#labour league

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

To Our 8 Foremost Leaders and Comrades: The Eight in Kingston --Tim Buck, Ton Ewen, Malcom Bruce, Sam Cr, Tom Hill, Matt Popowtich, John Boychuk, Tom Cacic. We greet you on the eve of May Day 1933, from the midst of great struggles of labor, on the eve of great battles of the working class and toilers of Canada. We are striving to hold high the banner of labor, striving to advance the aims and cause of labor for which you all wo valiantly fought, and for which you were out into jail. We pledge to carry on our struggle, fighting at the same time to spend the day when you'll be back in our ranks to lead and carry on our great struggles for working class emancipation. May day Greetings comrades, our best leader Women's Labor League of Timmins.

[Letter from the Women’s Labor League organization, a Communist Party of Canada organization set up when the latter party was outlawed in 1932, sending May Day wishes, in a form letter, to the incarcerated Communists at Kingston Penitentiary. This was one letter of thousands sent to Kingston Penitentiary between 1932 and 1934.]

[gothamnewsnetwork-official]

Is the Justice League using unpaid child labour?

Though it is not confirmed the exact ages of most heroes and their various sidekicks, it is safe to say that many of them are well below the age of 18, this raises the question of just how good the Justice League really is.

The names Batman and Robin have been closely linked since the creation of the later, the big Bat and his bird-themed sidekick are a staple of both Gotham City and vigilante culture as a whole, but what is the reason for the mantle of Robin being essentially exclusive to children? Though the ethics of all this doesn’t seem to be much of a concern to the various costumes characters of Gotham, one would imagine the Justice League would protest the use of child labour in any form of heroism.

This, however, is not the case. As user Pilztaube ( @emotional-piece-of-meat ) noted in (this post), the League quite accepting such practices. This brings to question the ethics of earth’s mightiest heroes as they seem to be a bit too comfortable with a child being in harms way if it is for the ‘greater good’.

This doesn’t just apply to the Robin’s, as many of the members of the League have had a child sidekick and one point or another, though none have been as young as Robin (the youngest known age of a Robin being 8).

There have even been rumours that more than one member of the team are underage themselves, the most notable being Captain Marvel (see related articles), otherwise known as Shazam. There have been multiple eyewitness accounts of Captain Marvel disappearing, only for a young boy to appear in his stead. Though it has never been confirmed many believe the young boy and Captain Marvel to be one in the same.

Hypocrisy is what many in the villain community are calling it, stating that the JL has been going after them for years under the guise of stopping the usage of child labour when all the while these ‘heroes’ have been doing the exact same thing, and we can’t help but agree.

We would like to make it clear that this journal supports the eradication of child labour, and condemns the league’s usage of such, and find it appalling that they are often times putting children in much worse working conditions than the villains are (see further articles).

We have reached out to multiple members of the Justice League as well multiple villain organizations for further information but none have responded.

We’d love to hear your thoughts on the topic (here)

Gotham Reports is certified in unbiased, fair, and reliable journalism

[millennialgirlinagenzworld]

the games SHOULD all be shown for free 🪧🙌🏻👏🏻✊🏻✌🏻

[mrkismet]

It's a real shame that we only have 3 more episodes of arcane forever. Like I get they were vastly over budget and have spent nearly a decade on 18 episodes and that the creators want to move on. But the last 3 episodes just won't feel like enough to wrap up the series. We haven't even seen Ekko yet in season 2. I can only hope that they may eventually make another series in the same universe.

[fullcolorfright]

Coworkers

[riotinyellow]

I love it when i save my country by burning down public libraries, inns and advice bureaux

[brian-in-finance]

Instagram

Remember… three Irish kids walk up to a baseball field…

[lorelaiislatte]

in which the power goes out, and greta opens up

[offsidenewsco]

"...The new NWSL contract may represent a shift in the power dynamic between leagues and their players. If athletes in other professional sports leagues begin to take cues from the example the NWSLPA has set, they may begin to feel more empowered to push harder against team owners in CBA negotiations."

🗞️ Read our op-ed on labour unions in professional sports here.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1931 – The IRA and other organisations are declared illegal in the Free State and the Catholic Church excommunicates members of all of them, including Saor Éire, which soon dissolves.

The Roman Catholic bishops issued a pastoral letter declaring that the Irish Republican Army and Saor Éire, “sinful and irreligious and no Catholic can lawfully be a member of them.” The excommunication order was extended to members of all organisations outlawed under the ‘Public Safety Act’. The military tribunal created under the ‘Public Safety Act’ was established. The Government declared 12…

[jessielefey]

I try not to be grumpy old man when I can, and *most* AMVs aren't this bad...

But nothing makes me despair on people's artistic conprehension like watching AMVs to Offspring songs.

Did... did you even listen to the lyrics my guy? This is some straight up "Sarah Mclaughlin - Angel as a wedding song" ass missing the point so hard you left orbit.

[gothamnewsnetwork-official]

Opinion Hour - Vigilantism; family business or child endangerment?

The opinions voiced in this article may not align with the views of this journal

Regarding a (piece) published by this journal yesterday evening we felt the need to further expand on the topic of children in Vigilantism and many points brought up by none other than our resident billionaire himself, Bruce Wayne, in (response) to said article.

We would like to once again reiterate that Vigilantism is no place for children, be it a ‘family business’ or not, and we find Mr. Wayne’s comparison of the two to be, frankly, appalling.

Though Vigilantes deserve to have normal lives outside of their work, association with the civilian identity of a Vigilante, even with the danger that comes with it, is not an appropriate reason to enlist a child into fighting crime.

We fully support training the children of vigilantes in order to defend themselves, the issue is that in most instances this leads to the children becoming Vigilantes as well, usually at an age far younger than most find acceptable.

Bringing a child into Vigilantism, be it a family business or not, is putting that child at risk of injury, trauma, and death, there is no way to deny that. Due to this fact, we stand by our prior stance of child-heroes being victims of child abuse.

All children deserve a safe environment to live and grow, and while that is incredibly difficult to achieve, especially in a city like Gotham, further endangering them under the pretence of protection is a very serious offence and something we believe classifies as manipulation and child exploitation.

Obviously this varies case to case, but in the situation of someone like Batman who seems to be unable to go a week without a child sidekick, one has to ask if he can truly be considered good if they have not found a third option to the dilemma Mr. Wayne thinks to have only two.

Sincerely,

L. Constant - Collective

What are your thoughts on the topic? Let us know (here)

Gotham Reports is certified in unbiased, reliable, and fair reporting

[majorbaby]

i think the global collapse of esports is a net positive for labour because the business model was so exploitative that it couldn't survive a single day, let alone be profitable, without people willingly signing on to work in deplorable conditions which weren't a secret to anyone. kids being paid in mousepads and team merch and shit. fans tweeting their support for teams for a single season and getting picked up (read: preyed upon) to do social media management in three languages. high visibility casters getting sacked via text message to say nothing of how they treated women and the very young and mostly Asian player talent.

i think you might be able to argue that it's possible for some industries to be reformed, but personally i'm happy to see this one die when most of the workers would've been better off pouring coffee and literal teenagers were investing 5-10 years of their lives into this house of cards. hopefully when it comes back people just refuse to get involved unless there's something more attractive offered than clout and poverty wages - if you're paid at all lol. and that's not to say it's the fault of the very passionate labour force for getting involved, the blame is still primarily on franchise owners and publishers. but we can and should encourage people not to knowingly or not, engage with scams when they come with a big red label that says "scam" on them - without shaming them. fame was such a big part of the draw. love of games the communities around them was another, and we know how that traps people in game production and esports was a severe downgrade from that.

... however the lengths to which the very people who were exploited by this industry are going to eulogize the good stuff right now (and don't get me wrong, there was lots of good stuff) makes me nervous that when it does come back we won't remember how overwhelmingly terrible it was. every kind of terrible you can imagine.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"PREMIER AGAINST DEMONSTRATIONS," Montreal Star. July 10, 1934. Page 3. ---- Labor Delegates Confer With Taschereau on Conditions of Work ---- Premier Taschereau will encourage organization of labor and even approve of strikes in certain instances, but he will not stand for foreign propaganda, detrimental to Canadian industry. He is firmly opposed to all agitation or demonstrations. This was what he told a delegation of the Canadian Labor Defence League at local provincial offices today.

Accompanied by Hon. C. J. Arcand, Minister of Labor, the delegation complained of treatment received by strikers in the Northern mining district of the Province of Quebec, demanded fair wages for employes of all industries and protested against the allegedly unfair trials undergone by certain strikers in certain Quebec courts. To this Premier Taschereau said that he would do his duty to the finish and would not tolerate members of the provincial police being called "thugs."

LASTS ONE HOUR The discussion lasted fully one hour, but not to the entire satisfaction of the delegation, as Premier Taschereau recommended that labor organizations confer with Mr. Arcand so that minimum wage sales be observed and demonstrations and agitation be completely avoided. He abruptly left his offices for an unknown destination compelling delegations from Les Propriétaires de l'Est and La Jeunesse Libérale to return tomorrow to make their quests.

Premier Taschereau was informed that deplorable hygienic conditions prevailed in the mines, with the result that after a stay of five or six years, underground workers were totally incapacitated. He was told that in view of present low wages, men went on strike and picketed, since there is no law against this. But they were arrested and some of them have been waiting for trial for some time. These conditions. were very unjust, the delegation contended.

NO AGITATIONS. The delegation also protested against Premier Taschereau's statements to the effect that he would not stand for the agitation or propaganda on the part of foreigners. It was stated that at one of the strikes the majority were French-Canadians, to which the Premier replied that they were misinformed and that out of 34 strikers, 33 were foreigners. But it was not so much this point to which he referred when he attacked foreign propaganda. What he meant. he stressed, was that he would firmly oppose and energetically fight propaganda by foreigners who were seeking to close down Canadian mills so that less competition would be given to American concerns.

SIX CENTS AN HOUR. The discussion then pivotted about certain industries which paid wages. as low as six cents an hour. The Province of Quebec wage scales are the lowest and adequate legislation should be enacted to do away with such conditions, the delegates claimed. Premier Taschereau, in referring to conditions at the mines, said he thought things were just the opposite, as he had recently visited the mines and investigated conditions.

Mr. Arcand said he favored decent wages in all branches of industry. but thought it ridiculous that a strike should be called for a difference of less than two cents an hour. "So far as conditions in mines are concerned. I have much more experience than many persons may think. I was underground for six years and we were often brought out unconscious in those days. Yet. I am still living in good health," he stated.

INTERVIEW CLOSES. Concluding the interview, Premier Taschereau said that he would not be dictated to by foreigners and would not stand for any agitations. He advised the delegation to confer with Mr. Arcand on the matter. He added that he had been the recipient. of many insulting communications from as far as British Columbia, but thought it better to throw these letters into the wastepaper basket where they belonged. Other provinces had sufficient difficulties with- out seeking to solve those of Quebec.

[insidecroydon]

Council puts staff on standby in case of rate-hate rioting

Riot squad: police came under attack from a far-right mob in Plymouth last night, one of dozens of outbreaks of Islamophobic and racist riots around the country in the past week Croydon police are taking action to support and reassure communities, while the council has staff visiting asylum-seekers staying in local hotels to carry out safety checks and ensure people’s well-being, as authorities…

[luludeluluramblings]

Socialite!BatSis!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Hi! I don't know where the fuck this came from. But, it has plagued me for months. Inspired by Labour and the Fruits by Paris Palmoa, Please Don't Cry for Your Daughters Eve by Lydia the Bard, and Curses by the Crane Wives. This my attempt at being dark, so either this fucks you up or I fucked up. Apologies for both.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Implied assault, neglect, yandere themes at the end

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You got the Wayne looks, the Wayne charm, the Wayne name, but you’re fragile. Bruce would tell you. Damian would tell you. (Not so kindly.) Everyone in the manor would tell you.

But, charm and good looks still have their uses. And, everyone in the family despises all the galas they need to attend.

So, when Bruce offers to take you to one, you up the charm, you dress your best. You use your finest manners and all the proper ways your Momma raised you to your advantage. And, you flourish.

You can tell from the slight smile Bruce has on his face on the way home. The hint of pride in his eyes at your job well done.

You can’t help your family or Gotham as a Bat. But, you can help them as a Wayne.

The socialite. That’s your roll. Not a bird, not a bat. A little social butterfly. Drawing the public attention away from the things that go bump in the night.

You like your role. Sure, you're not bounding over the Gotham skyline saving people from muggers and insanely themed villains. But, you're helping your family, and that's what matters to you.

At least, that's how it starts.

It was special to you in the beginning. Going to charity gala's and events with your father, Bruce. No one else in the family enjoys going to these events. It was your own personal father and daughter bonding time, in a way.

But, as you got older the pressure started and the distance between you and the others grew.

You were a music box ballerina. Spinning in place to the same tune over and over again while sitting on a dusty shelf. And, Bruce would wind you up to dance every time he need his social butterfly to charm Gotham's public.

Soon you had a whole team of faceless people picking out your dresses, changing your style, cutting your hair. You couldn't be anything less than a vain air-headed heiress, because that was your role. Brucie needed someone to follow in his footsteps, not Batman.

The dresses got more expensive, the flashes got brighter. The diets got stricter.

And, the distance grew farther.

And, then Bruce stopped going with you to the galas.

You weren't upset the first time. Or, the second time. Or, even the third time.

It was the fourth time that things started to crack.

Sure, Batman was needed. Sure, there was Justice League business. Sure, there was a patrol that ran late. Sure, there was a breakout at Arkham.

But, the fourth time, when you found him and the rest of the family laughing in the cave, it really didn't feel like they were focusing on the good of Gotham while you were struggling to smile sweetly at men twice Bruce's age wanting to take you home.

Still, you powered on. Kept doing your part. You were making the family proud afterall.

Right?

It was the ninth time it happened that you broke.

The nineth time you had gone to a gala alone in an expensive dress you didn't pick, one that showed off way too much skin. One that seemed to tell everyone in that grand ballroom that you were up for the taking. One that just barely hid the bruises from their fingers and palms under the fabric.

You wore that placating smile and that dress all the way home. With a driver you didn't know at the wheel of the car Bruce sent for you. The backseat empty even if you sat on it.

When you got home, you walk in on something that made each cracked piece of you ache.

Apparently it was game night. Everyone that mattered was playing Mario cart of all things.

"Look at that Cinderella’s back from the ball." Jason was the first to notice you standing in the doorway of the room. And, his words burned.

Cinderella. Cinderella. Back from the Ball.

"Hey, glad you’re back. Hope you had fun." Dick didn't even glance at you as he spoke, took focused on beating Stephanie who had her tongue sticking out as she concentrated.

"God, those galas are so boring, I don’t know how you do it." Duke says in passing. It would be meaningful if he hadn't said the same thing the last six times you had come home.

Tim and Damian were also playing the game, with Tim occasionally nudging Damian to mess him up. Like typical siblings.

Barbara was in the room as well, a book on her lab to read. Only you could tell she hadn't read much, judging from where her book mark was located.

"Good job." Bruce says absentmindedly. You can't even tell if its directed at you or at the blueshell Damian just managed to hit Dick's racer with.

Words don't even leave your lips as you exit the doorway, pieces of you falling to the floor as you wobble to your room.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

The clock striking twelve in your mind as you feel the rotten pumpkin sinking in your gut and the magic wearing off.

You don't notice that Cassandra seems to hear it too as she watches you. Like she can hear the shards falling to the ground. And, she's unsure if she needs to warn the family that something just broke down the hall.

As you enter your room, taking in the fancy decor. It feels disgusting. The magic is gone. It's all rotten and you want it gone.

Cinderella. Cinder. Cinder.

Your tear the fabric of the dress as you take it off. Tears falling down your cheeks s you struggle against the fabric and clasp. Expensive gemstones falling to the floor as your finally rip it free.

There bruises under your dress. Finger prints on your bones. And, you're choking on air as the fabric rubs your skin as it falls to the floor. The fabric ripples like water and you hate it. You want the opposite of cool rippling water. Water drowns, and you need air.

Your skin feels to hot and each bruise burns.

Cinder. Cinder.

You're Cinderella and you crave ashes. You need air, but smoke will do instead.

Instead of letting it lay on the ground like it's dead, you throw open that grand window in your room and chuck it out the window. Watching as it flutters and falls to the grass in a heap, the breeze doing nothing to cool your anger on and underneath.

It’s not enough. Not enough. It's not going to be enough.

More. Cinderella. Give it more.

Your closet door was cracked when you left for the gala tonight. Now you break it the rest of the way and grab each hanger carrying a pretty dress in a bag and throw it over the ledge.

Still not enough. Needs more ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You break you dresser as you rip out the drawers. The wood splintering as you throw it out the window and on to the pile of dresses on the night dew covered grass.

You want to throw more, but you chest is heaving and your hands are shaking. Instead you stumble out of your room with just the bruises on your skin and towards the kitchen. You don't even hear the pans and cabinets doors slamming as you search for the matches.

Before you can find your light, you find a bottle of fancy wine. One that reminded you of the smell of this night.

You grab it, not caring that another bottle falls and shatters by your feet. Drawing attention, but not yours, as you finally find the matches and wobble out the door towards your pile of soon to be ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You're laughing as you shatter the bottle on to the fabric. Lighting up a single match and then throwing the entire box at it the pile.

It catches light quick and the air around you finally matches the heat under your skin.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You can barely hear Bruce's voice from behind you as your laugh. Turing to face him and the rest of the family's horrified faces at the sight of you.

You can barely restrain the giggles.

“I’m Cinderella. Cinder fucking Ella.” You spin like the little figurine you are. Like the pretty paper ballerina before she burst into flame.

Bruce rushes towards you, words spilling from his lips as terrifying thoughts fill his head at the sight of the bruises illuminating your skin.

“What happened tonight?”

“You would know if you had been there. But, you weren't. You never are.”

“Listen, you said you liked the galas-“ Excuses, excuses. You made enough for him and the rest of them in your own head that you don't want to hear more spoken out loud.

“I did! I did! But, that was when I had my father there to keep me safe.” You mock, spinning out of reach and looking at the flames.

They don't last long. The wood from your broken dresser drawers the only thing keeping the fire going. The expensive fabric not lasting long at all. Pretty things rarely ever do.

“But, no. I’m just another little one of your pawns in this family. Only you didn’t fuckin’ train me on how to fight off wandering hands. You taught me that I just had to grin and bare it.” Bitterness trips from your lips as you wipe of that sweet tasting wine from the night off your mouth.

“What happened?” His voice almost shakes. Almost, but not quite. You were the fragile one. The paper ballerina. The little Cinderella of the family.

You weren't suppose to break under his care.

But, was there any care if he let you fall from the shelf after he so haphazardiously placed you on it between uses?

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper to yourself. Words that had been dying to say to the hands that touches to tonight. Words that you wanted to shove down the throats of the strangers that pinched your skin, that gripped you too tight and too close.

“I’M NOT A WHORE!” Instead you scream it at him. Uncaring if you don't look pretty and perfect while doing it. Uncaring if your voice cracks from the way the emotion bubbles from your chest.

Startling enough, Bruce wraps his arms around you. Like he was trying to shield you. Like he was trying to keep you safe. Like he should have done. It feels awkward and tight. Your arms pressed tightly to your chest at an awkward angle. Your legs giving out at you sob and scream at him.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you touch me. Let me go— I don’t want you to touch me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m— I’m so sorry.” His whispers over into your hair as he clutches you close. So close that you feel more bruises forming on your skin.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

“I’m not—" Your voice breaking as you wail. Like the child you are in his arms.

Through your tears you watch Dick turn away, followed by the others. Cass lingering to brush your hair back as Bruce holds you tight.

You don't see his fist clench so tight his knuckles turn white.

You don't hear the silence in the cave as Jason changes out the bullets in his gun.

You don't feel the chill in the air as Damian scouts out the fancy house.

You don't feel the fear of God that Tim puts into grown men as that watch their wealthy drain to zero before their eyes on screens.

You don't watch as Barbara makes a few calls and plants evidence of crimes that can't be covered up.

You don't see Stephanie ripping out teeth.

You don't see Duke letting Gotham go dark as terror reigns for that one long night and day.

You just see Bruce, holding you close and apologize over and over again while Alfred puts out the flames behind you.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, I love the thought of Reader being the one to be the Socialite Wayne while everyone does vigilante stuff. But, interacting with Gotham’s elite would suck so much and so many things could go wrong.

A/N: Apologies if I missed the mark with it or if it’s all over the place.

A/N: I just really loved the imagery of standing in front of a fire of expensive burning dresses while screaming at Bruce naked as the day you were born much to the rest of the family’s horror.