#these wage conversations typically refer to

[nyxworldorderumay]

On Art

(This is a repost of my article on nyxworldorder.wordpress.com)

I love art. And I think about it too much. And sometimes something within me makes me want to share them, like how startled sea cucumbers eviscerate. This is why I want to discuss what art means to me. It can also serve as a reference to other posts, something that better explains the way I talk about art. If you are looking at this page, it is likely that you don’t mind it as an overwrought topic or my lack of academic rigor, so I hope you can find it interesting.

Art is a type of play which constructs a parasocially shared reality. Artistic creation either results in a physical medium, such as making a sand castle or writing a novel, or it is absorbed during creation, such as playing with dolls or conducting a stage play. This is flexible, for example a sand castle maker may only focus on the moment of creation and not be interested in the fate of the sand castle. Conversely, a stage play can be recorded and be carried into a medium where it can be viewed and examined second by second. Art can be performed in many forms and any human activity can be art, though everything is not art. Creating a beautiful chair is not art if it is only viewed as a chair and nothing else. Books are typically art when they are read, discussed or imagined but not art when they are used as a coffee holder or as material for a question in an exam. Art is not inherently useful beyond a vague sense of fulfillment, this typically manifests as joy but even this is not necessary. As such, even the act of playing is not art by itself. For example acts of play like destroying a sand castle, throwing a snowball or participating in a chess game is often quite pragmatic and, unlike art, is done with universally agreed expectations and can be perfected for maximum returns.

Defining art in this way can receive several major objections. Throughout history, art has been a sphere of professional labor with bold political, religious and economic motivations. And also, again for most of history, art has been closely intertwined with crafting and understood as creating novel, enriching or if not beautiful things. First of all, this definition does not ignore any “serious”artistic endeavor, precisely because art is inherently trivial it can turn into any shape and mean anything for anyone. Second, while art is often a heavily intense labor, if it wasn’t an act of play, so many people would not go out of their way to choose to be and perish as animators, illustrators, figure actors and many, many other insecure, low wage positions. Third, this blog post does not aim to end hundreds years of art discussion but merely contribute it with a viewpoint of someone who isn’t neither academical, nor particularly skilled but just likes to think about these things a lot. And fourth, if art can mean anything to anyone then it is impossible to define it in a definitive way. 

But this doesn’t mean that all definitions or art is equally respectable.

In particular, art is not necessarily “a craft”, craftsmanship is often a part of it, but the artist alone cannot craft a creation. For art, there must always be an audience: There must always be a person who witnesses every touch, every stroke, every attempt, every minute revision; not just as a critic or editor, but as a phantom twin who watches the performance of their sibling. Finishing a work is not necessarily when the creation stops, a work having multiple iterations is fairly common, but rather, it is when the artist quits being their own audience and leaves the seat open for others. This means that the audience does not merely observe, or dreadfully, consume but actively creates art. People create art because their imagination wants an audience and they want to be an audience to their imagination. Performance seeks audience and audience yearns for performance. One can imagine but only two can create. And so, art is a result of double-creation.

Art is important because it allows us to be frivolous. But if that was enough, daydreams would suffice. But we hunger for sharing, not just socially, from those who close to us, but parasocially, from people who will we never meet. The parasocially shared worlds are the true “product” of art.

 When I look at a statue, at first I only see a landmark, a symbol of its surroundings. When I look at it a little longer I see a symbol of a history, a likeness of an historical figure or a memory of a bygone civilization. Then I realize how expertly it captures human anatomy. But if I look at a statue long enough the inherent oddities of trying to represent a human by stone becomes unavoidable. The statue impresses me by how much it pretends to be so. The sculptor and I constructed a reality where this stone human is real. Perhaps the sculptor didn’t quite intend this. Perhaps they just  wanted a monument to glory or resilience. But that makes the parasocial reality stronger somehow, because I can only see a cold, quiet giant helplessly submitting to the pigeons. I am interested in defining what art is because I simply want to explain that art uniquely creates such feelings.

In popular media discussions, a great deal is made about “interpretation”. Correct interpretation, wrong interpretation, “media literacy”, so on and so on… It is usually assumed that interpretation is a voluntary action imposed on a factual text, which is then compared and contrasted to the “authorial intent”, which is assumed to tangibly exist aside from what is already present in text. While the audience can intentionally assume a perspective and look at art from that viewpoint; most interpretation happens unconsciously. Art is a living being that feeds on interpretation, re-interpretation, analysis and even mere remembrance. It is only due to the interpretive nature of the double-creation that the art can be alive.

If art is a living thing, then there is a moment it comes to life. Often this is when a project is born, but sometimes the audience needs to see it in full flesh, sometimes time is necessary to see beyond what is written, said or shown. Advertisements seldom cast an artistic spark, not because the capitalist cynicism snuffs out “creative soul”, capitalism cynicism can be a great foundation actually, but because advertisements solely exist to represent what they are advertising. In the distant past, ads were structured as actual sale pitches, but it was discovered that using pseudo-artistic techniques to aggressively imprint the brand works much better.  And for the most part advertisers are good at their jobs. Ads are expertly crafted to tunnel any image, object, person, joke, absurd scenario or social cause into the singularity of a brand, just as how the letters of an alphabet or national flags have universal, unmalleable meanings. But sometimes an ad gets too smart for its own good, it gets too caught up in the battle of brands that they forget to include the brand in the ad or the “message” simply gets eroded with time. When I see an advertisement and genuinely fail to see what it’s advertising, something magical happens: now I, the audience, am free to interpret, free to participate in the creation and thus a new work of art inhales for the first time. This is perhaps how humans created art out of nowhere, we always wanted the world to speak to us somehow, we always wanted to be the audience.

If art is a living thing, then it might die. It can be starved of interpretation, nibbled little by little into a final, irreducible, atomic meaning. Smarter people call this “reification”, for example with overuse and aggressive association a piece of music can only come to result in a singular, rock solid meaning. Just as advertisements can become art when they are bad at advertising, media we understand art can be reduced to a signpost, only representing something else rather than itself. This usually doesn’t happen in a single stroke, and not always from an entirely cynical mindset.

Sometimes artists become too possessive of the audience seat, getting wound up in “correcting” everyone else into their mirror image. A famous example of a work earning such a fate is Harry Potter (1997-2007) novels. The author leaves no stone unturned in teaching the reader what to think in every possible opportunity, at the meager expense of shrinking and bleaching the setting a little further. The most notable damage is done to the character of Albus Dumbledore. We have a figure who can be seen as someone who atoned for sacrificing his loved ones in his quest for power but only to do the same thing again for the greater good, manipulating an orphan kid for his entire life to his early grave. But with each detail added, this characterization is peeled away, we become so sure of his ultimate innocence that not only do we get to see him in the Christian heaven, his story also hijacks a cousin franchise ostensibly about a guy chasing silly magical monsters. This isn’t merely unfortunate because we end up with yet another story only cowardly alluding to a complex morality nor it results in a less interesting character for anyone who is not a chronically conservative Churchill worshiping Brit but I am being tut-tutted for engaging in a story so much, when I am stopped from re-creating a story I can only become a passive viewer, and passive viewers can’t witness art, they can be only preached or advertised to.

If the audience can breed art, then it can kill it too, and often are the ones that end its life. They always ask “What’s the message here?”, “What does this really say?” “Let’s break it down”. They hunger to reach to the core, to excavate the truth, to obtain the prize once and for all, and in doing so it no longer exists as a living breathing thing, but a dead thing, preserved in formaldehyde. Solved and put away... Sometimes the desire becomes so insatiable they curse their own eyes and abdicate from the audience seat and can only stand to see art from the mirror of someone else, someone with “better knowledge” who would explain and solve the art for them. Humans are hopelessly social, we cannot handle our emotions and thoughts on our own, it is only natural that witnessing art parasocially just doesn’t cut it beyond a certain point, as we create and seek meta-art, media talking about art, just like I am writing this very post right now. But our innocent zeal may burn the art we cherish to crisp, leaving nothing but smolders of themes, concepts, plot summaries and wiki entries.

Here, it is easy to roast the plot puzzlers, the lore lurkers, the funko-pop fanatics, the cinema-sin seekers but let’s try to tumble a taller tree: It’s all too common to criticize works of art as meaningless, as having no reason to exist, as frivolous and saying nothing of importance, and the cream of the crop, as having “style over substance”. Such remarks are, of course, utterly correct but it’s weird to say them when discussing a specific artwork. All art is meaningless and frivolous. If you wanted to have something important to say, you wouldn’t want it to be interpreted, you wouldn’t risk it fading away in noise, you wouldn’t leave it to the whims of taste or comfort. An important message ought to be said through a megaphone not a trumpet. Art is undoubtedly style over substance. An oil painting is not a ballad, a short story is not a novel, a live action show is not an animated movie. Unfortunately we can’t teach people via telepathy, but the next best thing is to tell something as irreducible, as unmalleable, as incorruptible as possible.

But, surely I am being facetious here. A poem is more memorable than a dull paragraph. Assuming a movie that speaks to people is much better at propaganda than a tacky party poster, then a single picture can capture the human condition better than a huge, dusty tome of a history book. Why do I sound like those gooners who say “fiction doesn’t affect reality”? After all I am not smarter than every diligent follower of the Enlightenment, be it the nationalist, liberal, fascist or Marxist variety, that all agree that art is capable of transforming society and that good art educates the people with correct morals, it reflects and advances our values and that art shouldn’t be left to hedonistic, haughty, heroin-ridden hippies. 

Self-evidently, art is profound and transformative, otherwise I wouldn’t write about this at all. I merely believe that the audience creates the performance they seek and that the artist is the first audience. Birth of A Nation (1915) did not create a racist audience, it was created by an audience that wanted to howl and hoot at the most racist imagery they could dream of. Jaws (1975) was made and seen by people who shared a fear of the vast, untameable ocean. People gravitate towards war stories because either they can at least abstractly understand the horrors of war, they want to feel triumphant or they have a fetish for conducting war (not mutually exclusive). Art is powerful at transmitting unfiltered and unorganized information. Many people casually believe that plate armor is much heavier than it actually is because they saw art made by people who had seen art made by people who only saw plate armor from museum replicas. The audience can be misled by casual trivia they have no reference of, children are particularly susceptible to this b works precisely because art is not reducible to a collection of facts. The wrong details are but a small facet of the constructed reality. Compared to this, art is truly terrible at ideological training. Art is created by audience participation, when they are able to connect to the artist, the audience will inevitably see themselves. People often don’t respond favorably when art tries to construct a world contrasting theirs, much less actually change their opinions with it. Art might be able to shake someone’s worldview, but only when that person already readied their mind to do so. It is quite possible to enjoy art despite great ideological disagreements, mind you, but there still has to be a thin thread of connection, otherwise there can be no art, there is only a message. Even children can recognize when they are being preached to, despite not quite understanding constructed realities. Right-wingers seeing artworks in a completely alien way then we do is not surprising nor is a matter of “media literacy”, For a group of people who are already primed to fix any observation to validate their unchanging truths and also who are hyper-conformists, an uneasy confrontation with a work is not possible, art is either heretical for having women kiss or, well actually, it is but a maidenly sign of friendship which is not really important in the face of “the real themes''.  But even those of us who can embrace ideologically opposing art, we can only engage with art to the extent they recreate it. It’s not that artists shouldn’t try to send messages, it is as good as any reason to create art, but it is weird to pretend it’s a high-brow aspiration when it is such a mundane part of art, pretty much anything is about examining the human condition, it is only a smart piece of what tempts us to art.

However, I am not merely saying that art is more important than its message. Why does art have to be important in the first place? Let’s return to what I originally disagreed with: Art is about creating quality products and thus, art is important if it’s good. Well...

Quality is populist. “Good art” is often understood to be art that’s popular in a given group, regardless of how “elite” the group may be assumed to be. While this doesn’t always correlate with dividends for the artist, good art often eventually earns a certain level of respect. In contrast, “bad art” is often understood to be unpopular in its own target audience. People who profess to care about art think that more art, more artists being heard and more art made by freer artists is usually good, meaning that unpopular art also has to matter. But the fatal error here is to assume that masses, whom refined people like me and you are not a part of, simply cannot appreciate good art. This is just a very comforting fairytale.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe (2008-????) is a good study case. The movies on the whole don’t inspire any particular strong feelings in me, which is the worst outcome I can have with art, but it doesn’t take an academic of movies to understand that first couple of Marvel movies undoubtedly are well-crafted in ways that latter examples aren’t, it is simply enough to look at the dip in popularity. MCU’s and similar franchise movies’ successes rightfully worry those who want more independent voices in cinema. The independent voices are unpopular because they aim to be less universal experiences which demand more from the audience, they want to create art with more friction. But friction is often bad-craft, creating art that breaks the mold sometimes does require the work to look shoddy from certain angles. The mold exists as it is likely because it has been already perfected. Sometimes art can only go forward when it gets “worse”.

Indeed, perfection is the true enemy of art. By simply wanting to get the best out of their knowledge, artists can doom themselves to chase perfection forever, for they do not realize that, when they first touched their tools, when their mind met the physical world the first time, they had already left perfection behind. Perfect art doesn’t need to be created, anyone can instantly imagine it. But please do not see this as just ideas having to conform to reality, even when we want to perform or be performed perfectly, all we still want in the end is actually, a new, different kind of imperfection. All the people in the world can reach to one and the same perfection but a single person can achieve imperfection infinite times. An object can have infinite corners but nothing cannot be rounder than a sphere. Zero is perfection and perfection is nothingness. Video games provide a great opportunity to observe this. In a short amount of time, so many tools and techniques have been and are being invented, perfected and discarded in the endless greed to achieve, to become bigger, bolder and crafting entertainment software. And every time, people discover something special in what was left behind, outdated, redundant, has existed as a mistake or just plain bad. We find out, again and again, every imperfection is a different expression, a different way to satiate our base desire to share what’s in our mind.

If that’s the case, is it even worth judging art as “good” or “bad”? Perhaps, it’s not a question of worth, is it? Stripping all trappings of objectivity, “good art” touches us somehow and “bad art” doesn’t, and this is not something we get to decide consciously, not so different from not being able to see eye to eye with certain people. But I am aware that I have a nerd-brain, so if a work gets me to think about it enough, even because of what it doesn’t get it right, that’s quite enough for me to consider being touched by art. Of course some art captivates me far more easily just like it does anyone else, but as you understand by now, I can’t “start from a perfect score and subtract the mistakes”, as so many reviews seem to do. Disappointment, anger and even boredom can qualify to show that there is something worthwhile to see. I think Valkryia Chronicles (2008) has one of the worst narratives ever, but at the same time, it is fascinating as an example of how much a story spirals out of control when a writer insists that they are telling a different story from the one they are actually telling. If someone was able to reject the warm embrace of perfection to bring something, anything into this cold world and I was able to drag myself into participating (please believe me that both of those things can be very hard), it is probably just good enough. In contrast, when it is bad, I really can’t find much to say about it. I have heard it often that talking about bad art is easier than good ones, and even though I also quite appreciate people discussing bad things as a performance, this is not true for me. When I truly don’t like a work, trying to find individual mistakes feels insincere because in truth, I simply fail to connect with what I have found in a more fundamental way. There is a great risk of being dishonest, because when I cannot feel any chemistry towards something, it is very easy to find faults in every insignificant thing, even when there is none.

When other people talk about “bad art”, they often refer to three kinds of art, terminally bad, technically bad, and morally bad.

Terminally bad art is what I would consider as actual bad art. Unfortunately, even with a good faith look, you can’t find any inspiration in what you are recreating. I have given Elder Scrolls 3: Morrowind (2002) more than 20 hours, and it was one of the few times I have truly regretted doing so. I have visited wikis, watched videos, downloaded mods, tried this and that and patiently waited for something to happen but besides the brief amusement of taunting random NPCs to their demise, there was no joy, no tension, no anger, no disappointment. I can list many small grievances like: the snail-like walking speed, the stilted look of the people blending in an aggressively muted world, its penchant to hide it’s allegedly good narrative and atmosphere behind its generic wall-of-texts, the fact that it obscures a rather simple game under busywork and superficially complex systems or the fact that it’s a chronically western action-RPG where the action part merely exist as a concept but you have to abuse the left mouse button regardless. And while I won’t deny the fun of roasting it, I really wish I liked it instead. Some say it’s a sign of a refined taste not to be easily pleased, but I don’t like not liking art. When I encounter bad art it’s like I am looking at a party that I haven’t been invited to only to receive a call about how everyone was so sad that I wasn’t there. It’s like I am missing something but I don’t even know what to look for. The reverse is equally true too. There is much to complain about Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim (2011) in theory but I liked patrolling woods and caves with an exploding sword, a bow or an eternally angry demon-knight. I liked collecting books to make a library at my own house, I liked to pretend to make breakfast and dinner for my adopted daughter, I liked the “place found” and “quest completed” jingles. Today, most core concepts of an “open-world game”, much less another Skyrim, feels repelling, but the person who I was many years ago had great fun for a few hundred hours. In the end, art is not a machine that yields better output with the right input, It’s not something analogous to a craft like food, where “taste” can be predicted with good confidence. When it comes to art, it’s often not the artist, but the audience that will create something they end up hating, despite themselves.

Technically bad art is art that can be said to fail as a craft. Because they are easy to make fun of and allow many opportunities to dodge subjectivity with smart-sounding words, their presence is greatly exaggerated in popular art discussions. In reality, badly crafted art will rarely see the mainstream, there are many checks to prevent this from happening, the greatest of them all is that artists who are not comfortable with their own craft. Such works usually won’t be on a bestseller list, on Netflix or on an art gallery but on blog sites, on the depths of Youtube or on Deviantart. In few cases where the checks aren’t present or bulldozed by either nepotism or sheer luck and blind confidence, or arrives too late to catch an honest attempt going wrong they quickly become infamous flops, most people do not have a taste for bad craft, simple as that. But unfortunately this is not the end of the story, because people are likely to behave as customers rather than art enthusiasts. When they don’t like art, they will always pinpoint to easily identifiable flaws in craft, they will even invent it when it isn’t present, and demand to know the criminal who is responsible, the allegedly talentless artist. Despite how hard it is to find truly amateur work without intentionally searching for it, the artist (usually just one artist even in a production of dozens of people) will be subjected to to a series of increasingly inexcusable insults and even persistent bullying, The artist will be lazy or lacking in “passion”, (the darling word of reviewers of the world) despite accepting to work in miserly conditions just to get the of honor finishing a project, or enjoy sabotaging a beloved franchise as a part of vague five dimensional conspiracy, or a hack who poisoned the creative space with their miasma.

In all honesty, sometimes art can create great disappointment. And it often makes sense to get angry at the producers and those who profit from art for shoddy presentation of media, for unfinished games, for badly preserved movies, for inexplicably censored books, for unprofessional subtitle work, for diminishing ruining an initial reception with bad advertising. But harassing artists does not happen merely out of misplaced ire or being carried by immature emotions, it happens because of a fundamentally cursed motivation. They are complaining because the market isn’t meritocratic enough, if it was, they would get better products for their money. Dreadfully, there are few things truly anti-art like meritocracy is. I will admit that I am quite averse to competition in general but in art, competitiveness feels especially perverse even if I can see the potential benefits of award shows or fairs and the like. But in even its most innocent form, competition is a double-edged sword held tightly to the chest. and when it cuts, it cuts really deep. 

Just recently, anyone lurking on the artist scene in social media could witness a sizable clique of artists whipping themselves into a frenzy over image generation. Some of this came out of sensible concern over generators’ potential uses by companies to discipline workers, some of it is a correct but perhaps over-cooked association with “tech bros”, some of it is detestable but unsurprising rentiers conning naive artists into kowtowing to a even greater regime of intellectual property. But the saddest one is the anxiety of being outcompeted by the machines, the anguish over the possibility that the good and just meritocracy is being eroded by lazy cheaters. Those honest craftspeople hear the silly claim that “AI is democratizing art” and respond to it in complete sincerity even though most statements from AI people are platitudes to hype their own existence. Obviously the opposite must be true then, they say with full confidence, they say there are no barriers to art, none, even those crippled and the mentally feeble can do it. You just need to work hard. Working hard is good, good art comes from hard work, the honest craftspeople work hard, that’s why they are respectable. We need to embrace our meritocracy like a student zealously embraces the exam paper to shield it from lazy, vagabond, good-for-nothing cheaters. Indeed, if we agree with the logic that art is about creating quality, then this concern is perfectly reasonable. A machine can always be perfected more than a human can. Perhaps a machine output can never be this or that adjective, but it is faster and more consistent. And for a craft this might be the most important aspect of quality, after all every craftsperson wants to be comfortable to such an extent that they can craft without any friction, that they can be a little like a machine. It is only natural then when an artist, who has for their entire life validated for their merit in creating quality products, becomes so alienated from the joy of mounding a snowman, frolicly pressing the buttons of a piano or drawing a smiling sun with pastels, has been imprisoned in meritocracy so long that they can only despair even at most obvious snake-oil-salesman suggestion that the prison might break down. If you look at mass media and say that there is so much slop because commercialism is too merciful to the artist, that the tyranny of quality is not omnipresent enough, know that you only wish that every artist should be subjected to this psychological torture. Of course, some netizens on social media would gladly agree. But bad art, much less badly crafted art, is not a sin, it shouldn’t be. Bad art can touch someone’s life, inspire people to good art, please the artist, or even simply help someone to keep their paycheck. That’s why most bad art is a net positive for the world. Never listen to people who say art is doomed because the quality in [the current year] is too low. As long as we are away from the world of quality, the world of images, animations, sculptures and stories of perfectly anatomic people who live perfectly, art will be fine. But it would truly thrive in a world where every artist is equipped with the confidence of elderly people who send poems to newspapers. Some say, socialism enables great art but if the artists were truly free, many of them would dig corners for niches that serve smaller and smaller audiences, it would be truly the time for the terrible, the laughable, the rejected, the forgotten; a world where even the most unremarkable is treasured by someone. Would you be surprised now if I said that I find lost media search rather uplifting even if the fans get weird about it sometimes?

But then, there is morally bad art. Do you think that art can be evil? This can prove to be rather confusing because what we often think of ethically dubious art is just art that has collapsed into an unshakeable brand. When this branding is born with association, we hear the classic “separating art from the artist” meme. What is often missed in these debates is that people don’t really willingly alienate themselves from art, especially one they cherished a lot before. If they could separate the art from the artist, they already would. But equally often, the now demoted work is put to trial for having the obvious signs of the artists’ cursed mind, where the accuser is given free reins to stretch and exaggerate as they wish, under the guise of “looking more critically” and the jury is often quite welcome to participate by remarks like “Well I never liked their work anyway”, “Lucky me, I only like morally good thing”. “Me is a good consumer, me me me.” But sometimes it's just enough to say “well I liked this but the creator did this terrible thing, so it’s soured now”, sometimes the all-consuming specter of liking or disliking art can greatly derail much more important conversations.

It even derails the discussion of the artwork themselves. It can be quite difficult to assess how messed-up a work is without veering into another review. It is natural for the audience to recreate art in their value system but it is another thing to say failing that always stains the artwork, or worse, the judgment about art is also a part of the value system. But even “you can like the work while acknowledging the faults' ' can be too much customer-like, as if we are buying tasty food that invites diabetes. The more critical acknowledgment is that a certain kind of art requires a deranged mind. Fictional violence is great but certain types of violence, especially horror violence can’t really exist without it lighting up a certain bulb in the artists’ head. And that’s great, art can be a great way to unpack or even excise the dark side of our minds. Sometimes it’s not quite clear whether the artist endorses or criticizes something, and the beauty of the work is often a reflection of a confused and conflicted human mind.

What if art is created by evil means? I strongly believe that bad craft is always preferable to avoidable suffering but it can get really awful when we are deceived to think that an artist’s clear ego trip is so critical to the experience. It’s one thing where artists have to method act or work long hours but they still want the work to be appreciated, it’s another when they just shoot real animals or wherever, that’s where “good art” or “bad art” kind of just fade away. The fact that perfection is often presented as a justification should be enough proof that it is truly poisonous to art.

What if art is created by evil ends? Despite the go-to example of something as extreme as Nazi propaganda, when people find a connection to art, this is the easiest one they can be comfortable with. Some video games are created with the explicit purpose of exploiting players. Some developers are just cynical about this but the others put in serious work to create stories and gameplay loops to ease players into obsessive spending because that’s why many companies demand to develop games in the first place. Perhaps it would be better to risk becoming indie rather than contributing to evil, but it gets a little murkier when you risk not only your career but also having your work being niche and overshadowed by the very thing you want to escape from. In this situation, it is undeniable that the audience is a kingmaker and it is possible to elevate more games, without hostile monetization and without worker abuse.

Finally, If there is one thing more reviled than “bad art”, it has to be “mediocre art”. It seems that the more the audience gets competitive over enjoying art, as if artists being forced into competition wasn’t enough, the more “mediocrity” seems to be reviled. When this reaches to its zenith, art can be either a “masterpiece”, “classic”, “thumbs up”, “100” or “mid”, “slop”, “terrible”, “worst thing ever”, “70”, “1 star”, “thumbs down”. Now, this is not a call for being “even-handed” or “unbiased”, not at all.  Sometimes we just cannot connect with a work, and expressing this clearly is a much better critique than praising some aspect that is ultimately irrelevant to our experience. And as long as perfection is not held as the upper ceiling, review scales can be useful, because we all like certain art clearly much more than others, and certain art clearly wants to be compared and contrasted with another. But surely, you don’t have to share my brain worms to agree that there is much more to being the audience of art than to say “yes” or to say “no”, to defend or to attack, to buy or to boycott. If something I really like is truly mediocre, that only implies there are new peaks that I haven’t seen yet. Only in the perverted logic of the market  and in the never-ending charade of “liking art” that the peak I am currently on is somehow worthless, that art has to be a zero-sum game for everyone involved. Life mostly exists by maintaining delicate standards, art can be amazing because it is a rare thing that can get better forever and ever.

Art means something to me for not only what it can achieve, but because it doesn’t have to achieve anything. Long before we walked on it, the Earth already achieved mesmerizing melodies, captivating colors and stellar shapes. Yet we still want to make and share even if it is less than what came before, because it is just a little different. This is why I find it very unfortunate that aspiring artists are often encouraged to accept what they make first will suck and that they should practice patiently until they get “good”, because the often unintended implication is, not that what they do still matter but they should hinder their own confidence that’s necessary to release art and somehow gain it back at a yet unknown threshold. We should instead say that it’s fine if they don’t like what they create at first, because with more practice they will get more comfortable, but if the process is fulfilling they have already created something worthwhile, they are not stealing attention from someone who is more deserving and they cannot destroy culture with unleashing abominations. Abominations too are ought to be loved by someone.

In the end, there are worse things than bad art, even in the realm of art critique.  As artists and the audience, we share myriad realities again and again, we are desperate to share, because we don’t need to. Art is not a title that elevates spectacular media, as art is spectacular because it is mundane. It is the most serious endeavor and also it’s not serious at all.  Art is where failure becomes success, dullness becomes recreation and self-destruction becomes fulfillment. Art matters because it doesn’t have to.

This article is written thanks to my dearest Patrons, namely: Effy, Kelsey Fyfe, Laura, Makkovar, Morgan, Olympia, Otakundead, Rita, Sasha. Also thanks to Alex(@punishedgenetic on Twitter) for his perfect editing work.

[koffeetips]

Brewing Up the Numbers: A Deep Dive into Barista Pay Rates in the US 2024

A Barista Making Delicious Coffee Do You Know Barista Pay Rates In The USA A barista is a person who prepares and serves espresso-based coffee drinks and other beverages, typically in a coffee shop. They are responsible for grinding coffee beans, operating espresso machines, steaming milk, and creating latte art. Baristas also often have a good knowledge of coffee brewing methods and different coffee bean varieties. The word "barista" comes from the Italian word for "bartender," and it was originally used to refer to someone who served all kinds of drinks, not just coffee. However, in English-speaking countries, the term "barista" has come to be used specifically for someone who makes coffee drinks.Baristas can work in a variety of settings, including coffee shops, restaurants, cafes, and hotels. They may also work in mobile coffee carts or at events.To become a barista, there is no formal training required, but many coffee shops offer barista training programs. These programs typically teach baristas how to operate espresso machines, steam milk, and create latte art. Some baristas also choose to get certified by a professional organization, such as the Specialty Coffee Association of America (SCAA).Baristas play an important role in the coffee industry. They are the ones who are responsible for creating the perfect cup of coffee for their customers. They also help to create a welcoming and enjoyable atmosphere in coffee shops.The humble barista, the artist behind our morning lattes and afternoon pick-me-ups fuels our days with more than just caffeine. But how much does this artistry translate into their paychecks? While barista pay rates have been a topic of discussion, there's still room to delve deeper and uncover hidden aspects of this conversation. Unveiling the Nuances of Barista Pay Rates Scraping through internet data, we can glean valuable insights that paint a more comprehensive picture of barista pay in the US. Here are some key takeaways: 1. The Regional Ripple Effect: While national averages hover around $15.55 per hour, location plays a significant role. Baristas in major cities like Seattle and San Francisco can command hourly wages up to $18.75, while those in rural areas might see rates as low as $7.93. This highlights the crucial factor of cost of living impacting barista compensation. 2. Experience Matters, But Not Always As Much: Salary expectations naturally rise with experience. But for baristas, the pay increase might not be as substantial as one might think. The median pay range for entry-level positions is only $2.16 lower than that of experienced baristas, suggesting limited opportunities for significant wage growth within the field. 3. Beyond the Hourly Wage: Unveiling the Perks: While hourly rates are crucial, understanding the full compensation picture requires considering benefits like health insurance, paid time off, and employee discounts. These perks can vary greatly depending on the employer and can significantly impact a barista's overall well-being and financial security. Visualizing the Landscape: Infographics to Brew on To further illuminate the multifaceted world of barista pay, let's take a look at some data visualizations: Infographic 1: A Coast-to-Coast Barista Pay Rates Comparison

A Coast-to-Coast Barista Pay Rates Comparison This infographic showcases the regional disparities in barista pay across the US. The West Coast boasts the highest wages, followed by the Northeast and Midwest. The South and Southeast regions see the lowest hourly rates for baristas. Infographic 2: Experience and Earnings: A Not-So-Linear Relationship

Experience and Earnings For Barista Pay Rates This infographic depicts the relatively small pay increase associated with the barista experience. While wages do tend to rise with time on the job, the difference between entry-level and experienced baristas' pay remains modest. Infographic 3: Beyond the Cash Register: Unveiling the Perks Puzzle

Varying Importance of Different Benefits for Baristas This infographic highlights the varying importance of different benefits for baristas. Health insurance and paid time off rank high on the priority list, while employee discounts and other benefits hold less weight in shaping overall compensation satisfaction. The Final Sip: A Call for Fair Wages and Recognition Understanding the intricacies of barista pay rates goes beyond just numbers. It's about recognizing the valuable role these individuals play in our daily lives and ensuring their hard work is reflected in their compensation. The sources of the research and data used in the article and infographics: National Averages and Regional Variations: - ZipRecruiter: https://www.ziprecruiter.com/Salaries/Barista-Salary - Salary.com: https://www.salary.com/research/salary/benchmark/barista-hourly-wages - Talent.com: https://www.glassdoor.com/Salary/Talent-com-Salaries-E3316040.htm Experience and Wage Gap: - ZipRecruiter: https://www.ziprecruiter.com/Salaries/Barista-Salary Importance of Benefits: - National Coffee Association USA: https://www.ncausa.org/ - International Labour Organization: https://resources.workable.com/barista-job-description Additional Resources: - Bureau of Labor Statistics: https://www.bls.gov/ - Economic Policy Institute: https://www.epi.org/ Email Twitter Pinterest Facebook LinkedIn Reddit Keep In Touch If You Like My Articles. As much as I like to share my knowledge and skills with you, I love to hear from you. If you have any suggestions or comments, please click here. Also don't forget to subscribe to our quarterly newsletters if you like my blogs and like to keep in touch.Of course, read more blog posts I post now and then, such as  "All About Latte". Read the full article

[niaayaanm]

E-commerce Empowerment: 7 Reasons to Take Your Business Online

In today's digital age, if you're still relying solely on a physical office or store to run your business, you might be missing out on a world of opportunities. E-commerce websites have emerged as a game-changer for businesses looking to boost sales, cut operational costs, and enhance profitability. The internet has transformed the way we shop, and online shopping is on the rise year after year, offering customers the convenience of buying products at any time of the day. Moreover, e-commerce websites empower businesses with a range of marketing and sales tools to attract and retain customers effectively. In this blog post, we'll explore the seven compelling benefits of having an e-commerce website.

What Is E-commerce?

E-commerce, short for electronic commerce, refers to the buying and selling of goods and services over the Internet. E-commerce websites serve as virtual storefronts where businesses can showcase their products, interact with customers, and facilitate secure online transactions. This digital approach to commerce offers numerous advantages, making it a compelling choice for businesses of all sizes.

7 Ways E-commerce Boosts Your Business

Lower Set-Up & Running Costs Than an Offline Business

One of the most significant advantages of e-commerce is its cost-effectiveness. The initial setup costs for an e-commerce website are considerably lower than those for traditional brick-and-mortar businesses. With e-commerce, your sales system is automated, reducing the need for staff, wages, and various overhead expenses like electricity, rent, and heating costs. The money saved can be reinvested in expanding your e-commerce website and product range, allowing for faster business growth.

The Business Can Be Operated from Anywhere

E-commerce websites eliminate geographical constraints that typically accompany office-based businesses. You can manage your e-commerce business from anywhere in the world, as long as you have access to email, the Internet, and phones. This flexibility opens up new possibilities and markets for your business.

Scalability

E-commerce websites excel in helping you identify successful products and increase their stock levels. Moreover, they enable you to diversify your product range quickly. Monitoring customer preferences and sales trends allows you to expand your business in terms of sales, customer base, and profits. Amazon's online shopping platform is a prime example of successfully scaling its product range based on customer demand.

No Opening Time Restrictions

E-commerce websites remove the limitations of opening hours, providing customers with round-the-clock access to your products. This maximizes your sales potential and profits. You can further boost sales through various strategies, including special offers and online marketing initiatives.

Implementing key sales techniques such as upselling and cross-selling can significantly increase your online sales. Upselling involves offering related products at a low cost, complementing the customer's initial purchase and encouraging them to buy more. Cross-selling suggests additional products related to the customer's primary purchase, thereby increasing the average order value.

You can also leverage potent marketing initiatives on your website, like compelling calls to action and time-sensitive offers, to engage new customers and enhance your conversion rate.

More Measurable Than Other Sales Approaches

Measuring the success of your e-commerce website is crucial, and it's easier than you might think. Tools like Google Analytics provide comprehensive data, including order processing statistics, average cart totals, cart abandonment rates, and the percentage of total revenue generated by your website. E-commerce advertising costs are often lower than other forms of advertising, and investing in Search Engine Optimization (SEO) can boost your website's visibility in search engines, attracting more customers.

Less Time-Intensive

Once your e-commerce website is set up, it requires minimal ongoing time investment. The online system automates the process of customer orders and payments, giving you more time to explore new products, launch special offers, and track sales performance. You can also identify trends in product popularity, helping you make informed business decisions.

Don't forget the added benefit of increased sales revenue that e-commerce websites bring. The visibility your products gain online allows your business to attract new customers at any time of the day.

Higher Margins & Better Cash Flow

If your business operates within the trade industry, an e-commerce website can boost your profitability by allowing you to sell at higher margins. The shopping cart and payment options on these websites ensure you receive 100% payment from customers immediately. This improved cash flow, especially when compared to customers who often make payments in several installments, can greatly benefit your business.

Moreover, you can implement reliable payment systems for your e-commerce website, such as PayPal, to ensure efficient processing of payments, further enhancing your business's financial stability.

In conclusion, the benefits of taking your business online through an e-commerce website are clear and compelling. From cost savings to flexibility, scalability, and improved profitability, e-commerce offers a plethora of advantages that can propel your business to new heights. Embrace the digital age, tap into the vast online market, and watch your business thrive in the world of e-commerce.

[usravenslogistic]

Commonly Confusing Logistics Terms You Need to Know 

Every industry has its unique set of terminologies relative to its field. To an outsider, they could appear as a "foreign language." And Logistics is not any different. The jargon of this sector is made up of thousands of logistical phrases. Sometimes, the logistics sector seems like an alphabet ocean of acronyms. Keeping up with the highly technical terms used in logistics can be challenging, particularly when switching between different specialties like trucking and importing. 

Therefore, you can bookmark this guide to ensure you're always fluent in logistics. Knowing essential terminologies can help you choose your company's finest logistics workflows and software solutions and make decisions that will benefit your customers and the bottom line. 

5 Commonly Confusing Logistics Terms Every Beginner Must Know 

It could be overwhelming to jump headfirst into a new industry, especially in logistics and transportation. It may seem daunting initially to understand the typical terminologies and industrial jargon used during conversations.  

So, we have compiled a list of 5 commonly confusing logistics terms you must know in this industry that will help you start a conversation with your colleagues immediately! 

General Liability 

General liability insurance covers damages and injuries that occur as a result of your business operations. It includes two main types of coverage: 

Each Occurrence: Each Occurrence refers to a single event that results in bodily injury or property damage. 

General Aggregate: General Aggregate refers to the total amount of covered losses that can occur during a policy period. 

Automobile Liability 

Automobile liability insurance covers damages or injuries that occur due to the operation of a company-owned vehicle. This type of coverage is essential for companies that utilize trucks or other vehicles for transportation. 

Worker's Compensation 

Workers' compensation insurance covers employees in the event of a work-related injury or illness. It provides benefits such as medical expenses, lost wages, and disability payments. 

Contingent Coverage 

Contingent Cargo and contingent auto liability are types of coverage that protect against losses when your company is not directly responsible. 

Contingent Cargo: If a third-party logistics provider you work with experiences a loss while transporting your Cargo, contingent cargo insurance would protect you from expenses resulting from that loss. 

Contingent Auto Liability: Contingent auto liability coverage would protect you if a hired or non-owned vehicle used for your business operations causes damage or injury. 

Professional Liability 

Errors and omissions (E&O) insurance, also known as professional liability insurance, protects against claims of negligence, errors, or omissions that may arise from your business's professional services. It is particularly critical for companies that provide consulting, advisory, or other professional services. 

Conclusion 

Whether you're handling workers, vehicles, Cargo, or complicated operations, these logistics and transportation terms guide making insurance decisions and risk management plans. By clarifying terms like professional liability, general liability, and worker's compensation, logistics experts can confidently negotiate this business arena and ensure a smooth flow of products and services from point A to point B.  

With this knowledge, we hope you and your business can confidently navigate the logistics world and make informed decisions. If you have any further queries, you can visit our website and contact one of our logistics professionals.  

Original Source:-

Commonly Confusing Logistics Terms You Need to Know

[jobs-in-education]

How to Initiate and Execute Discuss Regarding Salary in a Job Interview?

You'll probably be questioned about your salary or remuneration expectations at some point throughout the interview process for jobs in education, i.e., how much money you hope to make from this teaching job. Employers may ask this question for several different reasons. The majority of the time, the institution has budgeted a compensation range for the teaching position. Before proceeding, they want to make sure that your requirements are in line with that budget. Another reason is that, if all goes well, your prospective employer wants to make you an offer that you will find interesting and exciting. You now have the chance to think about and talk about the pay and any additional advantages that interest you.

Suggestions for discussing pay in an interview

Here are some pointers to help you direct the conversation-

Recognize your worth

Every job has a market value in general. On job portals, you may search by teaching job title and region to focus on the most recent pay scales in the education sector, and likewise, you can also find out the salary range for your teaching job.

Before you discuss your wage expectations with a potential employer, consider your current earnings in their entirety, including salary, bonuses, and benefits. Next, make a reasonable aim for the kind of pay you desire in your next job using the study you've done. What basic pay range are you seeking? What advantages do you value most? What more benefits would you be interested in?

You should be prepared to explain what you're getting or losing in terms of salary if you're switching career paths or interviewing for a position at an institution that is organized differently from your previous workplace.

Take care in how you word things

There are usually multiple ways to phrase a question. You can gather the information you desire using your technique and style. When requesting what an employer will do for you, use cautious wording and grammar.

Let's investigate this. Occasionally, the right words can make all the difference. Use the phrase "compensation" rather than "money" when asking about a salary and ask for a range rather than a specific sum. In the same way, it might be more fruitful to approach the subject of work-life balance in terms of "institutional culture."

The importance of timing

There are appropriate and inappropriate times to inquire about payment. As soon as you enter the room, which is already indicated as the incorrect time. The ideal moment is typically after you've piqued the interviewer's curiosity by demonstrating your suitability for the teaching position. Prioritize promoting yourself and hold off on bringing up benefits till the opportune moment.

Prior to bringing up the subject of pay, watch out for the interviewer to have a keen interest. In general, questions like "Can you produce references?" and "When can you start?" suggest that a job offer could be on the way. At this point, you can exert pressure on the interviewer to provide more details regarding the perks.

Conduct research before you go for the interview

Never, ever pose a question without first having a firm understanding of the subject. Conduct independent research on the topics you are interested in. This aids in helping you formulate more focused inquiries and demonstrates to the interviewer that you have done some proactive research on the institution. Additionally, conducting research arms you with the knowledge necessary to have a candid discussion about these issues with the interviewer.

Reread the job description and check out the institute’s website, at the very least. You might find that this research provides you with all the details you require to completely avoid having to submit an unpleasant interview question!

Pay attention to the employer

Never start a dialogue with your recruiting manager before letting them speak first. Let your manager explain your pay range or the reasons they are unable to grant you a rise, for example. This will give you an advantage in the negotiation process by enabling you to develop a powerful counterargument. Additionally, it mentally prepares you for a "no" and for that. As a result, during the negotiation process, paying attention to your manager is just as crucial as bringing up pertinent arguments.

Remember a specific number

Before attending an assessment or HR round interview, always have a rough idea of your annual income in mind. Negotiating a pay with the management can be challenging if you are unsure of the salary range you want. Therefore, have a number in mind before bargaining that is higher than the value you are seeking.

To sum up, practising your interview techniques is crucial prior to an HR interview round. The same goes for practising your bargaining techniques before meeting with the hiring manager. It assists you in showcasing your abilities and contribution to the institution.

Last thoughts on salary negotiations

In conclusion, keep in mind the following while discussing pay in an interview-

Understand your worth and the types of payment that are most important to you.

To research the most recent salaries and discover the range for this position in your city, consult services like Indeed Salaries.

Give a range rather than a precise number. Focus the compensation discussion on what is reasonable and competitive.

Wait until you receive a formal employment offer before attempting to negotiate.

[thespacesay]

one thing I feel like people miss in the discussions around the ridiculously low pay rates allowed for certain groups of disabled individuals is that in order to effectively change that, we first need to tackle funding for programs that support the types of disabled individuals who receive these pays. while i'm speaking to my personal connections to this, those low pay rates typically are social programs. these programs create jobs that are applied for via social workers assigned to disabled individuals by the state, and not through job applications. they are notoriously underfunded, primarily run by companies or groups who want to be seen as progressive, and typically are shut down rather than given increased funding.

for example: a recent change in a local pay rate for disabled individuals made it so my downs syndrome brother got like... $7 every two weeks (low hours + low pay) instead of $3. cool! for people who need more hours and the money it gives them, that sounds great!

but the thing is, at least for all the programs I know of, these programs are typically designed with people like my brother as the primary goal: adult disabled indiviuals for whom the goal of work is not to have a job, not to make money, but to provide a consistent socialization system. my brother is financially supported by our family, and he's disabled in ways where financial wellbeing is beyond his cognitive abilities. almost no money is put into the programs beyond paying a program manager, and it's generally used as a public "look at us, being so nice to provide for disabled adults!" thing. when my brother's pay went up due to legal changes... the company decided to simply end the program rather than invest in paying more.

again, i'm fully for raising their wages. I think the absolutely pitiful amount of money they're paid for legitimate work is terrible, and i'm well aware that my brother works with others who need what finances they can get through these jobs. but there's more to this than just wages. there's campaigning for better social programs so that there's something for them to fall back on. there's looking into how your local programs for disabled individuals are run, and ensuring they have enough money and equipement to provide a safe working environment for their workers. there's understanding who is paying these wages, what their goals are, and holding them accountable to helping disabled people instead of using people like my brother on an endless stream of advertisements to show how socially progressive they are.

and i'm really not joking about those ads. god, I really, really wish I was. my brother is visibly disabled, adores public attention, and very friendly. he's in like... 3 programs and featured in newsletters or ads probably 3-5 times a year. those programs have also let him wander out the door and not noticed for over an hour, fired program managers for manufactured reasons after they request funding for small but meaningful changes, and... been the local police. guess which group is the only one that never shuts down from a lack of funding?

I honestly can't tell you how best to help disabled people in your area. my needs as a disabled person are vastly different than either of my brothers, and all of us have terrible problems with employment not providing for us in vastly different ways. but if you're just tacking on "disabled people deserve better wages" to a broader "people deserve a living wage" with no nuance, you have got to understand that you can be actively harming the very people you want to support.

[clouds-rambles]

Im not even gonna go anonymous anymore. Arghh asking for another request makes me feel guilty knowing you have an essay due so i'll just present you a little prompt!

Being immortal and outliving people you love, you know the drill. It must be sad and lonely. But you know what i feel like would be devastating? Just imagine Teyvat in a time loop. Meeting your friends for the first time, getting know them, hearing their plans and ambitions, sticking with them through dark times, falling in love... Reader just happens to be the one to witness all of it over and over and over again.

Don’t worry about it! I’m horrifically avoiding it right now. I’ll probably have some lunch and do some more of it after lunch. I’m talking about things I enjoy so hopefully it wont take up too much of my brain and we’re going to ignore the graphic novel I have to create in 2 weeks too lmao I’m a professional procrastinator

I have a bit of an idea with this so I hope you don’t mind it being platonic and with the Mondstat guys either. I’m going to reference a previous set of headcanons where you’re the leader of the winds. The two writings aren’t related relationship wise though.

Pairings; (Platonic) people of Mondstat x reader

Warning(s); angst

Keep reading under the cut!

You had done this cycle millions of times before. Before you even became the leader of the winds, when you were just a small spirit. Much like your friend Barbatos.

And while the archon of this land could sleep for thousands of years at a time you had elected to protect his people from the dangers that the god of freedom was too asleep to do anything about. And in fairness you can understand why Barbatos has been asleep many a time to avoid his brain contaminating with similar ideals to Decrabain. You can’t blame him really...

But you’re so horrifically lonely. And it’s not like you’re surrounded by an absence of people. In reality you often find yourself over compensating for your loneliness. Nights are often spent in the tavern conversing with mortals that you can’t quite understand.

You half wish you could ascend to Celestia, at least there you can be merry with fellow immortals and not have the constant threat of losing a friend dear.

You have known the Ragnvindr family for many generations. It’s not like they are hard to notice. Bright red hair and, more often than not, a sweet, bubbly personality. Not many of the Ragnvindr’s have been blessed with visions, but they all make their way through life the best way possible. And while they seem to show similar thought processes to the previous anemo archon, especially considering the fact they basically own the alcohol industry in Mondstat, and more recently Teyvat in her entirety. But when you see the family treating their employee’s so well and with a great wage you can’t help but think maybe humanity can move past the age of dictators. Or at least the humans of Mondstat.

The newest Ragnvindr, Diluc had always caught your eye. You had helped babysit both him and his brother while you weren’t busy reminiscing in memories of old mondstat and slaying monsters of your home. The air of change hangs heavy on the air when you’re around them, it seems like the winds you lead are trying to tell you something that you can’t yet decipher.

Until the day comes when you can. Seeing a broken, sobbing Diluc shut you out of his home not only made you sad. But, it infact reminded you that you shouldn’t get too close to mortals. For, like your friend Crepus’, mortal life is fleeting. 

You’ve seen many stories over the years, but there’s only so many times you can hear the same story before they all meld together.

Take Amber for instance, decided to become an Outrider because of her Grandfather. How many times had you heard that story? Someones grandfather joined the knights and inspired them? Too many to count. And as much as you want to remember Ambers story, you already know, like all the others, her memory will meld with the others. 

Kaeya’s story isn’t one you’ll forget quickly, especially when the deeds of  Khaenri'ah weigh heavy on your mind. Though you have seen a small handful of changing of alliance stories in your lifetime his is probably the one that’ll stick the most. Especially when the memory of him crying in your arms after the man he considered a father died. 

There’s this one young girl you remember from centuries ago. She reminds you of Barbara a lot. Carefree, loves the people she works for. Just this girl was born a few millennia too early. She was apart of the Windblume resistance alongside the bard Barbatos fashioned himself after. You had attempted to smuggle the girl out the fortress many a time yet she always wanted to help. 

Sometimes when you watch Barbara sing you can’t help but cry over a girl you considered your first friend after becoming leader of the winds. Barbara is under the impression that you hate her because of how you avoid the girl. But being constantly reminded of someone you couldn’t save in the end makes you so sad. You’re not sure how Barbatos copes with donning the face of a friend when you can barely look at the face of someone who reminds you of a lost friend.

Razor sits fondly on your mind. He reminds you of the people you did actually save in old Mondstat. You remember checking in on a handful of refugees that you had to hide in old caves and how easily they had climatized to foraging for food. Whenever you see Razor you’re reminded of another young boy who went missing millennia ago who was later found to have been raised by bears. 

Through the centuries you’ve become good at pairing up couples. You seem to be able to point out people who will later enter a marriage. You’re not sure if soulmates and reincarnation exists, but that’s your only explanation being able to point to couples so easily.

You wonder for an immortal like yourself would be blessed with a soulmate. Especially considering you weren’t originally in a humanoid form. Maybe there’s some thousand wind out there for you that you’ll never be able to meet and fall for because of this form.

Your mind stretches to Barbatos whenever you think this but you never let yourself linger on it for too long. Lord Barbatos doesn’t like commitment, and you’re very much content with that, yes sir. 

Your eyes often linger on Rosaria as you often ponder if she thinks she’s the only nun to have strayed from typical nun doings. You remember telling a small Rosaria tales of Decrabains nuns and how they helped with the resistance against the tyrant. You wonder if that’s what gave her the idea to stray from typical nunnery. 

You smile upon Lisa fondly, a bright young woman with aspirations as high as the stars. Much like Rosaria you remember telling a young Lisa about alchemy and sorcery. She had such a knack for it, and seeing the woman return after only two years of study was a little disheartening. But you’re sure there will be people after her who will have similar aspirations with better outcomes. It’s not unlike you’ve seen people scurry their lives away in the pursuit of knowledge. You can understand her want for a different life.

As much as it hurts you in the end most, if not all, the people of Mondstat have buried themselves in your heart. And like you have done countless times before you’ll have to move on from them once you’re dead, no matter how much it hurts. Your mind ponders to Adeptus Xiao of Liyue. He’s under a similar curse to you. The curse of being alone while being surrounded by people. You wonder if that’s why Xiao has distanced himself from mortals.

And as much as you feel like you should take a page out of his book, you find yourself falling in love with Mondstat’s citizens over and over again.

[spiltscribbles]

57. “Wait a second.. are you jealous?” + Poorly Timed Confession + modern au 😍 pretty please!!!

~Notes: OMFG angel!!! Thank you SO SO much for the prompt<3 You are a complete babe! I hope you like :S It’s cheese, but like also what else would I do? LMFAO XD

.-

Smash Prompt Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Is Like An I Love You!!

.-

“Hmmm… All right, would you rather, mmm… Smell Borris Johnson’s sweaty gym socks, or snog Professor Slughorn full on the mouth for a straight minute— oh erm, not so straight I reckon on second thought.”

Remus wrinkles his nose at him from across the bed, and clucks his tongue at the awful pun. “You’re unruly.”

“And you’re dodging,”

“Am not arse, I’m just recovering from that very terrifying scenario you’ve spewed out like the sadistic satanist you are.”

“Which scenario are you recovering from though?” Sirius leers, wiggling his eyebrows and jostling Remus’s textbook with his foot.

“I hate that you’re enjoying this so much,” Remus intones in a deadpan.

“Mary John, I’m waiting,” Sirius says with far too much glee.

Sometimes Remus is sure that he hates him. “Fine, the answer is I hate you.”

“Filthy and slanderous lies, Lupin.”

“You’re demented.”

“Five. Four. Three—“

“I won’t choose.”

“See,  all I hear is that you wanna get it on with our chemistry professor, you saucy minx, you.”

Remus sniffs. “Better than touching that prick with even a ten foot pole.”

“Mmmm, have I ever told you how hot and heavy I get hearing you talk politics at me?”

Remus throws him the bird, which makes Sirius laugh. Remus can objectively say that Sirius has the most beautiful variations of laughter in the world, and he’d know considering he’s catalogued each one. This version is definitely top three. His care free, effortless laugh when Remus takes him off guard with a snide remark or lowly muttered retort that’s not appropriate for most company— It’s really more of a experience, truly. His breaths stutter out in a lovely staccato, and his eyes glimmer like the sea, and sometimes it feels like the world’s been suspended and it’s only the two of them in that slice of eternity.

Erm, Ah, but yeah…. That only happens occasionally, and it’s only because Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend— has been since the final year of primary school after Remus had moved to the London outskirts from his small, coastal town in Wales, and on first sight, Sirius swung a snowball straight to Remus’s face, which he of course responded to by throwing two more his way, and well… The pair of them were soaking and breathless by the end of it, but their fate was sealed, they were the greatest of friends, and nothing would ever alter that unquestionable staple.

So what if sometimes Remus’s chest thuds painfully when Sirius dimples his way, or Remus only ever wants to talk to him over anyone else— even Lily or his Mam— if he’s had a bad day, or good one, or if something remarkable had happened, or , or… Or whenever really. And there’s absolutely no significance that Remus can’t help the totally delighted grin that splits his face in half whenever he gets a text or snap from Sirius.

None of that is at all relevant.

Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend, and he’d never risk ruining that by allowing some pesky little crush swallow him whole and clammer out his mouth— vulnerable and throbbing in the open space between them. It doesn’t matter if Marlene always makes kissy faces their way, or how James only ever refers to them as a couple, and so what if Peter’s got a pole running that Remus knows basically the whole school is betting on. 

They’re all wrong, Sirius would never, ever feel the same sort of way that Remus does him, that’s downright preposterous and ridiculous and just simply impossible. And Remus’s perfectly content with that very real truth… He is.

Remus is fine with it God help him. So everyone else just needs to but the fuck out of their business.

Besides, this, this right now— Him and Sirius splayed out on opposite ends of Remus’s bed, with Sirius’s feet nudging at Remus’s elbow whenever he’s got a question about there homework, with the window cracked open just so, letting in some of the chilly winter air because Sirius absolutely can not focus if he’s not cold— the fucking furnace— Where Remus can still hear the going ons of his family playing out on the floor below them… This is the most perfect place in Remus’s eyes, and he won’t ever change that, especially not to live out some boyhood fantasy that would never come into fruition in his wildest of dreams.

Remus’s content… He is… He has to be or else he’d lose one of the most vital people in his world.

.-

“You’ve got footie practice after school, right?”

“Mmhmm, you coming to watch?”

“Only if you admit i’m your good luck charm,” Remus sardonically bats his lashes at Sirius as if he was in a mascara advert, and the taller boy  blows a raspberry right back at him.

“Nice, real nice. You’re extraordinarily mature, you know that, Black?”

“And sexy, don’t forget that, oh so important descriptor Lupin.”

Remus leans against the locker besides Sirius’s, watches as he trades his current binders for the lot he’ll need for the afternoon, and tries really hard not to stare too longingly at how Sirius’s arm muscles ripple beneath their school’s  maroon, uniform jackets  in the most delicious of ways. (He hates the fact he’s been dissolved into a starry eyed mess lusting over the star striker, but thus is his fate.)

“I’d never commit such a faux pas, and I’m insulted that you’d ever think as much.”

Sirius sneers at him with a slight shake to his head. “So you coming or not?”

“I’m still contemplating my options,” he preens, but before Sirius could retort, Marlene, megawatt smile and dangerously sharp  smirk— swaggers over towards them.

“Good morning my two beautiful chums!”

“What do you want?” Sirius asks before even glancing her way, to which Marlene blinks up at him, faux owlish. “S, I just wanted to greet a couple of my closest companions this lovely December morning,” she defends herself.

“Marls, you’re never this agreeable before noon,” Remus points out hesitantly.

“ And you rarely are even afterwards,” Sirius tacks on.

“Rude,” she pouts.

“Accurate,” Remus pipes in with an apologetic grimace.

Marlene stares them both down for a solid minute before finally relaxing her shoulders, and thrusting out the legal pad in her grasp. “The student council and spirit society are selling corsages for the snowflake formal, and Dorcas has deployed me to get some orders.”

“Whipped,” Sirius teases through a counter-fit cough.

Marlene doesn’t hesitate before smashing the legal pad on his head. “And you traipsing around getting people to buy the tickets for the theatre department last semester even though Re was only playing Mercutio wasn’t you being wrapped around his littlest finger?”

Remus flushes, feeling an unnerving amount of bees stinging around his stomach, and is thankful when the conversation pauses after Sirius casts her a very heated V.  “Sod off.”

“So are you guys gonna buy or not?” Marlene huffs, weight slung to her left hip, and arms crossed against her chest.

“I’m a gay bloke, Marls, did you forget that?” Remus pins her with a one eyed squint, and she just scrunches her face up at him, exasperated.

“I’m sure there’s matching boutonnieres.”

“Fine, I just don’t have any school spirit  then.”

This time she glares. “Lily and James are Head Boy and Head Girl, isn’t there like an oath between you lot,  one for all and all for one, or some rot?”

“That’s the three musketeers,” he says.

“isn’t that basically who you guys are?” She reasons.

Before their wage of words could continue, Sirius just grabs the order form out of Marlene’s hands and fills out a sheet with the flurry of his pen. “Happy?”

“Positively delighted,” she leers, pecking them both on the cheek before strutting off, reminding them of their group study session at Alice’s tonight in her wake.

Sirius shakes his head, reluctantly amused with a grin gathering on the corners of his mouth, but for Remus everything feels like it’s frozen. “You didn’t have to do that you know? ’S not like James is much of a Head Boy anyhow, and Lily wouldn’t have really cared.”

Sirius shrugs, commences their walk to the opposite wing of the school for their shared history class. “Emmy likes that sort of romantical shite.”

Remus sees red, feels his heart lodging in his damn esophagus. “Oh, so— Erm,  you’re taking her then,” Remus wonders if his tone sounds as detached as he feels.

“Yeah,” Sirius eyes him, questioning. “She wants that title of snow queen real bad, made me promise I’d campaign with her and the whole shtick.”

“Oh,” it’s like Remus could feel it when he closes off completely, can feel his hopes squashed down and his heart contract and his every organ collapsing in on themselves, leaving him feeling hollowed out completely.

Sirius slows down marginally, eyeing him with a slight frown. “Is that all right? I know you two don’t exactly get along and we were planning to go as a group, bu—“

“It’s fine,” Remus hates how screechy his voice gets, how he feels like he’s about to scream. “You two are a shoe in, no doubt.”

Sirius tries to mirror Remus’s faux excitement with a tepid grin of his own, but Remus doesn’t let him, instead commandeering their typical table on the back row and tries focussing on the thousandth war with France while his world tilts off kilter.

.-

Emmy is beautiful, and popular and her smile alone dazzles the whole room. She’s everything that Sirius should look for in a partner, someone to match his whip lash wit, and his taste for all things exuberant that skirt on flashy, and someone who’s got just as many friends and admirers as him.

They’re perfect and Remus should just get over his petty ass hatred of her, even if he still thinks she can be down right cruel and selective and selfish. Qualities Sirius surely isn’t… But maybe it’s all in his head how she sneers at people who she finds plane, or how she literally guffaws over the misfortune of others. Maybe his perception of how she wields people in like moths to a flame just to get what she wants is all a misunderstanding, or in his head or something.

Maybe all that’s possible, even if Remus seriously doubts it.

But at the end of the day, Sirius loves her— has been basically infatuated by Emmeline Vance since she first transferred at the start of their Freshman year. Sirius loves her, and who ever Sirius loves is merely an extension of him… Right?

Remus just needs to get over it and somehow rid himself of this crush he’s been fostering for so long it’s basically a part of him at this point. Though, he thinks it’d be a lot easier if he didn’t see their faces plastered on posters everywhere the week and a half leading up to the dance— looking like actual royals that would put Will and cate to shame.

.-

“Yo cheekbones!”

Remus starts, swivels around from where he was scratching his pen to paper, finding Sirius— as glimmering and beautiful as always— swaggering up to him, insanely electric smile painted over his face.

“Would you rather eat a jumbo jar of jalapeños without a break, or eat the toenails from someone with athlete’s foot next to your dinner every night of the rest of your life?”

“I thought you were having lunch with Emmy to keep up your royalty status before this weekend?” Remus asks, tacitly side stepping from the horrific images swimming to the forefront of his mind because of his cruel question.

“Now that doesn’t sound like an answer to my ultimatum,” Sirius says in a singsong sort of voice.

“You answer me first,” Remus says airily.

“But I asked first,” Sirius argues haughtily.

“Well both your options would kill me, so I wouldn’t do either,” Remus retorts.

“That’s not how the game works!”

“You’re the one who always says that rules were made to be broken,” Remus says, lofty as all get out,, and dissolves into laughter at the completely cross look Sirius’s giving him.

“You were born to be contrary, weren’t you?”

“So lunch?”

“Got bored,” he shrugs, hopping onto the corner of the desk Remus’s working on. “What you up to instead of eating?”

“My position paper for Model UN.” Sirius smiles down at him, and Remus can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks in return. “Not as glamorous as running as Snow King, I know.”

“It’s precious,” Sirius contends, his soft timbre sounding like syrup and his long fingers fluttering against Remus’s skin, pushing back a lock of his ever disheveled, tawny curls in a far to gentle way, and Remus gulps before averting his gaze to break the sudden tautness that’s built between them. 

They’ve had so many of these almost moments, ones that Remus’s always treasured but he knows doesn’t mean much of anything at all to Sirius— Sirius who is effortlessly hilarious, and brims with genius and  who is so beautiful that sometimes it hurts looking at him for too long. Sirius who has a new suitor at his beck and call on a near weekly basis. But whenever they transpire now, it just hurts all the more because Remus knows in his heart of hearts that they will never lead anywhere, and Sirius is in love with Emmy and Remus can’t let himself float around in this daydream for any longer.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, shuffles in his seat only slightly. “I’m Algeria so my Mam’s pretty excited about it. She’s been telling me all the stuff Wikipedia’s got wrong and everything.”

Sirius laughs, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Your mother is kinda everything, you know that?”

Remus twists his mouth up, reluctant. “Don’t tell her as much, or else she’ll go on and on how she won Miss Teen Great Britain when she was only sixteen.”

“Hmm, I was wondering where you got that pretty face.”

“You, Sirius Black, can go lick an unwashed arse.”

“You’ll never catch a suitor with that cheek of yours though. I’d work on that, Lupin.”

“I don’t think I could ever win Miss Congeniality, alas.”  Remus doesn’t quite catch Sirius’s reply, to busy responding too the text his phone just chirped with instead.

“Mary John, are you listening?”

“Uh-huh.”

Sirius’s brows hike up, flabbergasted smile stretched across his face. “So totally rude! And I came all the way here— to the place where dreamers die— just to spend time with you.”

“Sorry,” Remus gives him an abashed little half grin before setting the phone back down. “’s just Fabian.”

Sirius’s expression drops, goes inquisitive instead of his typical ebullience. “Fabian? Why’s Fabian Prewett texting you, and why is he,” Sirius crooks his head so he’s able to read the new message that popped up on Remus’s phone’s screen. “Asking about color coordination?”

Remus blushes for an entirely new reason now, one he likes much less. “Ah, he’s the sort to like it when our suits like match, but not in an abrasive fashion, you know?”

Sirius’s face goes scarily blank.

“Your suits? Suits for what?”

“The dance…” Remus says slowly, he’s confused what Sirius’s confused about.

“The dance… Right… I thought you were still going with everyone else?”

“Pff, no way,” Remus scoffs. “Lily’s  only pretending to be single, you know how red in the face she gets whenever around James. They’ll end up dancing the whole night away. And with Dorcas running the whole event and Benjy thinking any social function is a plague on society, that’d leave me stuck with Peter and Mary, . And honestly I’ve seen enough of her tongue shoved down his throat for a lifetime.” Remus is only slightly  surprised that doesn’t even elicit a chuckle from Sirius, who’s now looking a bit stormy— and he thinks he’ll never be accustomed to his mercurial moods that can change as quickly as the snap of the finger.

“Right… So you’re going with Fabian Prewett… as your date?”

“Yes… Why is that so hard to believe?”

“it’s, it’s not,” Sirius scrambles, suddenly standing up.

“Then why are you being so weird about this,” Remus argues, getting up to meet him at his level.

“Am not!”

“You’re going with Emmy,” Remus reminds him, this edge of desperate.

“I know I am, okay. But you— you—“ Sirius tappers off, eyes glassy and lips parted with words he can’t get out, and Jesus fucking Christ is it weird how for the first time ever their roles have reversed. Sirius can’t put any sentences together, and everything Remus’s been beating down—  everything thrashing inside of him— are now burning his throat and warring over who can spill out first.

“What? I’m suppose to stay behind like the pathetic, nobody friend. The guy who’s just there to moon after you while you have an actual life. The Judie garland to your Mickie Roomie!”

“What are you even talking about right now!” Sirius shouts, sounding as torn apart as Remus feels.

“As if you don’t know!” He snarls, collecting his books into his backpack— Suddenly this room feels to stifling. He can’t breathe and it’s too hot and his chest is pounding.

He’s imploding and Remus has no idea how to rectify it.

“Just stop! Remus Stop!”

“leave me the fuck alone Sirius!”

“Why are you being such a prick about this!”

And that, that makes Remus angry, angrier than he’s ever been.

Before he could even think about it for a moment longer, Remus is rounding on him, dashing so close to Sirius that he can taste his breath with how close their faces are skirting against each other.

“I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you for forever, and I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I know that you’re in love with Emmy and, and I just know okay.”

“Wha—“ Sirius sputters, looking like a gaping fish. “Wait a second, are you jealous? Of sodding Emmy Vance?”

“Don’t!” Remus practically growls out. "Don’t disrespect me, okay? Don’t pretend that you never knew, or that I was such a good actor. I’ve been in love with you for years and you always knew and Fine, I get it. You never felt the same way, that’s fine. But just don’t pretend as if you never had the choice, don’t make me out as the bad guy for actually, finally saying yes to a bloke who’s actually into me. I need to fucking give up on the premise of us, I need to get over you. So I’m going out with fucking Fabian Prewett and you’re going out with Emmy Vance and that’s that!”

His breaths are labored, jagged and painful, as they race out of him, but Remus can’t move. He’s staring straight into Sirius’s beautiful, gray eyes, and he sees everything he’s always seen there, and hates that this is probably the last time he’ll get to be this close to him.

Not after this.

“I didn’t,” is the first thing Sirius croaks out, broken and helpless. “i didn’t know, Remus you have to believe me— I didn’t—”

“How! How could you not know!” He shouts back, but Remus doesn’t get his answer in so many words, instead he feels it.

He feels it when Sirius clamps his hands on either end of his waste-line, feels it when Sirius smashes their lips together in a cacophony of lips, and teeth and spit. He feels it when Sirius moans in side of him, when his hand moves down, spreads across the width of the small of his back, pushing their torsos even closer. Remus feels it when everything goes into focus, when he takes Sirius into his arms, greedy and excited and disbelieving.

And Remus thinks to all the other times he’s kissed another boy— To this prior weekend swapping snogs with a beaming Fabian in the back of a theatre. He thinks of how there was never anything worth anything when he kissed any of them Because it was all Sirius, always Sirius. And he could try to love Fabian, or some other cute boy, and he tried, and he tried, and he tried, and he gave all he had…but it was never enough, could it ever be enough?

Remus knows it in his bones that it’s enough when it’s with Sirius.

When they finally pull apart it’s difficult to breathe and Remus feels lightheaded and it’s wonderful in the most marvelous of ways.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sirius says in a whisper. 

“Maybe next time give a guy some warning?” Remus can’t help the shit eating smirk that swipes across his mouth and is elated at the adorably cross scowl Sirius answers him with.

“Fine jackass, how’s this for a warning, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“That’ll be sufficient, I suppose,” Remus goads, laughing against Sirius’s lips when he does just that.

~*~

Sirius ends up winning snow king, but rejects the dance with Emmy, opts to ask Remus to join him instead, as if they were in the middle of some John Hughes movie from the fucking 80s.

It’s utterly ridiculous and overdone and simply way too much— but everyone applauded and cheered and when Sirius kissed him in the middle of it, Remus felt as if his whole body sung with joy.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[acaiis]

The Existence of Capitalism in Skyword Sword and How it Makes No Sense Contextually

First off, before I begin, I would like to make it clear that this is not meant to be a a post to bring politics into Zelda; it is my analysis of the information we are given about Skyloft and subsequent questioning of a lot of different canonical aspects. This also won't contain any major spoilers for Skyward Sword, as this is viewed almost entirely from a world-building perspective. Continued beneath the cut (because this is a monstrous post)

The Canon Economy In game, the citizens of Skyloft rely on a monetary system of trade, i.e. using money to purchase goods. This in and of itself works fine for the game, but I'll get into later why it's not very well founded later on. We see that the Skyloftians have to pay for necessities such as food in game. Seeing as this isn't something that carries much weight story-wise, it's hard to find lots of information, but it can be asssumed that Skyloft operates on a typical "use money to purchase goods" system. Furthermore, the only large source of food we see in game (pumpkin island), appears to be owned privately. Patrons must pay to consume pumpkin soup. This indicates that other islands with the means for producing food may also be owned privately, though these theoretical islands do not exist canonically. Most of this will become relevant as this post goes on; for now it offers contextual knowledge. The Money Problem

Across the Zelda franchise, Rupees act as the main currency. It is not stated anywhere how or where Rupees are created, so there's a few potential routes.

1.) Rupees are mined from the earth.

In the very first installation of the franchise, rupees are referred to as Rubies by the game manual. Rubies being used to refer to them implies that they may share similar properties -- so from here we can assume that rupees are some sort of gemstone that are mined from the earth and made into money. If you're thinking, "but money is made out of paper, why would they use gemstones?", then I will direct you to the historical use of silver and gold as currency. 2.) Rupees are created magically.

In game, rupees can be obtained in an eclectic variety of methods. Killing monsters, cutting grass, and so on and so forth. This could imply that they are generated by some outside force at seemingly random. This particular theory is the weakest of the three.

3.) Rupees are formed via living organisms.

Hear me out. Seeing as a potential drop of enemies is rupees, the creation of rupees is not explicitly stated, and they're not so common that they're essentially worthless, one could assume that, similar to pearls, rupees are created by living organisms. This would explain why they are dropped sometimes by enemies, and even why you find them in the grass (outside of the minish) -- if a monster dies, the rupee(s) could be left behind in the grass and so forth. When taken in the context of Skyloft, the theoretical origin of rupees that makes the most sense at a first glance is the second one -- there are few monsters on Skyloft, which rules out no. 3, and seeing as they have very limited ground to work with, mining is out of the question. However, when we look at the option of magical origins, it starts to break down -- they can't exactly disperse any excess money, as they are extremely limited in who they can trade with, and if money just keeps showing up out of nowhere the economy will inevitably undergo inflation, which wouldn't be good for anyone. So, this leaves us with a limited supply of rupees on Skyloft, following either theory 1 or 3.

The problem here is that they live on a floating island, and frequently travel between multiple of these islands. If, say, one was to drop something off the edge, we know that it would be as good as lost canonically -- they cannot reach the surface, and therefore have no method of retrieving any objects lost in this manner.

In my initial ramble about this, the example I used was this: Young children clearly exist on Skyloft, and typically children enjoy playing with things and imitating their parents. I'm sure most people have had an experience in which a young child has either destroyed or lost money. If there's one toddler that has the idea to start chucking money over the edge, they could potentially even wreck the economy depending on the current finite amount of rupees available on Skyloft and the amount of which is being thrown off. Basically, the economy of Skyloft could be wrecked by a child.

They could potentially use something other than rupees as money, but options here are pretty much nonexistent -- what would they use? The amount of resources they'd have to use to produce money simply wouldn't make sense, seeing as they have limited resources -- which brings us to our next section.

Limited Resources

To add to the dubious monetary system of Skyloft, we have the very clearly limited resources. They live on floating islands. In the sky. With no access to the greater world below. They have very limited room for production. Even with the small canonical population of Skyloft (we're strongly going to assume that the npcs present in SkSw are not the extent of the sky's population, however, because otherwise they'd be competing with the lines of the european royalty), managing food would be a large and very important undertaking. In order to keep myself going a rant worthy of its own post, I won't be going too into depth on how they would make use of the land for survival. All that is needed to know is that food is very much limited and also, obviously, essential for survival.

When looking at an isolated community like this, food would likely be the most important part of life on Skyloft. If food isn't available, you die. Given that it is so important to have food in this situation, it would be a reasonable assumption to have a community in which everyone works to ensure the production of food. With these circumstances, the private ownership (for profit) of gardens is both unrealistic and extremely unethical. Farmers could charge a premium for food, making themselves extremely wealthy, and everyone else would be forced to pay these rates in order to survive.

Summary of Canonical Issues

Basically, we have this community in which resources are vastly limited, obtaining replacements for lost money is more-or-less out of the question, and the community would likely be all working together for the collective benefit of said community. In this context, having both money and capitalism make very little sense, and capitalism on its own is horribly unethical.

Potential Solutions

The full scope of world-building solutions to the "look at it wrong and it crumbles" situation of Skyloft gets into far more than the economy, and this post particularly was spawned from a conversation about Skyloftian food production. This will be pretty much a summary, but if I get around to making a separate post for the food and resources of Skyloft, I'll link it here and reblog this with a link as well. Anyways.

The conclusion I eventually came to falls into socialism. There's not really a central government on Skyloft, so production would be in the hands of the community at large. They would all be working for the benefit of one another and continued survival of their civilization, and seeing how essential food is, wages wouldn't really be a factor either -- you garden, or you die. This eliminates the need for money, as essential goods can be obtained via working for them and contributing to the community. Outside of essentials, any luxury items could be obtained through the trade of items or skill, which would make sense. Someone who is, for example, a woodcarver, could want silk from a weaver. Instead of paying in money, which wouldn't serve any purpose outside of luxury items, they could instead carve something for the weaver. This continues to promote the learning and use of specialized skillsets while avoiding the money conundrum. Plus, seeing as Skyloft would likely be tightly knit as a community, it fits far nicer than charging your neighbor ridiculous prices.

Also, as a bonus thought, Rupees would probably just be seen as gemstones on Skyloft. They could be used by craftsman or as decoration. I'm at a loss as to how to end this post, because I pretty much summed up the bulk of everything I could without going on wild tangents, so I leave you with this:

[spacebatisluvd]

Summary: Entrapta receives an invitation. 

Content Warning: A neurotypical writer attempting to portray an autistic character (with respect, compassion, and love, but I recognize there’s a chance I’ve fumbled here—just know it’s unintentional), Sea Hawk, Hordak’s poor sense of self-worth, cult-typical abuse, veiled references to masturbation, genital discussion, discussion of sex and sexual relationships.

-

Entrapta looked through the microscope, studying the micro-welds she’d made. Her mouth twisted a little, dissatisfied with the results. She sighed. “Emily, make a note—I need more silver solder. This prototype is a bust.” She tossed it behind her head, hearing it crack against the ground a moment later. One of the little recycling bots would be by to pick it up and take it apart soon enough, making sure nothing went to waste.

She glanced at Emily. “You know, Hordak’s really good with delicate work like this. His hands are so steady, and his welds are so...precise.” She gave a happy little shiver. “I wanted to surprise him with a working prototype, but maybe I should just give him the designs and let him build it. That’s still a surprise, right?”

Emily made a negative-sounding beep. Entrapta winced. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” She stood, stretching. “I just need to make a working prototype—it doesn’t have to be pretty, just functional!” She used her hair to perform a tight backflip, shaking out her limbs as her feet came to rest on the ground once more. “Okay! Let’s do this—Emily, play recording.”

Emily made a happy whirring sound, the top half of her chassis spinning. Then Hordak’s recorded message began to play. Entrapta shut her eyes, listening to him describe the far-off stars that were normally too dim to see with Etheria’s many moons. She knew he’d probably assumed she would only listen to it while gazing up at those stars, but she’d found herself listening over and over again, lulled by the sound of his voice, even if she’d long since memorized his words.

She sat down and went back to work, adjusting her initial design into something more workable. When Hordak returned,  they could refine and revise her work. She just needed to provide proof of concept. S he hoped it would work. She thought it would. The data indicated that it should, but she couldn’t exactly test it. Well. Maybe if she asked Kadroh...but would he guess what it was for? She knew Hordak would prefer to keep this—

“What?” she asked, looking up when Emily insistently butted against her. “What is—?“ Then she realized her communicator had been ringing for quite some time now. “Oh! Answer call!”

Scorpia’s face appeared on-screen, accompanied by Perfuma. “Hey!” she said, waving a claw. “I was getting a little worried there. We called twice, and I didn’t want to bother you—“

“I’m not bothered at all! If I was in the middle of something dangerous, Emily wouldn’t have interrupted me.”

“...dangerous?” Perfuma asked, gripping the front on her shirt more tightly.

“Oh, good!” Scorpia said, while Perfuma frowned. “I just wanted to invite you to the flower festival.”

“Flower festival?”

Perfuma stepped forward, smiling a little. “Yes! Plumeria has an annual flower festival during the week of the summer solstice. It celebrates the transition from a time of renewal and recovery to a time of joy and growth!” Entrapta smiled while Perfuma spoke, waiting for her to finish, but she stopped abruptly. The silence lingered.

Entrapta checked the data pad.

“Hold on, I think there’s a lag. Can you repeat the last part? I missed your explanation.”

“Um.” Scorpia and Perfuma looked at each other.

Clearing her throat, Scorpia said, “It’s uh, basically a big party to celebrate summer. There’s flower crowns and food and music. Perfuma says it’s a lot of fun. I was hoping you, um, might want to come too?”

Entrapta’s hair curled and twisted. “Are a lot of people going to be there?”

“Oh, yes.” Perfuma smiled widely. “People come from all over the region for the festivities. We’re hoping all members of the Princess Alliance—“

“And their partners!” Scorpia added.

“—will be able to attend.”

“Oh.” Her hair knit itself into anxious hands, the psuedo-fingers laced together. “I don’t know....” She looked away, thinking of all the people that would be in attendance. Would it be like the Prom or another formal party? Could she skirt the edges and just observe? (Would that be weird?) On the other hand, they’d specifically called to invite her, and this wasn’t like Princess Prom—they didn’t have to include her at all. Despite her concerns about the crowd, it was hard to pass up what seemed like an obvious overture of friendship. “Can I think about it?”

Scorpia blinked. She looked at Perfuma, scratching the back of her neck. “Um. Sure. Take all the time you need! The party’s in a couple weeks, so you’ve got time.” She smiled. “Hopefully, Mermista will let Hordak take some time off, so he can come too.”

Her hair frizzed. “Hordak’s invited?”

Scorpia nodded. Perfuma looked at Scorpia, who returned her gaze, eyes wide. After a beat of silence, Perfuma said, “Y...yes. If you come, he may...join you. As your guest.”

Entrapta couldn’t help but spin in place, her hair coiling under her to lift her high. She hugged herself, humming giddily. As she dropped back down to the ground, her hair formed a  large cushion to catch her. “Really?!”

Scorpia beamed, and Perfuma exhaled slowly, though she too smiled. “Yes. Really,” Perfuma said. She looked to Scorpia, who offered her the Scorpinoid version of a thumbs up.

“Well, that changes things. I don’t think he’s ever been to something like this before. I’d really like to bring him. He hasn’t had a lot of opportunities to engage in leisure activities, and I’m trying to get him to explore and experiment with activities he might find enjoyable. This seems like an ideal opportunity.”

Perfuma looked at Scorpia again, and Scorpia slung an arm over her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Yep. This would be perfect for that, right Perfuma?”

The other princess smiled, exhaling again. “Right. It’s definitely the perfect opportunity for the former—“

“My former boss!” Scorpia interrupted, “Yep! Perfect—perfect opportunity to see if my former boss can, um, relax.” She blinked, and withdrew her claw from Perfuma’s shoulders to press it against her chin. “Actually, that’s a good question. Can he?”

“In very specific circumstances,” Entrapta said.

Perfuma looked between Scorpia and Entrapta before saying, “As long as he behaves himself.”

Entrapta cocked her head. “I don’t really know what you mean by that; Hordak is very well-mannered.”

Scorpia was already reassuring her, though. “Of course he will! I’m sure we won’t even notice he’s there.”

“Oh, you’ll probably notice him. His height makes him stand out,” Entrapta said. “If that’s going to be a problem, I’m not sure how to fix it.”

“No! Nope—Hordak’s height is not a problem,” Scorpia said very quickly, watching Perfuma. “Well, anyway, I, um, I hope to see both of you soon. Bye!” She hung up before Perfuma could say goodbye. Entrapta didn’t mind. As soon as the communicator cut out, she called Hordak.

His image resolved a moment later. “Hello, Star—“

“Entrapta!”

Hordak’s ears folded back, and he glared at the back of Sea Hawk’s head. “Hi!” she told them both, waving. “I just got a call from Scorpia—“

“Ooh. What did she say?” Sea Hawk asked.

“Well...” She rolled the word around, bouncing a little on her toes. “Plumeria’s going to have a flower festival during the solstice, and we’re both invited to come!”

Sea Hawk’s eyes widened. “You are?”

She nodded, bouncing a little more. “Mmmh-hmm. Scorpia really seems to want us to come. And Perfuma too! Well.” Her hair deflated a little. “I think she was excited? It’s hard to tell.” Perfuma always seemed so nice...until she suddenly wasn’t.

The data pad twirled as Sea Hawk ran off with it. “You have to go—both of you. It will be the perfect setting for romance . What are you you wearing? Wait, don’t tell me right now. I’ll call you later, and we can plan. Don’t worry about Hordak’s wardrobe; I’ll make sure he dresses appropriately.”

She cocked her head. “There’s a dress code? Scorpia didn’t mention that.”

“Oh, yes. A dress code—for love!”

The data pad was snatched from his hands, and Hordak’s face appeared, though he was glaring off-screen at Sea Hawk. “That is enough.” He shook his head, ears back, then he faced the data pad. “My apologies, Starlight. I believe he is being overly optimistic as well as overly involved. Reconstruction will not be complete by the solstice, and I do not believe Mermista will give me to leave to attend—with travel, I would be gone for nearly ten days, and I doubt she would approve of that.”

“What makes you say so?”

“I conquered her country and essentially destroyed Salineas.”

“You think she’s still upset about that?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

His ears twitched. “I will ask, of course.”

“Okay. I mean...” She looked away, running her fingers through her hair. “It’s all right. Maybe next year?”

“Perhaps.”

Off-screen, Sea Hawk yelled, “No! This is unacceptable! I will not stand by and allow such a travesty.”

Hordak looked at him. “You are being dramatic. This is not—“

“A travesty, I say!” The data pad jerked, then the camera lifted high—from the little she could see, Hordak was holding it overhead to keep it out of Sea Hawk’s reach. “How can you stand by and accept this? Are you not a man?”

“I am a clone, and I do not understand why my gender is important to the conversation.”

Sea Hawk made a wordless sound of mourning. “You aren’t willing to fight for your love?”

“There is nothing to fight! The treaty clearly stipulates I must prioritize the restoration of Etheria above my own personal happiness. Considering the destruction I wrought waging a completely senseless war—considering I brought Prime here, to the very doorstep of this world, I think those terms are more than fair! And considering that you yourself fought in both conflicts, I am stunned you are so determined that I break those terms.”

“It’s just ten days!” Sea Hawk said, “Besides, you haven’t taken a day off since you got here and that cannot be healthy.”

Entrapta blinked. “Hordak, is that true?”

As if abruptly remembering she was still there, he turned the data pad so she could see them again, though he was still scrupulously keeping it out of Sea Hawk’s reach. “Well. Yes. I do not require—“

“Hordak! I know you know that taking breaks is important—the Horde soldiers were allowed time off.”

His ears folded back. “Of course they were—Etherians are not very productive if they aren’t permitted unstructured free time periodically. My Force Captains insisted this was true and research seemed to prove them correct. But I am not Etherian. I do not need—“

“That’s ridiculous!” Sea Hawk said, “Everyone needs to take time off.”

“Clones do not. Even when at rest, we were put into stasis pods and our neural networks were used as relay stations for the hivemind.” He cupped a protective hand over the back of his neck, and Entrapta slammed her welding mask down, trying to keep out the thoughts of Prime and what had been done to Hordak and Kadroh and their brethren. Hordak noticed. “It was not that bad—“

“Don’t.” She exhaled slowly, voice shaking. “Don’t minimize what he did.” Through the mask, everything took on a soft teal tone. It made everything feel distant and ethereal, like she was looking at a world encased in glass. The tension in her chest eased, though the pit in her stomach lingered.

“Fine,” Hordak said, his voice soft. “The fact remains—I do not require time off to maintain productivity.”

With her mask on, she could hear her own breathing, steady and strong, and her voice echoed faintly. “Etherians do not regard time off merely as a necessity. It is considered inhumane to force someone to go without for long periods of time.”

“Yes. Because it is a necessity. I understand that—“

“You clearly don’t.”

He shut his eyes and his ears folded back. He exhaled slowly before saying, “I will ask Mermista.”

She lifted her mask a little. “...I just want you to take better care of yourself.”

“I will ask Mermista, but I don’t want you to be disappointed when she says no.”

“If she says no, then I’m coming over there. And we’ll go to the beach. And get ice cream. And maybe go swimming, if the salt water won’t damage your ports.”

His ears twitched, and his features softened. “Though I am uncertain of the swimming, I would otherwise be amenable to that.”

“Okay. Promise?”

His mouth twitched a little. “If it pleases you, then yes; I promise.”

She pushed the welding mask up the rest of the way. “Excellent. I’ll speak to you later, then. Unless there’s something else?”

“Nothing for now. Goodbye, Starlight. We will speak soon.”

Sea Hawk waved. “Bye, Entrapta! Never fear—I will use my masculine wiles to seduce my lady love, and convince her to release your...um—to release Hordak to you!” Hordak shut his eyes, and though it looked like Sea Hawk had more to say, the feed suddenly cut out.

Entrapta smiled to herself and resumed working on the prototype.

-

The next morning, a robot delivered a small package with her breakfast. Seeing that it was from Salineas, she made a high-pitched, happy sound and tore it open. Inside, she was surprised to find several sea shells, along with a note that merely said, “The shells are for Kadroh.” Among the shells, she found a data chip that was surely for her.

With a happy hum, she plucked the chip from the package and set the box aside, attaching the chip to her pad to see what he’d sent. It contained two files. One was her research notes. The other was her procedure proposal for their Intimacy Log. Seeing that, she had to get up, pacing and using her hair to flip and twist as she completed a circuit of her suite of rooms—her excitement simply couldn’t be contained, though she cautioned herself aloud, trying to minimize her expectations. After completing a third circuit, she finally felt settled enough to actually read what he’d sent. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do this!”  She shook out her hands and settled back on the bed, opening her proposal.

She smiled a little, reading his notes. She wished he was here; she would have loved to demonstrate how she would ‘reward him for good behavior’—and to test out the newly revealed sensitive spot behind his ears. In fact, she could demonstrate the former by showing him how much she appreciated his willingness to reveal the latter to her. She hummed again, reading his response to her question about biting. It wasn’t a ‘no’, and she was eager to see what he might mean by a “strong reaction”, though she would wait until he was ready for such a step, of course.

Then she saw the short paragraph he’d written at the end.

‘I do not think it would be wise to extend your study to my genitals at this time. I have limited knowledge of them myself; I’m not even sure if I am capable of penetrative sex, though I understand that is not necessarily a requirement. I know enough to be certain that my genitals differ from all standard Etherian configurations. I would not want to subject you to anything unusual or surprising without forewarning. For this reason, it would likely be best if I were to conduct some private research first, then we will discuss the possibility of mutual study.’

She leapt to her feet, using her hair to guide herself through a midair somersault. She began pacing her rooms again, punctuating her circuit with various acrobatics and occasionally humming to herself when her thoughts grew too loud.  She fumbled for her recorder, talking fast as she said, “Intimacy Log, personal notes, number 12. This is so fascinating! Hordak has revealed that his genitals are not Etherian in nature—which is unsurprising—and that he has limited knowledge of their form or function.” Something unpleasant itched at the back of her mind, but she just started to pace faster, burying those thoughts.

“I cannot begin to speculate on either. I have every reason to believe Hordak is what we would classify as a mammal—the presence of nipples implies his species at one time nursed their young, and he is quite warm, suggesting he does not have to rely on external heat sources to maintain his body temperature—but he is still an alien. These mammalian traits may be evidence of convergent evolution, rather than a common ancestor, though I still believe the bipedal body type suggests that our species are not entirely unrelated. Nonetheless, none of that necessarily implies so-called ‘sexual compatibility’. Hordak already seems to know that penetrative sex is not a necessity for a sexual relationship, but I will also endeavor to reassure him that our genitals do not need to be ‘compatible’ for sex to be satisfying. I should also relay that I am not put off by his confession. If anything, I am excited by the opportunity for discovery!”

She performed another somersault, shaking out her hands as she landed. “This is so exciting!” she hissed under her breath. To the recorder, she added, “He’s said that he would like to experiment on his own so as to avoid surprising me, but I would be very interested in experimenting with him. Query—has Hordak decided to experiment solo primarily out of concern for my comfort or his own? If the former, then he may allow me to at least witness any experiments he performs on himself—though I would welcome a more hands on approach, if he is willing to wait. However, if he is uncomfortable including me because...”

The unpleasant thoughts managed to break through, and she pulled her mask down securely. “While it is possible Hordak wants to experiment on his own in order to sate his curiosity in private—which would be completely understandable—I believe it is more likely that he’s uncomfortable sharing this with me due to shame and prior conditioning from Horde Prime, a suspicion reinforced by his lack of education regarding his own body’s sexual organs.” She flexed her hands, hair coiling around her limbs. “If that is the case, then I am unsure how to proceed. Hordak’s health, safety, and comfort are of primary importance, and I’m worried I’m not well equipped to make sure he isn’t harmed by our experiments. I’ve...never been good with people.” 

She shut off the recorder and cycled through her mask’s filters, trying to find a more soothing way of looking at the world. She settled on infrared, gazing at the smear of colors meant to represent variations in temperature. It was comfortably alien, and pleasing to place her hands on the metal wall and watch the colors change—like painting with her own body heat. She traced patterns on the wall and watched them fade as the transferred heat dissipated.

She took a breath and raised her mask when she felt settled enough to proceed, blinking as she readjusted to her surroundings. Clicking the recorder on, she said, “Hordak has consistently proven himself to be unlike anyone I’ve ever known. He seems to understand and respect my need for clear communication. Thus far, we have been able to prevent the kinds of misunderstandings I’ve had in the past simply by talking to each other. I have to assume I can keep him from coming to harm in the same fashion. When we next speak, I will—“  Her data pad signaled an incoming call. “Oh!” She clicked the recorder off, assuming that was him. “Hi, Hordak—wait. Sea Hawk?”

“Greetings, Princess!”

“Hi! Do you need something?”

“No. Not...not exactly.”

“Are you sure? People don’t usually call me unless they need something.”

“I don’t need anything, I just.” He winced. “I...may have...possibly...slightly overestimated my ability to convince my beloved to allow Hordak time off. And...vastly underestimated her vindictiveness.” His gaze grew watery and distant. “She is as magnificent and unforgiving as the sea.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. At least you tried. I’ll just—“

Sea Hawk held up a hand, shushing her. “Entrapta. Are you in a secure location?”

She glanced around her bedroom. “I suppose so.”

“Good, good. Now, tell me...how far are you willing to go to prove your devotion?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Do you want to take Hordak to Plumeria?”

“Well, yes—“

“How far are you willing to go to get him there?”

“What?”

He moaned, as if in pain. Before she could ask if he was okay, he leaned close to the camera and said, “Listen to me. I have a plan to get both you and Hordak safely and happily to Plumeria. But it may possibly be slightly illegal.” Entrapta cocked her head. “And by ‘slightly’, I mean ‘extremely’. So, how far are you willing to go to prove your affections?”

She snorted. “Sea Hawk, don’t be ridiculous; at least three of my current experiments are technically illegal. Breaking a few laws won’t prove anything. With that said—what’s your plan?”

“Well—wait. Technically illegal?”

She gestured dismissively. “Mystacor isn’t really equipped to oversee scientific studies, but my experiments are technically overseen by their ethics committee. Which is guided by a woefully outdated moral system and staffed by technophobes. I stopped asking them to approve my more interesting studies ages ago.”

“Oh. Well. I’m going to assume that’s not at all nefarious—“

“I guess that would depend on your definition.”

“—and tell you my incredible, masterful plan! First—do you by any chance own any strappy high heels? A low cut dress, perhaps? Preferably in black.”

“What?”

“Never mind! We can continue without, but I feel that ignoring the aesthetic shows a lack of commitment.”

She stared at him. “What?”

-

A/N: As always, I’m extremely grateful for all the comments you guys leave. I read them all, often multiple times. I’m not good about replying, but I am always intensely grateful.Thank you so much. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. ^//^

[xtruss]

With Nearly Half of U.S. Farmworkers Undocumented, Ending Illegal Immigration Could Devastate Economy

— By Meghan Roos and Alex J. Rouhandeh | April 21, 2021 | Newsweek

As heated conversations about U.S. immigration focus on migrants arriving at the U.S.-Mexico border, a quiet scenario plays out on farms across the country—thousands of undocumented workers tending and picking the crops put food on American tables and fill cargo ships that supply the world.

America's reliance on migrant agricultural workers is a secret hiding in plain sight.

In New York's Hudson Valley, a historic apple farm utilizes a legal process for hiring migrant workers—the H-2A Temporary Agricultural Workers program. It enables Minard's Family Farm to legally hire migrants on a seasonal basis, and includes protections for both migrant and domestic workers that can result in fines if violations occur.

Jason Minard, whose family has run the farm since 1906, said he believes in the program despite its up-front costs and the risk of penalties.

"I don't look down on the program, I look at it as an asset," Minard told Newsweek. "It's a cost of doing business. It's an asset because of the bottom-line reality: Without these H-2A workers, these apples would not get picked."

H-2A workers prune Pink Lady apple trees at Minard's Family Farm.

A bill to reform the H-2A program, H.R. 1603, called the Farm Workforce Modernization Act of 2021, passed the House on March 18. It includes a path to citizenship for H-2A workers. Until or unless it is approved by both houses of Congress, agricultural employers are left to decide how best to employ workers for physically-demanding work that typically does not appeal to U.S. workers.

According to a 2018 report by the U.S. Department of Labor, 49% of the U.S. agricultural workforce is undocumented —a significant statistic for a country that along with China and India ranks among the top three agricultural producers in the world.

In 2019, U.S. agriculture contributed about $136.1 billion to the country's gross domestic product (GDP). Agriculture alone makes up about 0.6 % of the country's GDP, but that number rises to about 5.2% when combined with related food industries, according to a 2019 U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) Economic Research Service report.

Agriculture and related food industries are also credited with providing nearly 11% of the country's jobs, according to the USDA's report, an estimated 2.6 million of which involve working directly on American farms.

Minard told Newsweek he realizes there are employers who don't take the same legal steps he does, and said that the complex legal process required, coupled with potential fines employers face for contract violations, may provide an explanation.

Fines for violations can range from $1,700 to $6,000. Fines for layoffs and improperly rejecting U.S. workers can reach $17,000. Violations of housing and transportation agreements can be as high as $59,000. The fines are based on individual workers, and are multiplied by the total number of workers whose contractual rights are deemed to have been violated.

These fees may deter some farms from getting involved with the program, especially when, by comparison, fines for hiring undocumented workers range from just $600 to about $4,000 for first-time offenders.

Muzaffar Chishti, the director of the Migration Policy Institute at New York University School of Law, described the penalties as a "slap on the wrist."

"Hiring unauthorized people has become part of the business model for a lot of employers," Chishti told Newsweek. "The consequences are so minimal that it is worth taking the risk."

From the migrant workers' point of view, U.S. agricultural employment serves as what former President Donald Trump's Ambassador to Mexico Christopher Landau described as a "pull factor." Migrants from Central America comprise a large percentage of those traveling to the U.S. in the hope of starting a new life, and while factors like violence at home and climate-driven weather events can serve as a "push" to seek refuge elsewhere, job opportunities also draw them to the U.S.

Agricultural workers from Bud Farms harvest celery for both American and export consumption on March 26, 2020 in Oxnard, California.

Landau told Newsweek he believes the U.S. should address some of those pull factors before trying to change the push factors in other countries, which he said would likely require a "multi-generational effort."

"I think, ultimately, the United States is making a terrible mistake by thinking that the answer for our country lies in trying to fix other countries," he told Newsweek. "We don't have a great track record in terms of nation-building. It seems to me the answer is much closer to home. I don't see how we can't get our own employers to stop hiring people illegally."

The H-2A program employers like Minard use today has a history dating back to the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952, which created the H-2 temporary visa program for foreign workers, and was refined in the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986, which created the H-2A and H-2B programs for agricultural and nonagricultural workers, respectively.

Before the H-2A program existed, the Bracero program was used widely among agricultural employers between the 1940s and 1960s. The Bracero History Archive estimates that about 4.6 million temporary worker contracts were signed during that time period. But the archive notes the program was riddled with problems rooted in employers' unwillingness to abide by its worker protection rules, which contributed to its demise and eventual replacement with the H-2 program.

Despite the existing legal options, the avenues for attaining these visas remain tight.

The H-2A visa process requires employers to follow a three-step process dictated by U.S. Citizenship & Immigration Services (USCIS). It starts with employers filing a temporary labor certification with the U.S. Department of Labor. Then, they must file an I-129 petition to hire a "nonimmigrant worker" to USCIS. Once completed, the prospective worker then applies for the H-2A visa at a U.S. embassy before journeying to the United States.

Though the steps sound simple, each part contains multiple sub-steps, which can be time-consuming and confusing. Minard's farm has experienced the complexity of the process firsthand.

"It's costly, there're a lot of regulations, a lot of record keeping," Minard told Newsweek. "For your average farmer, it may seem like a lot.

Because jobs requiring H-2A workers must also be offered equally to American workers, employers like Minard need to advertise the job opportunity locally, and must continue to do so until the H-2A workers complete at least half the time on their contract.

Minard says the American workers at his farm generally last only a few days. Nonetheless, he must hire eligible Americans when they apply.

Along with this regulation, Minard says a mandate requiring employers to offer paid hours during 75% of the duration of the H-2A contract, known as the "three-fourths guarantee," presents a logistical risk. On apple farms, for example, a frost might wipe out portions of the crop, calling for increased hours one week and virtually no hours the next. Farms who hire workers through the H-2A program must be equipped to pay their workers through the duration of their contract, even if weather conditions reduce the expected revenue yield from a crop.

"I think a lot of employers say, 'Well, what the heck, why should I bother to comply with the law, if my competitor down the road is hiring illegals and getting away with it?'" former-Ambassador Landau told Newsweek. "This is basically a way to get around a lot of the laws we put in place to protect workers in this country."

Undocumented agricultural workers face multiple forms of exploitation. In some cases, they encounter unsafe, dirty workplace conditions. In other cases, they face high productivity expectations that may result in long days under the sun with few breaks. However, even if the conditions and schedule mirror a law-abiding U.S. workplace, there are further risks.

Employers may tell undocumented workers their wages will be less due to their lack of legal status. Workers may feel compelled to stay silent after facing harassment by their supervisor. Workers who are qualified for full-time staff positions may be contracted for freelance or temporary work, devoid of employee protections and insurance options, due to their status.

Agricultural workers from Bud Farms harvest celery for both American and export consumption on March 26, 2020 in Oxnard, California. These agricultural workers are mostly migrant Spanish-speakers. They earn just above minimum wage, and in a good six-day week working 10 hours a day, they can earn around $1100.

"Are (those examples) as bad an exploitation as a sweatshop worker being chained to the assembly line?" Chishti said to Newsweek. "No, but it's exploitation made only by the status of the worker. All these things have been happening on the side while Congress has been vacillating on immigration reform."

The Farm Worker Modernization Act could provide a key step toward change in the agricultural sector. However, Chishti said for immigration policies to realize their full potential, they must coincide with comprehensive reform. He said in order for the country to have a successful immigration system, new avenues toward legal immigration, mandatory E-Verify, and overhauls to the H-2A program must be implemented together.

One element of the proposed legislation suggests expanding and requiring use of E-Verify, which cross-references an employee's I-9 form with records available to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security and the Social Security Administration to confirm employment eligibility. The program was created in the mid-1990s, and has evolved to enable U.S. employers—about 967,000 of whom use it—to check a worker's employment eligibility online within seconds.

"E-Verify to me is the lynchpin of an effective immigration reform proposal," Chishti told Newsweek.

Chishti warns that if the nation cannot implement these reforms together, both employers and immigrants will find ways around the missing components. Without a reformed H-2A program or alternate legal method for employment, people will continue to illegally cross the border in search of work.

They may bring fake documents to prove their qualification for the job, and these qualifications may be approved without a mandatory, improved employment verification system. And without a clear path toward citizenship, those workers who do make it through are likely to face exploitation and miss out on the chance to and fully participate in American society.

"What I see as our choice is: Do we want as a country to have the people who live and work here be here legally, or illegally?" Landau told Newsweek. "I don't think that should be a hard choice."

[texanredrose]

Friction

It started out as a hypothetical.

Wouldn’t it be funny if?

The discussion she’d had with her sister didn’t seem to go anywhere, at first. Just the two venting to one another about yet another formal event their father forced them into and another evening spent pretending they didn’t hate him with every fiber of their being. They played the game well enough, kept him from suspecting too much, but always kept in mind their precarious positions. If either fell into bad favor, they’d lose any chance of wrestling control of the company away from the man. 

He announced his retirement just after christening the newest branch to be added to the juggernaut SDC assets- and shortly before that day they’d spent at a local cafe in downtown Vale, bemoaning the news- while inviting every shareholder to the lavish soiree that would serve to ring in the new year and signal his departure from the company as one of his children took over. Leave it to Jacques Schnee to turn a worldwide celebration into an ego trip.

But then, he banked too hard on others’ perception of him, that his status translated to concrete fact. Father decided to allow his replacement to be chosen by the board of directors, giving them the options of his three children. He always had his favorite, of course, and spent the next several months introducing Whitley officially to every member of the board.

Weiss saw her chance and nudged her sister. Winter saw the same and they set to work. While their brother spent the time between the announcement and the vote attending parties and schmoozing, the sisters put in overtime. They plied their talents, sometimes working in concert and sometimes not, generating what the men of their family pointedly ignored: results. When it came time for the voting, nepotism waged a war against greed. Greed won out and Weiss, surprisingly, won the vote, as she’d managed to attain a higher profit margin- though she’d specifically chosen projects that would result in just that, while Winter focused on hard-to-solve problems.

Thankfully, there was no ill will between them; they’d accomplished their mutual goal. Replacing Father as head of the company would give either one of them the power they desperately needed to affect real change. Now, came the celebration.

Their conversation from before came rushing back and Weiss voiced it. The idea. The plan. The sweet promise of a revenge over two decades in the making. Winter, of course, agreed instantly.

Weiss put an anonymous ad in the local paper. It was simple and straight to the point, if slightly vague.

Date needed. Must be able to backtalk racists, xenophobes, and sexists. Must be willing to wage VERBAL war with morons for an indefinite period of time. Must be rude and have horrible table manners. Will be handsomely compensated for scandalizing rich people. Faunus only.

The first volley of responses were ridiculous. Mostly from people who fell into the categories of racist, xenophobic, or sexist, as they’d felt personally attacked by her ad. She ignored them and continued sifting through the responses until she happened upon one that caught her eye.

One could consider intentionally ignoring someone to be rude. Under that logic, if I could bring a book to continue my reading periodically throughout the night, I’d be interested in taking the job. -Blake

Upon reading it, Weiss couldn’t help but smirk as she sent a reply.

Which book?

She received a response rather quickly.

The Fallen Faunus. -Blake

It took her a moment to recall the book specifically but when she did, she instantly accepted and arranged to meet Blake in person to discuss the particular details. No doubt meeting with a member of the Schnee family would put the entirety of her ad to the test and, based on that, she could enact the rest of her plan. 

And it would be glorious. --- When the night of the party came, Weiss almost couldn’t contain herself. Her sister had gone the opposite route- perusing the advertisements of others until she found a suitable date for the event. Again, their approaches differed; Winter’s date embodied loud and abrasive, with an outfit far below the standards of the event itself and colorful language that resulted in many clutched pearls.

In contrast, the person who answered Weiss’ ad was... almost regal, in a way. Quiet, reserved, but- as she’d already found out- more than capable of delivering a verbal lashing that would sting just as much as any physical blow. Their first meeting, Blake had assumed the ad referred to that occasion, seeing as Weiss fit the supposed criteria- rich, from a family that had a well documented (and rather recent) history of racism, xenophobia, and sexism, and rather easily riled up to boot- and immediately began laying into her with an impressive diatribe. 

Weiss couldn’t help but be ecstatic as she pulled a book from her purse- her own well worn copy of The Fallen Faunus, with a bookmark halfway through the chapter detailing how humans drove Faunus from their native lands- and immediately began explaining what she hoped to achieve.

Much to her relief, Blake Belladonna accepted her offer- her interest piqued- and something secretive gleaming in amber eyes as she sat down across from Weiss to discuss the details.

“Are you ready?” She turned her head, trying her best to gauge what thoughts might be drifting across the Faunus’ mind, but her date for the night had an impressive poker face.

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied, feline ears twitching ever so slightly. They both wore gowns fit for a gala, catching the lights overhead and sparkling. Weiss’ had white and blue sequins while Blake’s had black and a dark purple that matched her eye shadow. “Though- just one more time- who are the off limit ones?”

“My sister, Winter, and her date.”

“And we’ve been dating...”

“For two years.”

“And you’re sure you want to go with that?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” She arched a bow, listening as the dull roar in the ballroom they approached grew more distinct. They walked along one of the seldom used halls to avoid any other potential partygoer prior to the ‘big reveal’ and stopped just short of making their entrance.

“Couples who have been together for that long typically... have a different set of boundaries.”

“Meaning?”

“Casual contact, invading each other’s space, knowing how the other likes their drinks- things like that.” As if to make her point, Blake took a small step closer, and though they still weren’t touching, exactly, Weiss could feel the shift between ‘casual distance between acquaintances’ and this.

“Ah. I see.” After taking a moment to evaluate herself, she took a step closer of her own, their arms brushing together as she slipped her hand into the Faunus’. “I believe this would be a bit more believable then, yes?”

Again, she caught a glimpse of that secretive gleam as Blake smirked. “Yeah.” --- The night proceeded much better than she could’ve imagined. Blake’s razor sharp wit resulted in some truly memorable quotes throughout the night. Between her very existence causing a mild panic to roll through half the attendees and her business acumen winning over the other half- apparently, she had some formal education in business management, though she opted not to follow it through- Weiss couldn’t be more pleased, and the way Winter’s date completely offset the Faunus by being brash and jingling with every step thanks to a multitude of chains attached to her pants for seemingly no reason- she had to admit, Father was perhaps stronger than she expected. Although he looked on the verge of an apoplectic fit, he somehow managed to retain his composure throughout the night, though he certainly lost the spotlight as soon as his daughters entered.

It felt almost natural to be on Blake’s arm for hours on end, mingling with people, sitting and eating, talking quietly, and even dancing to the music. At some point, Weiss forgot about everyone else and the display itself and started... actually enjoying herself. Especially when they decided they’d had enough of dealing with people and pulled out the Faunus’ copy of the book and began reading together, seats pressed close, Weiss’ head resting on Blake’s shoulder as she read aloud.

Distantly, she became aware of the growing concern regarding the storm and the lack of possibility that anyone would be leaving the mansion that night. It registered as a concern but one she could worry about later, posing a question to Blake regarding a detail that had always escaped her understanding. Thankfully, the Faunus could supply the answer, and they were deep into a discussion of their own making when she felt someone come stand by her elbow and await her attention- which she wasn’t keen on removing from her date for the evening.

“Ahem.” 

Begrudgingly, she turned her head to find her father standing there, a vein bulging from his forehead. “Yes, Father?”

“It would appear that no one will be able to leave due to the storm,” he tersely said, the words escaping his throat as if someone was strangling him. “Your... guest... will need to use one of the rooms in the south wing.”

“No,” she replied immediately and without thinking. “My girlfriend will stay with me in my room.”

“Your room has only one bed.”

Just as quick, Blake responded. “That’s not a concern. It won’t be the first time we’ve shared.”

As much as she would’ve enjoyed watching the minor stroke that comment caused, Weiss... found herself distracted by... quite a few thoughts.

“And, on that note, I think it’s time we retire, dear.”

“Of course.” The Faunus slipped the bookmark into place and accepted the hand Weiss offered to help her up, the two of them leaving the ballroom and Father behind without a look back. They were halfway down the hall, walking side-by-side and hand-in-hand, before she continued. “So, was that the performance you were hoping for?”

“Ah. Yes, quite.” She fumbled the moment, reminded all too suddenly that it was a display, an act- a performance, as Blake said, with a specific goal that she’d somehow forgotten all about. “I apologize for the inconvenience, though. This... wasn’t part of our original deal.”

“It wasn’t but... I pride myself on being flexible in many respects.” A moment’s pause. “Perhaps I went too far with that last comment, though. About sharing a bed.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied, noticing neither of them had moved apart as they continued towards her room. A request flashed through her mind and, though some part of her thought voicing it would gain her nothing, somehow the words slipped out anyway. “However, I feel a touch guilty.”

“For what? I agreed to put up with all this.”

“While true, I never asked you to lie, and you didn’t up until the bed sharing comment- at least, to my knowledge.”

Blake’s ears twitched but her expression remained inscrutable. “It seems like we will be sharing a bed soon, though, so it won’t be a lie much longer.”

“I have the feeling you... intended to imply more than simply sharing a bed.”

Slowly, they came to a halt, just as the lights above them sizzled out as a shuddering echoed from somewhere else- likely the generators failing, plunging them into the dark. Moonlight from the nearby windows allowed her to see when her eyes adjusted, finding that Blake’s caught every stray bit of moonlight and reflected them, amber glowing in the dark. Faintly, she could see the way the Faunus’ lips curled into a small smirk.

“You know, you could just ask me to sleep with you.”

“I-” A finger came up, pressing against her lips to cut her off.

“Before we go any further on this ‘I’m just trying to make you honest’ line, I feel like I should remind you that you hired me to pretend I’m your girlfriend of two years.” That gleam reappeared, somehow distinct from the glowing quality of her eyes in the darkness. “So, unless you’re interested in making that true, too, you don’t have much of an argument.”

Weiss had- somehow- forgotten that part.

Blake withdrew her finger and waited, black hair blending into the dark shadows thrown against the wall and still wearing that curious little smile with the gleam in her eyes.

Only after a moment of weighing her options did she attempt a response. “And what if I did intend on making the whole thing true?”

The Faunus’ eyes positively lit up. “In that case, our anniversary will be easy to remember.” A light tug. “Now... your room?”

Weiss smiled, her heart thundering in her chest. Whether or not she’d follow through with the... implied meaning remained to be seen but the prospect that she might actually have a relationship with Blake, frankly, made her look forward to the coming year more than her life’s ambition of taking over the company.

And she couldn’t wait to see what else the future had in store. --- So, I had every intention for this to include at least one sloppy makeout and maybe heavy doses of UST. Then... this happened and I don’t know how I got from point A to point B but here we are.

[processproductionsophielindsay]

TRACEY EMIN

Tracey Emin, Everyone I Have Ever Slept With (1995)

https://bilderfahrzeuge.hypotheses.org/3437

Tracey Emin, Why I Never Became a Dancer (1995)

https://www.artforum.com/video/tracey-emin-why-i-never-became-a-dancer-1995-49262

Tracey Emin, My Bed, (1999)

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

Tracey Emin, I've Got It All (2000)

https://www.theartstory.org/artist/emin-tracey/artworks/#pnt_4

Tracey Emin, To Meet My Past (2002)

https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-5709375

Childhood

Tracey Emin was born in Surrey, in England. She grew up in Margate, on the coast of Kent, with her twin brother Paul. She lived with her mother in a successful seaside hotel, where she claims she was treated "like a princess." Her Turkish father lived with them for half of the week, spending the other half with his wife and other children. After a few years, Emin's father left and took his money with him, leaving Emin's mother bankrupt.

The family was then forced to live in poverty; Emin later recalled that they had two meters, one for gas and one for electricity, but they could never afford to have them both on at the same time. When she was 13, Emin was raped; something that she later claimed, "happened to a lot of girls."

Early Training and Work

Emin left Margate to study fashion at the Medway College of Design between 1980 and 1982. She met the avant-garde personality Billy Childish, who was also a student at the college until he was expelled. Her relationship with the colourful writer, their work at Childish's small press, and her study of printing in Maidstone Art College, are all what Emin considers important artistic experiences in her maturing as an artist.

In 1987, Emin's relationship with Childish ended and she moved to London. She studied for an MA in painting at the Royal College of Art, which she received in 1989. However, after leaving the college she went through an emotionally traumatic period in which she had two abortions, and this experience caused her to destroy all the work she had made at the Royal College.

While she was still coming to terms with her own artistic practice, she influenced a reactive movement called Stuckism, which sought to promote figurative painting rather than the sort of conceptual art that Emin was focused on at the time. It was founded in 1999 by Emin's ex-boyfriend Billy Childish. The movement's name was inspired by Emin, when she had told Childish his paintings were "Stuck! Stuck! Stuck!"

In the years after breaking up with Childish, once Emin rose into fame, he became very vocal about Emin's art practice. He opposed the art business and in turn the popularity of her work and said, "Taking cultural things and turning them into mere commerce is very dangerous. Professional football has ruined football and professional art has ruined art. A decadence and superficiality have set in and sometimes I wonder if maybe we have got what we deserve. I think it is odd that the Brit artists cite the influence of someone like Duchamp who was involved in anti-art and who was taking the piss out of the pompous pretentious art establishment. The biggest irony is that now they are that pretentious art establishment themselves, yet they still put forward this idea that they are undermining something." Childish's own Stuckism movement is more about rejecting the frenzy of conceptual art and sought to champion the work of figurative painters. The Stuckism movement is still quite active and is famous for protesting the Turner Prize every year to show their continued opposition. The Stuckism art movement is an action against artists such as Emin, and yet her artistic presence is the basis for their fundamentals, for their movement would not exist without Emin. She inspired the movement not only through her criticism of Childish's work, but also through her artwork and the public acceptance of her work. They may be in opposition to her but require her brand of art fame to continue their plight.

Mature Period

Upon moving to London, Emin become friendly with many of the other artists who would later be called the Young British Artists, which included Sarah Lucas and Damien Hirst. The group began to exhibit together in 1988, although Emin did not join ranks with them artistically until the early 1990s. The gallerist Charles Saatchi was a supporter and collector of the artists from the beginning of their careers and is often given credit for "discovering" them. The name of the group was from the title of an exhibition at Saatchi's gallery in March 1992 titled "Young British Artists I" but it was artist and writer Michael Corris who referred to the group of artists with that title in an ArtForum article in May 1992. Often all artists of that generation from Britain are called YBAs as it now holds a historic reference.

In 1993, Emin joined with Sarah Lucas to open a shop called "The Shop" in Bethnal Green, which was in the East End of London. They sold work by both artists, including anything from t-shirts to ash trays, to paper mache sex toys to dresses, adding a previously little-seen commercialism to their artistic practices, which would become a defining feature of Young British Art.

Emin had her first solo exhibition at London's White Cube in the same year. Named My Major Retrospective, Emin drew together a collection of personal items and photographs, creating a part-installation part-archive with a strongly autobiographical slant. This element of autobiography is key to her ongoing practice.

In the middle of the 1990s, Emin began a relationship with curator and art world figure Carl Freedman. Freedman was friendly with Damien Hirst and had worked with him on some of his important early shows that introduced Young British Art to the public. In 1994 the couple travelled in the US together, where Emin paid her way by doing readings. They also spent time in Whitstable on the Kent coast together, often using a beach hut that Emin purchased with her friend Sarah Lucas. She has spoken about how much she enjoyed owning property for the first time saying, "I was completely broke, and it was really brilliant, having your own property by the sea." In 1999 she later turned the hut into an artwork by bringing the structure from the beachfront into the Saatchi Gallery and calling the work, The Last Thing I Said to You is Don't Leave Me Here (1999).

In 1995, Freedman curated a show called "Minky Manky" for which he encouraged Emin to make artwork larger and less ephemeral. The result was her well-known work Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995 (1995), which was a tent embroidered with the names of everyone with whom she had shared a bed, sexual or otherwise. This artistic touch through words is a common theme throughout her work. Emin uses her own handwriting, as seen in her neon messages, embroidered words, monoprints and hand-cut letters for her applique designs. Misspellings and grammar mistakes are present in her artworks, as if to add humiliations and failures to her authenticity.

Emin first came to the attention of the wider British public when she appeared on a television show about the Turner Prize in 1997, where she was belligerent and drunk, swearing on live television among a panel of academics. She finished her appearance by saying, "I'm leaving now, I wanna be with my friends, I wanna be with my mum. I'm gonna phone her, and she's going to be embarrassed about this conversation, this is live, and I don't care. I don't give a fuck about it." She ended with, "you people aren't relating to me now, you've lost me" before taking off her lapel mic while still talking and walking off in the middle of the live show.

Two years after her drunken television appearance, Emin was nominated for the Turner Prize for her controversial work My Bed (1998). Only one British artist of the four nominated can win the prize, and Emin lost the Prize that year to Steve McQueen. The surrounding press coverage dubbed her the "bad girl of British art". At the time, many voiced opinions about the types of stains and impurities contained in her artwork, even the lowest English tabloids weighed in. Although she never won the Turner Prize (yet), it was the catalyst for her fame.

Her work evolved during this period and she developed a more specific style. Her choice to use needlework and applique techniques place her work within a tradition of feminist discourse within modern and contemporary art. These techniques were considered domestic handicrafts and were typically considered low in the hierarchy of art, and a part of normalized feminine practice - a concept that Feminist art has waged war against with significant success. Emin herself has no fear of being associated with "low art" or "women's work", for she embraces her own sexuality and femininity; and most certainly places importance upon it.

Current Practice

Emin's personal life and public appearances have become less sensational since the late 1990s. Her work is in a variety of important collections, and many celebrities have become collectors of her art, including Elton John and George Michael. She has also become friends with many famous people from the music and fashion worlds, including Ronnie Wood of the Rolling Stones, Vivian Westwood, Kate Moss, and Madonna. Madonna has described Emin as "intelligent and wounded and not afraid to expose herself."

In 2007, Emin was made a Royal Academician at London's Royal Academy of the Arts, marking her ascent into the upper echelons of British art society and her acceptance by the establishment. She was later also made a professor of drawing at the institution. In 2013, she was included on a list of the 100 most powerful women in the country by BBC Radio 4, and in the same year she was awarded a CBE for her services to the arts.

For the 52nd Venice Biennale in 2007 Emin was the second female British artist to be nominated to represent the British Pavilion (the first was Rachel Whiteread in 1997). She exhibited a work titled, Borrowed Light which featured many of her early drawings alongside her recent works. The show received mixed critique, and she was criticized for being limited in her art practice.

In 2015, Emin took the unusual decision to "get married" to a rock in her garden in France. She later stated that "somewhere on a hill facing the sea, there is a very beautiful ancient stone, and it's not going anywhere," describing her rock-husband as "an anchor, something I can identify with." She symbolically chose to wear her father's funeral shroud for the short and unconventional ceremony. This is to be understood as a universal expression of love, and an expression of the soul or the invisible self. Emin has announced numerous times that she no longer has sex and is not invested in physical conquest, but rather, seeks to focus on love and her work.

The Legacy of Tracey Emin

Emin's work as part of the Young British Artists movement placed her firmly within a key legacy that was to affect the development of art in Britain for years to come. Similarly, she holds an international stage, for her work tackles universal ideas through her relationship to human behaviour and gender. Her seminal work My Bed helped redefine what a liberated woman can be. Emin’s work influenced a generation of female artists who explore womanhood and feminism through a self-confessional tone. These include artists such as Marie Jacotey-Voyatzis, whose print works explore her emotional life as a woman and include Emin-like misspellings, and Laure Prouvost, a Turner Prize winner who works with self-revelatory video as well as textiles and found objects to create striking tableaux. Emin has evaded aligning her ideology with a larger political cause, and has stated, "I'm not happy being a feminist. It should all be over by now."

Her work can be understood as belonging to the ethos of third-wave feminism; a belief that a woman can define her sexuality on her own terms. The lack of symbology in Emin's work forces audiences to focus on the real and often taboo aspects of femininity through modern women's issues, such as menstruation, abortion, promiscuity, and the shame associated with these topics. She has carved her own place and continues to produce artwork with her signature strong, yet vulnerable edge.

Emin continues to be active in her art practice, and the basis of her work remains tied to physical identity through corporeal and spiritual anguish. She is an active participant in her artwork, and through this she lends an openness and vulnerability to her audience through universal emotion. She rejects discussion of the feminist authority in her work, and yet she engages directly with modern female identity. Art allows the violation of social norms, and in turn a way for viewers to enter sharing the human social condition - often in a controlled environment.

[twisted-nox-sidus]

(I'm bad with clear skies. I want to hide my ugliness from the light. But things lurk in the shadows cast by that light... And I'm a little interested in finding out more about them.) - Strix, narrating.

Based off nighttime and an owl, so she's not necessarily "twisted" from anything/anyone. She's actually designed around an otome MC struggling with the concept of love (because why not).

(Note: This post is super long since I put a lot of depth into this OC. There’s a lot of angst surrounding her than what’s given at face value. I even left out some details that are considered a surprise that reveals more about Strix. Some bits of her profile are rather messy and all over the place. I hope you guys love her as much as I do!)

Name: Strix Noctowl

Real Name: Secret

Nickname(s): Transfer Student, Problem Child, Newbie, etc.

Age: 16

DOB: 3/3 (Pisces)

Gender: Female

Height: 5'4.5" (164 cm)

Likes: Fluffy things, birds (particularly owls), music boxes

Dislikes: Gossip, thunder, her eyes

Hobbies: Reading, singing, piano playing

Race: Human

Affiliation: Night Raven College

Year: First

Relative(s): Unnamed mother (deceased), unnamed father (defected), unnamed grandparents, Sidney (great-grandfather)

Dorm: Unallied

Personality

A down-to-earth but curious young lady who never runs short of her sharp-tongue. She goes by Strix Noctowl in order to separately identify herself as the girl known specifically in Twisted Wonderland. Strix tends to be pessimistic and talk about pop cultural references no one in Twisted Wonderland would understand but nonetheless is determined to return home. She is more of a nocturnal person.

She is known to be “disobedient” and rebellious by the NRC. Many students admire her for her fearless, outspoken character but also keep at a distance to avoid getting roped in potential punishments with her.

Strix is not a virtuous person and can play petty if the situation compels her. She can be violent and won't hesitate to resort to a little punch to get her point across. Questions how most of the cast don't know the meaning "no" on a daily basis.

Underneath her shell, Strix is a touch-starved, naive, and utterly vulnerable girl. The absence of her parents led her to believe she is not loved and relies on her dear grandfather for almost anything she has trouble with. She is also shy about asking to fulfill her selfish desires and sometimes hides it too well that it becomes painfully evident to others.

Strix has a child-like impulse to touch things that pique her curiosity, such as trying to touch Leona's ears or Malleus' horns. The Savanaclaw dormitory is a prime victim of her "harassments".

Strix has a bad habit of falling asleep on a constant basis to the point she can sleep with her eyes open and stay still from what she was doing (ig. holding a stack of papers). This also happens arbitrarily at random places and time, such as sleeping mid-conversation. It's an impressive feat, as remarked by many of the guys. The habit was stemmed from the inner part of Strix that likes to dream (despite being a realist) and being a sound sleeper. She says this is the only time she can truly escape the cruel reality. It's a technique Strix may or may not be proud of.

About

Strix is a rare case at Night Raven College. Initially it appeared she had no powers whatsoever and was not remarkable in magic classes. Pretty disastrous, actually. She received a lot of hostility from the students who believe she doesn't deserve to be a worthy student at the prestigious magic academy, the very field she sucks at. Soon, Strix awakens her powers (explained in Abilities section) and works to control it while attending the college.

Due to Strix's insistence, she identifies herself as an "unallied" student and is taking residence at the run-down dormitory. She had complained a lot about each and every dorm and considers the NRC dorm a better place to reside in. She didn't really mind being the sole student in the rundown dorm since she was accustomed to solitude. She won't spend much time other than sleeping there anyways.

In order to repay Crowley's generosity and protection, she volunteered to work as his aid, such as helping clean up and sorting the books and documents piling up his workload. In addition, Strix works part-time across each of the seven dorms to earn herself money instead of relying on Crowley all the time. This also helps keep her busy and familiarize herself with the dorms and its students (since she has to cooperate with the uncooperative chaotic student body). (FYI, her payment is based on her performance which will be reported by the dorm leaders to determine the wage.)

Abilities

Strix has the ability to summon colorful, quirky, and adorable Dream Eater Spirits (please think of the Kingdom Hearts series because that's exactly what they will look like. I’m not capable of creating them myself so please use them as reference) that obey her heed. She surprisingly has good control of her magic (probably because she’s a dreamer and is adept with her dream magic as a result) and works on honing her abilities so she doesn't subconsciously summon the fun yet pesky creatures and start a zoo attraction. If a colorful creature is running rampant on campus, you know who is responsible for it. A common Dream Eater Spirit she summons is a curious owl dubbed Peepsta Hoo (shown below).

History

Strix was raised by her great grandfather Sidney since she was a child, whom she trusts and loves the most in her family. Sidney is a half-blind antique shop owner; a man who was born on the very day and year Disney was founded (10/16/1923). He practically grew up with Disney and shares his love with his descendants including Strix, who also adores the magic of Disney as a result. He is at least 96 years old, yet still somehow has spunk to him.

Strix's mother died from childbirth. Her father couldn't handle the sight of Strix who was slowly looking more like his dead wife every day and abandoned her to start a new life with another woman, essentially cutting ties with Strix when she was only five years old. In an outburst he said he hated Strix's eyes that were said to be devoid of light and emotion ever since she was an infant before leaving the house with luggage in hand. Strix dislikes her birthday since that marked the day her mother died and never encourages her own birthday parties or gifts.

Strix grew up resenting her eyes that were seen as a curse. Her grandparents even agreed with her former father that her mother gave birth to a "heartless, cursed monster". It was said that for the first five years Strix was born into the world, she barely expressed emotion outside of a blank slate, though Strix herself claims to not remember that. Her grandparents on her mother's side still resented her for her mother's death while the grandparents on her father's side don't want to have anything to do with her. Only Sidney was willing to raise her.

Strix is touch-starved due to the absence of her parents. As a child she had wished for them to pat her head, hug her, and hold their hands; the simple intimate things expected for family to do. She never knew her mother, and her father was aloof towards her and even treated her like the Plague by avoiding contact with her. What she had wished was for their affection, or rather the affection of a mother and/or father (which will be fulfilled by everyone’s bird dad Crowley in the future).

The only one who could meet her demands was Sidney who happily gives her attention and affection. He was the only one she could confide to and seek help.

Strix grew up believing she only needed to depend on the love of her great grandfather. She was extremely timid and nervous as a child who didn't understand how to befriend kids her age and harbored jealousy towards them who lived with happy families. This jealousy is what primarily made her keep a distance from them. As a result, she didn't make any friends, and never had up to when she was warped to Twisted Wonderland.

Strix once had a crush on a boy (dubbed "Caelum" for narrative purposes) who smiled brightly like the sun and filled her with warm giddiness. However, that was when she was six years old and the boy in high school, practically a decade year gap between them. It was more of adoration than romantic attraction, but she never met anyone else who was as nice and warm as him other than Sidney.

Caelum was her neighbor who babysat her whenever Sidney had to run errands. He played with her and spoiled her with her needs; they were like brother and sister. It was until he had graduated and moved away to dorm in a faraway college that they never saw each other again until seven years when a letter of invitation was sent for his wedding.

Strix's emotions conflicted over how she should express her romantic feelings among the platonic ones up to the day of his wedding. She froze up and fled out of fear before she could answer him. The moon was blue yet cold that night, and she discovered something like a mirror in the garden pond. She was suddenly shoved from behind and fell into the mirror. This leads to the current situation and the start of a twisted fairytale where happy endings are not as they seem.

Trivia

- Strix is a name used in various mythologies to refer to creatures who bring forth misfortune. They usually appear in the form of birds, mainly owls. "Strix" is also a genus of owls in the typical owl family (Strigidae).

- Noct in Noctowl means "night". Yes the owl is snuck in there, go figure.

- Strix's birthday falls on "I Want You to Be Happy", also known as Girl's Day.

- Strix once took care of a baby snowy owl as a child but had to say her farewell when it was released into the wild. Ever since, she likes to learn more about the beautiful feathered creatures.

- Strix's preferred type of person is someone who would wholeheartedly accept her touch-starved needs. Of course, she would do the same vice versa.

- Strix's most treasured item is the wristwatch that also plays like a music box. She never goes out without it. She also carries a gold heart lock (the one seen in her default outfit) on her out of impulse and never bothered to understand why. She says she feels safe bringing it with her.

- Strix has 2.0 eyesight. She can pinpoint a person from far away and recognize them.

- If you rub Strix's head in a particular way by running your fingers from behind her ears and massaging her scalp, she'll fall asleep. Apparently it calms her nerves and loosens the tension built up. She melts like goo on the spot and subconsciously clings to the person, purring in contentment like a completely different person (like an affectionate house cat). It's effective for silencing her, having her sleep, or just fluster her altogether. The first in the NRC to discover this embarrassing weak spot was...? That's a story for another time, though.

- Strix learned to play the piano for ten years since she was six years old, the same time when she first met Caelum. Caelum was the one who got her into the piano after expressing his love for the instrument and classical music. Initially Strix played to earn recognition from him, but over time, especially after he left, she grew fond of the piano (also because the sound works similarly to a music box) and honed her expertise in the field. She won piano competitions up to now and has a goal of becoming a pianist in her career. Her piano skills are highly praised by her peers and sought after by Azul, but even then she feels insecure. Ever since the wedding, her hands freeze up and hover over the keys as she automatically recalls the daunting memory of Caelum and her bittersweet emotions. The crowd's peer pressure wasn't helping either. (And yes, she can play the piano while asleep. What a pro.)

- Strix's love for Disney makes her prone to humming and singing to songs including but not limited to Disney as she works (of course when she knows she's alone). Sometimes she can get carried away with her singing and wind up lost in her own world as she does and would take a while to notice another presence in the room. When she gets caught, she dies on the inside and gets extremely embarrassed to the point of acting tough with a tomato red face. Apparently she is terrible at being self-aware of her surroundings when she gets into it. Then again, this is the same girl who falls asleep in the middle of corridors without realizing she was asleep.

- On that note, her singing voice is actually really nice, almost trained like a pro. Azul officially never lets her out of his sights now that she has full potential to be a full-time staff at Mostro Lounge. Her singing and piano skills are much needed at Mostro Lounge, however Strix would only willingly do the latter. She would die before singing in public. That's a big no no.

- Strix is said to have back (and neck) problems. Probably from the arbitrary times she sleeps in uncomfortable positions, or simply the stress from Night Raven College and the students' antics overall. Someone once touched her shoulder and mistook her for a statue. It's surprising how her appearance hides the stress and drowsiness well. She looks nothing like your average sluggish person.

- Strix likes antagonistic characters in storytelling. She tends to like the villains more than the main characters because she admires the good, the bad, and the ugly of their characters unbound by the laws that prevent them from their free spirits. They're flawed, but she finds relief in knowing they are not completely black like many would depict.

- Strix had a fear of brooms as a child after she watched Fantasia. She grew out of it soon, but even to this day she still looks back on the rather horrific scene with a pale face while holding the broom during flight class, much to Ashton’s confusion.

[skinzest]

Cost to see a dermatologist

The amount Does it Cost to See a Dermatologist by Skinzest.com

Your skin is your body's first line of guard and merits great consideration. Numerous individuals are hesitant to visit a dermatologist, in any event, when they have a bizarre rash or unexpected breakout, due to the charges they may anticipate. A few patients likewise don't have a medical care plan that covers dermatology visits.

So what amount does it cost to visit a dermatologist with no medical coverage? By and large, an underlying meeting with a dermatologist will cost somewhere near $150. Factors, for example, the area of the training will likewise influence the cost of dermatology visits also. A few dermatologists do offer organised instalment plans or other instalment alternatives, which help make their charges more moderate.

Variables that Affect the Price of Dermatology Appointments

There are three regular factors that influence the cost of a dermatology arrangement, which you ought to consider in the event that you are not covered by a wellbeing plan. Your geographic area, the fortes of the dermatologist, and your own condition will impact the expense.

Area: Dermatologists consider the zone they practice in while deciding the amount they should charge: the typical cost for basic items, monetary conditions, their opposition, and the neighbourhood quiet base. On the off chance that a zone has wild rivalry among battling dermatologists, at that point you can anticipate that most doctors should charge less for basic administrations and systems. In any case, in case you're living in a costly zone like New York City where leasing office space and paying wages costs more, at that point it's protected to accept you ought to anticipate higher charges.

Strengths: You can likewise expect that a dermatologist will charge more on the off chance that they have some expertise in an uncommon skin condition or an exceptional careful method. Since they may get a few references month to month, they wouldn't have to stress over making their costs serious against dermatologists who aren't zeroing in on a specialty strength inside the field of dermatology.

Your Condition: Some skin conditions will be more costly to treat than others, particularly if it's an uncommon condition. Different conditions, for example, skin inflammation or psoriasis may take a few meetings to treat, which implies a patient would have to designate a spending plan for these extra subsequent meet-ups.

Tips for Choosing a Dermatologist on a Careful spending plan

Accepting appropriate medical care ought to be open for everybody, regardless of whether you're not protected. Here are a few hints on the best way to pick a dermatologist on a restricted spending plan:

Do some exploration: Visit all the dermatologists in your general vicinity and get some information about their costs. A few centers offer limits or will work with you on an instalment program, so it's essential to be forthright with them about your spending plan.

Consider ease or local area wellbeing suppliers: These wellbeing suppliers are intended to serve patients with no protection, so you can investigate them too. The American Academy of Dermatology has a rundown of ease and free centers on their site.

Arrange an instalment plan: Some dermatologists acknowledge sliding scale instalments, portions, and even clinical credit programs – so converse with the bookkeeping illustrative of your center to perceive how you can spread out instalments.

Get the Care you Need at Walk-in Dermatology

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