain seated, caught in a sweet trance of connection. It feels as though we exist within a bubble, silently bursting as we exchange contact information.

Benny, our ever-charming social facilitator, breaks the silence with a proposition, his voice brimming with enthusiasm, "How about chilling at my place tomorrow after class, and after ur last shift Jamie?" Jamie? well that’s knew i think quietly to myself as Lexy playfully interjects, her tone infused with playful banter , " Yeah sure thing, pretty boy." Clara follows suit, her voice carrying a melodic note of agreement, "Count me in too!" Turning to James and Fleance, a hint of anticipation colors her words, "And what about you two? Care to join?"

Before I can utter a response, Fleance's raspy, trembling voice slices through the air, at first i think it mimics his tone with Benny in teasing. But this is different stirring a delightful shiver within me. "I can pick him up if that's alright," he offers, his words leaving me brimming with excitement and a touch of vulnerability. "Yeah," I reply eagerly, perhaps a tad too quickly, my anticipation evident in the response. "Sounds great."

### The road back

With our plans set in motion, we finally rise from our seats, bidding farewell to the café that unknowingly transformed into a sanctuary, enveloping us within moments of connection and shared memories. A bittersweet ache tugs at my heart as I stroll outside, becoming enveloped in the cold, crisp darkness. The glow of streetlights cuts through, illuminating the night as I flag down a cab to take me home.

“Goodnight everyone, tonight was like my favorite day ever, so thank you for including me,” I say, my voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

“No problem!” Benny exclaims, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he hops into his car.

“I regret not talking to you earlier," Lex chimes in, his voice soft but earnest. "You're really lovely," Clara adds, her genuine kindness shining through.

I turn to Flemont, who gives me a knowing nod, his eyes twinkling and a playful wink. "See you tomorrow," he whispers, his words filled with a sense of anticipation and friendship. “Yeah, totally,” I reply.

I step into the cab, clenching my fists, and watch the café recede into the distance. A mixture of gratitude and nostalgia washes over me. Tonight has been more than just a passing moment in time; it has become a defining chapter in my life. The connections formed, the laughter shared, and the sense of belonging experienced have left an indelible mark on my soul.

Through the warmth of their words and the genuine camaraderie, I am reminded of the power of human connection and the beauty that can arise from unexpected encounters. The ache in my heart is now tinged with a siniense of joy, knowing that I have found a place where I am understood, with people I can trust.

As the cab speeds away, I lean back and close my eyes, cherishing the memories of this perfect night. And with a renewed sense of anticipation, I look forward to what tomorrow will bring, knowing that I have found a group of friends who have welcomed me into their lives with open arms

### Morning haze

The shrill sound of alarms fills my room, accompanied by the soft glow of morning sunlight seeping through the partially closed shutters. I slowly open my eyes, a stillness lingering in the air. With a gentle stretch and a yawn, memories from last night gradually flood my mind. Fleance's gaze, warm and reassuring. Benny's infectious laughter, filling the room with joy. And the captivating tales Clara and Lexy shared, their eyes sparkling with excitement as they spoke.

Renewed by the memories, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and plant my feet firmly on the cool, wooden floor. Determination courses through my veins, propelling me forward.

In the bathroom, I splash my face with icy water, feeling its touch awaken my senses. The mirror reflects back at me, revealing traces of the lingering smile on my lips - a testament to the enchanting night I experienced.

Freshened up and ready for the day, I make my way to the café. As I enter, the quiet stillness contrasts with the vibrant atmosphere that filled the room the night before. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air, wrapping me in a comforting embrace. With a grateful smile, I carefully cradle a warm cup of coffee, allowing its energy to seep into my bones.

On the table, a random page of "The Song of Achilles" lays open, a reminder of the ethereal night spent with friends. Tonight, I will give it to him,

[mysticalwriterwithintrusivethoug]

Crisis PR: Should You Trust an Agency or a Firm to Save Your Brand?

You’re staring at a pile of PR proposals, and the jargon is already giving you a headache. Agency? Firm? Consultant? It’s like trying to order coffee at a hipster café, flat white, cortado, what’s even the difference?

If you’re running a W20 Group startup or a small business, you probably just want someone to make your brand shine without wading through buzzwords. I’ve been there, flipping through slick pitches, wondering if I’m signing up for results or just a fancy logo.

This article is your guide to cutting through the PR fog. My goal? Help you figure out what these terms mean and pick a partner that actually gets your business. PR isn’t just about getting your name out there, it’s about building trust, connecting with people, and maybe even dodging a crisis or two.

I once spent hours trying to decide if a big agency was worth the price tag for a small project. Spoiler: it wasn’t. Let’s break it down so you can choose what’s right for you, no jargon required.

So, what’s the first thing you want your PR team to tackle?

What’s Going On in PR Today?

The PR world is moving at light speed, and it’s nothing like it was a few years ago. Platforms like X have turned everything upside down, your brand needs to be quick, real, and ready to respond to comments in real-time.

A 2024 report said global PR spending hit $16 billion, up 8% from 2020, with digital campaigns and social media eating up most of the budget. But here’s the thing: figuring out if it’s working is tough.

Are those viral posts actually bringing in customers? I had a friend who sank thousands into a campaign, only to realize their “buzz” was just noise. Back in the day, PR was about cozying up to journalists for a magazine feature.

Now, it’s analytics, influencer collabs, and putting out fires online. The big challenge? Deciding if you need a massive agency or a scrappy firm. The terms get thrown around like they’re the same, but they’re not. I’ve seen startups waste money on big names when a smaller team would’ve been perfect.

Digital tools like sentiment trackers are huge now, but some businesses still stick to old-school press releases. It’s a mix of exciting and confusing. What’s the biggest PR hurdle your business is facing right now?

Sorting Out Your PR Options

Let’s get real about your options. I’m throwing in some stories from people I know to keep it grounded.

Big Agencies: The All-In-One Solution

Agencies are the rock stars of PR big teams, global offices, and a knack for handling everything from media pitches to social media storms. They’re like the all-you-can-eat buffet of PR: you get a bit of everything.

I worked with a startup that hired a huge agency, and their connections landed us a feature in a major outlet in no time. But the bill? Ouch. And we often felt like just another client on their roster.

A 2023 PRWeek survey said 65% of big companies love agencies for their ability to manage complex, multi-channel campaigns. That’s great if you’re a global brand needing a big splash. But if you’re smaller, the high costs think $10,000 a month and cookie-cutter approach can feel like a letdown.

You might meet a hotshot strategist at the pitch, only to get passed to a junior team. I’ve been in meetings where I wondered if the agency even remembered our goals.

Still, their resources media databases, analytics tools, industry contacts are hard to beat. Ever felt like you’re just a number to a big company? That’s the agency risk. What kind of PR muscle does your brand need?

Specialized Firms: The Niche Experts

Firms are smaller, more specialized, and often zero in on a specific industry, like tech or healthcare. Take Hill+Knowlton Strategies they’re pros at helping executives craft messages that stand out.

A friend of mine swears by a boutique firm that saved their company during a product recall with sharp, heartfelt messaging. Firms feel like actual partners, not just vendors. A 2024 study showed 72% of small businesses said boutique firms understood their needs better than agencies.

That’s because you’re often working with senior folks, not interns. The catch? They might not have the global reach of an agency. If you’re launching worldwide, their size could hold you back. But for tailored work, they’re gold. I’ve seen firms pull off campaigns faster because they skip the red tape.

It’s like choosing your favorite local coffee shop over Starbucks, less flash, more soul. I once hired a firm for a niche project, and their attention to detail blew me away.

Are you craving a team that’ll treat your brand like it’s their own? Firms might be your vibe, but you’ll need to think about their limits. What’s your business’s sweet spot?

Freelancers: The One-Person Powerhouses

Freelancers and consultants are the DIY heroes of PR. They’re often ex-agency pros who’ve gone rogue, offering flexibility and lower costs. A small business owner I know hired a freelancer for a local campaign, and for a couple grand, they got coverage in local papers that packed their store. But freelancers are just one person. If your project needs video, analytics, and media pitches, you’re hiring a whole crew, which gets complicated. A 2024 report said freelancers make up 15% of the PR market, growing as businesses hunt for deals. I’ve heard stories of freelancers nailing small projects and others flaking under pressure. It’s hit or miss. I once worked with a consultant who was amazing but got swamped when another client came calling. Ever bet on someone who seemed perfect but couldn’t keep up? That’s the freelancer gamble. They’re great for quick, focused jobs, but don’t expect them to scale. How tight is your budget, and how much attention do you need from your PR person?

Weighing Your Choices: What Fits Best?

Let’s lay it out. Agencies have scale global campaigns, big teams, bigger budgets. Firms bring expertise in specific areas but might not go worldwide. Freelancers are cheap and flexible but can’t handle huge projects.

A 2024 PR report said 58% of businesses choose based on budget, while 32% care most about industry know-how. What’s your dealbreaker? Agencies can run $10,000 a month, firms maybe half that, and freelancers as low as $1,000 per job. I’ve seen startups blow cash on agencies when a firm would’ve been smarter.

A buddy of mine hired an agency for a rebrand, only to get a strategy that felt like it was copied from someone else’s playbook. Always ask for case studies, talk to past clients, and check their X posts do they walk the talk? Agencies are built for complex needs, firms for niche wins, freelancers for quick hits.

I keep wondering: are you aiming for a big launch or steady growth? There’s no perfect pick, it’s about what fits your business today. I messed up once by going too big too soon. What’s your gut telling you about your PR needs?

Where’s PR Headed Next?

PR is getting techier by the day. AI tools that scan X for sentiment or predict campaign results are popping up everywhere, with a 2025 forecast saying 30% of PR budgets will go to analytics.

But as tech takes over, the human stuff real, raw storytelling feels rarer. I was grabbing coffee with a marketer who said their best campaign was a simple story that hit people in the feels, no algorithms needed.

Will your brand stand out by keeping it real? I think so, but it’s not a slam dunk. Micro-influencers are also shaking things up, brands are ditching celebrities for niche voices with loyal fans.

This could give firms and freelancers a leg up since they’re nimble. Agencies, though, aren’t sleeping, they’re snapping up smaller firms to stay in the game. The future’s a mix of exciting and messy, like my first stab at a PR pitch that flopped but taught me a ton.

Your PR partner will need to juggle tech and heart, which isn’t easy. I’ve seen brands lean too hard into data and lose their soul. What new PR trick are you curious about for your business?

Bringing It All Together

So, agency, firm, or freelancer? It’s all about what your business needs right now. Agencies bring the big guns but can feel like a machine. Firms offer deep expertise, perfect for niche markets, but might not scale globally.

Freelancers are budget-friendly and flexible but limited by being, well, one person. The PR world is changing fast X, AI, influencers, it’s a lot to keep up with. You’ve got to decide what matters: reach, expertise, or cost.

I’ve seen friends nail their PR with the right partner and others waste money on a bad fit. Check out the Ogilvy Review for more on these trends, but it comes down to this: who’s going to tell your brand’s story best? I’m rooting for you to find that team who makes your vision pop.

I’ve made PR mistakes before, like signing with a team that didn’t get me, and it stings. Take a second, think about what you need most, and don’t be shy about grilling potential partners. What’s the one PR move you’re itching to make today?

[rededgecitycouncil]

📍Spotted in San Sebastián: Noah Rodgers lurking near the Miramar Palace with a notebook full of names.

What’s Noah really doing in Spain? Locals say he’s been “researching architecture,” but that excuse is older than the cathedral he keeps sketching. Cameras out, hoodie up — we’ve caught him wandering the Parte Vieja alone at night, murmuring into a tape recorder. Some say he’s working on a docuseries. Others say he’s compiling stories… about us. So if you’ve had a mysterious one-on-one convo with him lately? Congrats — you might already be in episode one. @noahrodgers

💧River Caldwell is turning Donostia into their personal novella.

From spontaneous sunrise swims at La Concha to reading Neruda out loud at random cafés, River’s living like every moment is a cinematic monologue. But here’s the kicker: they’ve been spotted with a different companion almost every day. Locals. Tourists. A flamenco guitarist?? Someone's collecting more than just seashells. And if those lingering glances mean anything, River isn’t just breaking hearts — they’re curating them. @rivercaldwell

🎭 Camden Mercer is either making a movie or staging a coup. Maybe both.

Camden’s been renting weird Airbnbs, scouting alleyways, and "accidentally" leaving behind SD cards at bars in Gros. What’s the play here? Art installation? Spy ring? Pop-up gallery that doubles as a takedown of capitalist realism? Whatever it is, it’s coded, it’s intentional, and it probably involves a disguise. Our tip? If you see him with a vintage suitcase and an empty espresso cup, you’re already part of the story. @camdenmercer

🔥 Jasmine Harris has taken her activism to Iberian levels.

While the rest of us are sipping txakoli and pretending not to melt in the heat, Jasmine’s been connecting with local organizers, making calls in three languages, and possibly infiltrating an expat group chat that was never meant for her eyes. There are whispers of a zine drop at Zurriola Beach this weekend. If you're lucky enough to snag a copy, read it twice — once for the art, twice for the subtext. Revolution’s in the footnotes, darling. @jasminexharris

💜 Violet Lennox is giving cottagecore noir.

Violet’s summer aesthetic? Sundresses, cigarrettes, and whispered confessions over café cortados. She’s been hanging out near the sculpture parks and leaving behind handwritten notes in abandoned paperback novels. A performance? A puzzle? Or just a poet with too much time and one big plan? Multiple people claim to have gotten “the note.” No two notes are alike. We love a girl with range. We fear a girl with motive. @violetlennox

👀 Lydia Brown is in San Sebastián... or is she?

No selfies. No stories. Just tagged in the background of other people's posts, always slightly blurry, always mid-laugh. Some say she's laying low after the Incident (you know the one). Others think she’s playing chess while the rest of us are sipping wine on the beach. She was overheard speaking French with a mystery contact in Antiguo. She left a party early with a backpack and a bottle of wine. Lydia’s not hiding. She’s hunting. @notlydiabrown

Only 5 more days until July 1. And trust — none of them are leaving empty-handed.

xoxo, Your Iberian Informant 🦢

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

1, 5, 13

1. Choose the manner of your death (it has to be so much more specific than “at a ripe old age surrounded by loved ones”)

this is something i fantasize about a lot so i've got lots of ideas. but if i could choose anything then right now i'd choose in a shootout with police after an exhilarating hours-long high speed chase. i don't die instantly though. i want to slowly bleed to death. honestly, i hate the idea of dying instantly. you only die once and i want to be conscious of the experience. i want to feel myself slip away. bonus points if i can say some final words.

5. Do you have any irl enemies? Describe them. Tell us how they’ve wronged you.

lmaooo. not sure if they're around anymore (i think they're all mostly dead or in prison) but i made a lot of enemies in my youth. two major groups; this group of anarchist/commie punks i used to be friends with and some gang from the next town over (to this day i steer clear of their neighborhood). i ran with a pretty bad crowd in my teens.

the punks were my friends for years. but when i started down the path of the dark side they obviously stopped associating with me. and things just escalated over the years. i saw this one girl from the group who used to have a crush on me a few years ago and she was homeless and obviously an addict and i tried to talk to her but her weird ass just barked at me. lmao. they would just harass me. would steal from me, vandalize my shit, even tried (and failed) jumping me one time.

the other stuff was stupid gang shit i got dragged into out of loyalty to some friends who were deep into that life (i was never that into it). but there was a few years where shit was getting pretty crazy. started off as petty beef but escalated rapidly. ultimately one of my homies was stabbed to death and a second was stabbed nearly to death (was partially paralyzed). again, got jumped a couple times, got caught up in a few brawls, nearly stabbed, and even got shot at once. again, i think most of them are either dead or in prison by now though.

13. What’s your order at the coffee shop?

will depend on a variety of factors (am i in a rush? or am i staying a while? what's the weather like?) but my usual go-to is an espresso and a pour over. maybe a cortado or even a mocha if i'm in the mood.

[marscreates95]

This is for the Pride event happening in my closed species group. Clover and Cortado are queer! Happy Pride!

[ghost-beee]

Hi bee!

I hope you’re staying safe and warm in the snow!!!

Todays questions:

1. is there any cliche or cheesy valentines date/event/activity you love?

2. Go to coffee/tea order at a cafe?

- yours truly, Cupid 💜

hiiii! i love these little questions, it feels like i'm journaling 🤭

i'm not a super romantic person (i know it doesn't make sense that i write romance, idk how it works either). any romantic gestures would have to happen in private (not necessarily in the comfort of a home, but where there aren't a lot of people around). just a nice candlelit dinner with a good wine sounds great to me. anything with thought put into it, appealing to some of my interests, would mean a lot to me - the kind of surprise date that makes you go "OH you know me". so to summarize, something small yet thoughtful and not too flashy. i'm sorry this isn't very specific, i hope it helps anyway 😭

i love coffee, i'm a big coffee fan (it's a part of the scandinavian culture to love coffee imo). my go-to coffee order when i don't feel like thinking is a cortado with oat milk (double espresso, only a little bit of milk), but if i'm in a big group of ppl i'll just drink filter coffee bc it's easy. i'm a little bit picky about coffee beans, but i'm generally welcoming of anything as long as it's not decaf. i don't drink cow milk because i just don't really like it. i do drink a lot of tea too! i like loose leaf tea the most, but tea bags are also nice. i like green tea in the morning, black tea in the afternoon, and red tea in the evening (without milk, i don't like milk in tea)! and i love trying new kinds of tea! even though i love tea, i still mostly drink coffee

[mary-k-latina]

English:

Adrián was a music therapist who worked in several hospitals and had therapy groups in different parts of the city.

That night, he met with his ex-partner Carla at a bar on Santa Fe Avenue.

"Here I am, what did you want to talk to me about?"

A waiter approached the table.

"What can I get you, sir?"

"A cortado," Adrián replied.

"Two!" Carla added.

"I'm pregnant, Adrián," she confessed.

The musician was stunned.

"Uh... is it mine?" he asked with some timidity.

"I haven't been with anyone in these three months..." Carla replied.

"Well, no... I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I, but it's your child and I'm not planning on having an abortion," Carla emphasized.

"And... what are you planning to do because having it... isn't a great idea either."

"I'm going to have it, Adrián, whether you like it or not."

"First, I want a DNA test."

"Oh no, this is the last straw. Conversation over," Carla said and drew a cross with the palm of her hand.

Adrián era un musicoterapeuta que trabajaba en varios hospitales y tenía grupos terapéuticos en distintos lugares de la ciudad.

Esa noche, se reunió con su ex pareja Carla en un bar de la Av. Santa Fe.

"Acá estoy, de querías hablarme?"

Un mozo se acercó a la mesa.

"Que le traigo, señor?"

"Un cortado"_respondió Adrian

"Dos!"_Agrego Carla

"Estoy embarazada Adrián"_confesó ella.

El músico quedó estupefacto.

"Eh...es mío?"_ Preguntó con cierta timidez.

"No estuve con nadie en estos tres meses..."_respondió Carla.

"Bueno, no...no me lo esperaba"

"Yo tampoco pero es tu hijo y no pienso abortar"_ subrayó Carla.

"Y...que pensás hacer por que tenerlo...no es una gran idea tampoco".

"Lo voy a tener, Adrián, te guste o no"

"Primero quiero una prueba de ADN".

"Ah, no, este es el colmo. Conversacion acabada"_dijo Carla y dibujó una cruz con la palma de la mano.