#Fewer Measures Passed
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Illustration and Design By Ally J. Levine
— By Moira Warburton | Published March 12, 2024
The U.S. Congress is navigating yet another government funding deadline — the eighth in less than six months — and are at an impasse over sending aid to key allies in Ukraine, Taiwan and Israel. Divisions among Republicans in the House and Senate killed a major bipartisan border policy bill. Reforms to bedrock programs like Medicare and Social Security are desperately needed but no closer to getting passed. Meanwhile, the House of Representatives spent close to a month without a speaker last year due to infighting between moderate and hard right factions of the Republican party.
When U.S. Representative Chip Roy, a Republican from Texas, begged his colleagues in November to “give me one thing I can campaign on and say we did,” he was articulating what many lawmakers and observers were feeling: Congress isn’t working.
The simplest expression of this is the number of bills passed by Congress. Just twenty-seven bills were passed last year — a record low — but even before that, the number of bills signed into law by the president has been falling.
Congress Is Passing Fewer Laws
Experts point to several reasons for this. One key factor is an increase in polarization — Democrats and Republicans are farther apart ideologically than they’ve been in the last 50 years, according to an analysis by the nonpartisan Pew Research Center. That’s led to a decrease in bipartisanship, a necessary ingredient for bills to pass in a governing body full of checks and balances.
Fewer bills getting through to the president’s desk means the small number of mandatory ones that Congress must pass — such as government funding or annual legislation authorizing defense policies — are getting longer, said Molly Reynolds, senior fellow in governance studies at the Brookings Institution, as lawmakers try to jam the bills with policies that wouldn’t otherwise get a vote.
“Those large packages have come to bear more of Congress’s legislating,” she said. A longer bill takes more time to read, debate and get voted on, slowing down the process further.
Drawing of a truck carrying an oversized load of green boxes. People are throwing boxes on and off the truck, seemingly in disagreement about what the truck should be carrying.
With more policies being shoved into bills increasing in length, the use of policies known as “poison pills” is another hurdle — partisan policies that will be completely unacceptable to the other party. Case in point: Republicans attempting to ban mail delivery of abortion pills via a crucial agriculture funding bill that must be reauthorized every five years.
The length of bills “represents an increasing dysfunction in the institution,” Michael Thorning, director of structural democracy at the Bipartisan Policy Center, said. “Congress has difficulty taking action on a lot of individual pieces because of the politics or because of time constraints, and it’s easier to package some of these things up into ‘must pass’ bills… And then it’s a question of, ‘What can we add to this before it becomes so top heavy that it topples over?’”
The spikes in the number of bills passed correlate with periods when one party controlled all levers of government — House, Senate and the White House. But even when one party controls the majority, “unified party control is not doing as much work as it used to,” Sarah Binder, a professor of political science at George Washington University, said. “The minority party has become especially increasingly aggressive in using the rules of the game, particularly in the Senate, in blocking measures from even going to the floor.” That can be seen in the number of measures passed by each chamber of Congress, which is falling too.
Fewer Measures Passed In Congress
Another more elusive factor in Congress’s decreasing productivity is that members are spending less time talking to each other. A typical senator’s schedule includes flying back to Washington, D.C., on Monday for votes in the evening, then flying back to their home state on Thursday evening. The “Senate Friday” effect is commonly cited among reporters and staffers on the Hill – a sudden surge in activity on Thursday afternoons, as senators rush to finish any votes so they can go home for the weekend.
The House more often has votes Friday morning, but there is still an expectation of going back to the district for a longer weekend, plus recesses when lawmakers are home for weeks at a time. That Monday to Thursday schedule leaves just two full days for a laundry list of work.
Drawing of people standing on opposite sides of a chasm. Their body language, many standing with crossed arms, indicate frustration with the people on the opposite platform.
“Congress is not spending enough time in Washington to get the basics done,” Thorning said. The shortened in-person schedule “really interferes with members’ one opportunity to interact with each other, to learn collectively, to ask questions of witnesses collectively.”
Representative Derek Kilmer, a Democrat who chaired the now-defunct House Select Committee on the Modernization of Congress, said the issue of Congress’s shortened schedule was the main thing he would fix if given a choice.
“Part of the reason why when people are watching C-SPAN and no one’s there, it’s because they’re on three other committees at the same time,” he told Reuters. “The dynamic that creates is members ping pong from committee to committee. It’s not a place of learning or understanding. You airdrop in, you give your five minute speech for social media, you peace out.”
“Time is the biggest challenge,” Representative William Timmons, Kilmer’s Republican counterpart on the modernization committee, agreed. “We have to build trust with our colleagues, and we don’t have the time to build the trust with our colleagues.”
The amount of action happening on the floor isn’t a perfect representation of how much Congress is talking to each other – lots of action happens in committee rooms or briefings – but it is a marker of a decrease in action taking place in the main arena where lawmaking was intended to occur.
Less Action on The Floors of Congress
Fewer pages of proceedings are being recorded by the Congressional Record, which publishes all debates and speeches that take place on the floor in the House and Senate.
It is not clear how these hurdles to productivity will be solved. Part of the problem is that the current Republican Party holds a tiny majority in the House of just five seats, giving disproportionate power to any small group of members who wish to exert their influence, as seen by the far right House Freedom Caucus repeatedly blocking legislation it disagrees with, even though it was put forward by their own party, much to the frustration of their colleagues.
“We’ve had divided government in earlier periods and haven’t seen this level of low legislative productivity,” Craig Volden, director of the Center for Effective Lawmaking at the University of Virginia, said. “The question is, what is the Republican Party going to sort itself into, in terms of its main priorities, and what is the best strategy they see as advancing those priorities?”
Timmons acknowledged facing this issue himself.
“I have somebody running against me (in the primary election) that agrees with all the votes that I make, he just doesn’t agree that I don’t scream and yell,” he told Reuters. “Next Congress we’re going to have to figure out how to relearn the muscle memory of voting as one… If we have a narrow majority and we can’t do anything, that’s not good.”
Kilmer is part of a wave of lawmakers retiring Congress – 45 at time of publication, not the highest number on record but enough to draw attention. But he remains optimistic about Congress’s ability to change.
“I don't think it's a secret that Congress is a fixer upper,” he said.
Sources: U.S. Congressional Record, Center for Effective Lawmaking at the University of Virginia
Edited By: Julia Wolfe and Alistair Bell
#United States Congress#Less Action#Fewer Measures Passed#Passing Fewer Laws#Why Less Productive#United States 🇺🇸#House | Senate#U.S. Congressional Record#Center for Effective Lawmaking | The University of Virginia#Moira Warburton#Reuters.Com
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A simulated image of NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s future observations toward the center of our galaxy, spanning less than 1 percent of the total area of Roman’s Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey. The simulated stars were drawn from the Besançon Galactic Model.
Exploring the Changing Universe with the Roman Space Telescope
The view from your backyard might paint the universe as an unchanging realm, where only twinkling stars and nearby objects, like satellites and meteors, stray from the apparent constancy. But stargazing through NASA’s upcoming Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will offer a front row seat to a dazzling display of cosmic fireworks sparkling across the sky.
Roman will view extremely faint infrared light, which has longer wavelengths than our eyes can see. Two of the mission’s core observing programs will monitor specific patches of the sky. Stitching the results together like stop-motion animation will create movies that reveal changing objects and fleeting events that would otherwise be hidden from our view.
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Watch this video to learn about time-domain astronomy and how time will be a key element in NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s galactic bulge survey. Credit: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center
This type of science, called time-domain astronomy, is difficult for telescopes that have smaller views of space. Roman’s large field of view will help us see huge swaths of the universe. Instead of always looking at specific things and events astronomers have already identified, Roman will be able to repeatedly observe large areas of the sky to catch phenomena scientists can't predict. Then astronomers can find things no one knew were there!
One of Roman’s main surveys, the Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey, will monitor hundreds of millions of stars toward the center of our Milky Way galaxy. Astronomers will see many of the stars appear to flash or flicker over time.
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This animation illustrates the concept of gravitational microlensing. When one star in the sky appears to pass nearly in front of another, the light rays of the background source star are bent due to the warped space-time around the foreground star. The closer star is then a virtual magnifying glass, amplifying the brightness of the background source star, so we refer to the foreground star as the lens star. If the lens star harbors a planetary system, then those planets can also act as lenses, each one producing a short change in the brightness of the source. Thus, we discover the presence of each exoplanet, and measure its mass and how far it is from its star. Credit: NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center Conceptual Image Lab
That can happen when something like a star or planet moves in front of a background star from our point of view. Because anything with mass warps the fabric of space-time, light from the distant star bends around the nearer object as it passes by. That makes the nearer object act as a natural magnifying glass, creating a temporary spike in the brightness of the background star’s light. That signal lets astronomers know there’s an intervening object, even if they can’t see it directly.
This artist’s concept shows the region of the Milky Way NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey will cover – relatively uncharted territory when it comes to planet-finding. That’s important because the way planets form and evolve may be different depending on where in the galaxy they’re located. Our solar system is situated near the outskirts of the Milky Way, about halfway out on one of the galaxy’s spiral arms. A recent Kepler Space Telescope study showed that stars on the fringes of the Milky Way possess fewer of the most common planet types that have been detected so far. Roman will search in the opposite direction, toward the center of the galaxy, and could find differences in that galactic neighborhood, too.
Using this method, called microlensing, Roman will likely set a new record for the farthest-known exoplanet. That would offer a glimpse of a different galactic neighborhood that could be home to worlds quite unlike the more than 5,500 that are currently known. Roman’s microlensing observations will also find starless planets, black holes, neutron stars, and more!
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This animation shows a planet crossing in front of, or transiting, its host star and the corresponding light curve astronomers would see. Using this technique, scientists anticipate NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope could find 100,000 new worlds. Credit: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center/Chris Smith (USRA/GESTAR)
Stars Roman sees may also appear to flicker when a planet crosses in front of, or transits, its host star as it orbits. Roman could find 100,000 planets this way! Small icy objects that haunt the outskirts of our own solar system, known as Kuiper belt objects, may occasionally pass in front of faraway stars Roman sees, too. Astronomers will be able to see how much water the Kuiper belt objects have because the ice absorbs specific wavelengths of infrared light, providing a “fingerprint” of its presence. This will give us a window into our solar system’s early days.
This animation visualizes a type Ia supernova.
Roman’s High Latitude Time-Domain Survey will look beyond our galaxy to hunt for type Ia supernovas. These exploding stars originate from some binary star systems that contain at least one white dwarf – the small, hot core remnant of a Sun-like star. In some cases, the dwarf may siphon material from its companion. This triggers a runaway reaction that ultimately detonates the thief once it reaches a specific point where it has gained so much mass that it becomes unstable.
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NASA’s upcoming Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will see thousands of exploding stars called supernovae across vast stretches of time and space. Using these observations, astronomers aim to shine a light on several cosmic mysteries, providing a window onto the universe’s distant past. Credit: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center
Since these rare explosions each peak at a similar, known intrinsic brightness, astronomers can use them to determine how far away they are by simply measuring how bright they appear. Astronomers will use Roman to study the light of these supernovas to find out how quickly they appear to be moving away from us.
By comparing how fast they’re receding at different distances, scientists can trace cosmic expansion over time. This will help us understand whether and how dark energy – the unexplained pressure thought to speed up the universe’s expansion – has changed throughout the history of the universe.
NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will survey the same areas of the sky every few days. Researchers will mine this data to identify kilonovas – explosions that happen when two neutron stars or a neutron star and a black hole collide and merge. When these collisions happen, a fraction of the resulting debris is ejected as jets, which move near the speed of light. The remaining debris produces hot, glowing, neutron-rich clouds that forge heavy elements, like gold and platinum. Roman’s extensive data will help astronomers better identify how often these events occur, how much energy they give off, and how near or far they are.
And since this survey will repeatedly observe the same large vista of space, scientists will also see sporadic events like neutron stars colliding and stars being swept into black holes. Roman could even find new types of objects and events that astronomers have never seen before!
Learn more about the exciting science Roman will investigate on X and Facebook.
Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!
#NASA#astronomy#telescope#Roman Space Telescope#dark energy#galaxies#cosmology#astrophysics#stars#galaxy#space images#time#supernova#Nancy Grace Roman#black holes#neutron stars#kilonova#rogue planets#exoplanets#space#science#tech#technology#Youtube
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Wet Beast Wednesday: moray eels
This week on Wet Beast Wednesday I'll be going over something amazing, a fish with a sense of morality. You see, the moral eel is known for, what... I think I'm reading this wrong. Oh, MoRAY eel, not moral. Well this is awkward. Hang tight, I need to go redo my research.
(Image: a green moray (Gymnothorax funebris) swimming outside of its burry, with its whole body visible from the side. It is a long, slender fish that looks a bit like a snake. A long fin starts just below the head and continues down the length of the body. The body is arranged in a wave pattern. It has a pointed snout and small eyes. Its body is a yellow-green color. In the background is the sandy seafloor, dotted with various sponges and corals. End ID)
Moray eels are true eels, meaning they are in the order Anguiliformes. Yeah, I did wolf eels, electric eels, and lamprey eels before I got around to actual eels. There are over 200 known species of moray eel in 15 genera. Like other eels, they are elongated bony fish with extra vertebrae and reduced fins. Moray eels have fewer fins than most eel species, only having a dorsal, anal and tail fin that merge together and run down the back of most of the body and underneath portion of it. They achieve motion by undulating this long fin and sometimes undulating the rest of the body as well. Moray eels aren't the fastest of fish, but they can swim backwards, something almost no fish can. The head has a long snout with wide jaws. Most species have long fangs used to grab onto prey, but a few species are adapted to eat hard-shelled prey and have molar-like teeth to crush through shells instead. Probably the coolest feature of morays are the pharyngeal jaws. This is a second set of jaws located in the back of the mouth. When the eel bites onto prey, the jaws can be shot forward to grab the food and help pull it into the throat. While lots of fish have pharyngeal jaws, morays are the only ones who can extend their pharyngeal jaws forward and use them to grab prey. Morays have smooth, scaleless skin that is often patterned to provide camouflage. The skin is coated in mucus that provides protection from damage and infection. In some species, the mucus can be used to glue sand together to help reinforce burrows. Morays lack lateral lines, a system of organs found in most fish that senses changes in water movement. Their sense of smell is their primary sense. The size of morays varies between species. The smallest species is the dwarf moray eel (Gymnothorax melatremus) which reaches 26 cm (10 in) long. The largest species by mass is the giant moray eel (Gymnothorax javanicus) which can reach 3 meters (10 ft) and 30 kg (66 lbs) while the longest species is the slender giant moray (Strophidon sathete), the longest known specimen of which measured in at 3.94 m (12.9 ft).
New reaction image
(Image: a giant moray (Gymnothorax javanicus) emerging from a burrow. It is brown and mottled with yellowish patches. Its head is pointed at the camera and it's mouth is wide open, aming it look shocked. End ID)
(Image: an anatomical diagram of the skeleton of a moray eel emphasizing the pharyngeal jaws and the muscle attachments. End ID. Art by Zina Deretsky)
Moray eels are found throughout the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans. Different species are found in different temperatures and depths, though most species live in relatively shallow, warm water. Several species can live in brackish water and a few will swim upriver and live for a time in fresh water, though there do not appear to be any species that live their entire lives in fresh water. Morays are ambush predators who rely on the element of surprise. They live in small, tight places such as holes in coral, gaps between rocks, or sandy burrows. When prey passes, the eel can lunge out and grab it. Unlike most fish, the eel cannot use suction feeding due to the shapes of their mouths. They have to rely on lunging froward and catching prey with their mouths. Their mouths are adapted in shape to push water to the sides. This reduces water resistance and avoids creating a wave that could push prey away from the eel. If an eel catches prey that cannot be swallowed whole, it will tie itself in a knot while biting on to the food. By pulling its head through the loop, the eel can rip the food into bite-sized pieces. Spending most of their times in burrows also provides protection from predators, especially in juveniles or smaller species. At night, the eels will come out of their burrows to hunt sleeping prey while the larger predators are asleep. Giant morays have also been seen engaging in interspecies cooperative hunting with roving coral groupers (Plectropomus pessuliferus). The eels can fit into small crevices the groupers can't to flush prey into the grouper's path while catching their own. Morays are mostly solitary species and many can be territorial. They are known to be shy and will retreat into their burrows if they feel threatened. They are also curious and many species are quite intelligent.
(Image: a male ribbon eel (Rhinomuraena quaesita) on a coral reef. It is a very long and slender eel with its body curved in many waves. It is brightly colored, with a blue-purple body, yellow fin and face, and a long black and white stripe running down the back half of the body. On the nostrils are two feather-like structures. End ID)
Morays reproductive strategies are poorly known and differ based on species. While many species seem to have no set mating season and will reproduce whenever they can, others will mate at the same time every year. Some species seem to have dedicated spots to lay their eggs and a few are believed to be anadromous, meaning they travel from the sea to fresh water to spawn. Meanwhile, some of the species that spend a lot of time in fresh water are catadromous, meaning they return to sea to mate. Females will lay their eggs and the male fertilize them. After this, they depart, providing no parental care. As with all true eels, moray eels begin life as leptocephalus larvae. This type of fish larvae is notable for its resemblance to a simple, transparent leaf with a head on one end. These larvae are unique and poorly understood, despite being the larval stage of a lot of different species of fish. They are unusually well developed for larvae, capable of active swimming and generally living life. In fact, some particularly large leptocephalus larvae were initially mistaken for adult fish. They feed mostly on bits of drifting organic material called marine snow and can remain in the larval stage for up to 3 years, with those in colder conditions usually taking longer to metamorphose. All leptocephalus larvae start out with no sex organs, then develop female organs, then develop male ones, becoming simultaneous hermaphrodites. They will ultimately become eith male or female and it is likely that environmental factors are the main determining factor. During metamorphosis into a juvenile, the leptocephalus can reduce in size by up to 90%, resulting in the juvenile being smaller than the larva. The process of maturation is poorly understood, but it seems that most morays will be sexually mature by three years of age.
(Image: multiple photos of a particularly large leptocephalus larva (not sure what species). It is a translucent organis, wth a body shaped like a very long leaf, narrow at both ends. In the frint is a very tiny head. End ID)
Morays are shy and generally avoid humans. Though some cultures have hunted them for food, they are often not considered a particularly good food source. Many species have high levels of chemicals called ciguatoxins in their bodies, which can lead to a condition called ciguatera fish poisoning if eaten. The largest threat to morays is habitat loss. This is especially true for the many species that live in coral reefs, which are in increasing danger due to global warming. Attacks on humans are rare and usually happen as a response to a human sticking their hand in the eel's burrow. Some of the large species could cause significant damage with a bite. Some species, usually the smaller ones, are found in the aquarium trade, thought they are not good pets for beginners as even the smallest morays are still large for aquarium fish and have some specific requirements. The curiosity many morays have has led to some becoming familiar with and even friendly to humans, often the result of feeding them. They can recognize individual humans and remember them over the course of years. Aquarium employees sometimes report that the eels will come to nuzzle and play with them and have personalities like dogs. Marine biologists and professional SCUBA divers Ron and Valorie Taylor befriended a pair of eels they named Harry and Fang at the Great Barrier Reef who would remember them and come out to visit them year after year.
(Image: a SCUBA diver hugging a large, brown moray with black spots. End ID)
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(Video: A shot video showing Valeria Taylor and a moray eel she befriended)
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(Video: the song "That's a Moray", a parody of the song "That's Amore" by Dean Martin)
#wet beast wednesday#i accidentally typed moron eel more than once#moray eel#eel#anguiliformes#fish#bony fish#fishblr#fishposting#eelposting#marine biology#biology#ecology#zoology#animal facts#informative#image described#that's a moray#educational#Youtube
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The Best News of Last Week
⚡ - Goodbye Fossil Fuels, Hello Renewables: The Energizing News You Need
1. Fungi discovered that can eat plastic in just 140 days
Australian scientists have successfully used backyard mould to break down one of the world's most stubborn plastics — a discovery they hope could ease the burden of the global recycling crisis within years.
It took 90 days for the fungi to degrade 27 per cent of the plastic tested, and about 140 days to completely break it down, after the samples were exposed to ultraviolet rays or heat. We really see a solution within five years, according to environmental scientist Paul Harvey, an expert on global plastic pollution.
2. Topeka Zoo welcomes new African Lion as female sprouts mane
The Topeka Zoo has welcomed a new African Lion to its pride, a male, as one of its females started to sprout a mane following the 2021 passing of the pride’s last male.
The Topeka Zoo and Conservation Center announced on Thursday, April 13, that Tatu, a 4-year-old African Lion, has arrived in the Capital City. He comes to Topeka from the Denver Zoo and his arrival marks a time of growth for the zoo.
3. This barber opens his shop on his day off for children with special needs – and all of their haircuts are free
On his day off, Vernon Jackson still goes to work, opening up his Cincinnati barber shop, Noble Barber and Beauty, for VIP clients: children with special needs.
It's something he's done since 2021. "I was hearing so many horror stories that parents were going through with other barber shops and just the barbers or stylists having no patience with their child," Jackson told CBS News. "So I figured I would compromise by coming in on my day off so there were there would be no other barbers or stylists in the shop and I could give them the full attention that they need."
4. Renewables break energy records signalling ‘end of the fossil age’
Experts are calling time on the fossil age as new analysis shows wind and solar power produced a record amount of the world’s electricity last year.
The renewables generated 12 per cent of global electricity in 2022, up from 10 per cent the previous year, according to the report from clean energy think tank Ember. Last year, solar was the fastest-growing source of electricity for the 18th year in a row, rising by 24 per cent from 2021.
5. New nuclear medicine therapy cures human non-hodgkin lymphoma in preclinical model
A new nuclear medicine therapy can cure human non-Hodgkin lymphoma in an animal model A single dose of the radioimmunotherapy, was found to quickly eliminate tumour cells and extend the life of mice injected with cancerous cells for more than 221 days (the trial endpoint), compared to fewer than 60 days for other treatments and just 19 days in untreated control mice.
To explain it in simple terms because this is so freaking cool: There is a radioactive atom attached to a drug. The target cell eats the drug and the energy coming off of the radioactive atom kills the target cell
6. Colorado passes first US right to repair legislation for farmers
Colorado farmers will be able to legally fix their own equipment next year, with manufacturers including Deere & Co obliged to provide them with manuals for diagnostic software and other aids, under a measure passed by legislators in the first U.S. state to approve such a law.
Equipment makers have generally required customers to use their authorized dealers for repairs to machines such as combines and tractors.
7. When a softball player falls after hitting a grand slam, this is how her opponents reacted
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That's it for this week :)
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by Robert Spencer
It’s all out in the open now. The House voted 366-58 on Saturday to send $9.1 billion to Gaza, and that means $9.1 billion to Hamas. This isn’t the first time that the Biden regime has made clear which side it’s on, and it likely won’t be the last. But this time, Old Joe and his henchmen are getting some pushback.
The $9.1 billion is earmarked, of course, as “humanitarian assistance,” but that ruse is fooling fewer and fewer people. Just The News reported Friday that the bill is “under scrutiny” in the first place because the amount that Gaza will be getting is “significantly more than the annual gross domestic product of the Gaza Strip,” and no safeguards are in place to ensure that the money will not fall into the wrong hands: “critics say the U.S. is essentially funding Hamas through the bill.”
Officially, this massive cash outlay is for "Migration and Refugee Assistance" and "International Disaster Assistance." It is so massive, in fact, that it is “more than four times the amount of the annual GDP in the Gaza Strip, which was about $2 billion last year, according to the United Nations.” The Gaza Strip is about to be awash in American money, and that means that even if Hamas has already burned through the $10 billion that Old Joe Biden and his henchmen sent to Hamas’ money men in Tehran last month, more billions are on their way.
The Biden regime doesn’t want you to worry about this. The bill “calls for the Secretary of State to establish oversight measures to ensure that the aid is not diverted by Hamas,” but really, what can he possibly do short of establishing an American military presence in Gaza? Hamas controls Gaza. There is no force in Gaza that is strong enough to stand up to Hamas. So provisos written into legislation drafted and passed in faraway Washington, D.C. is one thing, but the reality on the ground in Gaza is something else altogether, and the Biden regime must know that.
Morton Klein, President of the Zionist Organization of America, stated it plainly: "Biden and this administration knows that almost all of it,” that is, the aid, “is stolen by Hamas.” That leads to an inescapable conclusion: “We are funding Hamas. Do you realize the nightmare of this? We are funding Hamas with this 9 billion. What is wrong with this administration?"
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i was just wondering. i was asking a genuine question as a long time follower. i seem to have offended you by simply asking where you stand. im sorry for hurting your feelings. thanks for confirming your position as someone with a large platform+reach :)
tbh I dont know what my platform does here or how it helps at all, like I dont think people should be getting their breaking news or political stances from beemovieerotica on tumblr dot com, or anyone on tumblr at all, most people here dont have the ability to make substantial donations to any cause, mutual aid posts get passed around with thousands of notes and the OP is like "well I got $20...", like this site is very much not an effective avenue for change or discourse of any kind in my experience here since 2007. and I don't think checking on people's stances so they can say a few words of empty support on a blog with fewer followers than any 12 year old on tiktok is measurably helping. sorry to be prickly about this but I feel this hasnt been acknowledged.
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nun moon and preist soap are so special to me also i LOVE the cult leader idea somethin about that man pulling one over on you
Ooh because it's such a nice churched community. It's picturesque, the stone chapel, the rolling hills, the houses that break up the landscape. It's exactly the sort of place you'd want to work, the sort of place you'd want to live, and the priest is young and kind. (He's handsome too, with a smile like an angel, but you're not supposed to notice that) Working here should be easy, enjoyable even. (cw cult stuff, religious themes)
You have a nice little room, meals, quiet company. You see the priest more often than you see anyone else, but again he's kind to you. Terribly light on his feet though. He's walked in on you fixing your habit once or twice, but made no comment on it thank the lord. There are moments... passing remarks that stick out to you, easily brushed off as curiosity(of course), but still. You're younger than most nuns, or at least younger than what most people think of for nuns, and it never escapes anyone's notice. Father Mactavish asks you if you wouldn't rather be settling down with a nice man, and you laugh. You haven't known many nice men.
"How about a bairn then, one or two on your hip would be a sight." He chuckles. Your brows draw together, unsure if the joke is that you're a nun, or that you'd be bad with children. You're in charge of the primary school, the nursery as well, it would be odd to call you inept in this way.
"I'm not sure what you mean father," You respond with a certain measure of flintiness to your voice, your bards bristling at the insinuation. The priest hums, clasps his hands in his lap and smiles.
"Meant no 'arm by it, only that you're so good with the wee ones, it's surprising ya wouldnae want one of your own."
You suppose that makes sense, glancing back at your tea you miss the darkness in his eyes, the way they rake over your body, the way the priest squeezes his cock through his robes. One or two, or five or six, keeping you pregnant like you should be. You'll give your body to the lord but not his servant? Is Soap not the mouthpiece for the divine? Does he not alter hearts and minds? You're in service to him, so get on your fucking knees and serve.
"Maybe in another life," You tell him, "but I'm happy as I am, serving the church."
"That's wonderful," [I will have you over this table, over my knee, for the sin of misusing your body- my body] "if only more people felt the same." Soap hums. Though he supposes there'd be far fewer new members of his congregation if that were the case. As it stands he's managed to convince the town of the importance of family. Even the "nun" you're filling in for is on sabbatical to cover her maternity leave. An overzealous man in town to blame for that one, they really should have been more careful, but watching the man kneel in front of him and beg for permission, seeing the so called nun fall so willingly into his arms. People are animals, sinners wrestling with nothing more than base urges.
And Soap- Soap is leading them to salvation, to paradise. Children are our future, he tells them, children guide us towards goodness. Children are the foundation of any good church, they'll know him as a prophet, and you as his wife. What's a nun that doesn't serve her lord?
"Are you alright father?" You ask. He seems distracted, he's hardly touched his tea, and his eyes are so far away you worry you've lost his company entirely. Father Mactavish blinks, and the stormy sky in his eyes clears back to that brilliant blue. He smiles, and you smile back.
"Of course hen," he draws in a breath, "just writing my sermon for Sunday."
#x oc#cod x oc#cod x reader#x reader#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap mw2#soap cod#soap x reader#oc: moon#nun!reader#priest!soap#f!reader#tw religious themes
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Realizin’ Au Cato Catacombs Lore
@realizinau get ready for some lore. > :>
THIS JUST APPLIES TO THIS AU
Cato got an easy life in the Realizin’ AU even if she doesn't remember who she was before, despise this not everything is as it seen Cato will bottle up her emotions if she needs to cry or scream, she will do it where nobody can hear or see her.
She is still kind of a suck up with the scientist but is not afraid to use her gas against them if an employ goes missing there a possibility that Cato ‘deal’ with them, Cato take her role of Big Sister extreme serious something her love will get annoying even suffocating but she really cares about them and their well-being more that her own.
The Wisteria Gas
The blue wisteria gas was created as a less potent Poppy gas made to for the children to feel relax during the medical exams and in large doses it works as anesthesia.
How is this extract? Easy!
The experiment is carried out to a special chamber and scientists place three specialized needles on the subject's back that suck the gas until the necessary amount is obtained. Gas can be stored in tanks "unfortunately" no, it must always be fresh, as they say: "The best batch is always fresh from the source"
Staff Reports
Cato and Candy Cat
Experiment ████ and ████ have begun to form a strange bond. Observations implied a greater bond with ████ than with the Critters, and measurements were taken and ████'s mobility along with its larynx was eliminated.
████ believes that ████ has abandoned them, the staff has returned the now motionless ████ to ████ as a 'gift', their bond has been successfully broken, ████ suspects nothing.
Overwork
Experiment ████ has been subjected to hard labor for the past few months as punishment for disobedience, ████ is handling it with difficulty, but they should get used to it in time since they are old enough to know the consequences of going against staff rules.
After more weeks of observation and some bribery from the staff, ████ has started working with fewer challenges, but their attitude hasn't changed much. The superiors ask us to make ████ an example for other toys in disobedience.
Changes in behavior
After ████'s isolation for more than a week, their behavior has changed drastically, superiors praise the change, this will be considered for the future.
████'s first instinct was to run into 1222's arms for comfort, even if 1222 wasn't even close, we fear that ████ is creating another bond with the other experiments and not the other critters like they should, we are trying to bring 1188 closer and ████ without success.
A month ago, ████ were missing, 1188 reported that they had "fallen" through a hole in the ground, when the other critters where asked they refused to answer. We suspect that 1188 did something to ████ but we have no evidence other than that the two experiments have a strange relationship.
Experiment #1006 came to us this morning holding ████ in their claws, The doctor explains 1006 took care of ████ while missing in the darkest part of the factory.
The higher ups have put Harley Sawyer in charge of the next experiments.
Project re-introduction
Experiment #1188
Tag: Playcare.
After the last incident within Home Sweet Home between Experiment 1188 and ████ and even having to involve Experiment #1006 we are to take drastic measures.
Notes
- ████ has been keep away from Home sweet Home, 1188 haven't shown any worry yet.
- Three week have passed the critters are starting to ask updates about ████.
- 1188 is showing sign of distress, the other have started to beg for 1188 to act and look for ████.
- Anguish has filled 1188's mind, ████ will be return to Home sweet Home late night.
Analysis We have found fear is the best way to make the experiments bond, as 1188 and ████ relation has better itself but of course this is not without its consequences, in the end Project re-introduction serve its purpose.
#digital artist#smiling critters oc#smilling critters#smiling critters au#realizin' au art#candy cat#oc lore#oc artist#original character#original art#artists on tumblr#[cato]
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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN
July 6, 2023
HEATHER COX RICHARDSON
JUL 7, 2023
The payroll processing firm ADP said today that private sector jobs jumped by 497,000 in June, far higher than the Dow Jones consensus estimate predicted. The big gains were in leisure and hospitality, which added 232,000 new hires; construction with 97,000; and trade, transportation and utilities with 90,000. Annual pay rose at a rate of 6.4%. Most of the jobs came from companies with fewer than 50 employees.
The Dow Jones Industrial Average, which is a way to measure the stock market by aggregating certain stocks, dropped 372 points as the strong labor market made traders afraid that the Fed would raise interest rates again to cool the economy. Higher interest rates make borrowing more expensive, slowing investment.
Today, as the Washington Post’s climate reporter Scott Dance warned that the sudden surge of broken heat records around the globe is raising alarm among scientists, Bloomberg’s Cailley LaPara reported that the incentives in the Inflation Reduction Act for emerging technologies to address climate change have long-term as well as short-term benefits.
Dance noted that temperatures in the North Atlantic are already close to their typical annual peak although we are early in the season, sea ice levels around Antarctica are terribly low, and Monday was the Earth’s hottest day in at least 125,000 years and Tuesday was hotter. LaPara noted that while much attention has been paid to the short-term solar, EV, and wind industries in the U.S., emerging technologies for industries that can’t be electrified—technologies like sustainable aviation fuel, clean hydrogen, and direct air capture, which pulls carbon dioxide out of the air—offer huge potential to reduce emissions by 2030.
This news was the backdrop today as President Biden was in South Carolina to talk about Bidenomics. After touting the huge investments of both public and private capital that are bringing new businesses and repaired infrastructure to that state, Biden noted that analysts have said that the new laws Democrats have passed will do more for Republican-dominated states than for Democratic ones. “Well, that’s okay with me,” Biden said, “because we’re all Americans. Because my view is: Wherever the need is most, that’s the place we should be helping. And that’s what we’re doing. Because the way I look at it, the progress we’re making is good for all Americans, all of America.”
On Air Force One on the way to the event, deputy press secretary Andrew Bates began his remarks to the press: “President Biden promised that he would be a president for all Americans, regardless of where they live and regardless of whether they voted for him or not. He also promised to rebuild the middle class. The fact that Bidenomics has now galvanized over $500 billion in job-creating private sector investment is the newest testament to how seriously he takes fulfilling those promises.”
Bates listed all the economic accomplishments of the administration and then added: “the most powerful endorsement of Bidenomics is this: Every signature economic law this President has signed, congressional Republicans who voted “no” and attacked it on Fox News then went home to their district and hailed its benefits.” He noted that “Senator Lindsey Graham called the Inflation Reduction Act ‘a nightmare for South Carolina,’” then, “[j]ust two months later, he called BMW’s electric vehicles announcement ‘one of the most consequential announcements in the history of the state of South Carolina.’” “Representative Joe Wilson blasted the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law but later announced, ‘I welcome Scout Motors’ plans to invest $2 billion and create up to 4,000 jobs in South Carolina.’ Nancy Mace called Bidenomics legislation a…‘disaster,’ then welcomed a RAISE grant to Charleston.”
“[W]hat could speak to the effectiveness of Bidenomics more than these conversions?” Bates asked.
While Biden is trying to sell Americans on an economic vision for the future, the Republican leadership is doubling down on dislike of President Biden and the Democrats. Early on the morning of July 2, Trump, who remains the presumptive 2024 Republican presidential nominee, shared a meme of President Biden that included a flag reading: “F*CK BIDEN AND F*CK YOU FOR VOTING FOR HIM!” The next morning, in all caps, he railed against what he called “massive prosecutorial conduct” and “the weaponization of law enforcement,” asking: “Do the people of this once great nation even have a choice but to protest the potential doom of the United States of America??? 2024!!!”
Prosecutors have told U.S. district judge Aileen Cannon that they want to begin Trump’s trial on 37 federal charges for keeping and hiding classified national security documents, and as his legal trouble heats up, Trump appears to be calling for violence against Democrats. On June 29 he posted what he claimed was the address of former president Barack Obama, inspiring a man who had been at the January 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol to repost the address and to warn, “We got these losers surrounded! See you in hell,…Obama’s [sic].” Taylor Tarranto then headed there with firearms and ammunition, as well as a machete, in his van. Secret Service agents arrested him.
Indeed, those crossing the law for the former president are not faring well. More than 1,000 people have been arrested for their participation in the events of January 6, and those higher up the ladder are starting to feel the heat as well. Trump lawyer Lin Wood, who pushed Trump’s 2020 election lies, was permitted to “retire” his law license on Tuesday rather than be disbarred. Trump lawyer John Eastman is facing disbarment in California for trying to overturn the 2020 election with his “fake elector” scheme, a ploy whose legitimacy the Supreme Court rejected last week. And today, Trump aide Walt Nauta pleaded not guilty to federal charges of withholding documents and conspiring to obstruct justice for allegedly helping Trump hide the classified documents he had at Mar-a-Lago.
Trump Republicans—MAGA Republicans—are cementing their identity by fanning fears based on cultural issues, but it is becoming clear those are no longer as powerful as they used to be as the reality of Republican extremism becomes clear.
Yesterday the man who raped and impregnated a then-9-year-old Ohio girl was sentenced to at least 25 years in prison. Last year, after the Supreme Court overturned the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision recognizing the constitutional right to abortion, President Biden used her case to argue for the need for abortion access. Republican lawmakers, who had criminalized all abortions after 6 weeks, before most people know they’re pregnant, publicly doubted that the case was real (Ohio Attorney General Dave Yost told the Fox News Channel there was “not a damn scintilla of evidence” to support the story). Unable to receive an abortion in Ohio, the girl, who had since turned 10, had to travel to Indiana, where Dr. Caitlin Bernard performed the procedure.
Republican Indiana attorney general Todd Rokita complained—inaccurately—that Bernard had not reported child abuse and that she had violated privacy laws by talking to a reporter, although she did not identify the patient and her employer said she acted properly. Bernard was nonetheless reprimanded for her handling of privacy issues and fined by the Indiana licensing board. Her employer disagreed.
As Republican-dominated states have dramatically restricted abortion, they have fueled such a backlash that party members are either trying to avoid talking about it or are now replacing the phrase “national ban” with “national consensus” or “national standard,” although as feminist writer Jessica Valenti, who studies this language, notes, they still mean strict antiabortion measures. In the House, some newly-elected and swing-district Republicans have blocked abortion measures from coming to a vote out of concern they will lose their seats in 2024.
But it is not at all clear the issue will go away. Yesterday, those committed to protecting abortion rights in Ohio turned in 70% more signatures than they needed to get a measure amending the constitution to protect that access on the ballot this November. In August, though, antiabortion forces will use a special election to try to change the threshold for constitutional amendments, requiring 60% of voters rather than a majority.
LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN
HEATHER COX RICHARDSON
#Bidenomics#Joe Biden#economy#jobs#middle class#justice#Letters From an American#Heather Cox Richardson#infrastructure#climate change
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Raising the Minimum Wage and Its Effects
Ko-fi prompt from [name redacted]:
So, what does raising the minimum wage really do to the rest of the economy?
Hecking Complicated! I think I might need a doc of just. References for this one. But here are a few elements!
(Also, the Congressional Budget Office has an interactive model of how different changes to the minimum wage could affect various parts of the economy, like poverty rates and overall employment. Try it out!)
Reduction of Benefits
A common claim that is used to argue against the minimum wage is that it will result in companies cutting hours for their employees in order to recoup losses by having to provide benefits to fewer employees. This isn't 'the minimum wage is bad' so much as 'corporations are assholes,' but it is unfortunately still a thing that happens. (Harvard Business Review)
This is not a problem with the minimum wage itself, in my opinion, but these issues are emblematic of the weight that self-serving elements of capitalism carry. The low minimum wage is just one part of many that contribute to the current wealth disparity; if things like health insurance were universal, then bosses wouldn't be as able to cut them to employees in order to save money. Current regulations incentivize companies to hire more part-time workers than full-time, in order to avoid paying out benefits. Some cities have enacted Fair Workweek Laws in order to combat these approaches, though the impact is as of yet uncertain (Economic Policy Institute, 2018). Early reports, like the Year Two Worker Impact Report on Seattle’s Secure Scheduling Ordinance, do seem to indicate positive results, though:
In addition, the SSO led to increases in job satisfaction and workers’ overall well-being and financial security. In particular, the Secure Scheduling Ordinance had the following impacts for Seattle workers:
- increased work schedule stability and predictability
- increased job satisfaction and satisfaction with work schedules
- increased overall happiness and sleep quality, and reduced material hardship.
(direct quote from the Year Two Eval)
Unfortunately, these were approved at the earliest in 2015 (San Francisco's Formula Retail Employee Rights Ordinances, which went into effect in March 2016), which means that none of them were in play for longer than five years before COVID-19 ground the planet's economy to a near halt. I tried to find results for the San Francisco laws, but I couldn't find any studies for it; I did find an article from March 2023 that summarized which cities in California have brought in fair workweek laws, though, so maybe someone could use that as a jumping off point (What Retailers Should Know About California Scheduling Ordinances).
Companies prevented from cutting benefits by cutting hours would probably find another way to do the same thing, but let's be real: keeping the minimum wage low won't stop them from cutting every corner possible. EPI has some articles, like "The role of local government in protecting workers’ rights," that talk about how these measures can be, and have been, implemented to protect workers from cost-cutting employers.
Cutting the hours and benefits of part-time employees is a real, genuine concern to have about raising the minimum wage, and those need to be anticipated and combated in concert with raising the minimum wage. However, it is not a reason to keep the minimum wage depressed. It's just a consequence to be aware of and plan for.
Passing Costs On To Customers
A common argument against raising the minimum wage is that companies will raise costs in order to cover the raise in expenses, to a degree that nullifies the wage hike. This is, um. Uh.
Really easily debunked?
Like, really easily.
Over a ten-plus year period, research found that a 10 percent increase in the minimum wage resulted in just a 0.36 percent increase in prices passed on to the consumer at grocery stores. A similar Seattle-based study showed that supermarket food prices were not impacted by their minimum wage increase.
- (Minimum Wage is Not Enough, Drexel U.)
I've talked about it before, but in some cases it's just a matter of how US-based labor is such a comparatively small portion of costs for medium-to-large businesses that raising wages doesn't raise corporate expenditures that much.
That said, some companies rely on drastically underpaying their employees, like Walmart. Walmart's revenue in 2020 was approximately $520 billion (Walmart Annual Report, page 29). Now, this report doesn't actually tell us what amount is spent on labor, but it does give us the "Operating, selling, general and administrative expenses, as a percentage of net sales." This is, to quote BDC, "[including] rent and utilities, marketing and advertising, sales and accounting, management and administrative salaries."
So, wages are just part of the (checks) 20.9% of revenue that is operating SG&A expenses. But maybe I'm being mean to Walmart! After all, the gross profit margin is only 24.1%, so only 3.2% is left for those poor shareholders!
Oh, oh, that means the profit is still over 16billion USD? And Walmart cites having 2.2 million associates in that same report? And that's about $7,500 per employee per year that's being withheld? And that's before we take costs up by like three cents per product?
Which, circling back: A study from Berkeley by the name of "The Pass-Through of Minimum Wages into US Retail Prices: Evidence from Supermarket Scanner Data" found that
a 10% minimum wage hike translates into a 0.36% increase in the prices of grocery products. This magnitude is consistent with a full pass-through of cost increases into consumer prices.
Of course, Walmart does sell more than just groceries, but isn't it interesting that raising a minimum wage resulted in such a small cost increase? If we assume this is linear (it's probably not, but I have so many numbers going on already), then doubling wages from 7.25 to 14.50 would still mean only a 3.6% increase costs! Your $5 gallon of milk would go up to [checks] $5.18.
Hm. Those 18 cents might be meaningful to our poorest citizens, but if those poorest citizens are more likely to be raised out of poverty by raising the minimum wage, then it might just be the case that they too can afford the new price of milk, and have more money left over for things like... rent. Or education. Or healthcare.
Maybe even a cost cutting loss leader like Walmart can reasonably increase its wages. After all, they still have 13 stores on Long Island, where the minimum wage is $15, and has been since 2021.
(I could have just cited the Berkeley study and moved on, but after a certain point I was too deep in parsing the Walmart report to not include it.)
But also... minimum wage increases are often staggered. They start out on the bigger companies, which have the resources to accommodate those changes (unless they've been doing stock buybacks), and then later on the smaller businesses, now that a portion of the economy (those working for the big companies) has the spare change to spend money at those smaller businesses that are raising their prices by a little more than the corporations.
And at that point, all I can really say is, well.
If you can't afford to pay your employees a living wage, you're not an oppressed company. You're just a failing company. Sorry, Walmart&Co, your business model is predicated on fucking over poor people, and so it's a bad business model.
Being a dickhead, while successful, is not actually 'smart' business practice.
(This doesn't even get into the international impacts, like what an "American companies should pay higher wages abroad, especially if they charge higher-than-American pricing for their products, but also at factories where we know they're committing human rights abuses" approach could be but this is already long as fuck so that'll have to wait for another post.)
Anyway.
Inflation
This one is tied into the cost argument above, but like...
Inflation is already a thing? Inflation is happening whether we raise the minimum wage or not. Costs go up whether we raise the minimum wage or not. Who is this argument serving? Not the people who can't afford rent, surely.
Quoting the earlier-mentioned Drexel report (red highlights mine):
While the minimum wage has been adjusted numerous times since its implementation in 1938, it has failed to keep up with inflation and the rising cost of living. The purchasing power of minimum wage reached its peak in 1968 and steadily declined since. If it had kept up with inflation from that point it would have reached at least $10.45 in 2019. Instead, its real value continues to go down, meaning minimum wage employees are essentially being paid less each year.
Additionally, some economists argue if minimum wage increased with U.S. productivity over the years, it would be set currently at $26 per hour today and poverty rates would be close to non-existent with little negative impact on the economy. However, because gradual change was avoided, the extra funds were instead shifted to CEO compensation.
A sudden change in wages now could possibly make a more noticeable impact on the economy, which is often cited as reasoning for a slower increase over time moving forward. Gradual increases with inflation and productivity could have avoided any potential economic ripple effects from wage increases and should be considered in ongoing plans.
Increasing Unemployment
A common argument is that the unemployment rate would jump as employers were forced to let employees go. Assuming they didn't just hire more employees so they could give them less hours in order to cut benefits... not really!
A 2021 article from Berkeley News summarizes the issue, along with several others, covering some thirty years of research that started with "Minimum Wages and Employment: A Case Study of the Fast-Food Industry in New Jersey and Pennsylvania," published in 1993. They also touch on the issue of subminimum wages for tipped workers, though they do not address the subminimum wages set for underage and disabled workers.
“A minimum wage increase doesn’t kill jobs,” said Reich, chair of UC Berkeley’s Center on Wage and Employment Dynamics (CWED) . “It kills job vacancies, not jobs. The higher wage makes it easier to recruit workers and retain them. Turnover rates go down. Other research shows that those workers are likely to be a little more productive, as well.”
- Berkeley News article, "Even in small businesses, minimum wage hikes don’t cause job losses, study finds"
Lower turnover rates also save money for employers, as it causes them to have much lower HR expenses. How much money do you think large employers spend on using sites like Indeed or Glassdoor to find new employees?
This article from Richmond Fed does, admittedly, encourage a slightly grayer analysis:
In a 2021 review of some of the literature, [researchers] reported that 55.4 percent of the papers that they examined found employment effects that were negative and significant. They argued that the literature provides particularly compelling evidence for negative employment effects of an increased minimum wage for teens, young adults, the less educated, and the directly affected workers. On the other hand, in a 2021 Journal of Economic Perspectives article that analyzed the effect of the minimum wage on teens ages 16-19, Alan Manning of the London School of Economics and Political Science wrote that although the wage effect was sizable and robust, the employment effect was neither as easy to find nor consistent across estimations.
Thus, although the literature supports an effect on employment among the most affected workers, it does not appear to be as sizable as theory might suggest.
The International Labor Organization has a similarly mixed result when taking a variety of studies into account. (I left in their own reference links.)
In high-income countries, a comprehensive reviews of about 70 studies, shows that estimates range between large negative employment effects to small positive effects. But the most frequent finding is that employment effects are close to zero and too small to be observable in aggregate employment or unemployment statistics (1). Similar conclusions emerge from meta-studies (quantitative studies of studies) in the United States (2), the United Kingdom (3), and in developed economies in general (4). Other reviews conclude that employment effects are less benign and that minimum wages reduce employment opportunities for less-skilled workers (5).
And there's the 60-page "Impacts of minimum wages: review of the international evidence" from University of Massachusetts Amherst, which looks at data from both the US and UK. I'll admit I didn't read this one beyond the introduction, because this is very long already.
Not all US studies suggest small employment effects, and there are notable counter examples. However, the weight of the evidence suggests the employment effects are modest. Moreover, recent research has helped reconcile some of the divergent findings. Much of this divergence concerns how different methods handle economic shocks that affected states differently in the 1980s and early 1990s, a period with relatively little state-level variation in minimum wages.
I'd encourage you to think of it this way:
Employer A pays $7.25/hr. Employer B also pays $7.25/hr. An employee works 25hrs/week for Employer A, and 20hr/wk for Employer B.
The minimum wage goes up to $15/hr. Employer B cuts the employee. Employer A cuts employees as well, but not this one, and instead increases their hours to 30/wk for greater coverage.
The employee has gone from just under $400/wk to $450/wk. They lost a job, sure, but the end result... They have an extra fifteen hours of free time per week! Or more! With time to level out, you have less jobs, but more employment, because people aren't taking up multiple jobs (that someone else could have) just to survive.
This is a very, very simplified example, which doesn't take into account graduated wage increases (see the NYS labor table) or the benefits issue from before, but it does show the reality that "less jobs" doesn't necessarily mean "less pay" or "fewer employed" people, when so many of those employed at this pay are working multiple jobs.
Even the Washington Post agrees that the wage hike wouldn't cost as many jobs as conventional wisdom claims, and they're owned by Bezos. (Though I recognize the name of the article's author as the same person behind that 60-page Amherst report, so there's that to consider.)
The Kellogg Institute also points out that individual workers were, on average, more productive after receiving the pay increase, so the drop in the bottom line was softened. This is a bit debatable; the results varied based on the level of monitoring, but it's worth noting that most minimum wage jobs are pretty high-intensity, high-monitoring. Goodness knows you don't get a whole lot of time to yourself outside of the critical eye of your shift lead or customers if you're working fast food. They also note a decrease in profits, but I'd point out that they speak specifically of profits, not share of revenue.
To explain the difference: imagine you sell $100 of product in a day. The product cost you $50. Overhead (rent, utilities, taxes) cost you $10. Labor cost you $15. Profit, then, was $25, or $25.
A 16% reduction in the profit does not mean you now retain $11. It means that you retain 16% less of the $25. You now retain $21.
(This is, as with many of my examples, INCREDIBLY simplified, but I need to illustrate what the article's talking about, and I don't have infographics.)
Some other articles on the topic are from The Quarterly Journal of Economics, Business for a Fair Wage, The Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco (more critical), the Center on Wage and Employment Dynamics, the Center for Economic and Policy Research, UCLA Anderson, Vox, and The Intelligencer, which cites another Berkeley article. I do not claim to have read all of these, especially the really long ones, but the links are there if you want to look into them.
In the interest of showing research from groups that do not serve my own political views, I'm going to link an article from the Cato Institute; I do encourage you to read that one with a grain of salt, given that it's written by a libertarian thinktank, and they are just as dedicated to hunting for research that serves their political views as I am. There were a few other libertarian articles I came across, but the way they presented information kept feeling really duplicitous so I just... am not linking those, or the leftist ones I am also uncomfortable with due to the whole "I'm totally not tricking you" vibes. Also eventually I just got tired, there are so many articles on this and I am just one blogger who is not actually working for a magazine or thinktank, I am working for my own personal tumblr.
Negatively Impacting Slightly-Higher Paid Employees
Did you know that raising the minimum wage affects more than just those making minimum? It affects those just above as well. It's referred to as the ripple effect of minimum wage hikes by this Brookings article. They estimate that a wage hike would affect nearly 30% of the country's workforce.
"Price adjustments provide the principal adjustment mechanism for minimum wage increases: higher labor costs are passed through to consumers, mainly for food consumed away from home. Such an increase does not deter restaurant customers. Price increases are also detectable for grocery stores (Leung 2018; Renkin, Montialoux and Siegenthaler 2019), but not more generally. The effect on inflation is therefore extremely small."
- "Likely Effects of a $15 Federal Minimum Wage by 2024," Testimony prepared for presentation at the hearing of the House Education and Labor Committee, Washington, DC (2019)
This overlaps with general criticisms of widening income equality, citing an AEA article I cannot access since it's behind a paywall. I wonder if it touches on companies like Amazon being headquartered in the city and manipulating the job market by sheer size? I can only speculate.
Plus, there are the health benefits! Which are mostly connected to lessening poverty, and through that lessening stress and increasing healthcare access, but still! Some of these results are debated, but I'd need to know more about the details to know how they're related (University of Washington).
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I've spent most of the day on this, so if you guys have made it this far and are interested in supporting me, please donate to my ko-fi or commission an article. (Preferably for more than the base price; I'm effectively working at a fraction of minimum wage myself, which is ironic considering the theme of this post.)
(I realistically shouldn't have spent more than two or three hours on this, but I have so many strong opinions on the subject that I couldn't stop.)
(Also: There were so many more sources I didn't even get to read the basic premise of because it was so repetitive after a while.)
#economics#stock market#capitalism#phoenix talks#ko fi#ko fi prompts#minimum wage#minimum wage increase#research
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*opens ur window and sits on your bed* greetings, fellow König enjoyer. Have you ever considered! War God König who has a relationship with the goddess of victory! Reader? Have a lovely day!! *creepy back into my void*
Hi, and thank you so much for being my first-ever ask!! You have handed the steering wheel to a 90 year old lady who should have had her license revoked and we are going on the highway >:)
I pondered this for a little while last night and I really like it! I’m not sure if you wanted NSFW or had a specific mythology in mind so I’m just going to write down the flow of ideas that kinda went through my head. This will be mostly NSFW and the imagery is inspired by ancient American cultures :) I hope you like it, this is my first one and my first time writing real smut!!!
I'm new to tumblr and I don't know if I have to tag you in this for you to see it so I'll do it here just in case :) @polnareffsbouncybaraboobies
Smut under the cut!
—
Your bare feet made no noise against the carefully chiseled stone stairs of the temple as you climbed them. Lights from flickering braziers illuminated hairless watchdogs chained outside of the temple’s upper room, but they did not react as you passed them by. They could not see you.
Nothing mortal could see you - unless you revealed yourself. It would remain that way for now. You were deep in the heart of the territory of your people’s enemies - a people you had little love for. They worshipped you too, of course, but less…fervently. Their offerings were fewer, more pathetic. It was almost as if they thought they didn’t need your favor.
You brushed past the curtain over the doorway to the inner sanctum. It was smoky inside and smelled of coppery blood and sweet incense. Upon a dais in the center of the room stood a larger-than-life golden statue of a proud warrior holding the head of an enemy to the sky. Offerings of incense, money, food, pelts, and other luxuries surrounded it, but the god they had been offered to almost seemed unsatisfied.
König reclined at the base of his statue, his bare, rippling muscles shining in the firelight. The pelt of a jaguar was secured around his waist with intricate golden clasps and his arms and legs were wrapped in snake-shaped golden bangles. His broad, muscular chest was bare, decorated only with intricate tattoos and warpaint fashioned from the blood of the men he’d slain.
You’d never seen his face before and you could not see it now. He always wore the same helmet - its beak curved down over his face and ended in a sharp point that caressed his chest. A proud headdress of colorful feathers spilled out of the top and trailed down his back. König was terrifyingly large in size and personality - and yet you knew you could sway him to your side.
When he saw you he smiled and sat up straighter, pushing aside his war-club and decorated shield to make room for you on the chaise he lounged on.
“My love, you have been away from me for too long.” he practically purred, standing to his full height. You slunk forward and he embraced you as you traced your fingers across the muscles in his chest.
“You think I have not missed you?” you murmured, meeting his eyes with a teasing smile. He grasped your hips and lifted you into the air, pushing you back against the temple wall as his lips found your neck.
“You are as beautiful as the day we were wed, even all of these millennia later,” he growled, his voice low as he bit gently at your collarbone. You could feel his hardness pressed between your legs and you were glad you’d worn little other than your jewelry to see him.
“I have a proposition for you,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist as he cupped your breast gently.
“Oh? Have you come to seduce me for a favor? I am your husband…you need not resort to such measures…” König trailed, biting your breast and trailing kisses back up to your lips. You groaned softly, and he smiled into the kiss, tracing two fingers over your entrance and ghosting over your clit.
“Already wet for me, hmm? Has it been too long since I have given myself to you?” he growled, kissing you again, more fervently this time as he slipped one finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out.
You gasped and arched your back against the wall, raking your nails down König’s chest. He hissed in pleasure as small beads of blood dripped down his chest and you could feel precum drip onto your thigh.
“Koni…” you murmured, pushing your hips down against his hand as he slid another large finger into you.
“Yes, love? What is it you want?” he smiled against your neck as he kissed and bit at the exposed skin.
“Fight for my people. Guide them to victory - ah! They will give you gifts…fuck…more than you have here. You will be their - oh, fuck, Koni - patron. They will build a bigger temple than the one you have here.” you gasped out. König was quiet, considering it for a moment.
He surged away from the wall with you in his grip, pulling his fingers out of you and dropping you on your back onto the chaise he had been reclining on when you’d come in. He tore the leopard pelt loincloth free from his waist and his cock sprang free.
“Koni, please,” you begged, half for him to be inside you and half for him to protect your people. He crawled onto you and with a single, powerful thrust, pushed his cock into you. You moaned together, your back arching as you grasped at the pelts you were laid on as he began thrusting slowly, pulling all the way out before slamming back in.
“I will do anything for you, my love,” he growled as he bit down hard on your neck, doing his best to leave a mark all of the other gods would see. He began thrusting faster and you raked your nails down his back, crying out in pleasure.
“These people…mean nothing to me.” he barked, pulling your hips closer to his as you bucked forward desperately, trying to take him deeper inside of you.
“They treat me as a secondary god. I do not even have the biggest temple in the city,” he growled bitterly, reaching down to circle your clit as he frantically pounded into you. You could feel your orgasm building and your eyes rolled back as you gasped.
“I will return with you,” he said, looking up to stare you deep in the eyes as you dragged your hands down his chest, smearing the intricate warpaint and leaving delicate handprints behind. “And I will rule with you, and I will fuck you like this in my temple every night.”
You came with a shriek, your back arching and pushing your trembling chest into König. He wrapped his lips around one of your nipples and sucked as his thrusts became sloppier and harder. His hips stuttered as he came deep in you, filling you until your belly swelled slightly with his seed.
You both panted together and he collapsed on top of you, laying his head on your chest as you caught your breath.
“We will not be apart again,” he murmured, gently rubbing your sides as you drifted off to sleep.
#konig modern warfare#konig cod#konig mw2#konig x reader#konig#konig fanfiction#cod konig#konig call of duty#könig call of duty#könig mw2#könig x reader#könig cod#könig#call of duty#cod
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What if everyone in Limited Life felt their time differently. Lives not measured only in minutes and seconds, but in something else. Something unique. Something that had followed them though all the games before, and now counted down to their next death.
(4,283 words)
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For Grian, it’s the sun. He has a sundial, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and whilst he knows how to read it, he’s not exactly clear how it’s meant to show him how many hours he has left. As far as he’s aware, and he double checks just to be sure, the sun is moving just as it always has, and under a cloudless midday, there should be only the smallest sliver of shadow. But that’s not what he sees when he pulls it out to check. The shadow is long and dark and tells him that it’s barely past dawn. He triple-checks the sun again, just to be sure, but it remains high in the sky, and so he turns instead to the horizon. There, only visible when he squints, is another sun, smaller and coloured a deep, dark red.
It rises quickly as his hours tick by, and soon he doesn’t have to pull out the sundial to locate it, hanging ominously in the sky. Even at night it burns, its harsh light a counterpoint to the moon’s cold glow, and a constant reminder of his times slow passage. By the time he turns yellow it’s nearing its height and begins to burn almost as bright as the other sun which had continued its normal rotations through the sky. And then it begins to descend and as his final life approaches, he gets to witness the most beautiful sunset. This small red sun which represents each moment of his life lights the very sky on fire, a blood-coloured glow which dominates the sky through night and day. There’s no escaping it, with each passing moment it sinks further below the horizon, and the sundial he now holds in blood-coloured hands shows him precisely how little time he has left. His own mortality hangs above his head in glorious colours, but he knows the rules better than anyone and he will break them however he has to to extend that sunset a little longer.
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For Scott, it’s the stars. During the days he can almost force himself to forget that now more than ever before, they are all doomed to die, but as the night closes in he has no choice but to face reality. During the first hours of this game, he notices no change, the night sky remains as illuminated as it ever was. His first sign that something is wrong is as he idly traces a constellation, but his eyes are caught up short as he notices that a star is… missing. He tells himself that it can’t be right, he must be looking at them wrong, or there’s some cloud blocking his vision, but no matter how he squints the star is just gone, and it only gets worse from there.
Each night the deep black of the sky stretches further, with fewer and fewer stars to break up the unending void. With each passing minute, another one blinks out of existence. He even sees it happen a few times, his heartbeat beating in time with the ticking clock inside him causing another star to burn away. As the hours pass and even he, once known for his mercy, is forced to do whatever he must to hold on a little longer, Scott realises that he no longer recognises the sky above him. The stars have become few and far between, leaving only the unkind void watching over him. He fights under unfamiliar constellations now, and as his time reaches its final gasping breaths, those last stars abandon him too. When his time at last runs out, above him hangs only the unknowable.
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For Pearl, it’s the moon. From the moment this new world began she knew that. The first night, before even an hour had passed, it hangs heavy and full and bright above her head. Nights like this one always made it hard for her to sleep, when the clear moonlight illuminated the world in silvers, and she chose to not even try and rest, instead lying in dew-soaked grass soaking in the light. For a second it brings her back to nights far up in a tower, alone save for the furred warmth of a dog by her side, watching the skies for any sign that she was not to blame, but that was another world. Here it’s a fresh start, and despite knowing otherwise she can manage to convince herself that she has all the time in the world as a full moon hangs above her.
It’s only because she was watching the moon so carefully that first night that she notices the changes so quickly. Even as her first hours slip away from her, the moon does too. No longer does it light up the world quite so brightly, and she can only watch as each night it wanes further. Under a dull half-moon’s glow she reaches her yellow life, and her minutes begin to tick dangerously low. She no longer has the time to lie back and simply relax, and her nights are no longer a time of pale light. Instead, she hunts for extra minutes through half-cast shadows, trying to slow the waning of the slender crescent she sees above her. As her final hours approach its light abandons her too, only a new moon left to watch over the same old story of their struggle against the inevitable. As her final death approaches, she is left with only memories of the full moon’s glow, and the knowledge that she will do whatever she must to return it to its full glory.
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For Scar it is, ironically enough, scars. He’s never exactly been great at staying alive, and that fact is clear for all to see through the reminders of those deaths which mark his skin. He’s not ashamed of them though. He knows his strengths, and he’s an expert at spinning the most dramatic tales of how he got each wound. It’s a surprise then, when he opens his eyes in this new world and finds only smooth, unmarked skin. The others notice, but don’t seem to think too much of it so Scar trie s not to let it bother him either. “New world, new me”, he thinks to himself, mind already spinning with potential schemes. Only as the first hours begin to pass does he realise what it means.
The first one to reappear is a blast mark down his left side from a creeper which had caught him completely unaware. Next, as time continued to tick, was a jagged mark on his right calf, the remnant of a broken leg gained in a sandy ravine a long way from here. Every few hours it’s another one: the mark of an axe slashing across his back, burn marks across his chest, claw marks down his forearms where the zombies had scratched at him. He knows what the final one will be when his time has all but run out; a scar over his heart where the line which once connected him to a soulmate had been ripped away. His scars are a sign of what he’s survived, but as each one comes back he knows that they’re also a reminder. No matter how fast he talks, what alliances he makes, his time is running out, and he’s never been good at avoiding death for long.
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For Jimmy, it’s feathers. He’d always hated when the others had made fun of him, called him cursed, or doomed, the canary of these death games. Every time he swore it would be different, but every time he died first, and every time it got a little harder to convince himself that it was just bad luck. He finds the first one before an hour had passed, a pale-yellow feather, almost golden in the sun. It’s caught in his hair, and as he flicks it away he manages to convince himself that the colour was just a trick of the light and he’d simply gotten a little careless whilst killing chickens. They come more frequently after that though. In his hair, landing softly on his arms, a flurry of them when he shakes out his jacket to put it on. Once there’s a trail of them, beckoning him into the woods and the fact that he decided to spend that day safely within his base is entirely unrelated. At least he can ignore them when his time is plentiful, but as time slips away, the reminder of his curse becomes more obvious.
When he awakens on his yellow life, he is greeted by a pair of wings upon his back, the feathers as vibrant as the name above his head. He can’t fly, of course, but the wings remain, a symbol of his role that’s clear for all to see. For a while he almost thinks that that could be the end of it, he has become the canary and he never needed a timer to beckon him towards his doom. But then the feathers start again. They don’t appear from nowhere this time, every golden plume which drifts past him now comes from his own wings. With each step, each passing minute, he loses more, and each yellow feather he sees is only a reminder of his own tragic fate. By the time he becomes red, his bedraggled and bloodied wings are those of a bird caught in a net, destroying itself in its own desperate struggle to find freedom. Every time he swore it would be different, but now more than ever time was not on his side, and his struggles will only quicken his own death.
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For Tango, it’s… nothing at first. He hears the others muttering about it at the beginning, in between the chaos of gathering resources and making alliances: the changes they can feel coming over them as the clock begins to tick, the constant dread of feeling time slipping between their fingertips. He feels nothing of the sort though, if anything he feels good! He’s got friends, supplies, and at least part of a base. Maybe, he thinks, this time it will be different, and something good will come out of these games.
Or maybe that optimism at the start was the cruellest part of it all. Without that joy, he wouldn’t have been able to notice the creeping anger which began to replace it. He tried to reign it in, to laugh and play along with the rest of them in pretending that nothing was wrong, but with each passing hour his control slipped away. Old hurts he’d thought forgotten rose unbidden to his mind. Time begins to slip away from him and the desire for revenge gets harder to ignore, the urge to find all those who’d betrayed and destroyed and left him for dead grows stronger. He finds himself seething with anger, remembering the people he’d thought of as friends turning their backs on him, the slash of an axe against his back, a home in flames before him. He can control it for now, but he knows that by the time his name is as red as the mist which begins to cloud his vision, there will be nothing left of him beside the rage.
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For Etho, it’s fire of course. It’s always haunted his steps in these games, and it’s only natural that it continues to do so. They all knew that their time was running out from the very first second, but no one else seemed to feel it the way that Etho did. Even at the start he couldn’t stay still too long lest the heat got too intense, and he tried to stay close to the team he’d found in the hopes that the babble of their voices would drown out the crackling of the flames. At least in the Nether he could pretend the heat was natural (and if he flinched at the sound of the popping lava at least no one noticed), but as the hours slipped by it got harder to ignore.
The warm tropical water of this place could do nothing to cool the fire which seemed to creep up his veins, and sometimes he found himself wishing for the familiar press of cold snow walls against his back, if only to give himself a moment of comfort. As green slipped into yellow what was once an uncomfortable heat across the back of his neck, would become a constant burning that was far too familiar. Even through the mask, every gasp would become like breathing in smoke. The pink light of a sunrise on the waves would appear, just for a moment, like a flaming inferno reaching towards him. He could hardly bear to enter the forest when every other tree seemed to burst into fire as he passed by it. He’d learnt the hard way that when the flames began, they would only spread, and with each passing minute they would only burn hotter. He could run from it all he liked, but when the timer got low, he knew that everything would burn.
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For Bdubs, it’s a clock. This comes as a surprise to no one, and he happily shows it off to anyone who’ll listen. It’s little more ornate than the one he usually carries, the gold bright and polished with delicate creeping vines and fragile flowers engraved around its edges, but this too is no surprise. The clock had always been a gift to buy his loyalty after all, and his loyalty is a beautiful thing. He soon realises that a clock is all the others see, however. Just a clock, with no strings attached.
As his time begins to tick, it is only Bdubs who sees the blood. The stains which begin to mar its edges as time runs down, the scrapes and dents and scratches. It continues to tick despite the damage, each movement bringing him a little closer to death. He finds himself holding it even closer than he normally would, almost hypnotised by its steady and relentless movements. He can’t wipe away the blood, can’t fix the damage that his love and betrayals have done but at least he can track the passage of his time and know how much he has left to devote to another. When his name is green, and even as hours pass and it turns yellow, he will give whatever he can, but he knows that one day that clock will shatter. When the hour gets late, he will do as he always has. His loyalty is a beautiful thing but just as fragile as a delicate clock face and when the clock stops ticking, he will be alone. He knows time better than anyone but now it’s not on his side, and he knows from bitter experience that loyalty alone will not save him.
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Joel doesn’t care what his is. He’s never been in these games to win, not really, and if anything he’s just waiting for his timer to get low enough that he can shed these false pretences. He makes alliances, builds bases, pretends to be civil, but he knows that it won’t last. He’s only here to fight, to kill, to feel the thrill of the hunt once more. The first time he went to grab his shovel and looked down to find a sword in his hand instead, it was almost funny. As the time passed, and it happened over and over again, however, he began to get an idea of just how his minutes were being measured.
After a few hours it became a challenge to swing his axe into the trees, to not take a few steps over and swing it right into his teammates’ unsuspecting backs instead. As time wore on it only got worse. In every passing moment he saw opportunities to kill, and something deep within him ached to see so many chances not taken. With the descent into yellow he gained some freedom at least, finally had the ability to strike back, to sate the biting hunger inside him. But as the time continued to tick it would never be enough, each kill would only hold it back for a time and even as his own death drew closer he would have no choice but to hunt for one more kill.
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For Martyn, it’s eyes. At the start, it’s more a creeping feeling of being watched than anything else, but at least he can blame that on the general feelings of paranoia which accompany these games every time. But as his time gets lower, with each minute taking him closer to yellow, it gets worse. Peering eyes become leaves or clouds or simply nothing at all when he turns to look at them properly, but he knows what he saw, and these days his own eyes are the only ones he can trust. He’s played many parts over these games: the loyal hand, the ally in the shadows, the spurned soulmate, but through every life they have watched and as time ticks lower, they stop even attempting to hide it.
Eyes watch him from the darkness of each restless night, and his every day is haunted by the peering eyes of figures he can’t quite make out. He still struggles against his fate, pointless though it might be, but soon even the eyes of his allies flash purple as he passes them by and he knows that everything he’s doing is only entertaining them more. When the sky itself seems to blink at him he feels his time running out fast, knows that the show is almost over. He could kill, draw their gaze away from himself a time as they go instead to watch the suffering of another, but they will always return. When his time runs out, he knows he will be surrounded by eyes uncountable, and he will have no choice but to perform.
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For Cleo, it’s flowers, and the rot which inevitably destroys them. For the first few hours they bloom wherever she goes, blossoms of blue and orange which follow in her footsteps. They find them creeping through the cracks in the makeshift base they’ve created, leaves and vines finding any gaps in the foundations and pushing inside. As their hours decrease, the flowers only increase in number. Trees seem to come into blossom as she passes, and if she spends too long in one place it becomes a riot of multicolour petals. She knows these games though, and from what she’s seen there are only two constants: decay and death. Alliances rot, leaving behind only hurt and thoughts of revenge, but even those teams which stand the test of time will eventually crumble as death claims them. There is no escaping the slow and steady passage of time.
As their name turns yellow, so too do the flowers which follow them, a sickly yellow which spreads across each petal. A creeping rot which withers the vines and eats away at everything it touches now follows her. Within just a few hours the flowers which still manage to grow in their path crumble like ash at even the softest touch, and instead of the colours, in her wake she leaves only grey decay. Time slips through her fingertips, life turns to death, and it is no longer only the flowers they created that decay away, but the entire world. Now the trees are brittle beneath their hands, a dark rot pressing up from beneath the bark, and when they stand still the ground rots away beneath their feet. By the end she is as grey as the dead world in which she finds herself, only her heart still beating a bright vibrant red. But whilst all else has decayed away, they still stand strong, and will continue to do so until the final hour.
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For BigB, it’s the shadows. The days are bright in this world, and it’s certainly warmer than any of the other times they’ve played these games, but even from the first day he can’t shake the feeling that it’s not quite as bright as it should be. Beneath the thick cover of the dark oak forest the dappled sunlight hardly seemed to reach him, and even out in the open fields there are shadows where there shouldn’t be. In another life he would have welcomed them, the shade providing cover for clandestine meetings and secret soulmates, but here it’s like the shadows are beckoning him and he doesn’t want to know what would happen if he listened to their call. If anything, the night is a relief, at least then he can convince himself that the darkness is natural, but each dawn the sun rises, his time ticks lower, and the shadows get a little darker.
As the hours pass, he realises that it’s not just in his imagination. Not only are the shadows deeper and blacker than they should be, they really are reaching out towards him, trying to pull him into their void. It doesn’t matter where the sun is, the shadows always lean his way and even down in the caves torches are no longer enough to banish the darkness. He knows his time is really running out when they begin to move. Shadows begin to writhe along the ground, cutting through the light like ink as they try to reach him. There’s nowhere left to run where they will not find him, and with the final minutes passing him by, he hasn’t got the time to left to search for another solution. It’s a familiar feeling, killing out of desperation to save his own life, but it’s a decision he’s made before and will make again if it buys him another few minutes in the light.
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For Impulse, it’s a pocket watch. He’s almost insulted when he first sees it. At first glance it’s a little too similar to a golden clock, glinting in the sunlight as he’s betrayed yet again, but as he inspects it again he realises that the similarities are only superficial. The face is beautiful in its own right, a delicate design of brass and a soft ticking noise which accompanies each movement of the second hand, but he’s more interested in what lies beneath it. When he finally manages to get some time alone and unscrew the back, however, the redstone inside is like nothing he’s ever seen, and even with his impressive talents, he can’t make heads nor tails of the miniature moving pieces. He spends some time fiddling with it, trying to understand the inner workings and figure out a way to quietly wind it back every now and then to give himself a little extra time, but whatever he does, the minute hand continues to move steadily forward.
For a while he thinks that’s the end of it, a complex little pocket watch that he always keeps close at hand, but as the time begins to pass, he realises that the ticking he can hear doesn’t originate from that at all and it’s only getting louder. It comes from all around him, the ticking of a life slowly running out, and soon it's impossible to ignore. With each tick, all he can think about is everything he has left to do: the allies he will leave behind, the plans left unfinished, the old enemies who still walk unpunished. He can’t die yet, but still the seconds pass him by. As the pocket watch he can hardly bear to put down draws closer and closer to its final chime, the ticking in his ears sounds more and more like a heartbeat, drowning out all else. It’s never been clearer to him that his time is limited, but he has never been one to leave things unfinished, and there are still things that must be done before the end.
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For Skizz, it’s only being able to watch as he is quietly and slowly abandoned. It’s something which has become all too familiar to him through these games. An army behind him, standing back and watching him charge in alone. A team he created, led, and then died for refusing to help him. But he was nothing if not an optimist, and at the start it was easy to convince himself that this time it would be different. As his friends gathered around him, announcing themselves his bodyguards, and promising to protect him he couldn’t help but laugh along, and even as he died again and again, he didn’t blame them. Their good intentions didn’t last long though, the good things never did in these worlds.
As his first few hours were stolen, he could see their attentions slipping away from him, leaving him unguarded once again. They weren’t doing it on purpose, he was sure, but as his time got lower it was like all memory of the alliances they’d once had begun to slip away. Even by the time his yellow life began, it was like the friendships he’d tried so hard to maintain were eroding, and he could only watch from the sidelines as the others fought to protect one another. He had never betrayed, had always given everything he could to his team, yet this was apparently his reward. Left behind by the very people who’d once promised to save him, his hours run down faster and faster. Then he really is alone, the others apparently forgetting that they’d ever been allied at all. Abandoned and afraid, he realises that there’s no one else he can rely on.
#limited life#limited life smp#trafficblr#writing#grian#scott smajor#pearlescentmoon#goodtimeswithscar#solidaritygaming#tango tek#ethoslab#bdoubleo100#smallishbeans#inthelittlewood#zombiecleo#bigbst4tz2#impulsesv#skizzleman#this idea possessed me and refused to leave#a lot of these were written on notes app whilst on a bus tho#so if there are any mistakes no there aren’t <3#sneaky writing
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💕 I have a request!
Could I please have some heavy angst headcanons, behaviour-wise, for an emotionally devastated, completely withdrawn and deeply depressed Vincent Sinclair who sincerely believes that he's been rejected by someone he's fallen hopelessly in love with?
Heyyyy ~ Kelly!!!💖 This is a fun little one to write; you sent it in about a year ago but I've only just found the energy/inspiration so I hope it's still something you're wanting to read about! I was curled up in bed eating my weight in chocolate cake and watching House of Wax scenes as I wrote this, so I hope you enjoy! If this goes well, it'll serve as my comeback into the fandom.
Reader details: as always, "you", Y/N, gender neutral reader, no coded language.
TW; Vincent haaaaaates himself, depictions of child abuse (canon compliant), Vincent makes decisions for the both of you without discussing them with you beforehand, miscommunication trope my beloved, Vincent's behaviour and thought patterns are unhealthy, canon compliant depictions of violence, morally grey reader who knows about and passively participates in canon compliant events, angst, Vincent is emotionally constipated AND he genuinely believes you don't love him like he loves you, dehumanisation of nameless and faceless people who come into Ambrose (canon compliant).
This is an angst fest and does not have a happy ending.
Word count: 1, 487.
Of all the people who had passed through Ambrose (and never made it out), no one had gotten under Vincent's skin quite like you had.
The people who came into Ambrose were either canvases for Vincent or a fun day for Bo. Even rarer were the ones destined for Lester, if only because he didn't partake in the family business as often as the twins did.
The ones destined for Lester always ended up in literal pieces in the roadkill pit, with many an animal thrown atop the human chunks for good measure. Very few entered Ambrose, but even fewer got to leave.
Vincent was never anything more than delighted, thrilled when he hunted, killed and then prepared his artform... and no one had ever gotten under Vincent's skin.
Not until you, and no one but you.
Of all the people who came into Ambrose, none of them had ever been perfect before Vincent had started his work on them. He immortalised the beautiful and romanticised the ugly.
No one but you, and he found himself wanting to keep you perserved while you were still alive.
It totally threw him for a loop and if Bo had been able to listen in on Vincent's thoughts, as he so often claimed he could, then it would have thrown Bo for a loop too.
Your very existence took Vincent by surprise and just like how Vincent always deals with the unknown, he totally shut himself down from you. He put in a word for you with Bo to tell him in no uncertain terms that you were not to be harmed in any way, but that was the extent of his involvement with you.
Vincent's act of shutting himself down from you was one-sided but it caused enough pain for two people.
As far as you knew, Vincent wasn't treating you any differently. He was very rarely around you but he was barely around anyone except Bo. So you thought little of it.
Lester did think something about it, but a sharp look from Bo would silence the youngest Sinclair, and so Vincent was blissfully, agonisingly, left to his own torturous devices.
It wasn't that Vincent had fallen in love with you at first sight - such a concept seemed terribly unrealistic, especially for him - but he had known from the moment he had laid his eye on you that there was going to be something between you.
And just his parents had done to him before he had been old enough to take his first shit, Vincent wrote himself off.
His attraction to you turned to intrigue, which turned to yearning and then desire and then red hot want which would have rendered him speechless if he had been able to speak.
Vincent had initially made himself put in a good word for you with Bo, to help you stay in Ambrose with your life intact. But then as time progressed, he found himself putting your favourite snacks down on Lester's grocery list, convincing Bo to let you go with Lester, making sure you had the thickest blanket he could find because Ambrose could become cold at night... on and on the gestures went, but you seemed not to reciprocate them.
In truth, it was because Vincent was unreadable to you. As days turned to weeks which stretched to months, you formed cautious bonds with Bo and Lester, but Vincent remained unreachable to you. He was kind to you, but he was also totally withdrawn from you. You couldn't read him, you couldn't tell what was going on behind that mask, he was just... a wall.
You tried to express a rather twisted sense of gratitude for basic necessities but whenever you thanked him, Vincent would nod in such a way that it felt like your thanks was just an annoyance to him. His kind actions combined with the coldness of how he treated you after the fact, confused you, and you found yourself keeping away from him as best as you could, your heart aching. How could you properly thank him if he didn't let you? It was like he was only being kind to you to keep you quiet, to keep you where you were. Vincent was giving you emotional whiplash and you didn't know what to do about it.
There was more to Vincent than he was showing you and you knew it, but he was silent, he loomed over everyone in any room he was in, and he was truly intimidating.
It served to keep you away, which was what Vincent wanted, but it also caused him pain, because he longed to be close to you. Before Vincent knew it, he had fallen hopelessly in love with you. Once upon a time, he had been the Golden Child, the favourite of the three Sinclair children. He had been expected to die soon after being separated from Bo, but he had lived, and out of guilt had Trudy and Victor practically smothered Vincent in love, much to his developmental detriment.
They hadn't loved him for him, they had 'loved' him to alleviate their own guilt, and it had fucked Vincent up as badly as their abuse and neglect had fucked up Bo and Lester.
And so it was that Vincent was outwardly cold to you, or, at the very least, seeing to be totally unaffected by your presence in Ambrosde, and yet when you weren't there, it seemed that everything he did was for you, to make your life easier in a world you should never have known existed.
A world in which the dead remained so, encased in their own tombs, and and the living were haunted by the ghosts of themselves and all they never got the chance to be.
Vincent had closed himself off to you, rejecting the idea of you ever loving him before he ever gave you the chance to even consider such a thing, and as such, you inadvertently closed yourself off to him, too.
Your every attempt to thank him was rebuked, your every want to appreciate him left ignored, your every attempt to even minutely bond with him the way that you were slowly bonding with Bo and Lester was ignored...
Vincent never gave you a chance, he condemned the possibility of you loving him before such an experience could bloom within your mind, and in doing so, he practically shot himself in the foot. He was condemning you just like his parents had condemned him before he had even taken his first breath after being separated from the back of Bo's head.
He fell into a depression worse than anything his brothers had ever seen, to the point that even his artwork, his momma's legacy, was suffering for it.
To an untrained eye, all was fine with his figurines. They came out perfectly, not a hair out of place.
But to Bo and to Lester, they could see flaws Vincent usually poured himself into trying to fix. They could see hairs stitched back into the waxed scalp half a centimetre out from where it should have been, they could see raised patches through the clothing restitched onto the victim once the wax had cooled, they saw Vincent spiralling so badly that he ended up committing novice mistakes his mother had beat out of him decades ago.
And it was because of you.
Or, it was because of Vincent's assumptions about you, made due to his self-loathing which he had never questioned. He could romanticise the ugliest of gestures, the most grotesque of crimes, but he couldn't extend that same 'courtesy' to himself and it always saddened Lester and angered Bo.
Vincent didn't blame you for anything. He blamed himself. He withdrew from his brothers, he neglected his art, he shut Jonesy out of his workshop instead of letting her sleep on the mattress he kept down there for times when Morpheus called his name so sweetly that Vincent couldn't resist long enough to get back up to the house before Morpheus' sand got in his eyes...
And it stayed that way.
Vincent remained hopelessly in love with you, he kept himself away from you, believing with everything he was that you would never, could never, love him, and so to spare himself the heartbreak, he broke it himself more thoroughly than you ever could have done (not that you would, but Vincent had kept himself away from you so well that you would never think to yourself that there was more compatability between the two of you than either of you knew).
You pined, you ached, to know and to love Vincent, but he had made that decision for you, he had taken the choice away from you, and now the both of you were profoundly suffering and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
In time, maybe one of them would do Vincent a solid kindness and break the ice between the two of you. But why would they, when this was so much more entertaining?
#slasher x reader#house of wax#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair#lester sinclair#house of wax x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#house of wax 2005
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(i promise) i've felt worse - aleksander morozova
part 1
summary: you begin to adjust to your life in ravka, desperate to leave your past behind. the darkling will not let you forget so easily.
a/n: i have darkling brainrot rn it's unhealthy. cannot stop thinking abt these two so this may become a series idk. lmk what you think.
wc: 3.6k
warning(s): ravkan and fjerdan religion (there may be inaccuracies though), darkling manipulation, not fluff or angst but a secret third thing
title is from starry eyes by the weeknd
The Darkling departed soon after your agreement, leaving you shaken and flustered and confused over anything.
My Tidemaker, he called you, as if you were something special. As if you belonged to him merely because he found you.
Yes, you owed him your life and your freedom—if he asked favors of you in exchange for such a feat, you would accept. You wanted nothing more than to be free of your debt, of General Kirigan, so you could work as you were and live as normally as you could.
You were a soldier now—that was your new normal.
Officially a Grisha, a member of the Second Army, a Tidemaker no longer bound to the shadows. Here in Os Alta, in the Little Palace, you’d been freed. You were Fjerdan only by birth, newly Ravkan in your vows.
You felt nothing.
Apart from woefully inadequate, of course, but that was a given. A Fjerdan girl does not become a Grisha darling overnight, but you did not know if you would ever truly grow into your title.
Soldier. Grisha. Tidemaker. The words felt wrong from your lips, even more so from the mouths of others.
Tidemaker, your instructor called you. Grisha, the servants would address. Out of all of them, soldier was the only that felt correct—if you were capable of one thing, it was fighting.
In Fjerda, common folk did not speak of Grisha unless to curse their name. You’d never uttered the word Tidemaker until you got your hands on ancient Ravkan texts and spoke it into existence, when you realized you were the very thing you’d been taught to hate. Anywhere other than beneath sheets in the darkest nights and alone by the lakes practicing under the guise of shadows, it did not exist.
And now you were in Os Alta, a supposed sanctuary for Grisha, and you were meant to live in the way that your blood called for. You’d signed your life away to Ravka, to the Second Army and the King and the Darkling himself in order to become a part of it, and yet you didn’t feel anything other than a keen numbness.
Numb because the life you’d signed away was akin to nothing. Numb because you had no one out there that would miss you, that would write every so often asking how you were faring. Numb because you had no choice and he knew it.
But you were alive, and you would continue to live, Tidemaker and Grisha and soldier aside.
That was all that mattered.
-
This made it real, you thought uncomfortably.
The room, the clothes— it was real enough, you supposed, but too easy to see it as temporary. A room you were merely borrowing, clothes that had been passed on from your brother who’d outgrown them.
But the kefta, pale waves spiraling over blue fabric, made perfectly to your measurements by Fabrikators you’d never even met—that was real. It could belong to none other than you.
The Darkling placed the order soon after your vow, and it arrived far quicker than you expected.
You couldn’t deny it anymore. You were Grisha, and you were going to live like it.
And so you put on your kefta and buckled your belt and laced up your boots, then you walked out to the beginning of the rest of your life.
-
You survived your first day, and then you survived your first week, and now you were well into surviving your first month. You were thrown into the deep end immediately, but you managed. You were nothing if not a fighter, after all.
There were fewer Tidemakers at the Little Palace than you expected, but all of them welcomed you with easy smiles and kind words. One near your age, a girl named Anya, warmed up to you immediately, and you were surprised at how eagerly you took to her friendship.
You’d been alone for so much of your life, banished by those who were meant to care for you and demonized by your own people, and now you were surrounded by others just like you, ones who held no malice towards you. Who accepted you.
You hadn’t anticipated how much you would crave the presence of the other Tidemakers once you’d met them, but it certainly helped with your adjustment.
Anya was native Ravkan, hailing from Kribirsk. She’d been at the Little Palace for ten years, discovered when she was nine. She served with pride and honor, she’d told you, and that she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
(“I’ve witnessed the effects of the Shadow Fold first hand,” she’d murmured. “If I can help piece Ravka back together in any kind of way, I’ll do it without question.”)
Your fellow Tidemakers also included Esen and Batu, brother and sister refugees from Shu Han who had fled into Ravka together—they made their way to Os Alta three years ago, successfully petitioned the Darkling for a place in his army, and they’d been there ever since.
Ivan, a tall man from Polvost, was half-Fjerdan on his father’s side. It was good to have someone in your corner, one who’d gone through some of the same conflicts as you. It was also quite entertaining to see his head perk up everytime someone called for the other Ivan, a Heartrender and one of the Darkling’s favored Grisha.
…Right.
The Darkling.
The man who had saved your life, the man who had brought you into the fold—he was seen as a savior by many of the Grisha you’d conversed with, and you supposed they had a point. He was immensely powerful, built the Little Palace as a place of salvation, and continuously fought for the good of both Ravka and its Grisha.
You just… you did not know what to make of him.
You were adjusting relatively well to your new life, that was true, but you knew your feelings towards him would not be so benign if you had come from anything else. If you had a family back in Fjerda, friends in your village, a lover who you would never see again, this would be a much worse fate.
But maybe that was why so many served without complaint. Countless Grisha here had little to their name, persecuted in other countries or living in Ravka with nothing. Honorable service for your country while living in one of the few sanctuaries with everything provided was a much better deal than a penniless life on your own.
The Darkling seemed to have some… some strange interest in you, for you saw him in the margins far too often.
You remember your first day of training, when you were fighting against a Squaller—you looked up when your partner was down, catching your breath for just a moment, and he was there on the walkway above the grounds, watching you.
It caught you so off guard that your partner took you by storm, and a punch to your face and a sweep of your legs had you groaning on the ground. By the time you’d collected yourself, when your partner offered a hand and pulled you up, he was gone.
When Batu asked what was wrong later that day, you didn’t know how to respond to her.
You frequently saw him during your walks to lessons and mealtimes, and though you never looked at or said anything to him and always kept a steady pace, you always felt his eyes on you. He stopped you once, and it was so unexpected to hear your name on his lips that you muttered a hasty excuse on being late for training. To your surprise, he let you go.
Having the Darkling’s eyes on you added more to your anxieties. It was already too much going from Fjerdan outcast to Grisha practically overnight—you did not need him watching you so frequently.
You were adapting, but it was all overwhelming—too much of everything for a girl who came from nothing.
Perhaps that was why you found yourself in the church.
You didn’t know the Little Palace had one, but you supposed it made sense. From what you’d read, some of Ravka’s revered Saints were Grisha in life. Legend spoke of the mythical Sun Summoner, who could destroy the wretched Shadow Fold, save Ravka, and bring Grisha salvation.
If that was not a Saint, you did not know what was.
You’d always harbored some respect for Ravka and its Saints, even when you were young. You followed Djel like your family did when you were young, but somehow, you got your hands on Ravkan books and learned what you could of Saints.
It felt… oddly like sanctuary, especially when you first discovered your abilities. Even more so when you went out on your own, the belief that life could be better for someone like you keeping you going.
You think it was what led you to them in the first place, a shimmer of light clearing the darkness of Fjerdan suppression to grant you the first shred of power that had been in your veins all along.
“I did not expect to find you here.”
You were jarred out of your thoughts, and though your heart spiked in your chest you didn’t move, your gaze remaining on the tapestry of Sënje Ulla. Sankta Ursula, rather—if you were meant to be Ravkan, you would have to worship like one.
“I didn’t know you were looking,” you responded quietly.
“I am the reason you are here,” the Darkling said. You heard him drawing closer, padded footsteps across the carpeted floor. “I feel a responsibility to look after you.”
You huffed, finally turning to face him. His perfection was effortless, with his black kefta and styled hair and dignified poise, his hands folded behind his back. Worlds apart from you, and yet for some reason he allowed you in his presence. He sought you out. “Allow me to relieve you of that weight, General. I’m perfectly alright on my own.”
“It is not a weight, nor an obligation. I do it of my own volition.” His eyes remained on you, but it was as if he looked past you, through you—the Darkling was an apt designation, for everything about the man was unnerving. “How have you been adjusting? I haven’t had the chance to ask.”
You shrugged, crossing your arms around your midsection. “Well enough.”
Again, the smallest of smiles. “I’m glad. Are your accommodations to your liking?”
“The room is bigger than the house I grew up in, and I’ve spent the past few months sleeping in blizzards,” you said. “They are more than enough, General.”
“It is what you deserve,” Kirigan said. You didn’t think you would ever get used to his disposition, how he seemed to so fully believe every word he spoke. “You are Grisha—you should get to live like one.”
You stayed silent. The luxury might have made you uncomfortable, but you were not going to speak against it. This was your life now, after all.
“I’ve heard you’ve been training frequently with Squallers and your Tidemakers,” the Darkling said. Though he looked unbothered at his role in filling your silence, he would not lead this conversation.
“Yes,” you said, grudgingly taking the unsaid hint. “It was…” you sighed, allowing the smile to tug at your lips. “It was amazing, truly. To be around others like me without fear.”
The lines of his face softened at that, just slightly. “Good. Are the Grisha taking well to you?”
“Well enough,” you repeated. “I’ve found friends in all the Tidemakers. As for the rest, I mind my own. They have no problem with me.”
Kirigan frowned, and he took another few steps closer. “You don’t need to merely mind your own. You are one of them.”
“Do not try and force friendship beyond what it is,” you said, voice stilted. “I am content with this, General. I will be housed and clothed and fed, and I’m far from those that wish to hurt me. I never sit alone at mealtimes, and I’ve smiled more this week than I have in many years. This is far more than I could ever ask for.”
The Darkling looked as if he wanted to object, but you didn’t give him the chance.
“I’m here to serve Ravka and the King,” you said, “correct?”
“Correct,” he answered.
“Then I see no problem.”
He watched you, gaze all-encompassing, stoic as ever. That was what bothered you about the General more than anything—you could not read him, no matter how you tried, but it felt as if he could see right through your every word.
“What brought you here?” Kirigan eventually asked. “I did not think you would be interested in our Saints when you have a God of your own.”
“I… have a strange relationship with Djel,” you said after a moment of hesitation.
The Darkling looked on with interest. “Oh?”
“Fjerdans believe the world is connected through its waters, that they feed Djel and are fed by Him in turn,” you said. “You can imagine the turmoil I went through when I discovered my abilities.”
Somehow, the Darkling’s eyes softened. “Split between two worlds.”
You nodded. “At first, my parents believed it was a blessing from Djel Himself—a daughter able to control the very waters that He provided, a reward for putting up with a girl instead of a second son. And then they realized I was not a blessing, but a curse.”
“They did not hurt you,” the Darkling said, an unexpectedly dangerous edge to his voice, “did they?”
Your smile wasn’t much of one, rather a flattening of your lips into a thin line. “No. They merely banished me.”
His brows knit together. “I’m sorry.”
“They tried to adapt, but it’s not an easy feat to undo decades of rhetoric.” You shrugged. “They would’ve put a knife in my heart while I slept had I not left willingly, I’m sure. It was not as if I had much choice.”
“Your brother,” he said. “What of him?”
At that, you could not help but laugh, mirthless and numb. “He had no idea. He was off training to become a drüskelle.”
“You’ve always been surrounded by enemies,” he murmured.
“My family is not the enemy,” you said quietly. “Just misguided.”
The Darkling laughed, something cold and sharp and unsettling. “Yes. The desire to put a dagger in their daughter’s heart is misguided.”
Your throat bobbed. A part of you still loved your family, despite everything they had done—everything they hadn’t done. You didn’t know whether that made you weak, stupid, or sentimental. You didn’t think you wanted the Darkling’s view on it.
“Do you find our Saints a worthier subject?” Kirigan asked in your silence. “They’re not a symbol of hatred, so surely they’re held in higher regard.”
You met the Darkling’s eyes once more, and yet again you saw nothing. Whether he was trying to gauge you or judge you or, for some saintsforsaken reason, truly wanted to know you, you had no clue, and it was frustrating beyond belief.
“Yes,” you finally said. “If only because I see myself in them.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
“All of your Saints, they were normal people while alive. They walked among us just as anyone else. Only in martyrdom did they ascend.” You looked around at all the tapestries. “It is far easier to connect with someone who used to be just as you rather than a faceless God, whether it hated you or not.”
“Sankta Ursula of the Waves, for example,” you said, glancing back at the woman in front of you. “We know her as Sënje Ulla. In your story, the Fjerdans believed her to be possessed by demons simply because she worshiped the Saints. They tried to drown her—”
“But she survived. The city was destroyed in her wake,” the Darkling finished. “I know it well.”
When you looked back at him, his jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Just as quickly, the hard lines smoothed out, and you were left back where you started.
“…Yes,” you said. “I feel some connection to her, a woman persecuted for something out of her control. How they tried to destroy her, but it only led to their own downfall.”
“Do you look up to her because it’s something you wish for?” the Darkling asked. “Harm to befall those against you.”
You frowned, expecting the answer to immediately fall from your lips, but instead it lodged in your throat.
“It is not a bad thing to want,” he said softly.
“It is not what I want,” you countered quickly. “Not— not exactly. I want safety— I want asylum. I was raised in a country that wanted me dead. You cannot blame me for wanting the same.”
“I don’t blame you.” Again, he spoke in that frustratingly level tone, voice irritatingly understanding. It made your teeth itch, your skin crawl. He was too… too nice, for a man of his reputation and standing.
And so you asked.
“Why are you doing this?” Your voice was strained, your unease betraying itself.
“Doing what?” he asked, and you hated how genuine he made it sound. How he always questioned you to keep his strength and acted as if he merely wanted to know.
“Indulging me,” you muttered. “You’ve just met me, and yet you follow me around, validating my every word. I am not worth this, General. I don’t understand why you won’t just leave me be.”
“…The same reason that you found yourself here tonight,” Kirigan said. “I am able to connect with you.”
“That is ridiculous,” you huffed. “You’re the most powerful Grisha in the world, and I’m some… some stray that you picked up out of pity.”
“It was not pity,” the Darkling frowned. “You needed help. We gave it to you.”
“And I’m thankful for it,” you said. “But there is no need for anything more. You could have left after your recruiting tactics and remained cordial, and it would have been the same.”
“I see something in you,” he murmured, and his words sent chills down your spine. “You may not, but I do. You are powerful, yes, but your potential is… breathtaking.”
“You act as if you know everything about me, General,” you said wryly. “But did you know that I am afraid of drowning?”
“Most fear drowning because they have no way of escape,” the Darkling said. He’d closed the distance without your knowledge, and when you glanced he was just behind you. “You control the seas themself. How could you fear them?”
“Do you fear the shadows?” you asked.
“No,” Kirigan stated. “I control them.”
“Exactly.” You offered a mirthless smile. “It is one of the cruelest ironies of my life. I do not control the seas. They control me.”
“That is why you are here,” he said. “You will learn to wield the power in your veins rather than fear it.”
“I don’t think I will ever fully conquer that fear,” you said. “But that is a good thing.”
Kirigan’s brows creased slightly. “Why?”
“If I fear the power I wield, I will never use it against those unworthy of its wrath,” you said.
“If you fear your power, you will never be able to unlock your true potential,” the Darkling countered. “If you fear your power, you will lose control even quicker.”
“Fear allows me restraint,” you said.
“It holds you back.” Kirigan took a step closer to you, so close that you could see every detail in his kefta. His presence was stifling, even more so when he held out his hand. “May I?”
Blood pounded in your ears. You offered your hand.
He took it, encasing your hand between his, and you felt the same surge as the other day. Icy fire in your core, the manifestation of your power instantly at your fingertips begging to be let loose.
Your breath caught in your chest.
“That is your power,” Kirigan stated matter-of-factly. “It responds to your call. You control it.”
“How can you do that?” you whispered. It was like your voice wouldn’t go above it, afraid that you would shatter the sanctity.
“I am a living amplifier,” he said softly. “But all I’m doing is showing you what you are truly capable of, if you can move past the fear that paralyzes you.”
“Please let go,” you whispered.
The Darkling complied and you pulled your hand away. The air returned to your chest, your power receded back to its depths, but the cold still remained, creeping over your skin like the permafrost in your homeland.
“Many Grisha struggle with restraint,” he said. “It seems you have the opposite problem.”
“I’ve spent years suppressing myself, General,” you murmured. “It is not easy to undo a lifetime of hatred.”
“Believe me,” Kirigan said quietly, a tight smile pulling at his lips, “I am well aware. Why do you think I built this sanctuary?”
“I’m working at it,” you said. “Why do you think I have not run?”
Some form of amusement seemed to pass through his eyes, and he nodded as he withdrew from you.
“I will leave you to your devices,” the Darkling said. “I hope our talk has done something for you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
You nodded, the motion slightly numb, and he walked out of the church and left you alone. His presence lingered even in his absence; a stifling sort of power in the air, traces of warmth on your hands.
The most powerful man in Ravka had his eyes on you, believed in your potential so strongly he saved the life of a Fjerdan. You had to meet his expectations, lest he regret the chance he’d given you.
(My Tidemaker, you couldn’t help but think with unease.)
You didn’t want to imagine what would happen if you couldn’t.
-
perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback
#the darkling x reader#aleksander morozova x reader#general kirigan x reader#the darkling fic#aleksander morozova fic#the darkling#aleksander morozova#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone fic#x reader#sadie writes
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Between the Black and Gray 13
First / Previous / Next
Gord seemed to know exactly where to go. He led Fen around the promenade, past shops and what she could only assume were restaurants. The different lighting and coloration of everything due to the different breathing gas mixture gave everything an otherworldly look and made it hard for her brain to settle into a rhythm. Gord seemed to have no such trouble and strode along with long, confident steps.
"Gord, where are we going?" Fen worked hard to not have to jog to keep up and settled for kind of a fast striding walk, like someone who was concerned - but not worried - about missing their train.
"I have - had - a contact here. I think they can help us get some parts. Remember, the Innari use a reactor tech that's similar enough to humans that they did a tech transfer when we first had Contact."
Fen didn't remember, but she trusted Gord enough to not say anything else. They walked deeper into the strange station, and as they walked, there were fewer and fewer oxygen breathers around until they were the only suited individuals around. Fen noticed that people were watching them as they passed and tried not to meet their gazes, but Gord didn't seem to be bothered by it.
Eventually, they made it to a small shop in a back corner of some place deep in the station. Without Spyglass' help, Fen was sure she couldn't make it back on her own. There was a sign out front in the Innari's script and Spyglass helpfully overlaid the translation: "Uumar Pin, parts bought and sold."
Gord pushed the door open and strode in. The shop was... Fen could only describe it as run down. The counters had scratches and worn places from decades if not centuries of people leaning on it, the screens and pads all looked like they had been left running for longer than she has been alive, and the corners were piled with dusty boxes. Fen had a moment of surprise. Of course there would be dust. Just because they're not breathing oxygen does not mean that things would magically stay clean. Gord walked up to the counter and his helmet cleared. "Uumar? You in?"
"Yes, one moment please, Sapient." A musical voice rang out from behind a partition. There was a bustling as some tools were put down, and Uumar stepped out.
Like most Innari, Uumar was feathered. Almost like a cross between a bird and a human, they had this fluffy look about them. Their faces ended in a sharp beak and their feathers were iridescent. Fen wondered if Uumar would be heavy. She assumed they were probably very light. Without looking up they started to reply "Yes, what can I help-" They finally looked up at the two suited individuals. "Gord? Is that you Gord? I haven't seen you in-"
Gord held up a hand. "Yes, it's been a bit, hasn't it. How are you doing Uumar? Keeping busy?"
Uumar's feathers ruffled. Spyglass indicated to Fen that meant they chuckled. "That's one way of putting it yes. Ever since we did the technology transfer, our drives have been sought after by just about everyone in our sector. What in the name of the Watcher are you doing here Gord?"
"I need some reactors. I'm in a bit of a bind, but I- I found a Starjumper. Spyglass. Was sitting in a Gren station for a couple centuries languishing. That was the only way she had survived the Empire. In the intervening years she had lost all her printable mass and all but two reactors. I managed to get one reactor going, but she needs six to be at full power. I'm printing parts, but replacing the reactors will take more than that. I'm hoping you can help me out."
Uumar ruffled their feathers again and crossed their arms - a very human gesture - "Gord, you don't do anything by half measures do you? I want to manage expectations. There's no way I can sell you four reactors, even if you had the Stars, which I assume you don't. I could probably sell you one and enough parts to make your broken one working. That would get you up to three and you could wheel and deal for the other three down the line. Three would get you powered up enough?"
Fen watched Gord. He made a big show of hemming and hawing, looking around, looking unsure. While he did this he sent an icon over to Fen's readout of a cartoon version of his face, winking. "Yeah, I think I could make that work Uumar. How much would I have to put down in order to secure the reactor, and how long would it take to install?"
Uumar blinked. Spyglass indicated that his body language indicated surprise. "Uh, If you gave me one thousand Stars and four day cycles, I could get you a reactor and install it. Balance of another thousand stars due upon completion."
Now it was Gord's turn to be surprised. "You have a human compatible reactor in stock?"
Uumar's feathered arms flapped once "Mostly. It's a core return for an upgrade to a Uumari transport, but it just needs an overhaul. A few fresh parts - one day cycle's work - and it would be ready to go."
Gord smiled broadly. "That's better than I had hoped. Fen, please pay them."
They both turned to face Fen, and she squeaked. "What?"
Gord shrugged. "You're the one with the money. You did take Tam'itarr's money right?"
She had taken it, both hers and Ma-ren's share. It had wound up being almost exactly two thousand Stars.
"Gord, can I talk to you for a moment?" Fen clicked her radio over to the suit-to-suit channel. "What are you doing?" She hissed.
"Getting us a reactor Fen. One isn't enough. Uumar here has a whole other reactor that they're willing to sell us plus parts to make our broken one work. We'll go from one to three. Three means we get our Stardrive, the wormhole generator and the weapons. Three is far better than I anticipated. I assumed we were going to be able to just buy parts for our broken reactor and have to use up all our printable mass building a reactor from scratch. We need this Fen. Tam'itarr was going to kill you and take the money back, what are you going to spend it on?"
On the one hand, Gord was right. Fen hadn't given any thought to the money after she grabbed it. On the other hand, she hadn't even really begun to mourn Ma-ren's death and now Gord was demanding he spend their - her - money on his starship. On the third hand, if they didn't get Spyglass fixed they'd be stuck here for who knows how long. Two thousand Stars was more money that Fen had seen all her life, but what was she going to do with it? All Fen wanted was some time to mourn and think and she wasn't going to get that if they were stuck here.
Sighing heavily, Fen touched her pad and cast the deposit to Uumar's device. "Received." He chirped. "We'll have the reactor refreshed and sent down to the docks first thing tomorrow."
"Wonderful!" Gord clapped Fen on her back. "Come on Fen, let's see what this place has to offer oxy breathers like us, and we'll head back to Spyglass and await the installation."
Fen and Gord said their goodbyes and walked out. As they walked, Gord clicked the suit-to-suit. "Thanks Fen. I appreciate it. I know I sprung it on you, but spending that money on Spyglass was the only way we were going to get out of there."
"I wish you had told me ahead of time what was going on, Gord."
"I hadn't planned on it Fen, but when Uumar said they had a whole reactor almost ready to go, I had to jump on it."
Fen didn't say anything as they made their way back up to the rest of the station.
#humans are deathworlders#humans are space orcs#sci fi writing#humans are space oddities#humans and aliens#jpitha#writing#humans and ai#humans are space capybaras#humans are space australians#Between the black and gray
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bonnie & clyde
description: falsely accused, you found yourself behind jericho's bars but wednesday is already on her way to reunite
warnings: jail ig, crimes, fluff
words: ~1.7k
The wintry concrete had no mercy on you.
Neither did the rocklike walls you were leaning against. Walls that granted the cold outside air to pass along. Making your breaths morph into a fog.
They could've at least try to make it a bit more presentable, meeting basic human living conditions. Now that you think it over it could potentially be a strategy. A mind game to scare off anyone daring to defy the law.
The comfort of your own home be it a cabin in the woods with beaten up couch or Jericho's prison cell?
But we're talking about Jericho at the end of the day. Town close to Nevermore. Where most likely plenty of jail escapes happened that left the institution demolished resulting in repair bills stacking up. It made the town give up on making it look and feel acceptable enough, so they opted for the unwelcoming ambiance and fewer expenses.
There are stories you are sure of but can't recall the details. Most of them were students shapeshifting, sneaking, and outsmarting the system never to be seen again. Nothing could really hold them back and officers were not paid high enough to keep a hawk eye 24/7.
Unless you are a person who's honest to a fault or pretending to be, you would take your chance to get out.
As to why are you trapped here regardless of your protests, you couldn't give the right answer. You knew the timeline though and had a decent alibi.
You kept repeating the events leading to this internally so this gray and grim surroundings wouldn't make you forget it. Maybe you were too dramatic but it's a decent safety measure.
Wednesday and her knowledge of crime and forensic psychology taught you so.
Before sitting on this concrete, you found yourself sitting in the Weathervanes booth. Wednesday savored her usual order in comfortable silence while eyeing abandoned Jericho's morning papers. A coffee stain mark stuck on the papers was like a thorn in her side.
"We should stop by the shop to get stuff for tonight," you declared while looking at the red sky and sun going down. Resting your head on your hand, you checked off the list of things you need.
"Mhm," she muttered. Slamming the cup down loud enough to make a statement of 'let's get moving then'.
The subtle gesture of being few steps ahead to open the door for you made you beam. "How generous."
"How many times are we going to have this conversation? Everytime i do something considered 'nice' you emphasize it. Even when i don't you do too. Where's the balance?" she asked from behind.
"Yet you still do all of the nice things so i'm not really stopping you from anything. You're just delusional but that's fine. I already accepted you. Being delusional is level one difficulty at this point."
Wrapping your arm around her pridefully, knowing you hushed her and she has to deal with the loss and your touch.
Lost in the depths of conversation, as expected once again she opened the doors for you. Question of whether was it intentional or not left hanging. This time you didn't bother.
You were circling around the aisles with speed and a clear mission. Not wanting to spend too much time here so your girlfriend doesn't get moody. With each additional step, you felt dizzier yet more aware. Your vision was hazy and the labels were hard to read.
Initial thought was to warn Wednesday who should be somewhere behind you, except she wasn't. Noticing a lack of her presence you tried to compose yourself. Grabbing the shelf and thinking it will gain you stability but it was to no avail. You could feel your body going slump as you stumbled down. Mere minutes after that were blurry. Only a faint memory present of being in the tight grip of the officers walking you out.
So here you are staring at the floor and loss for words. It was awfully quiet with only fan buzzing from the outside space. Yes, despite the cold temperature. But there was no guilt present, far from it. You were certain this is a framed situation. With no known enemies, the name of the wrongdoer was left to debate.
Door creaking. Footsteps. Maybe a pair of them.
You watched the hallway corner through the bars. Primed to see the expected officer carrying good news. Or anyone really.
What was at the lowest part of your expectations was locking gazes with your most prized horror collection who was drenched in rain like a mouse. Droplets of rain were sliding down her figure leaving a dark trail in contrast with the floor.
"I'm here to get you out," she claimed but not before her eyes scanned the cell you have been locked in. She could feel the anger reaching new highs never seen before. Someone like you, more importantly, a Wednesday's one and only that's sparred off of the hate list to breathe in such surroundings? Let alone a heart like yours be falsely charged. A wave of burden and guilt washed over her despite her acclaimed rational mindset. Crime may be part of Addams fixed tradition but she wanted you nowhere near it.
You might be left feeling more sentimental than she is, as seen in the way her fingers quickly divided the jiggling keys with full focus.
"How did you get in?" you asked while she was working on setting you free.
"Thing helped with the keys and distracting the guards. He also gathered considerable amount of solid evidence in your favor in the past day or so," followed by a sigh.
With that said it was a load off your mind. Secondly having the Addams as your backup and their daughter who's an unstoppable force and a menace once she loves someone sounded lovely.
"So what happened? I know it's impossible i did anything wrong?"
Click. "You were a victim of a shapeshifting accident. Someone copied your form which is the most probable reason why you lost conscious. They robbed the shop in your name and left you there. Thank the Thing for linking the pieces together and seeing them." She stated along with sliding the metal doors.
Your freezing body stood still while she waited for you to come out.
"You really went out of your way to get me out of jail?"
She sighed and leaned on the bar, "Only because i'm experienced in this field more than any other person you know." Which was true. Who else would save you so professionally?
"Besides," she added surveying the room with her arms crossed, "you're not the type of person deserving to decompose in here."
Well aware you could not afford to lose more time but adrenaline mixed emotions were making laps around your heads. Wednesday felt as if she had failed you. Yes, she may just got you out of it but she could've also prevented it from happening in the first place. It's the first time she deeply regretted watching the knife set on display instead of shopping alongside you.
It made her mind drift back to her own parents. Is this how her mother felt when her dearest husband got arrested also unfairly? She slowly started to sorrow the curse Addams bear and project onto everyone around them. It only brings dark and no light, seen from the first hand by Wednesday alone.
Her demeanor came off as troubled. Knowing Wednesday she was either waiting for you to move or deeply contemplating something. It's never solid ground with her.
"Let's leave at the back door. Thing is waiting for us there." Wednesday ordered, her gaze on you unmoved.
You took a few steps forward, getting closer to her. Mindful you are carelessly dragging out precious time needed for escape but it didn't sound that bad in your head.
Only now it struck you at a short distance how different she looked. The modest makeup was smeared due to rainfall and she had a tough time hiding the fact she was shivering too.
"You're freezing Wednesday." You exclaimed with outright worry. Pushing your own, the same condition away as less important one.
"So are you."
Your body worked faster than your mind, daring to crash against hers. With zero care about her soaked clothes which would make you colder even more if it weren't repressed by your disclosure.
Suddenly, it wasn't so cold anymore.
Wednesday didn't push you away. As it happens, she pressed you closer. Deeper into her arms, And she kept doing so. Both of you unspokenly agreed. It's going to be okay. If the warmth never leaves, it's okay.
"Thank you." A voice made Wednesday close her eyes and relish it. You couldn't see her face but she was drinking in your presence. Days we're long without you after all and she was at one's mercy.
The manner in which you brushed the back of her head made her almost overlook the plan that's not yet executed fully.
Spotting the Thing in the corner, she reconnected the pieces of herself you separated in a such loving way and muttered behind your back, "The ride is here. I think."
Pulled away first, Wednesday signaled you to follow her.
You were not long exposed to the rain before entering the black coated car on standby. Certainly Addams.
Upon entering in sync, you took a note it was empty except for the driver that's already increasing speed.
You let her know, "What now? It's one of your cars."
Wednesday was certain you had your own theories as to where what and when. Most of them were surely wrong.
"It felt like i had no chance and right to take risks so i called my parents. They gladly assisted me." Lies. She was afraid. Aware she alone could not do all the job done and you might wind up on the wrong end. One with no happy ending she couldn't fathom.
"You got it all sorted out, huh?"
She didn't. Not completely. Maybe not at all. But it was okay for now. You're here, Thing is here hanging somewhere underneath the car thats crossing a route known only by the driver and Wednesday.
If it's for love, Addams will find a way to make it happen.
notes: to share the pain; i listened to pink in the night by mitski and nghyb by cas specifically while writing the part she got reader out of the jail and i dont think ill recover, those songs are her for some reason and i can explain in an essay
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