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nicklloydnow · 1 month ago

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“Voting is widely thought to be one of the most important things a person can do. But the reasons people give for why they vote (and why everyone else should too) are flawed, unconvincing, and sometimes even dangerous. The case for voting relies on factual errors, misunderstandings about the duties of citizenship, and overinflated perceptions of self-worth. There are some good reasons for some people to vote some of the time. But there are a lot more bad reasons to vote, and the bad ones are more popular.

(…)

In all of American history, a single vote has never determined the outcome of a presidential election. And there are precious few examples of any other elections decided by a single vote. A 2001 National Bureau of Economic Research paper by economists Casey Mulligan and Charles Hunter looked at 56,613 contested congressional and state legislative races dating back to 1898. Of the 40,000 state legislative elections they examined, encompassing about 1 billion votes cast, only seven were decided by a single vote (two were tied). A 1910 Buffalo contest was the lone single-vote victory in a century's worth of congressional races. In four of the 10 ultra-close campaigns flagged in the paper, further research by the authors turned up evidence that subsequent recounts unearthed margins larger than the official record initially suggested.

The numbers just get more ridiculous from there. In a 2012 Economic Inquiry article, Columbia University political scientist Andrew Gelman, statistician Nate Silver, and University of California, Berkeley, economist Aaron Edlin use poll results from the 2008 election cycle to calculate that the chance of a randomly selected vote determining the outcome of a presidential election is about one in 60 million. In a couple of key states, the chance that a random vote will be decisive creeps closer to one in 10 million, which drags voters into the dubious company of people gunning for the Mega-Lotto jackpot. The authors optimistically suggest that even with those terrible odds, you may still choose to vote because "the payoff is the chance to change national policy and improve (one hopes) the lives of hundreds of millions, compared to the alternative if the other candidate were to win." But how big does that payoff have to be to make voting worthwhile?

(…)

In their seminal 1993 book Decision and Democracy: The Pure Theory of Electoral Preference (Cambridge University Press), University of Virginia philosopher and reason Contributing Editor Loren Lomasky and his co-author, Geoffrey Brennan, offer an alternative theory of what drives voters. But first they offer a methodology for calculating the value of a vote. On their account, the expected utility of a vote is a function of the probability that the vote will be decisive, delivering gains (to the individual or society as a whole) if the preferred candidate wins. The probability of casting the decisive vote decreases slowly as the size of the voting pool gets larger, but it drops dramatically when polls show that one candidate has even a slight lead. Which means that in a presidential election, where the number of voters is about 120 million and one candidate is usually polling a point or two ahead on Election Day, you're screwed.

In his brilliant 2011 book The Ethics of Voting (Princeton University Press), on which I have relied heavily for this article, Georgetown University philosopher Jason Brennan (no relation to Geoffrey Brennan) applied the Lomasky/Brennan method to a hypothetical scenario in which the victory of one candidate would produce additional GDP growth of 0.25 percent in one year. Assuming a very close election where that candidate is leading in the polls only slightly and a random voter has a 50.5 percent chance of casting a ballot for her, the expected value of a vote for that candidate is $4.77 x 10 to the ?2,650th power. That's 2,648 orders of magnitude less than a penny.

(…)

Those figures reflect 2006 GDP figures and 2004 voting totals, but it almost doesn't matter what batch of reasonable numbers you plug into the equation. Say you think victory is worth 10 or 100 or 1,000 times more than the roughly $33 billion that 0.25 percent of GDP amounts to. Say the polls show a gap of two percentage points between the candidates. In any plausible scenario, the expected utility of your vote still amounts to approximately bupkes. A vote for a third-party candidate pushes the figure into even more infinitesimal territory.

(…)

In October 2000, Harvard economist Gregory Mankiw penned a column for Fortune called "Why Some People Shouldn't Vote." During his years-long stint as a columnist for the magazine, this was the only article the editors refused to run. The column, which he published on his personal blog years later, suggests that "the next time a friend of yours tells you he's not voting, don't try to change his mind."

Mankiw's argument draws on a 1996 article by economists Timothy Feddersen of Northwestern University and Wolfgang Pesendorfer of Princeton University that cites the phenomenon of "roll off"—people who make it all the way inside the polyester curtains on Election Day and then leave some blanks on their ballots—to illustrate the point that people who believe themselves ill-informed routinely choose not to vote, thereby increasing the quality of voters who actually pull the lever for one side or the other. There is some additional evidence for this claim: Education is one of the two best predictors of voter turnout (the other is age). Better-educated people are much more likely to vote, which suggests that the pool of voters is better informed and more qualified to make election-related judgments than the pool of nonvoters.

"A classic argument for why democracies need widespread public education is that education makes people better voters," Mankiw writes. "If this is true, then the less educated should show up at the polls less often. They are rationally delegating the decision to their better educated neighbors."

What Mankiw doesn't go on to say, perhaps because he fears insulting his readers, is that people aren't particularly good at knowing whether or not they are well-informed. Many people who follow politics closely hold views that are dangerous and wrong (see George Mason University economist Bryan Caplan's October 2007 reason cover story "The 4 Boneheaded Biases of Stupid Voters"). Even if everyone who had the slightest suspicion that he was not knowledgeable enough to vote stayed home on Election Day, millions of people would still be casting ill-informed votes.

(…)

Encouraging more ignorant people to vote is not just pointless, argues Jason Brennan; it's morally wrong. There is no duty to vote, but many people may have a duty not to vote. Boosting turnout among citizens who are young, uneducated, or otherwise less likely to be engaged—the primary targets of get-out-the-vote campaigns—is likely to have the unintended consequence of encouraging people to fail in that duty.

To explain why we might worry about casting an uninformed vote even when no particular vote is likely to be decisive, Brennan conjures this terrifying thought experiment: Imagine you come across a firing squad about to kill an innocent child. Assume all the bullets will strike at the same time and that there's nothing you can do to stop them. You are invited to be the 101st member of the squad. What do you say? Brennan posits a framework to deal with this kind of hypothetical, the "clean hands principle," which states that "one should not participate in collectively harmful activities when the cost of refraining from such activities is low."

None of this is to suggest that the government should test voters or use some other legal means to limit voting. Instead, this is a private moral concern for each voter. If you believe your vote is likely to be ill-informed or that a particular race is likely to yield an unfair, unjust, or otherwise bad outcome, you should refrain from participating in a collectively harmful activity, thus keeping your hands clean. Get-out-the-vote campaigns promote precisely the kind of morally condemnable ignorant voting we should be discouraging.

(…)

In his 1851 book Social Statics, the English radical Herbert Spencer neatly describes the rhetorical jujitsu surrounding voting, consent, and complaint, then demolishes the argument. Say a man votes and his candidate wins. The voter is then "understood to have assented" to the acts of his representative. But what if he voted for the other guy? Well, then, the argument goes, "by taking part in such an election, he tacitly agreed to abide by the decision of the majority." And what if he abstained? "Why then he cannot justly complain…seeing that he made no protest." Spencer tidily sums up: "Curiously enough, it seems that he gave his consent in whatever way he acted—whether he said yes, whether he said no, or whether he remained neuter! A rather awkward doctrine this." Indeed.

(…)

Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Maybe people vote not because of what voting can accomplish, but because they like to vote. They like the message that voting sends about who they are (e.g., the kind of person who cares about poverty, or fiscal responsibility, or what his neighbors think).

Many people like to be perceived as altruists, for example. Voting is one of the cheapest forms of altruism. If you (rightly) believe that the expected material payoff of your vote is near zero, then it's easy enough to vote in a way that maximizes your halo rather than your bottom line. "Voting sociotropically," Jason Brennan writes, "is cheaper and easier than volunteering at a soup kitchen or giving money to Oxfam."

A 2009 survey of 569 professors conducted by philosophers Eric Schwitzgebel of the University of California at Riverside and Josh Rust of Stetson University reinforces this view: 88 percent said they considered voting in public elections to be morally good. In fact, when asked to rank different acts, the professors reported that they considered voting to be on par with regularly donating blood and giving 10 percent of one's income to charity.

Loren Lomasky and Geoffrey Brennan theorize that voting is best understood as an expressive act. Communicating preferences at the ballot box is something people do for its own sake, not a duty they perform or a selfish bid for material gain.

(…)

Bryan Caplan takes the idea a step further. Perhaps, he suggests, voting is more like cheering while watching the same game from your recliner in a darkened living room. If you really try, you can still tell an (ultimately unsatisfying) story about why your actions matter in the rest of the world. After all, your viewership of the game might show up in the television ratings, which boosts the team's advertising revenue. Of course, you're probably not a Nielsen household, so you may not show up at all in the metrics that the team's owners can see. Which leaves solitary game watchers right there with the voters: The main payoff is that you can show up at work the next day and say you did it.

So what's wrong with that? Individual cases of expressive voting in large elections are just as unlikely to affect the outcome of the election as other kinds of voting. But the fact of widespread expressive voting explains why elections are silly season. Politicians offer themselves up as opportunities for expressive voting, as aggregations of easily comprehensible slogans rather than as avatars of sensible policy. Ignorant expressive voters, even rationally ignorant ones, may be committing immoral acts, as Jason Brennan argues.

All of which is a pretty steep price for an "I Voted" sticker.”

“The choice in the elections is between corporate and oligarchic power. Corporate power needs stability and a technocratic government. Oligarchic power thrives on chaos and, as Steve Bannon says, the “deconstruction of the administrative state.” Neither are democratic. They have each bought up the political class, the academy and the press. Both are forms of exploitation that impoverish and disempower the public. Both funnel money upwards into the hands of the billionaire class. Both dismantle regulations, destroy labor unions, gut government services in the name of austerity, privatize every aspect of American society, from utilities to schools, perpetuate permanent wars, including the genocide in Gaza, and neuter a media that should, if it was not controlled by corporations and the rich, investigate their pillage and corruption. Both forms of capitalism disembowel the country, but they do it with different tools and have different goals.

Kamala Harris, anointed by the richest Democratic Party donors without receiving a single primary vote, is the face of corporate power. Donald Trump is the buffoonish mascot for the oligarchs. This is the split within the ruling class. It is a civil war within capitalism played out on the political stage. The public is little more than a prop in an election where neither party will advance their interests or protect their rights.

George Monbiot and Peter Hutchison in their book “Invisible Doctrine: The Secret History of Neoliberalism,” refer to corporate power as “housebroken capitalism.” Housebroken capitalists need consistent government policies and fixed trade agreements because they have made investments that take time, sometimes years, to mature. Manufacturing and agriculture industries are examples of “housebroken capitalism.”

(…)

Monbiot and Hutchison refer to oligarchic power as “warlord capitalism.” Warlord capitalism seeks the total eradication of all impediments to the accumulation of profits including regulations, laws and taxes. It makes its money by charging rent, by erecting toll booths to every service we need to survive and collecting exorbitant fees.

The political champions of warlord capitalism are the demagogues of the far right, including Trump, Boris Johnson, Giorgia Meloni, Narendra Modi, Victor Orban and Marine Le Pen. They sow dissension by peddling absurdities, such as the great replacement theory, and dismantling structures that provide stability, such as the European Union. This creates uncertainty, fear and insecurity. Those that orchestrate this insecurity promise, if we surrender even more rights and civil liberties, that they will save us from phantom enemies, such as immigrants, Muslims and other demonized groups.

The epicenters of warlord capitalism are private equity firms. Private equity firms such as Apollo, Blackstone, the Carlyle Group and Kohlberg Kravis Roberts, buy up and plunder businesses. They pile on debt. They refuse to reinvest. They slash staff. They willfully drive companies into bankruptcy. The object is not to sustain businesses but to harvest them for assets, to make short-term profit. Those who run these firms, such as Leon Black, Henry Kravis, Stephen Schwarzman and David Rubenstein, have amassed personal fortunes in the billions of dollars.

(…)

The wreckage private equity firms and the oligarchs orchestrate, is taken out on workers who are forced into a gig economy and who have seen stable salaries and benefits eradicated. It is taken out on pension funds that are depleted because of usurious fees, or are abolished. It is taken out on our health and safety. Residents of nursing homes, for example, owned by private equity firms, experience 10 percent more deaths — not to mention higher fees — because of staffing shortages and reduced compliance with standards of care.

Private equity firms are an invasive species. They are also ubiquitous. They have acquired educational institutions, utility companies, and retail chains, while bleeding taxpayers hundreds of billions in subsidies which are made possible by bought-and-paid-for prosecutors, politicians, and regulators. What is particularly galling is that many of the industries seized by private equity firms — water, sanitation, electrical grids, hospitals — were paid for out of public funds. They cannibalize the nation, leaving behind shuttered and bankrupt industries.

(…)

The housebroken capitalists are represented by politicians such as Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, Barack Obama, Keir Starmer and Emmanuel Macron. But “housebroken capitalism” is no less destructive. It pushed through the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), the greatest betrayal of the American working class since the 1947 Taft-Hartley Act, which placed crippling restrictions on union organizing. It revoked the Banking Act of 1933 (Glass-Steagall) which separated commercial banking from investment banking. Tearing down the firewall between commercial and investment banks led to the global financial meltdown in 2007 and 2008, including the collapse of nearly 500 banks. It pushed through the elimination of the Fairness Doctrine by the Federal Communications Commission under Ronald Reagan as well as the Telecommunications Act under Bill Clinton’s presidency, allowing a handful of corporations to consolidate control of media outlets. It destroyed the old welfare system, 70 percent of the recipients of whom were children. It doubled our prison population and militarized the police. In the process of moving manufacturing to countries such as Mexico, Bangladesh and China, where workers toil in sweatshops, 30 million Americans were subjected to mass layoffs according to figures compiled by the Labor Institute. Meanwhile, it piled up massive deficits — the federal budget deficit rose to $1.8 trillion in 2024, with total national debt approaching $36 trillion — and neglected our basic infrastructure, including electrical grids, roads, bridges and public transportation, while spending more on our military than all the other major powers on Earth combined.

These two forms of capitalism are species of totalitarian capitalism, or what the political philosopher Sheldon Wolin calls “inverted totalitarianism.” In each form of capitalism, democratic rights are abolished. The public is under constant surveillance. Labor unions are dismantled or defanged. The media serves the powerful and dissident voices are silenced or criminalized. Everything is commoditized from the natural world to our relationships. Grassroots and popular movements are outlawed. The ecocide continues. Politics is burlesque.

(…)

The Weimarization of the American working class is by design. It is about creating a world of masters and serfs, of empowered oligarchic and corporate elites and a disempowered public. And it is not only our wealth that is taken from us. It is our liberty. The so-called self-regulating market, as the economist Karl Polanyi writes in “The Great Transformation,” always ends with mafia capitalism and a mafia political system. A system of self-regulation, Polanyi warns, leads to “the demolition of society.”

If you vote for Harris or Trump — I have no intention of voting for any candidate who sustains the genocide in Gaza — you are voting for one form of rapacious capitalism over another. All the other issues, from gun rights to abortion, are tangential and used to distract the public from the civil war within capitalism. The tiny circle of power these two forms of capitalism embody, exclude the public. These are elite clubs, clubs where wealthy members inhabit each side of the divide, or at times go back and forth, but are impenetrable to outsiders.

The irony is that the unchecked greed of the corporatists, the housebroken capitalists, created a small number of billionaires who became their nemesis, the warlord capitalists. If the pillage is not halted, if we do not restore through popular movements control over the economy and the political system, then warlord capitalism will triumph. The warlord capitalists will cement into place neo-feudalism, while the public is distracted and divided by the antics of killer clowns like Trump.

I see nothing on the horizon to avoid this fate.

Trump, for now, is the figurehead of warlord capitalism. But he did not create it, does not control it and can easily be replaced. Harris, whose nonsensical ramblings can make Biden look focused and coherent, is the vacuous, empty suit the technocrats adore.

Pick your poison. Destruction by corporate power or destruction by oligarchy. The end result is the same. That is what the two ruling parties offer in November. Nothing else.”

“Yet, 79 years after he killed himself in a Berlin bunker, more than one in 10 (11 percent) of Americans believe the barbaric German tyrant leader had some 'good ideas'.

A DailyMail.com/J.L. Partners poll found that more than one in five (21 percent) of both Gen Z and black voters and 19 percent of Hispanic voters agreed with the statement.

The survey asked 1,000 likely voters whether they think Hitler had some 'good ideas' or if he was 'evil and had no redeeming features.'

77 percent said he was 'evil', 12 said they were 'unsure' and a surprising 11 percent believe he had some redeeming qualities.

When broken down by age group, 21 percent of those under the age of 29 said Hitler had good ideas, compared with 16 percent of those between the ages of 30 and 49, seven percent for voters between 50 and 64 and just five percent for those over 65.

Fourteen percent of Donald Trump supporters said Hitler had some positive aspects, compared to nine percent of Kamala Harris.

'If you need an example of the corrosive impact that social media can have on younger Americans' view of the world, this is it,' James Johnson, founder of J.L. Partners, told DailyMail.com of the startling results.

(…)

Earlier this month, TikTok was forced to remove AI-generated and translated videos of Hitler's speeches that had racked up more than one million views.

(…)

A Pew Research poll (https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2020/01/22/what-americans-know-about-the-holocaust/) in 2020 found that while half of U.S. adults knew what the Holocaust was and when it happened, but less than 50 percent could answer how many Jews were killed and when Hitler came to power.

In December, a DailyMail.com found that one in five young Americans had a positive view of 9/11 mastermind and Al Qaeda founder Osama Bin Laden.

The alarming survey also found three in 10 Gen Z voters believe the views of the anti-Semitic terrorist leader who slaughtered thousands of innocent people were a ‘force for good'.

(…)

Another DailyMail.com poll from October 2023 found one in 10 voters under the age of 30 had a positive view of Hamas, despite the group's murderous attack on Israel that killed more than 1,300 men, women and children.”

#voting #politics #elections #2024 #trump #donald trump #kamala harris #biden #joe biden #vote #chris hedges

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giraffeonstrike · 2 years ago

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You always think the dream of being independently wealthy is that you'd be able to buy a lot of stuff. This is a thing I've talked about with people quite a bit, working in an economically disadvantaged state/county/region. It always came about when they didn't have the money to pay late fees or replace a book they lost or their children colored on or something. Being head of the branch was nice because I could just poof those fees...I'm going to miss that the most.

But we'd talk, talk about money, talk about what we'd do if we had more of it. If we won the lotto or if some perviously unknown to us fitlhy rich uncle died and left all their cash to us. No one ever told me they'd buy a boat or a diamond encrusted cheetah. They always said, they'd keep enough to be able to not work so much and give the rest away. That the dream of their lives was to be able to stay home with their kids until it was time to send them off to a good school, pay for their weddings and down payments for their first homes. Things that family used to be able to do, but can't anymore.

Every time I log in for a call at my new job, working from home, with my daughter in my lap I think of how lucky I am to not have to choose between spending time with her and providing for her. All the times my father came home late, after we were already in bed, come rushing to the front of my mind. Hearing his key in the door at 9PM when we expected him at 6, a whole day us kids didn't get to see him, a whole day that seems like forever now that there are no more left.

This is not the choice I thought we'd make, as a society, to let this kind of grind continue, to get worse. Families becoming strangers to each other because everyone is working and no one is ever home at the same time, parents missing entire childhoods in order to keep their children fed. I think that's what I fear the most...that none of us will ever find the time, that none of this will change, that not enough people have secret rich uncles.

I have to remind the new head of the branch, before I leave, that fees can disappear...and to always listen to what people say they their greatest wishes are.

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fesrtesrtghf · 1 year ago

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kay-oc-rambles · 1 year ago

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Rethinking the Cas x Harvey time loop AU bc I just unlocked Rasmodius's spell book thing in game & was reminded of that expensive fucking clock & if you know me, you know I love clocks. Also maybe instead of having it as an AU, it can be a whole story arc (not that I'm actually writing a fic of this, I just figured why not have it be part of Cas's canon).

Also I read this fic last night that doesn't technically mention the clock itself, but rather as a spell that Rasmodius casts & I think Cas would also be able to convince ol' Razzy to give her a discount on it.

Also also, this turned out SUPER long because I went a little more in depth than I originally intended.

(Sidenote that I'm considering starting a fresh file for Cas to help nail down the timeline for her story)

If you've read/watched D. Gray-Man, Miranda Lotto is my favorite character & I might have this AU take some inspiration from the Rewinding Town arc in that maybe the curse doesn't just make Cas relive the move to the farm over & over, but make it so that outside the town, time goes on normally.

So anyway, Cas & Harvey are already dating by the time Rasmodius asks Cas to go get the ink for him. She manages to do it without running into his ex (who I think I'm gonna call Esmerelda). He grants her access to one of his spell books. She of course looks through it immediately. The Junimo Hut could be nice (especially since she kinda misses seeing them around the Community Center). She doesn't mind making warp totems & would probably still use them if she had the obelisks (sometimes you're on the mountain & are like "shit, I needed to go to the beach", having a big ass obelisk on the farm is less convenient than having a few little totems on hand).

The clock fascinates her. "You can really make something like that?" She asks. He says "For the right price" and points to the listed price. She nearly chokes.

"Seriously? I mean, I get that you're essentially stopping time for like, specific things on the farm, but ten million??? It would take YEARS for me to save up that much money!"

She manages to talk him down to 100,000 gold, 100 solar & void essences each, 10 iridium bars, 5 prismatic jellies, and 100 gold bars.

It takes her a couple of weeks to get it all together but it's winter so she has a greenhouse full of ancient fruit plants, a few silos full of hay, and plenty of time to go into the mines. At some point during this though is when she realizes she wants to marry Harvey so she gets Rasmodius's help in making a rain totem that guarantees the following day will rain. (Upon looking at the wiki I guess it can technically be used in the winter but I like the idea of her having to wait a little, build up some anticipation, y'know?)

The gold clock gets made on the last day of Winter, when she also uses the rain totem. The following day, Cas does the whole thing where she shoots out of bed and barely remembers to throw on some proper clothes before she gets a totem out of her bag & warps to the beach to buy a mermaid pendant off of the old mariner. She runs over to the clinic (in the rain, she didn't even grab an umbrella or raincoat). It's not open yet & she left her phone, keys, & bag at home. She considers whether she should run home to grab her keys, or just hope Harvey is awake to hear her banging on the door (and that Pierre doesn't complain about hearing her battering down the clinic door at 7 in the morning).

When Harvey wakes up to hear the banging he rushes down thinking that there's an emergency (he wonders if Cas spent the previous night in the mines & was once again found passed out & injured, even though she swears up & down that she's more careful than she used to be & it's been a while since it happened). He opens the front door to find her standing there soaking wet and grinning from ear to ear.

"Are you okay-" he starts but Cas leaps forward to kiss him, knocking him a step back & soaking the front of his pajamas. When they part, Cas looks at him and she planned to just ask him straight away but she's just lovestruck and can't seem to get the words out at first. He asks what's going on, did something happen? She shakes her head, still grinning, and slowly opens up her hand that had been holding the pendant the whole time (it's a miracle she didn't drop it or crush it when she lept into his arms).

"Doctor Harvey Emerson, will you marry me?"

Of course he says yes, they kiss again. Harvey says something about Cas still dripping water on the clinic floor and urges her up into the apartment to take a warm shower (she didn't even realize how much she was shivering until he pointed it out) and dry off.

If Cas had it her way, they'd go have Lewis marry them that day, but Harvey convinces her to at least take a couple days to plan the wedding.

(It comes up that Cas doesn't really have any relatives to invite; she has no siblings or cousins, she never knew her father and her mother dying is part of what motivated her to quit Joja, which had basically taken up her whole life so she didn't really have any friends while working there.)

Meanwhile, Esmerelda is cooking up a plan. Her henchman told her what happened (to which she responded by turning him into a void chicken). She spies on Cas and Stardrop Farm, sees the gold clock and Cas planning the wedding with Harvey.

The day of the wedding, everybody including Rasmodius (who walks Cas down the aisle) in attendance, Esmerelda steals the gold clock to take back to her home and use it as the medium for a time loop curse. By the time Cas and Harvey come home it's been a long day and they don't notice that the clock is missing.

The next morning, everybody wakes up and it's the first day of spring, the first year Cas moved to the valley.

Cas wakes up at the bus stop with her bags, more confused than she's ever been in her life.

The first thing she does after making Robin think she's absolutely insane is go to Rasmodius's tower, but it's locked. Despite her pounding on the door hollering for him to open it, he doesn't answer. She decides to go into town, and when she comes across Lewis, he takes her to the community center. She's relieved when she finds that she can still read the golden scroll.

She heads to the clinic. Part of her knows that since so far no one seems to remember her, it's unlikely that Harvey will, but she hopes.

And he doesn't.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Harvey, the local doctor. I perform regular check-ups and medical procedures for all the residents of Pelican Town. It's rewarding work. I hope you'll find your own work equally rewarding, in time." He says, just like the first time she met him. Her heart drops. She looks so suddenly pained that it concerns Harvey but she just tells him "I'm fine, it was... it was nice meeting you too" and leaves, heading back to the farm & plopping facedown on her bed. It's barely noon and she's already exhausted. She wonders if this is all a nightmare, or worse, that the past couple years were only a dream.

Ever the busy body though, she can't just lay around moping all day so she gets up and starts planting the parsnip seeds Lewis gave her. By the time she's done tilling and planting them it's close to 4 and she has no food. She drags herself into town to visit the saloon so she can finally eat for the first time that day. On her way home she forages a bit so she has something to eat the next morning.

When she receives Rasmodius's letter the next day, she rushes to water the parsnips and head out to the tower.

There's the whole thing where she tries to tell him that something is wrong, she's lived on Stardop Farm for a couple years but the day after she married Harvey she woke up and the town was back to day 1. He thinks she's fucking insane and when she starts getting riled up he straight up teleports her out of the tower & locks the door.

It takes a few days before Cas resigns herself to the belief that everything before was just a dream. It felt so real, more vivid than any other dream, but she doesn't have much of a choice. Things go on like normal but with a dull ache underlying every interaction with the people she came to know as dear friends. She falls in love with Harvey all over again. This time she marries him before completing the Community Center (before Rasmodius thinks to have her steal the magic ink). She lives through the happiest day of her life for the second time... and wake up the next morning at the bus stop.

She tries not to freak Robin out this time. She tries to act normal. Plants the parsnips, heads into town, visits the Community Center, stops by the saloon to pick up some food. On her way home, she overhears Jodi talking about how surprised she is that Kent is home so much earlier than expected. He was acting weird, but she figures it's just because of the war. Given a spark of hope that *somebody* remembers the previous years, she visits 1 Willow Lane.

Kent, having not been anywhere near the valley when Cas first moved in, is apparently immune to the time loop induced amnesia affecting the rest of the town. Like Cas, the first time it happened he thought it was a fluke, just his war traumatized brain playing tricks on him, but this time, one day he's attending Cas & Harvey's wedding in the middle of fall and the next is the first day of spring. After some convincing, he agrees to go with her to the wizard's tower tomorrow. Hopefully, with Kent, they can convince Rasmodius that something really weird is happening.

Cas is much calmer meeting Rasmodius this time and in addition to Kent's testimony, Cas tells Rasmodius everything she knows about him and the rest of the town (at this point she has the Community Center bundles memorized), including Esmerelda having his magic ink.

Rasmodius isn't quite sure what to make of it all, but Cas seems genuine so he agrees to look into it. They come to the conclusion that it is no coincidence that both resets happened right after Cas married Harvey, and if Cas really did sneak into Esmerelda's home then it makes sense that it was caused by Esmerelda & that Cas is the focus of the curse.

(Kent finds all the magic talk to be confusing and overwhelming, so the trio agrees that while Cas will keep him in the loop, he should focus on reconnecting with his family while Cas helps Rasmodius figure out how to break the curse)

It is also agreed that until it's broken, Cas cannot marry Harvey. Despite this, Cas goes home that night filled with hope that with Rasmodius on her side everything will be back to normal in no time.

It takes some time, a lot of trial & error, before Rasmodius comes to the conclusion that they have no choice but to confront Esmerelda.

Rasmodius insists that he do it alone, as who knows what Esmerelda will do to Cas.

Cas also figures that they're close enough to breaking the curse that she can at least give Harvey a bouquet.

At Esmerelda's home, she & Rasmodius have a confrontation that escalates pretty quickly. Ras also notices the gold clock. Just when Rasmodius thinks he has Esmerelda cornered, she forces a reset.

Cas wakes up at the bus stop. She throws her bags and kicks her luggage in frustration. She's crying when Robin comes up to take her to the farm. She tells Robin that things just haven't been going well for her lately and she didn't get much rest last night.

She goes through what is becoming a routine: parsnips, Community Center, Kent. She tells Kent that she isn't sure what happened, she didn't marry Harvey yesterday but she did give him a bouquet. She tells him that Rasmodius went to confront Esmerelda, something probably happened. Once again they go to the tower the next day to tell him what's going on.

I'm kinda running out of steam so I'm gonna try to wrap this up.

At some point, whether it's in the current loop or if it takes another reset or two, they figure out that the clock is the medium and they need to both kill Esmerelda AND destroy the clock, but Rasmodius & Cas both have to be present to destroy it (because Rasmodius made the clock, and not only was it made for Cas but the curse is centered on her).

Also at some point in one of the loops, Cas got the bus repaired and found that time outside of the valley has gone on normally. Sandy & Mr. Qi had been wondering why they hadn't seen Cas in quite a while, but when Mr. Qi tried to visit, something prevented him from entering the town. Word has spread around that something is up with the town because the merchants that come around for special events have been thrown way off schedule.

Anyway, the curse gets broken, and all the memories from the loops come rushing back to the citizens of Pelican Town & time catches up with the rest of the world (causing a mass migraine event & ruining all of Cas's crops).

Cas & Harvey get married & live happily ever after, the end.

#cas #sdv oc #fan oc #all details are of course subject to change #don't ask why i made harvey's last name be emerson. i like how in the Case History fics his surname is Greenwood but i didn't wanna copy #& for some reason I think Emerson suits him.

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mycryptosuite · 4 years ago

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How To Find Lotto Keys And Win Today Midweek

How To Find Lotto Keys And Win Today Midweek How to find lotto keys: Win Today Midweek – I have taken this a bit further and am going to go in detail and in depth about everything. When you finish this, you should have no doubt that you will be able to generate an income with lotto. It is going to take work and effort on your part however, anything in life that is worth having does. I’m going to…

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belladoesmakeup · 3 years ago

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The perfect day off.

Hey guys,

Hope you're all doing good on this sunny day. I decided to make the best of the weather and have a girls day with some of the besties. We all know I love nothing more than a wonder around London enjoying the views and a cold drink.

Today me and the girlies decided to go on a book mission after seeing this really cool book store on instagram. They have this whole idea of buying a blind date with a book. Sounds weird I know but they have this beautiful display of books covered in brown paper and on the front of the books is a few key words of phases to describe the genre and plot of the book without telling you what the book is. From there you have a mystery book to read and enjoy. I honestly think it is such a good idea, obviously a little risky since you don't know what you'll get but I think that's the best part of it. Makes you try something different.

I picked up one myself and ended up with the book The Last Girl which is a horror movie style book. Ironically my favourite type of book to read so I kinda felt like I won the lotto when I unwrapped that book. I was also on the hunt for another book in a series I'm reading so really a successful shop overall. I would say next to makeup shopping, book shopping is my other favourite. I love finding a book and getting completely lost in a story it's honestly so fun for me I love it.

So there we have it my day off with a bit of sunshine, bit of mystery and a happy me! Hope you're having a good day whatever you're doing.

Lots of love

Bella x x

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juniebjoneswrites · 4 years ago

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Bring Me Home // Harry Styles

Hey Harry? (6)

On this particularly nice evening I drove up to the station to see Seb. The sun will be setting soon meaning the golden hour before a lovely cotton-candy-like sunset is soon upon us, and my depressed ass wasn’t going to miss my chance for a moment of calmness. My car tire hits one of the big potholes and I curse this place for its dismissiveness of vehicle safety and my wallet. Getting out I see Seb inside filling the candy at the counter. I pull my supplies from my trunk and place the chairs near the door under the lotto sign. As I open the beach umbrella I hear a car pull up to a pump; I look to see if they need help but it seems they’re competent so I focus back on the task at hand.

“June, dear, what are you doing?”

“Ah yes, Sebastian, thank you for joining me here today,” I drag the cooler from my back seat and place it in front of the umbrella, between the chairs. “You see tonight is supposed to be a very special night,” I sit in one of the chairs and crack open a soda. Seb waits for me to finish but picks up a drink and takes a seat anyway. “It’s the night before summer.” I toast him.

He chuckles and sips his lemonade. “You know you could have bought these here and given the store money,”

“Where else would I have gotten them?” I tsk. “I bought them before closing last night.” We wave as the gas pumper drives off, then sit in silence for many moments while the golden sun creeps up on us. The rattling in my chest has turned into the slow drip of an hourglass. I’m not sure how much time it has given me but I’m determined to use every last grain.

“I am very proud of you and your friends, you know,” he says. “He was a good man.” My eyes are closed and I stay in this moment a little longer before responding.

“Thank you, Seb. He was.” We sit in silence again as I watch the waves roll softly in.

Moments before a black Range Rover drives up, Seb goes inside. Too much time spent in the sun thinking of loss can turn a person away. So he goes back into the cool shop where he can look at a picture of his wife and be distracted by a game show. The man waves, putting the nozzle in the tank and walking over.

“Yeah no, you really shouldn’t leave it like that,” I call. I hold my hand above my eyes, shielding the sun.

He turns back to the car and then back to me, “Eh, I think it’s probably okay,”

Why am I always telling this man what to do? “Ah,” I say when he’s in front of me, “It’s you,”

He laughs, “I hope that’s okay.”

I just shrug and offer him the other beach chair. “Unless it’s you know, not up to your standards,” He raises an eyebrow in defiance and takes a seat. I open the cooler and he picks out water. Boring. “I hope you at least turned it off,” I motion toward his car.

“Of course,” he holds up his keys. I’m taking a drink but I give an enthusiastic thumbs up for a job well done. “You seem better than the last time I saw you,” he says carefully.

“Yeah, well. Time heals all wounds,” I look back at the sea and play with the latch on the cooler. “That’s what they say at least,” I take another drink. He doesn’t say anything, and we spend a moment in silence. I wonder what L’s he might be remembering. His pump stops and I instinctively stand to take care of it. He catches my arm before I get far.

“I got it,” he states.

“We offer assistance to those clients who,” I pause for effect, “Need it,” I give a small but reassuring pout and rub his forearm. “And, well, seeing as how you left your pump unsupervised one can only assume this may be new to you,”

“Mm,” He hums, “Then by all means,” he steps out of the way and allows me to pass.

“Thank you,” I say courteously. I return the nozzle and cap his tank, closing the latch. To drag it out I take the squeegee from its holder and wash his window as well, making sure to get his lights. Then remembering this is a very expensive car, I pray I didn’t ruin anything by doing that. Putting the squeegee away I make a quick glance at him, he isn't angry so I let out the breath I've been holding. “Well there you are,” I say, trying to Vannah White his car but probably looking more like Will and Jada Picekett Smith at the red carpet.

“You’re very good at your job,”

“Well, to be fair, it is not hard,”

I stand near his driver side mirror as he walks closer. “Why don’t you get one that’s more challenging?” His question sounds sincere but playful. “I already have that,” I counter. And I do, but it doesn’t pay well. Or at all. He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Maybe I’m a hitman?” A lie too close to the truth. “Or maybe I’m not. You know I can’t really talk about it,” I give a defeated shrug.

“I suppose that’s not something one should reveal. But a very interesting secret indeed,” his eyes are too green, too intense. I fold under their weight so I refocus my energy. I look back at the sun giving me peak golden hour vibes, I smile and release some tension. “You like watching the sunset?” he asks.

“I do, I came up here for it,”

He frowns, “I don’t want to stop you enjoying it,” he turns slightly, giving me an exit that I take.

I smile at him and continue on my way. I get a few steps and almost turn but I hear his door open and close. His car starts driving as I get to the chairs; I go to wave but he’s gone.

“Okay, then,” I grumble and grab a book from my bag.

“You know he dies at the end?” He calls a few moments later.

I throw my arms up then slam the book shut. “Why?” I ask incredulously. “You were gone, you should have stayed gone,” his head dips as he laughs. “And a little rude without a thank you or goodbye, might I add,” I throw the ruined book back in my bag.

“I like the dramatics a little,” He takes the other chair again. “I think this would be nicer on the beach, yeah?”

A small shiver runs through me, “Yeah,” I manage out. We grab everything and take it down. As I set it up he disappears back up to the station, probably securing his car. I take that moment to enjoy the silence and the secret between Elijah, the Ocean, and I. If the three of us can work together we can make retribution happen. But for now I watch the pink and peach sky marry the water in a beautiful matrimony.

A can opening pulls me back as Harry hands me a beer. A beer? A gas station beer. I look at him confused. I make direct eye contact with his “You Booze You Lose” tattoo and give a small laugh.

“I thought it was the right occasion,” he sounds a little disheartened as he brings the can back to him.

I quickly grab it, “Thank you,” I rush out, not trying to seem ungrateful. “Thanks.” I take a drink. “Wait, what’s the occasion? The sunset?”

He looks instantly uncomfortable as if maybe this was all a bad idea. “Your friend, Seb, said it's the night before summer,” I nodded. “And that it's… also.. Uh,”

“Eli’s birthday,” I sit back in the chair and take another drink. I didn’t think he’d remember. That old man is full of surprises.

“Sorry,” he slides in the chair, still stiff and uncertain.

“Thank you for this,” I smile at him, making both of us more at ease. Funny to me that he’d be the nervous one.

We watch the sunset with easy conversation and laughs. It lights us up and gives our bodies warmth like we're old friends. I thank it in my mind, and I thank Seb for his words, I thank this beer for warming my mind, I thank Harry’s voice for it’s steadiness, I thank the waves. I watch him talk, a little rose tint to his cheeks, his dimples forming with smiles, he's happy and animated. I haven’t been his kind of carefree for a long time. The cold in the pit of my stomach threatens to ice over so I take another sip, and another, and another. I imagine my cheeks match his now. I rest my head back on the seat and for a time I don’t feel the coldness. He stops talking so I lazily turn to him. His smile reaches his eyes with curiosity so I have to admit that I may have drifted off in my own mind.

He laughs lightly and pats my hand, “It’s okay, June.”

The sun has left us, replaced by the moon. There’s no fire to keep us warm this time, no dancing or singing, no other friends. But there is a plan now. I stare back at the moon and dare it to tell me not to, naturally it doesn’t. It will keep my secrets.

“Hey Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Should we run tomorrow?

(1) / (2) / (3) / (4) / (5) / 6

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry 1d #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #one direction #one direction fanfic #onedirection #fanfic #1directionfanfic #1direction #niall horan #zayn mailk #liam payne #louis tomlinson

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