#my motivation towards tides kind of... spiralled down a lot

[lunastarhawk]

Day off work, six hours of no responsibilities, laptop out and blorbo playlist on, let's gooooooo

Tunesday tunes are all for Julian and Altheia today.

[madamedevien]

Infernal Heat

Hey! It’s been a while - I really miss you guys.  Anyway, I know that a lot of you were keeping up to date with my Mammon x GN! Reader fic...while I’m updating it regularly on my AO3, I thought that I’d post the chapters that I’ve got here as well. I’m planning for it to be a 4 chapter fic, but let’s see how that goes! Warnings in tags (both here and AO3) - monster fucking comes into play much more come Chapter 3 and 4. The biggest thanks to @mawwart for their inspiration and @popcherrypop for reading over what I had all those months ago and actually helping me find direction. I’ve got a bigger/cheesier spiel on AO3, but anyway. Fingers crossed that the ‘Keep Reading’ line shows up here...

Chapter 1: Embers

The Great Mammon had woken up in a mood. He'd felt this creeping up for days now and he wished that it would just come and go already. It was hella distracting to have a constant tug of warmth and want in your gut, y'know? And it was annoying to feel the incessant need to primp and to add to the nest of pillows, blankets, sentimental and decorative items that now overtook most of his bed. But he was due a heat cycle. Annoyingly, he felt that it was probably going to settle in properly on that particular day and he'd been wrangled into going shopping by you. And for whatever reason he'd agreed. Not because he had a crush on you or anything. Damn, he couldn't even remember what you two were meant to be shopping for, that's how addled his mind was. Mammon really just wanted to stay put and perfect his nest. Maybe show it off to you. Although he wasn't sure if you'd appreciate the fact that he'd stolen a few items of yours while on laundry duty to tuck into said nest. Or that he wanted to maybe do something kind of nasty to a piece of your clothing. If not you. 

But would you want to? To see his nest? To lay in it, lay with him, to mate with him? He wanted you to. So very, very badly. He didn’t feel like he deserved you but, oh, to say that he wanted you was a vast understatement. Fuck. 

He groaned and threw one of his tanned arms over his eyes. The silveret realised that he was going to have to partially dislodge his beautiful nest to pull out Goldie (he couldn't go shopping without her - the very thought was offensive!) and that he was going to have to get rid of his raging boner before he faced you. 

So into a cold shower he trudged, loudly cursing the whole time.

---

Longest shopping trip in fucking history. 

It seemed like you were in need of freakin' everything imaginable. He wasn't to know that you were actually just taking your time because it'd been a while since the two of you had some time to yourselves. The demon had been acting strangely around you the past few days, although he was completely oblivious to just how weird it’d been for you.

And today, the Avatar of Greed just wasn't engaging. Questions went unanswered, as if he hadn't heard even when clearly looking at you, no boasting or sulking occurred, no bets or harebrained schemes hatched...he didn't even take you up on your offer of Hell Sauce Noodles! The demon was completely disinterested in all of this - the only thing he was interested in was you. He was also trying very very hard not to let his thoughts slip into anything inappropriate. Which was probably the single most difficult thing he’d had to do in all of his many years. Mammon wanted to take your hand and lace your fingers together; to shamelessly nuzzle your cheek in front of everyone on Silent Avenue. The thought made his heart swell. Better yet, if you were mated, he could kiss you in front of the whole crowd before publicly mounting you and-

Damn, it was hard to keep lewd thoughts at bay. He could feel his cheeks burning and looked away when your concerned expression turned to him. 

On the trek home (finally!), he fell into a lazy pace behind you and Mammon couldn’t help it as you walked together. His cerulean gaze raked over the beautiful curve in your neck - the space was perfect. In his mind, he could see how perfectly his head would fit and how the mark he could leave there would only accentuate the beauty of your skin. It’d be a gorgeous brand that would loudly proclaim to all, ‘I am mated to THE Great Mammon, the Avatar of Greed and Second of the Seven; don’t you dare even think to touch me’. The very notion only caused the flush of heat over his skin to worsen and his breath to hitch; he wanted to tear into his flesh to relieve himself of the insufferable and fiery itch.

The same thoughts washed over his brain again and again like some cruel tide, even once you'd passed through the doors of the House of Lamentation.

It took only a scant moment. He didn’t even think. The silver haired demon was aware that he was losing his mind due to his damned biology, but he didn’t realise that he was so far gone that he would do something so stupid. It was only your screech that alerted him to the fact that he had pulled you tight to his chest, that he was actually in the process of sinking sharp fangs into your supple skin. The sudden realisation made him tear off of you in surprise. 

Beel had been the first to burst through a doorway and into the corridor. The redhead stopped dead in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at the two of you; you with your hand clamped over the section of your neck that had been bitten, and Mammon an arm’s length away from with a look of abject horror painted over his handsome features. Stupid Mammon, indeed. The next to burst in was Lucifer, who looked ready for a proper melee. The sound that had come from you had genuinely startled the older brother, not that he’d admit that if asked. As his garnet gaze took in the scene before him, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Mammon…” Lucifer’s voice was dangerously low. Mammon shook his head urgently in response, “Nonono, Luci, it didn’t - I mean, yeah, it is what it looks like an’ I didn’t mean ta, but it...it’s not deep enough. Y’know?” The second brother sounded desperate. Mammon anxiously twisted his rings around his tanned fingers and had to fight back the tears that threatened the edges of his vision. He could have hurt you. “Oh, I think you’ll find that it’s more than deep enough.” Lucifer stalked toward you and put his hand on top of the one you were using to cover your wound. “Let me see how much damage the fool inflicted on you”. Mammon could see the frown that pulled at your mouth as you revealed the bite mark to his brother. No proper damage - the indents might linger, but no blood had been drawn; no skin had been broken. 

“It was more from the surprise than pain, Lucifer. I just wasn’t expecting someone to bite me, you know? That’s the kind of thing that I’d expect more from a very hungry Beel.” Your attempt to lighten the mood only made the Avatar of Pride’s expression sour further - but Beel muttered a small, “Fair”. Lucifer sounded positively glacial when he spoke again. “Beelzebub, please take our brother to his room." The Avatar of Gluttony nodded solemnly, gently taking the second eldest’s shoulder. Mammon stared miserably at the floor, guilt clearly written on his flushed face although he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t trust himself to. Not after such a stupid stunt. As the other two made their way up the stairs, Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. 

This wouldn’t be pleasant.

--

It was no surprise to Mammon that Lucifer texted him shortly after the whole ordeal. He was just thankful that Lucifer hadn’t decided to come up to his room and literally tear into him after biting you. Of all the people to bite in the entire Devildom, it just had to be you didn’t it? Lucifer: Mammon. I have strictly instructed the household that you are not to be disturbed until I have given the all clear. You will stay in your room and I will bring you provisions at regular intervals. If you need anything, you will let me know. Are we clear? Mammon: Yes. Lucifer: Good. He waited, hopeful that Lucifer would provide an update on you. After an eon of waiting (which was actually all of seven minutes) he decided to ask. Mammon: Are they okay?

Lucifer: They are. And they will continue to be so long as you stay in your room and do not venture out. Ensure that you lock your door and remember to take your pheromone blockers as well or the whole house will reek of your mating scent. What were brothers for, if not a good motivational speech? --- Chapter 2: Flames Even with Lucifer’s reminder, Mammon had forgotten to take the pheromone blockers and to lock the door. He’d been far too distracted; worrying about your state of health, whether he’d damaged your relationship beyond repair, still trying to keep the lewd thoughts at bay, his instincts fretting over the piece of nest that had been dismantled earlier… It was a lot to be preoccupied with, okay? Without the pheromone blockers, the corridor outside of Mammon’s room was thick with the sweet perfume of a demonic male in heat. It was rich and cloying, the kind of scent that would cling to one’s clothes much to the annoyance of the other residents (Asmodeus excluded).  Mammon, however, didn’t care. He was too busy now attempting to cool the heat in the pit of his stomach and to regain some clarity of mind. An attempt at sleep had been made once his nest had been repaired and Goldie tucked into her rightful place, the lights turned down low and his clothes discarded to some far corner so that he could crawl into the nest in a comfortable state...but how could he sleep when obscene images of you kept popping into his head?  At first, he had tried to keep some semblance of his mind. The demon didn’t like to lose control during his heats. If he could keep his mind, he would keep to his more humanoid forms - and that was what he wanted. Because if you did, by chance, happen upon him...well. He didn’t want to scare you. Before he allowed himself to spiral into the anxiety of your imagined reaction, he reached for his ridiculously large bottle of lube. If he was going to dwell on the thought of anything, it was going to be how good he knew you’d feel… --- Mammon wouldn’t have been able to say how much time had passed. He had brought himself to orgasm more times than he could count - but it only seemed to just take off the edge. A demon’s heat was never an easy thing, but why was this time around so damn difficult?  Satan would have been able to answer that with ease, the smug bastard; if a demon chooses a mate they will, naturally, be most inclined to couple with said mate for optimal breeding. To not couple with a chosen mate could make a heat worse - but to withhold coupling at all? Well, it would be a foolish endeavour.  The Avatar of Greed hadn’t realised just how he was slipping ; wings and horns had appeared without him even registering and his fangs had dropped to a predatory length (which he only noticed when he had apparently attempted to put a mating mark on a pillow covered in one of your stolen shirts that he’d been desperately rutting against, much to his embarrassment).  His breathing was rough. Mammon was equal parts exhausted and invigorated. He wanted nothing more than to let his knees fall out from under him so that sleep would hopefully take him - he wanted to stalk down the hall and into your room and fuck you senseless. And if Lucifer found out? Well, Mammon would love to see him try to pry you from his arms.  The very thought made him snarl, his grip on his cock tightening. It was enraging to even think that his brother would dare, a thought that had him so preoccupied that he didn’t hear the door click open.  His blue eyes slipped over to you and the wet sound of him furiously fucking his fist stopped abruptly. It was impossible to tell which one of you was redder. This was not what he had been expecting. “Uh-” A rasp of your name interrupted you. “Didn’t Lucifer tell you not to come?” He watched as you nodded dumbly, “Yes”. Heavy breath was the only noise to pass between you several beats. The demon in front of you was wondering whether this was fate; you weren’t running, you looked interested and, fuck, you smelled so good. You smelled aroused and it made him growl; “C’mere then”. The way that you slammed the door and scampered toward him practically had him preening in pleasure. Just as eager, Mammon scrambled over to meet you, flustered yet excited, and hauled you up close to him. He bumped your foreheads together. From here it was easy to see how incredibly blown his pupils were, to feel how desperately ragged his breathing was. You were dangerously close. “Now, see here, I'm gonna give ya one chance to go. ‘Cause if I kiss ya, I’m not gonna be able to stop. I won’t be able to let ya go. You’ll be stuck with me for the whole fuckin’ ride, ya hear?” Holy shit, his voice was so strained. “Then kiss me, you dummy.” No repeat was necessary. Mammon threaded his fingers into your hair, hesitating for only the briefest moment before pressing his lips to yours. When you responded in kind his fervour, his deep rooted greed, quickly followed. He’d wanted to kiss you from day one and not a moment had gone by since  without him imagining it. This felt so incredibly right. But he couldn’t ignore the heat curling in his gut. He needed you, wanted you. And as far as he could tell, despite the dark whispers in the back of his mind saying otherwise, you seemed to feel the same.The way that you returned his greedy kisses, how your fingers had twisted sharply in his hair, how you didn’t seem to mind the messy clicking of his elongated fangs against your blunt teeth as he tried to figure out how best to navigate your mouth in this form - how could he deny that he was wanted?  Mammon's only regret when looking back on this evening with you would be not savouring your body laid bare for him for the first time. His mind was too heat-addled to appreciate it; he was unable to slowly peel off your layers and to have the sentiment returned in kind as he had previously fantasised about. In his mind’s eye, he had a whole big romantic gesture planned if you had decided to sleep with him. Previously, he had imagined how he would make love to you and treasure every moment of it...but alas… Your clothes were quickly stripped from you, sharp fangs nipping at new skin as it was exposed. There was no delicate treatment here and he paid no heed to the sound of torn material. When he next plundered your mouth, it was far smoother than the first time - he was a fast learner, after all.  The only complaint that he had about kissing you was that it muffled those beautiful noises of yours. When he broke the seal of your mouths it was to gently toss you back toward the top of the bed, deeper into his nest and into the comfort of a ridiculous amount of pillows - to properly secure you into his nest. To see you like that felt...good. It felt right. It was clear that was exactly where you belonged. The very image had him growling in satisfaction as he took the opportunity to crawl over your body, his fingers gripping at the meat of your thighs and hips as if ensuring that you were truly there with him. Thankfully, his nails had not yet turned into talons or they would have pierced through you with ease at the way that he handled your flesh.  Mammon had to take a deep breath when he looked at you this time. He needed to make sure that he didn’t hurt you while doing this - it was the last thing in the world that he wanted. It was unusual for the Avatar of Greed to put the needs of others before his own...but you weren’t just some ‘other’. You were you. His very own treasure, his very own mate. Reluctantly, a hand left your body to fish for something buried within the nest. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” He coated his fingers generously in lube, desperate to ensure that he would cause as little pain as possible, “Just fuckin’ perfect”. Two fingers slipped into you as Mammon spoke, his tone low and hoarse. Never had he imagined just how difficult it would be to hold himself back like this, nor could he have been prepared for just how much desire he felt in that moment. The sensation of your hot core wrapped around his fingers had him shamelessly rutting against your thigh, a poor attempt at taking the edge off of his lust.  A human really had no business wrecking him like this. His heat cycles were normally pretty boring - desperate rutting for a day or two and then back to normal life. You had no right to set his skin aflame like this, no right to have him feel like he could cum just from the noise you made once he had three fingers fucking into your heat. The way his blood was rushing in his ears was deafening...and he wanted more. It didn’t take too long for it all to get too much. Even all of the dark hickies that he had furiously littered your neck, chest and shoulders with weren’t enough to distract him from the wet sound of his fingers preparing you or the stunning sounds he managed to pull from you when he got the angle of his hand just right.  Mammon would never admit it, but he kind of missed his target. The point of removing his hand from you had been to slip himself right in. Instead, as he kissed you he rolled his slick cock against your sex...which, to be fair, had felt better than your thigh. And if the sound that you’d made in response was anything to go by, you thought so too.  He liked that noise. A lot. So he rolled his hips against you again, groaning in response to you. Ever eager to please, the greedy demon found a rhythm that you both seemed to enjoy in the interim. “Ya like that, huh?” Mammon wasn’t sure where the cockiness in his tone was coming from when internally he felt so nervous. It was those very nerves that quickly had his hand moving to guide his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you before you could retort. Mammon didn’t realise it would silence both of you.  By no means was he a virgin. The Great Mammon would have it known that he was a proper Casanova type, thank you very much. He just didn’t realise how different it would feel coupling with someone that he truly and deeply loved. The heat causing that deep need to breed the closest thing with a pulse didn’t help things, of course.  It was...incredible, for lack of a better word. Divine. Mammon choked on an Infernal curse once seated completely in you and had to literally bite his tongue to keep an anchor on his self-control.  All of that hard earned control was thrown out the window when his name passed your lips.  There was no hesitation in how his hips pistoned, fucking into you relentlessly. His hands manoeuvred to cradle the back of your knees and he pushed your legs back to allow him more access to your body, his fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. The noises that left him were snaps and snarls of Infernal praise, not that he realised. The only thought on Mammon’s mind was his primal objective of breeding you until neither of you could move ; it didn’t matter whether you could actually fall pregnant or not. No logic or worry clouded his mind with these thoughts. All he could focus on was filling you with his seed until he couldn’t any more, the thought of your stomach tender and round because of his affections toward his mate... Mammon’s first orgasm came with an embarrassing quickness. When he spilled inside of you, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your chest, he was quickly filled with a relief and warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. For the first time since his heat had set in, there was true clarity in his mind. While his natural instincts weren’t completely quelled, it was enough for him to actually think with something other than his adamantly pulsing dick. His relief quickly fell to mortification, the shadows of which were clear on his features when he pulled back to look at you. His cheeks were tinted red both from exertion and embarrassment ; he hadn’t paid enough attention to get you to climax. He was quick to stutter out your name, mouth tripping on the words that were trying to get out of his mouth as his sluggishly content brain tried to supply words just beyond reach. “What, isn’t The Great Mammon going to make me cum?” Your sass fanned the flames in his loins. A playful snarl was made in response, “Oh sweetheart. I’m going to make you cum so fuckin’ hard you black out. You won’t be able to feel your legs by the time I’m done with you”. And so The Great Mammon set to work. --- Mammon hummed contentedly as you lazily played with the hair at the nape of his neck hours later. This was perfection. Strong fingers stroked your thighs as he enjoyed the sensation of you wrapped around his hips, the pleasure of you sat on his lap while cuddled up together in your nest. The demon toyed with the thought of pushing his hips up just to make you gasp from the overstimulation, but decided against it. Although he was loath to admit it, you needed rest - because Mammon had been good to his word, ensuring that you both had more than your fair share of orgasms.  But this was good. The fire in his gut had died down to crackling embers, although he knew it would flare up again soon - but you would be there to help ease him through it. And you even seemed to like helping him out. What was the phrase… ‘mutually beneficial’? Somethin’ like that. His eyes fluttered open when he heard your chuckle. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew how freakin’ stunning you were when you smiled like that. “What?” When your eyes met his, he was pouting frowning. The laugh that you let out only made his brow furrow more, “I said what. What’s got ya laughin’ like that, huh? You should be out like a freakin’ light by now”. It wasn’t until you replied that he realised how obvious it was, “I didn’t know that demons could purr”. Mammon squawked loudly and attempted to divert your attention - he sounded like a damn motor! It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t even able to control the way he was going off… It was embarrassing. “Well, yeah, y’know, sometimes. We’re incredible ‘n mysterious creatures us demons, y’know! Demons are capable of things that your human mind couldn’t even comprehend! Anyway, ’s not like ’s all the time or anythin’ like that…” He tried to occupy himself and forget about the heat radiating from his face by playing with your hair - but he could feel you smiling against the crook of his neck. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” The incredible and mysterious demon sounded more like a petulant child (well, a purring and petulant child). “So, when do you normally purr?” “I dunno. When we’re happy, I guess?” “Does that mean I haven’t made you happy before?” The way that he spluttered was definitely worth teasing him. “Who said that ya haven’t made me happy?! ‘N besides, this is different!” Even Mammon couldn’t deny that he was now pouting, but he tried to focus on the feeling of your fingers running along his shoulders. It was nice; soothing, even. Until he felt a sharp tug on the back of his neck.  “Ouch! You gotta be more gentle than that!” The look of surprise on your face made him want to curl in on himself. “Mammon - are those feathers?” “Phffft,” The greedy demon rolled his eyes and tried to deflect your query, “Shaddap. You dunno what you’re talking ‘bout”.  When your mouth opened again, he did take the opportunity to thrust sharply into you. At the gasp, he lurched forward with a passionate kiss. Simply to shut you up, of course. No hidden agenda. His pleased purring melted into a deep rumbling, the fire in his belly stoking itself back to life. It was impossible for him not to roll you over to allow him to bask in more of your shared passion. The laughter that ensued, laughter that he was sure was aimed at him, only made his heart swell as much as his cock.

[perfectirishgifts]

The Prerequisite For Healing The Nation: A Federal Job Guarantee

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/the-prerequisite-for-healing-the-nation-a-federal-job-guarantee/

The Prerequisite For Healing The Nation: A Federal Job Guarantee

An original Work Projects Administration sign from the 1930’s. The WPA was a huge part of the New … [] Deal during the Great Depression. Sign set on a blue/gray background. Canon 5D.

This is normally the time of month when I post commentary about the latest economic data, particularly the Employment Situation Report from the Bureau of Labor Statistics (speaking of which, unemployment inched down again, however less than expected). But I’m not sure that’s very important right now. We all know what’s happening: at the beginning of the year, the measures required to stem the tide of COVID infections caused post-World War Two highs in unemployment. As restrictions were eased, so unemployment fell. However, the winter months in the Northern Hemisphere are already bringing on new challenges and things may well get worse before they get better. But get better they will, it appears, as vaccines are starting to become available at this very moment.

While this is all very serious and newsworthy, there’s no mystery here that requires an economist’s perspective to unravel. I therefore decided to shift gears this month and talk about a broader issue, one that existed well before COVID and which has contributed materially to the deep political divisions in American today: the increasing income inequality that has marked the US economy since the 1970s.

While I normally avoid taking sides and instead focus on laying out the cause-and-effect of economic forces (I’m going to tell you how the car works, but where you drive it is up to you), this time I can’t do that and still make my point. So here is my stance: those who believe that there was massive election fraud, that science is left-wing propaganda, that the Democratic Party is full of socialists and pedophiles, and that wearing a mask is an unconstitutional infringement of their personal freedom (and a stepping stone toward requiring all American women wear veils—yes, I have heard that)–they’re wrong. More than wrong, they’re dangerous. Their views are undermining the very soul of US democracy. It has to stop.

How did this situation evolve? Obviously, something this deep-seated and complex is not monocausal. A lot is going to have to happen to fix it because a lot happened to cause it. But I am prepared to argue that there is a necessary prerequisite to getting us back on the road to civility and respect for logic and evidence: reversing the above-mentioned trend of increasing economic inequality. Until all Americans feel safe, secure, and part of a system that works for them, Joe Biden can preach unity until he’s blue in the face and it will make no difference.

The effects of unemployment, poverty, and income inequality are widespread and pernicious. Studies link them to increased rates of suicide, mental health issues, drug and alcohol use, spouse and child abuse , and even violent extremism. Victims tend to blame themselves, as does the rest of society. This can put people into a downward spiral that leads to precisely the kind of anger, conspiracy-theorizing, and scapegoating we see today.

Again, I don’t mean to suggest that this is the only factor involved. The specifics of how these maladies manifest themselves is a function of the society in question and the historical context. I am also not saying that it is only the poor and disenfranchised who believe that there was mass voter fraud, etc., nor that they are all of the same mind. Taking Weimar Germany as an example of a polarized society—where demonstrations and street fighting had been going on since shortly after the end of World War One—not only did those most affected by the economic collapse vote both both Nazi and Communist, but they were joined by some wealthy and middle class voters as well, whose anxiety was linked not to their immediate fortunes but to their fears for Germany’s future. One can see parallels today.

Perhaps the key takeaway from the scholarly literature regarding what happened in Germany is this:

“the elections that put Adolf Hitler in power are subject to the same ordinary voting behavior explanations as are most other democratic elections worldwide…if we are interested in the likely reactions of voters and parties, we may want to focus more on governmental successes and failures in choosing and implementing public policies than on the degree of intellectual versus demagogic appeals of the candidates.”

In other words, dismal conditions are far more important to creating extreme outcomes than the nature of the candidate’s message because socio-economic conditions drive the attractiveness of a candidate’s platform. Hitler’s speeches would have fallen on deaf ears in a Germany that boasted low rates of unemployment and high levels of income. Hence my thesis that reconciliation in America can only take place if we can return to a more inclusive and prosperous economic landscape.

How do we achieve this? The core of any successful plan must include a government job guarantee, a promise to American citizens that if you want to work but can’t find a job, you can always find employment in the public sector. If that sounds like FDR’s New Deal, there’s a good reason for that: it’s very much like it, except on a much larger and permanent basis.

There is absolutely no reason to expect the private sector to provide employment for every willing worker. To business, labor is a cost to be minimized. Fair enough, it’s not their responsibility to reduce unemployment and it is by this process (given several other caveats) that they are able to offer products with low prices. But, add to this the employment-reducing forces of automation (which has apparently accelerated during our current crisis) and the outsourcing of production and it’s little wonder that we have seen a diminishing middle class and increasing rural poverty.

However these are not by any means insurmountable obstacles. We have, after all, plenty of food, shelter, clothing, and more for all Americans. That’s not the issue nor has it been for decades. The problem is jobs, or the means of securing the income necessary to take your share of the food, shelter, and clothing off the shelf. That problem can be solved with a job guarantee and here is what we have to do to make it happen:

STEP ONE: Stop confusing the market with the economy.

The former is only part of the latter, albeit a very large one in our society. However, even in our own recent history we have shifted gears very rapidly toward public sector, non-market solutions when we thought it necessary. In 1941, unemployment was still almost 10% (it had been 14.6% in 1940). By 1943, however, it was 1.9% and it fell to 1.2% the next year. What was responsible for this remarkable turnaround? The fact that after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the US started a massive government jobs program called World War Two.

The magnitude of this reversal of economic fortunes was staggering and while there was rationing, this had to do with the fact that strategic materials were being diverted to the war effort. Without that, if the economy had been geared toward increasing the well being of domestic citizens, then there would, indeed, have been a chicken in every pot. And note that this isn’t promising people the moon or something for nothing, it’s guaranteeing them a share of the output we could already have produced for them but they could not afford. Now they can.

STEP TWO: Recognize economic and social problems as no less significant than war.

Unfortunately, it appears that we, as a society, are only willing to employ our economic resources in the manner suggested above when there is a war. That we will not do so in response to social or economic calamity is a tragedy and a source of shame. No one asked, “Can we afford it?” after Pearl Harbor; instead, they thought, “How can we afford not to?” As we saw just this fall, however, that has most certainly not been the case in response to the massive economic disaster caused by coronavirus. All this despite the fact that the US cannot possibly be forced to default on debt in its own currency.

STEP THREE: Change our definition of a “job.”

While there are exceptions, there seems to be a default understanding of “job” as being something that makes a profit for someone; or, at the very least, there is an implication that private-sector jobs represent the most worthwhile undertakings. We need to rid ourselves of that notion. There are separate, distinct, and complementary roles for the private and public sectors and each has a key role. The private sector should do things that are profitable, regardless of the social benefit, while the public sector should do things that are of social benefit, but unprofitable. Profit-derived jobs are not inherently better or more difficult or more praiseworthy than those that are not. Indeed, were we to rely exclusively on the profit motive, we’d leave undone things like national defense, educating the poor, caring for the infirm, combating climate change, police and fire protection, lawmaking, disaster response, etc, etc. And yet these are essential for a civilized society and they underpin our ability to actually carry out the market jobs. And they are what the job guarantee would create.

Furthermore, we need to reconsider what a job is. If you stay at home to care for your children, are you creating a burden on society or contributing to it? Likewise for those caring for sick or elderly relatives. To reiterate a point made above, we have the ability to make food, shelter, clothing, and more for everyone. A job guarantee makes sure they get their share and that we are able to address social problems that the market ignores.

STEP FOUR: Find a political party willing to support such a program.

Unfortunately, neither political party appears to have this seriously on their agenda. Early in his presidency, Donald Trump mentioned it, but that went nowhere. Imagine if that had already been in place when COVID hit! Nothing about what is going on now is simple, but we most certainly would not have found ourselves hoping that a $1200 check would last until December. Nor is Joe Biden a fan . Rather, it appears that he is counting on the private sector to create a job for everyone who willing. That’s a losing proposition when labor is a cost to firms. Furthermore, the private sector will never address critical but unprofitable social problems like climate change. It appears that Joe Biden hasn’t moved past Step One yet.

Long story short, we can absolutely be better off in terms of national divisiveness in four years. The question is, who is willing to take up the cause backed by policies that will actually work? So far, the answer appears to be no one, but we can hope.

From Leadership Strategy in Perfectirishgifts

[pepperstrawberry]

Dark thoughts and what not...

Okay, I’m going to put this under the cut because it’s kinda heavy thoughts, but I wanted to kinda warn you all in advance.

I usually prefer to be upbeat and spread good vibes... but sometimes you just gotta be real and do some thought venting.

Just to give you a heads up, I spent like an hour+ typing up this mess... and it is truly a messy ramble of words and feelings.

When I say ‘vent’ I mean “VENT’, I don’t know if there is structure to this, I didn’t even reread it. I just felt like I had to just... say stuff. get it out.

I’ve been holding it in a bit, cause I feel like it can easily be turned into a manipulative thing, but I like to just be honest.

And don’t worry, after I get something to drink and finish some art, I’ll be fine. Just... like I said. 

RAMBLES. K? you have been warned.

So... I really need to try and look into getting some counselling. A big part of loosing my job was depression... but even now I wonder how much of it is a ‘situational-you-should-be-able-to-suck-it-up’ type of thing, and how much of it is deeper, possibly chemical issues.

It’s one of those type of things where you see the symptoms on a thing and you are like ‘well, I match a lot of those... but not all, and how much am I actually sure that I’m assessing things correctly?’ sorta thing. All I know for sure is that it was a slowly downward spiral for a long time.. and in some ways it still is, if I am honest.

It’s rare, but sometimes I have even had those days where I just didn’t feel -anything-. Like, I rarely disassociate, but this one day in particular, I think maybe just before getting the new job, during my short vacation... Which I think was almost a year ago, I just felt ... nothing.

But most times I feel. I feel a lot. Even without being trans or knowing I was truly a woman the entire time, even as a ‘boy’ I was in touch with my feelings. I think part of that was due to all the counselling I had when I was a child. When I was really young, like around 2nd grade ish especially, things kinda piled up emotionally, and I got moved from regular school to a special school called ‘Children’s day treatment center’. It was up on this hill that sorta kinda ‘cuts’ through the city I live in. It’s right near this neat bird center and a hospital that I think is called ‘Sutter’ now..

Anyhoo, by sixth grade or so, I was able to start going back to regular school, though I stated at that program as an after school thing, eventually moving to another, more high school level oriented place when I moved up to 9th grade called ‘New Directions’. I even stayed at that place a few months after graduating. I remember because it wasn’t until my second job I left it, realizing that I was too old and there was no reason to stay... Like they never sent me away or said I was too old, but really, working an adult schedule around a program intended for kids wasn’t healthy at the time.... I also remember because of my first time eating soba was as a part of my ‘leaving party’, They let me choose a restaurant of my choice, and being the silly anime fan I was, I chose this place called Sakura, a japanese restaurant (that turned out not to be, but put on the facade) and I had the left over soba at lunch at my job, which was Toys R Us back in 2000.

... sorry, crap that doesn’t matter... point is, was in counselling for a long time, and I think that has been what has helped me and hindered me the most. I understand and explore my feelings more then the average american it seems. Doesn’t make me special, we all really should be, especially cis men and amab folk. Folk like us are pushed into being angry and bottling things up, and no crying and crap like that.

I’m rather thankful for the environment I was allowed to grow up in... But like I said, it’s a curse, cause I also end up second guessing myself a lot.

Thing is, with how I feel sometimes, and how I see the world when I look beyond my little sketches and what not...they aren’t pretty or healthy feelings. There have in fact been times where I felt like... well, yes, ending it all.

But no time was more specific and strongly felt then the one time in high school were I was literally contemplating just tossing myself over the railing inside the main building. There were these long rams that went back and forth on either side, which made the top a full story drop straight to concrete. Just a good solid straight drop, point my head down and...

And yet...

In that same moment, I realized how pointless it was to kill yourself. What a waste it would be. Now part of it was my religious outlook a the time (belonged to a ‘four square’ Presbyterian/evangelical church that was just down the street from my home). But if I’m honest, I never felt that was the whole story. It felt hollow to say ‘well, it’s cause God had a plan for me’.

Don’t get me wrong, maybe there is a god in heaven, maybe there is a heaven. I don’t know, and I certainly know just enough to know that the debate is -not- a cut and dry thing... But at the time, I did believe. I just always felt like my reasoning was hallow for not jumping at the time.

But I think, just now, before starting this, I might have put together the other part of the equation.

I got an ask this morning thanking me for being me, and pointing out that I came to them in their nightmares helped out. It was a really inspiring and humbling ask that I ended up tagging a ramble onto at the time ^_^;

But it made me think...

I am an entertainer. I love crafting, enjoying, experiencing, telling stories. Characters interacting, the big sweeping, emotional moments. Awesome animations, colors, sounds, things that are literally designed to tug at your heart strings.

Things that can inspire, that can be cathartic, things that can just be fun. Things that let us vicariously experience a taste of being someone not us, of being somewhere magical, or even a taste of a potential future and maybe ideas of how to aim toward it or avoid it.

It’s why I love magic. The lore now a days has all the these things. It’s why I still poke at my fanfics even today. It’s why I am so passionate about character design...

Literally the reason I live... I think... maybe because of the mirage we call imagination.

But I don’t see that in a negative light. It’s what, I think, keeps me from that dark abyss. Even now, I’m still scared of the future. of both failing and even succeeding... Like I”m at once better then I think, but don’t think I am good enough to deserve the great things that have already come my way.

I’m not totally sure my point here, or where I’m going with this... Just some random thoughts about a specific thing that has effected my life to one level or another.

I really don’t want to put pressure on anyone either... Like I don’t want to guilt trip folks in to doing stuff for me. If you want to do a thing for me, please, do it out of the kindness of your heart, not out of pity for a story.

But saying such, I really, really REALLY want to thank you all for having bared with me in my occasional dark moments like this. I don’t even know how much of this ramble is really how I feel, or just how I think I feel right now in my life and in reality, i’m just wrong... but I do know that even if my assessment is wrong, there is something in what I’ve figured out that is true. Something about stories keep me going, something about being able to share my art keeps me going... and it can cause me to get frustrated with myself when I don’t get as much done in a day because of music, or interaction with folks, or reading a story, or just not balancing my time between art pieces.

I know that in some ways, I am more frightened then I have ever been, more scared of my limits, more afraid of not utilizing my resources, of that shadow of uncaring that lurks inside me that is kept at bay just long enough due to my one true joy in life:

Sharing feelings. Literally, metaphorically, the real experiences and the fictional.

I know the difference between reality and fantasy, and I’m glad for it.

... and again, I have no clue where I’m going with this, this is just a late night spew of thought and feeling... part of me hopes that no one reads this, part of me hopes everyone reads this.... and takes something good from it.

Sure, I’m sitting here crying... But it’s from remembered pains as much as current fears, maybe more. It’s partly because I kinda view my own life like a narrative.. and so I see my story in an almost external fashion... But then that is also why I’m so critical of myself. Why I feel like I could do better, why I should be better. How much have I actually done job hunting in the last month? Not nearly as much as I should.... and yet, part of that was because of depression, part of that was because of exhaustion.

I feel terrible, like a child, in that it’s hard to even go outside. It’s hard to motivate and bother most of these days. Literally the most active I have been in the last month and a half was when I was creating.

I WANT this to succeed, not just the commissions, they are to tide me over.... but actually making stories and comics and stuff that people want to buy from me. not to get rich, but to be able to pay my bills enough to have fun and stay creative...

and... yet, even in that, I still haven’t gotten enough done. here I am, typing up this word vomit, just releasing all over the screen words that mean something to me I guess, but I have no clue if they will mean anything to others.

...

I guess the bottom line in of this is: I’m scared. I’m scared of my own self not doing what I should, what I can, what I need. And that fear puts me right at that precipice. Right at that dark place. The idea of the end has come several times over the last month in a half if I’m absolutely honest.

I mean, my situation is preventable. Just go out, get a damn job, work some garbage hours and pay my damn bills right? But I felt empty. Shitty, worthless.

If I’m absolutely honest, I can’t go back, and if I could have my way, I won’t.

But then it comes back to how much can I actually get done in time... And those fears come back, and here I am at the darkness again.

And the one thing that keeps me...

The one thing that doesn’t let me even go past looking down.

Is that it would be a rather garbage ending for the character of Anita Barton. She should have a better ending.

is it pathetic that such an unreal, maybe even dehumanizing aspect as ‘third character’-izing myself would be the thing that keeps me from the edge?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, everyone’s love is wonderful too... but that is a part of the story. You wouldn’t know me if I didn’t have my minis traipsing about on Tumblr. More of you wouldn’t know my name if it weren't for the work I have put into the commissions I have actually done so far.

You all are a part of my story. I’m not much of a protagonist in my own narrative, but I am thankful for my entire supporting cast of followers, friends, mutuals, and family.

...

I’m sorry, again for the dark post... maybe it’s been building or something.... but I just felt like I needed to vent.

I hope... if you do get this far, that maybe something about this inspires you to action too. There is a lot of fear these days. Garbage fires in the form of events and people that we just wish weren’t apart of our narrative... but I think... little by little, we can make it.

I want my story to have a happy ending.

this, all of this is the reason why minis never smile. I may not understand or know everyone’s darkness, but I know that we all come to that point... and many of us put on a happy face... but it hurts, because everyone expects you to be happy.

But I know that sorrow can be a friend, that a low point in the story can be not just a test or a learning moment, but just simply cathartic to let the tears flow alone with the character.

Like I said earlier today ‘misery loves company’ isn’t a negative saying.

I’m still rambling... I’m sorry.

I’m going to go ahead and post this, with a trigger warning about suicide.

AND FOR THE RECORD

I’m not going to kill myself or anything like that. This ramble was just to vent. Maybe to help keep myself that much further back. I feel like I should go back and clean this up, but this is one of those late night posts that I know I have to post, but that I don’t really want anyone to see, if that makes any sense. LIke... I want you guys to know what’s up... but I don’t want to make you feel like you have to be worried about me or something.

I want my fictional stories to tug at your heart strings, not my irl rambles.

But you either release, or you bottle up... so this is me purging some tears and feeling into the internet ether.