#trading settlement

[alwaysbewoke]

Jean-Baptiste Pointe DuSable was born in Saint-Domingue, Haiti (French colony) during the Haitian Revolution. At some point he settled in the part of North America that is now known as the city of Chicago and was described in historical documents as "a handsome negro" He married a Native American woman, Kitiwaha, and they had two children. In 1779, during the American Revolutionary War, he was arrested by the British on suspicion of being an American Patriot sympathizer. In the early 1780s he worked for the British lieutenant-governor of Michilimackinac on an estate at what is now the city of St. Clair, Michigan north of Detroit. In the late 1700's, Jean-Baptiste was the first person to establish an extensive and prosperous trading settlement in what would become the city of Chicago. Historic documents confirm that his property was right at the mouth of the Chicago River. Many people, however, believe that John Kinzie (a white trader) and his family were the first to settle in the area that is now known as Chicago, and it is true that the Kinzie family were Chicago's first "permanent" European settlers. But the truth is that the Kinzie family purchased their property from a French trader who had purchased it from Jean-Baptiste. He died in August 1818, and because he was a Black man, many people tried to white wash the story of Chicago's founding. But in 1912, after the Great Migration, a plaque commemorating Jean-Baptiste appeared in downtown Chicago on the site of his former home. Later in 1913, a white historian named Dr. Milo Milton Quaife also recognized Jean-Baptiste as the founder of Chicago. And as the years went by, more and more Black notables such as Carter G. Woodson and Langston Hughes began to include Jean-Baptiste in their writings as "the brownskin pioneer who founded the Windy City." In 2009, a bronze bust of Jean-Baptiste was designed and placed in Pioneer Square in Chicago along the Magnificent Mile. There is also a popular museum in Chicago named after him called the DuSable Museum of African American History.

x

[nthflower]

Fallout 4 is a game about making cute little towns from trash and completing missions earning money to buy more trash and scavengering everything you found. Also collecting people to put into your towns. Or helping you collect trash.

[spotaus]

Posting this wip incase I don't get around to coloring it anytime soon, but here's my take on my silly Shape-shifting Monster oc Pretender in a universe where the Shape-shifting is too op and so I had to nerf him! (It's my own au, I do what I want- It's great for Worldbuilding-)

[racefortheironthrone]

What are your thoughts on government intervention to end labor disputes in general? On one hand, forced settlements almost always favour management, and if management knows that the government will intervene, they have an incentive to stall negotiations and run out the clock, so to speak. On the other hand, some shutdowns will have far reaching negative effects on society as a whole, particularly if the strike involves the public service or things like railroads or ports.

In terms of my take on government intervention to end labor disputes, I'm fully in favor of procedural hypocrisy (or, as a philosophy PhD might put it, consequentialism) because the only question that really matters is whose side the government is intervening on behalf of. (This is where I'm going to make a massive plug on behalf of my colleague Erik Loomis' book A History of America in Ten Strikes, and in particular recommend his chapters on the Anthracite Coal Strike of 1902 and the Flint Sit-Down Strike of 1937.)

As a labor historian, I would say that as a rule, the state almost always intervenes in labor disputes at some level, whether it's the local cops and local government, the state militia, the U.S Army, or the courts. For most of labor history, the state has intervened on behalf of capital, and was broadly succesful in using its police power to crush strikes and keep the trade union movement economically marginal.

Where the union movement has been most successful is not when the state is neutral (because capital versus labor is not historically a fair fight between opponents of equal weight), but when the state intevenes on behalf of labor. So yeah, government intervention in labor disputes is awesome - when it's Governor Frank Murphy sending in the National Guard to keep the cops and the strikebreakers out of the plants in the Flint Strike, or the "Madden Board" NLRB enforcing the Wagner Act through the work of the Economic Division and the Review Division, or the National War Labor Board ordering Little Steel to recognize SWOC and agree to the union's terms.

Specifically on the issue of forced settlements, whether they're a good thing or a bad thing depends entirely on whose terms the settlement is made, which in turn depends on how labor law is written and enforced (and staffed). The whole reason why the Taft-Hartley Act of 1947 mandates that "neither party shall be under any duty to accept, in whole or in part, any proposal of settlement made by the [Federal Mediation] Service" is because one of capital's biggest grievances against the "Madden Board" NLRB was that the Board's orders and settlement proposals had systematically favored workers between 1935-1947.

I think the numbers tell the tale - when the state was at its most "neutral" at the turn of the 20th century, union density hit a ceiling of 10% of the workforce. The only time that the labor movement broke through that ceiling was during WWI and then the New Deal, when the state shifted to supporting unions. And then when the state began to shift back in the direction of capital and labor law increasingly favored management, the union movement began to shrink.

This is why I always tell my students that the state is like a great stationary engine, and the only thing that changes is where that engine's power is being sent to. If you refuse to engage in electoral politics and only rely on direct action, the engine doesn't go away - it just gets harnessed by the other side and the power is used against you.

[agentfascinateur]

Blood diamonds funding Israelis' genocide in Gaza

A report by the Kimberley Process—a global initiative to prevent blood diamonds from entering the market—revealed that six of the ten largest diamond-producing countries are in Africa, where many regions are still mired in conflicts over diamond-rich territories. Over the past decades, Israel strategically expanded its presence in Africa through new investments and has profited significantly from Africa’s diamond mines. Trading with military equipment, Israeli companies linked to the military allegedly gained access to diamonds and other minerals...

#old Rothschildian trick

#blood imperialism

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Splinter Cell au today! Last Splinter Cell was father-son bonding time, so today Jak gets to spend time with his mom

Phobos was a light sleeper even in the best of times. Here in this rebel base, during the second week of her and Damas rotating between Haven and Spargus with their children, even the slightest noise was enough to wake her. She sat up in her cot and let her eyes adjust to the half-light of the Babak settlement's barracks. What had roused her?

She let her eyes roam the long wooden hut, taking stock of each of her fellow Spargans and the members of Brutter's tribe. Leave it to a son of Damas to reforge the alliance between the Babak and the House of Mar by accident. Damas had been insufferable for an entire day when he found out. But Phobos found she couldn't be too irritated at him; the way Jak and his fluffy friend brightened when they heard him bragging about them was enough to make that stupid little smirk bearable. They walked a little taller any time she or Damas complimented them, Phobos had noticed. It was nice to see Jak opening up.

Thoughts of her newfound son drew her gaze to his cot, two beds over. With how restless he'd proven to be, Phobos half expected the cot to be empty. But it wasn't.

Jak sat hunched in the center of the cot with his knees pulled to his chest. Even in the gloom, it was apparent that something wasn't right. The fingers that gripped his knees were tipped with curved, black, talons. His skin had faded from bronze to an almost reflective pearl.

Oh.

Phobos had heard the reports of Jak's "Hunter" shape before, but she had never witnessed it in person. She took in the curved horns rising from his curls, and it struck her that the boy resembled nothing so much as the dragonowls that nested in the cacti in Strider Range. All he was missing were the feathers at this point. Even the flickers of violet sparks dancing across Jak's horns didn't diminish the fact that, in the context of desert life,  the Hunter form was a little endearing.

Rising from her cot, Phobos shook out her tunic and made a show of stretching. From what she'd heard, startling Jak when he was in a battle-shift didn't end well. Stark black eyes zeroed in on her in an instant, tracking her movement. Phobos smiled at him and approached his bed slowly.

"Hey, little owl" she whispered, "What's got you up so late?"

His ears flicked up, then back -- a warning that he did not want to be touched, Phobos guessed. She settled on the very end of the cot and kept her hands where he could see them. Had he had a nightmare? From the things Tess mentioned now and then, Phobos knew the boy had more reasons for nightmares than most people twice his age. They may have been just acquaintances so far, but it rankled to know a young boy had suffered so horribly with no one to stand up for him.

"Are you alright, owlet?" Phobos frowned gently and tilted her head. "Has something disturbed you?"

Surprise softened Jak’s face. He cocked his head and mirrored Phobos's frown.

"You're not afraid?" asked clawed hands.

Phobos clicked her tongue, almost scoldingly.

"Why should I be? I am as dangerous as you are, owlet. And neither of us are as dangerous as the sea."

Jak furrowed his brow and drew his knees in closer.

"...doesn't feel good," he finally admitted. "Too much dark eco, can't let it out right now."

"Ah." Phobos sighed and shifted a little closer. "You're oversaturated? Yeah? I saw that happen to your father once when an ammunition crate broke."

It was getting easier to call Damas this boy's father. Easier to think of Jak as her own.

"It was a different kind of eco, sure, but it looked like it sucked either way."

If he had been Mar -- a strange statement, considering he had been Mar in another world, another life -- Phobos would have rubbed his back and hummed him to sleep again. But Mar was a toddler, still dependent on his adults for comfort. And Jak was just a few years shy of being old enough for the Arena trials! Most teenagers his age found such coddling embarrassing; Phobos could admit that she had been one such teenager once upon a time, cringing at her own mother's public affection.

But would Jak be the same?

He was so much older than their Mar, and yet sometimes she could see her little boy peering out from behind those bright eyes. He was starved for affection, but conditioned to distrust most touch. Unbearably lonely, but afraid of rejection.

Phobos bit her lip, then held out her hand. "Come on, Jak. Let's go outside. We'll get that eco spent so you can go back to sleep, alright?"

Jak winced and looked up. Fangs dug into his lip as he frowned.

"Can't. Might need it for battle."

"There will be more eco in battle," Phobos said. She stood and kept her hand extended.

"Come on, baby. I got you. I'll watch your back, okay?"

It took another five seconds of gentle cajoling before Jak uncurled himself and slid off the cot. He didn't take her hand -- he usually didn't -- but when Phobos looked back, he had the end of her sash in one hand, twisting it around his claws like he was afraid he'd get lost if he let go. He let himself be shepherded along the catwalks connecting the Babak village to the mine shafts. The humming of the elevator seemed to vibrate in his bones, through his horns, unbearably loud.

It was better to wake up in the stifling heat of the caverns, better to be surrounded by snoring, than to find himself in the harsh cold of the Baron’s laboratories. Better to be soaked with sweat on a creaky cot than to shiver while listening to the screams of other test subjects. But even here, even from the grave, Errol still held sway over his nightmares. That was what had gathered the eco into battle-readiness in his body, looking for threats that did not exist. Jak was a haunted man.

The cool night air washed over them both, and Jak shivered. It ended in a sneeze, and the woman beside him smiled softly.

She nodded to the cliffs above the cave network.

"Sig said he saw you scale a building in this shape, fast as a lizard. I bet you're even faster with real handholds."

She stepped back and squinted as if searching for something.

"I'll bet," she said slowly, "I'll bet you there's a couple hotfoot lizards up there, actually. You can eat those, you know. They don't taste that great, but they help your body regulate heat better for a while."

She shrugged.

"Why don't you see if you can catch a few, and I'll show you how to cook them in the morning."

Jak's sharklike eyes studied the cliffs, absorbing even the smallest pinprick of light. He grinned slowly.

"Eat them raw?"

Phobos made a face. "Blegh! You can, but you might regret it later."

"I might not."

"Oy!" Phobos shook her head and laughed quietly. "You sound like Damas when he was young!"

She wasn't sure if the subsequent darker hue of the boy's skin was a blush, or if the observation had made him lose a little dark eco.

Jak bent his knees slightly, and then with a rush of air he leaped; suddenly airborne, six feet directly up. One hand caught the face of the cliff, and soon he was scaling up the rocks at a dizzying rate. Despite herself, Phobos felt her jaw drop. She had never seen anyone but a Lurker make a jump like that unaided! Would Mar be able to do that one day? Or was this an ability only Jak had, learned from the Dark Oracle that favored him?

"Look at you!" She laughed in astonishment and clapped a hand to her forehead. "I oughta put you on the rigging in my fishing boat!"

Jak reappeared after a noisy minute or two with dark spots on one cheek that looked suspiciously like blood.

"Found the lizards," he signed down to her.

Phobos raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat them?"

"No....yes. One." Then he reached back and almost sheepishly raised the battered carcass of a Glub.

"Ohhhh." Phobos squinted up through the darkness. "You want any help up there? Or do you just want to hunt until the eco runs out?"

She knew the answer before Jak had even set the Glub down to sign again.

The moment she'd said "hunt", his eyes had narrowed and his ears flicked up.

Dark eco wasn't just the element of the ocean. It was the element of the hunter, the carnivore, and the tempest. The chase was in its very nature, and right now that nature was rushing through Jak's veins at breakneck speed.

Jak bared his fangs in what was either a show of aggression to Glubs, or a very unsettling smile. Then he dropped out of sight, and Phobos guessed that he was probably shimmying along the ground to look for lizards.

He would probably be up there for a little while. Phobos strolled along the small strip of beach, looking for palm fronds to weave into a basket. She somewhat doubted that Jak would remember to actually bring her any lizards, but she liked working with her hands nonetheless. Without really thinking about it, she hummed quietly, keeping a rhythm with her hands. It was a lively tune, a folk song so old that no one in Spargus really remembered where it had come from. In the language of the people who had once lived in the ruined coastal settlements, the lyrics were something to do with a wily cacomiztli asking a cockatoo to a Fiesta with her. She praised the bird's plumage and grace, and he, flattered, agreed to go. Naturally, the song ended with the cacomiztli having a very nice party meal.

A bit morbid, perhaps, but it had a fine, rollicking melody, and easy to remember rhymes -- even for those who couldn't speak the Coastwatcher dialect. And it reminded children not to trust a flatterer.

A shuffling of feet on the sand paused Phobos's humming, and she glanced up. Jak crouched less than two feet from her, watching with a bemused expression. How was he so quiet?!

His horns had receded considerably, now no more than little nubs poking out of his curls. He'd gotten some color back, too.

"Oye, owlet, did you bring me any lizards?" Phobos asked.

Sheepishly, he held up two lizard tails. Evidently, he had forgotten that the creatures could detach their tails and flee. By the mess on his hands, Phobos guessed he'd spent more time hunting Glubs. She laughed and patted the sand next to her.

"Better luck next time, eh? Here- go get yourself a frond. We're making baskets until you're ready to go back to sleep."

The dark eco continued to fade as Jak struggled to weave with claws. What little hadn't been expended on the small carnivores up the cliff was rapidly being reabsorbed into his bloodstream. When the dark form dropped entirely, Phobos almost didn't notice at first. Jak was as quiet as before, sitting still and watching her weave. She continued to hum until a raspy voice interrupted her.

"Did...Dax...teach you...that?"

Phobos glanced up and noticed Jak wince and massage his throat. She clicked her tongue sympathetically.

"Regretting eating that lizard raw, huh? Too bad we didn't bring our canteens so you could wash that taste out."

"It...was bad." Jak made a face.

With a chuckle, Phobos scooted closer. "Alright owlet, let me see what you've got."

She looked at the sad, lopsided basket, and took hold of Jak's hands to guide him.

"Here: over, under. Over, under. Do that all the way around until you have an alternating pattern on each stem."

Jak furrowed his brows and did his best to follow her movements.

"You didn't answer my question," he croaked.

Ugh. That taste was going to sit in his throat for hours.

"Which one, baby?" Phobos asked, reaching over to flick a coil of hair out of his face.

Baby.

Nobody had ever called him baby before. Well, not sincerely, anyway. Jinx and his guys did sometimes, but they called everyone nicknames like that, because they were weird.

They didn't have the same warmth in their voices, and they definitely didn't apply affectionate nicknames to his dark form!

"The song. Daxter's favorite when we were little. Did he teach you?"

Phobos leaned back. "It's been around that long? Huh! Didn't think the Coastwatcher people went as far as Dead Town."

Jak shrugged. "Daxter's not from Sandover either. He showed up in a boat a year before I did. Said a hurricane washed his village away and he was trapped in the boat."

Jak paused as something occurred to him.

"Wait. How far is your island from Misty Island?"

"Misty Island?"

"Where everyone says the Nest is," Jak clarified.

With how much dark eco had been there when he was a kid, he wasn't surprised that the metalheads had chosen Misty Island to nest.

"About two days on a propeller boat," Phobos said, rubbing her chin, "Closer to two hours by air."

The math lined up surprisingly well, and Jak began to wonder if perhaps his best friend had his origins on the same island he had allegedly been born on. One more thing tying them together; Daxter would be so excited!

"You telling me your buddy in the Titan Suit is a Coastwatcher?" Phobos asked with interest.

"Um...maybe? Have to ask."

Phobos whistled low. "When we go home, we'll have to keep the monks from snatching him. They're obsessed with history and archeological discovery. You tell them a Coastwatcher ancestor is still living and they'll lose their minds."

Jak laughed, almost silently. "He'd probably like that, though. It's rough being the last survivor."

Phobos wrapped an arm around his shoulders and, distracted as he was, Jak simply leaned into her. Phobos stilled, unwilling to jeopardize this moment. She smiled and set her basket aside to brush a hand over her son's hair.

"Well. Neither of you are alone now," she murmured. "And I can promise you, we're not going anywhere."

Was it her imagination, or did Jak lean into her side a little further?

They sat quietly for a moment, watching the waves roll in and out. Then, barely audible over the hiss of the surf, Jak whispered,

"Good."

[sas-afras]

okay actually i’m not done yet, one of the things i appreciate about fo3 is the sense of genuine desperation u get throughout the game, especially in terms of how insanely hard it is to get caps? and how it has actual impact on the player & their decisions/morality???

like. a perfect example is when you’re trying to recruit charon, the price to buy his contract is Insanely high and you could get a significant amount of supplies from the amount of money u spend on him. but he’s also a super useful companion, especially for the mutant-heavy quests that happen around the Mall (god knows i never would have been able to finish three dogs first quest without a companion)

but azrukhal also offers u the option of killing greta (a rival bartender) for the contract. and like… theres no real consequences to taking him up on that, mechanic wise. her wife is sad about it, but that’s it. versus the probably Hours of grinding to find enough caps or loot to be able to afford the flat price. the easiest possible option is to do the fucked up evil thing, and you gotta weigh the options on whether or not it’s worth it to you!

like, it feels like there’s real weight to making a selfish/evil decision, versus just doing it to roleplay. its something you have to actually think about!!!!! it’s so sick!!! genuinely it’s one of my favorite quests in fo3, and why charon is my fave companion lol

i wish the rest of the game had similar writing going on, that feeling of actually having to weigh your morals against Survival (or hours of work for the player lol). it truly feels like at this point in fallout games the Quest Decisions™️ you make are just set dressing, and the way you can so easily find any & all resources you could possibly need flattens out a lot of the characters who are supposed to have gray morality. bcos a lot of the villains are villains because they needed to survive!

like, why would anyone bother to steal when it’s so easy to find food just wandering around the commonwealth? why would anyone bother raiding settlements when people just leave valuable loot lying around in open containers everywhere? like, your logic brain can understand that life is hard in this universe and people need to do what they have to to survive, but it’s such a different thing to experience the scarcity for yourself and know you probably would have done the same thing in their shoes. it makes for a much deeper impact.

(and before anyone says it, i know just Having Less Caps floating around is definitely achievable with mods, what i’m saying is that i wish that the game had been built with this concept in mind in the first place lol)

[tanumaskoipond]

i truly do have so much more fun with world building than anything else. trying to get stuff together for the oc blog. lol.

[sw5w]

This is Too Close

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:47:03

[ruvviks]

🔶, 🖤, and 🤔 for tiberius!!

oc asks for tiberius!

🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?

tiberius doesn't have a lot of medical expertise despite stella, his sister, being a nurse. she would've tried to teach them some things pre-war but they've forgotten most of it since they never paid enough attention :( that's something he really really regrets now because 1) medical knowledge comes in super handy in the commonwealth and 2) he should've appreciated stella more when she was still alive and he's now just constantly beating himself up for having been such a horrible brother

so yeah if you get injured and tiberius is the only one there to help, best he can do is stick a stimpak in your ass (which is more than what the game lets you do for glory so i guess that's a win)

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

tiberius has never killed anyone pre-war, or broken their trust. he HAS had his own trust broken though, since he's going through a breakup when the bombs fall with his girlfriend of three years who's been cheating on him for like, two of those years. so that's not fun

post-war however, the wasteland gives him no other choice than to kill people before they kill him :( most of it would just be trigger-happy gunners, and forces sent by the institute or brotherhood of steel, but it would still get to him a lot more than he'd like to admit. the only person he doesn't feel bad about killing is kellogg, since the guy killed his sister

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

answered here!

[dysperdis]

I think I figured out what engine I want to use for my next game!

(I just did one of the "make your first game" tutorials in godot & wow it's so much easier to wrap my head around than unity)

[aries-wants-anarchy]

I know I’ve played fallout 4 for years and just now messing with and nuka world. I knew nothing about it before. when I learned about what is going on and what you can do. Let me tell you how my play through changed and did a 180 it’s so funny to me. I keep thinking about it because my brother has expressed his disappointment in me many times but it’s too good to turn back on.

[snaileer]

New Idea: Mermaids

I think it’s high time we as a society come together and realize….

Paraplegics should be given mermaid tails and that is the highest truth of accessibility.

They (most) still have use of their hips. That’s all you really need bro.

And if it’s not powerful enough just on kinetic movement, add some mechanics so a movement of the hip fully swishes the tail.

Why we be doing boring ass wheelchairs… tails guys. It’s not like y’all using the legs… so just why keep them as /legs/.

(All said with respect and not as like people with disabilities, born or caused, are less than or need to be fixed)

[crqstalite]

the sleeping dragons quest makes me unreasonably sad

[dndsettingsinfo]

The Deep Spire (Underdark Trading Post) by Milby's Maps

[agentfascinateur]

69 per cent of Israel’s arms acquisitions are sourced from US firms, with 30 per cent coming from Germany and 0.9 per cent from Italy.

- SIPRI