#with training it's all skilled labor that pays well

[tech-issues-apologies]

The thing with all of this is that it is the natural result of the systems we are embedded in. People will tend towards meeting their own needs within the perceived and real limits of their circumstances, and the system will try to maximize profit while minimizing cost, often my displacing or delaying that cost or degrading the product or service.

I don't even mean this in capitalist/economic terms when I say this. With almost all care fields and care, ajacent fields have masive labor shorteges. Hell, a lot of chritical fields in general are short on labor relative to the demands. Although all these jobs definitely don't pay well enough to pull in workers, it goes beyond that. Even with competitive pay, the number of qualified individuals is just not there to adequately fill demand. Even if everyone should afford it there is just not enough bandwidth in the system to acomidate the need.

We let the barriers to training get so large that even people who would work in these positions under otherwise ideal circumstances can not get the training or credentials to do them. Due to *gestures to all capitalism and society*, we are making these jobs and nightmare to work in with a lack of material or labor resources. This is leading to the double wamy of retention and recruitment issues. On top of this, a lot of fields do not pay well enough, especially with the cost of credentials, and they are increasingly made to do busy work invented to reduce the chance insurance will pay that takes them away from care.

On top of all this, a lot of these jobs are the kind of jobs that pull from a smaller talent pool than most jobs. Care jobs often need people who have a combination of aptitude, inclination, and temperment to be done well. Then, with society(capitalism) increasing demand more than is nesisary in the pursuit of unsustainable growth and value extraction and control, it all combines to form a perfect storm of capitalism selling a new shinier solution to a problem it had a hand in creating. Telling people not to use ai without addressing the cause is like telling people not to self medicate on moral grounds and then doing nothing to help or adress the things that keep them in pain. If you are not actually invested in them or their outcomes in a tangible way, why would they let you tell them how to live?

There are plenty of people on the internet shouting commands demands and guilt at strangers on the internet, and i think that we can all agree that there are some pretty bad takes online.

I have said it before and I will say it again. Like most things, if you want to stop a behavior, especially one fueled by a precieved or real need, your best bet is to materials change that person's circumstances or provide better options(I like the atempts I saw above even if i think they fall short of what is needed).

Luckily, the bandaid and the permanent cure are almost the same thing. Society needs to change. Part of that involves undermining and replacing a society in which transactionalism as the only way of living is increasingly encouraged and even enforced by the threat of violence or deprivation towards one of voluntary reciprocity and mutual aid. All of us need to push for more equity and care, and part of that also involves helping and lifting each other up. Of proving the validity and workability of an alternative paradime by living prefigurative living. Not only does the current system break people down and make it harder for them to resist, but Intangibility and Lack of Examples of alternatives makes it harder for people to maintain the morale and determination to push for future tech anger and make it in the moment.

A lot of this is going to require learning and using existing skills to help each other. To build those networks of mutual strength. Of putting in the labor and time to conect, build meaningfull relationships and trust, and meet needs they and you can't alone. Some of this is just being there for people. Spending time and helping with normal underrated skills. And the more and longer you do it, the more you build the strength and size of your network. To make those networks work without you. We do this all the time. What needs to change is that we need to strengthen these weekend skills and make them a greater part of how we meet and organize people and get things done.

guys. please

[qqueenofhades]

I am FULLY ONBOARD the Harris/Waltz train, tho before this i was leaning towards Mark Kelly (AZ is a swing state! He's an ASTRONAUT!) If you want or have time, no pressure, but any thoughts on what makes Waltz a better pick?

I like Mark Kelly too, and since he's married to Gabby Giffords (having run for public office after she got shot and could no longer do so) he would have been an amazing pick in terms of supporting the first female POTUS. But he is a less charismatic public speaker than Walz (for whatever that's worth, but politics is a mess of Aesthetics and Vibes that matter as much and/or more than actual facts) and more moderate/conservative. He's been a great senator and picking him would defuse some of the BORDER IMMIGRATION BLAH BLAH!!! scaremongering that Republicans love to run on, but it would also leave open the possibility of losing a special election and other dangers with the Democratic senate that we really need to minimize. So Walz is a better choice for that alone, but also:

He really has serious progressive credentials as governor, even if he was a fairly mainstream Democrat (who flipped a rural red House district in Minnesota that Democrats have not been able to win again after he left) during his 12 years in the House. This is an INCOMPLETE LIST of what he was able to do in two years with a one-seat Democratic majority in Minnesota:

A Climate Action Plan that included:

Investing in energy infrastructure

100% carbon-free electricity by 2040 goal

Transition off of fossil fuels and onto clean energy resources

Building more electric vehicle charging stations

Providing funding to help workers acquire new skills through apprenticeship programs in clean energy fields

Direct state funding for transit

Money for rail

Tax credit for e-bikes

Permitting form to fast-track clean energy projects

And that was in addition to:

Codified abortion access in Minnesota

Guaranteed paid sick time and paid family and medical leave

Funded replacing ALL LEAD PIPES IN THE STATE

Free school breakfasts and lunches for all

Made public college free

Stronger labor protections

Drivers’ Licenses for All

Voting Rights Act to reverse recent court rulings that make voting harder, including restored voting rights to convicted felons

Banning medical debt from credit bureaus

The "Taylor Swift Bill" requiring all ticket "junk fees" be shown up front

Banning most "junk fees"

No book bans

Protection for tipped workers

Banned non-competes

Legalized recreational cannabis

Gun control, including increased penalties for straw purchases of firearms, expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years

Made MN a Trans Refuge State, and required health plans to cover “medically necessary gender-affirming care.”

Pay increase for Uber and Lyft drivers

Elimination of the so-called “gay panic defense”

A ban on “doxxing” election workers

A prohibition on “swatting” elected officials

In March, during the height of the Gaza/uncommitted primary protests against Biden, Walz said that young people should be listened to and they had a right to be speaking up and the situation in Gaza was horrible and intolerable, without directly slamming Biden or getting involved in the issue in a way to draw negative headlines. Regardless of what you think about any of it, that is a very deft way to handle it and pairs well with Kamala's better responsiveness on the Gaza issue overall. That was a big part of the reason why Gen Z/younger voters were very excited about Walz despite him being an "old" (actually the same age as Kamala but he has joked that teaching high school for 20 years will do that to a guy) white guy. If half the battle in politics is making the right pick to excite your core voters and reach out to new ones, then Harris nailed it. As I have said in earlier posts, there was just too much energy with young voters FINALLY checking in when Harris became the candidate, to risk introducing a big ideological split with Shapiro.

Aside from that: the most insufferable Smart White-Bro Political Pundits (TM) are big mad about Walz, many Never Trumper Republicans thought they were entitled to a "moderate" in exchange for oh-so-generously lending us their vote against Trump and not run the risk that we might end up with someone *gasp* progressive, and the regular MAGA Republicans are hysterical, which means they're terrified. It's also incredibly hard to paint Literal Midwestern Stereotype Dad (football coach, social studies high school teacher, military veteran, etc) as THE EVIL END OF AMERICA in the way they desperately want to do, though the fact that they're trying shows that they've got literally nothing. The fact that Kamala picked Walz against the PREVAILING WISDOM!!! that she had to take Shapiro (for whatever reason that might have been) is also a good sign, because by far the most genuine and extensive enthusiasm that I have seen from Democratic voters, especially those feeling burned out or disillusioned or angry with specific policy choices of the current administration, was for Walz. Having everyone excited for the pick beforehand, effectively using the "weird" line, and rallying behind the guy, only for her to actually go for him, is inspiring. It makes people feel like they're being heard and the Democrats have decided to win by being progressive, and not just endlessly Catering To The (Imaginary) Middle as they have always been told to do (and often done). That alone is MASSIVE.

Walz is tremendously funny, personable, has Democrats from AOC to Joe Manchin praising it (again, shocking), was right out the gate supporting Kamala, has already been majorly successful on TV, was by far the most progressive-on-policy picks of the VP finalists, is incredibly, hilariously wholesome and small-town Midwestern (he's the JD Vance that they wish JD Vance was), and is already sending ActBlue gangbusters with donations again. And when you're getting this kind of response on the Cursed Bird Hellsite, just:

Just. I don't know what's happening either. But let's enjoy it, and then work hard, because we gotta fucking do this and for possibly the first time this entire year, I really think we might. Heck yeah.

[bekolxeram]

Human remains as props — the Billy Boils of old horror movies

In this week's Halloween themed 9-1-1 episode, Buck rented a mummy replica from a Hollywood prop shop which turned out to be a real human body. This set off a series of misfortunate events for the firefighter, that might or might not be the result of a curse. Once again, the writers have surpassed themselves in terms of over-the-top silliness that has become the trademark of our beloved weewoo show. There's no way someone can accidentally get their hands on a real corpse... right?

Oh, you'll be surprised. You too may have seen a real cadaver or two on the silver screen.

The Economics of prop dead bodies

Using real human remains as movie props was such a common practice back in the days that prop masters working on the 1979 Vietnam war epic Apocalypse Now were totally unfazed when body broker (later revealed to be a grave robber) brought several dead bodies to the set. The plan to use those bodies as props for maximum authenticity was only scrapped after a producer ruled against it.

Source: The Independent

Interestingly, films that ended up actually featuring real bodies were the low-budget, fake looking ones. In the age before 3D printing, creating a set of realistic human skeleton was a very labor intensive process. That combining with the cost of the material used, the price of a plastic replica was in fact more expensive than a real skeleton.

A special effect make-up artist who worked on the 1982 Spielberg classic Poltergeist explained the film's decision to use actual human remains on a podcast:

Source: Snopes

Eerily, two young actresses who worked on the Poltergeist trilogy passed away unexpectedly shortly afterwards, leading to the urban legend of a curse on set.

The story of Elmer J. McCurdy

In late 1976, the production crew of the TV show The Six Million Dollar Man was filming scenes at the Pike, a then amusement zone in Long Beach, California. While shooting a scene at a thrill ride, a member of the prop department spotted a wax mannequin covered in fluorescent paint dangling from a noose. Worrying it would get in the way of the camera, they gave the dummy's arm a tug in an attempt to remove it, but instead of the whole thing coming off, only the arm broke off, exposing a human bone and muscle tissues.

A penny from 1924 and ticket stubs to the "Museum of Crime" were found in the body's mouth. Investigators contacted the museum owner's son, who identified the body as Elmer McCurdy, an outlaw killed in 1911 in the middle of a shootout with police following a botched train robbery in Oklahoma.

Unlike the fictional McCurdy in 8x05, the real McCurdy was a simple petty criminal looking for some extra cash to support his alcohol habit. Utilizing the skills he learned from the army, his robbery method of choice was explosives, but he was very terrible at it.

Source: KCRW

His body was subsequently taken to a funeral home, where he laid unclaimed for the rest of his stay. The undertaker embalmed the body, shaved his face, dressed him in a suit, but refused bury him until someone come forward to claim it and pay for the service. As time went by, the owner of the funeral home decided to dress the body as a gunslinging cowboy and allow visitors to see "the Bandit Who Wouldn't Give Up" for the price of a nickel, in order to fund his burial.

5 years later, two men claiming to be McCurdy's long lost brothers came forward to take custody of the body for a proper burial. End of the story, right? Well, of course they were travelling carnival owners lying to acquire the body for their shows. In 1922, the body was sold to yet another travelling exhibit called "Museum of Crime", which featured wax figures of other famous outlaws in history.

For the next 3 decades, McCurdy's body travelled all around the country as an attraction. He even had a brief film career. He was once used to promote the 1933 film Narcotic!, then he had a small cameo in the 1967 B-movie She Freak. In 1968, the Museum of Crime owner's son decided to sell his father's exhibits to the Hollywood Wax Museum. There, McCurdy's body started getting mixed up with other wax figure, and his origin story long forgotten.

Following over half a century of voyage, McCurdy eventually became fully mummified. The wax museum believed that the body was too gruesome and unlifelike to be showcased anymore, so he was finally sold to The Pike, an amusement zone in Long Beach, where he began his new life as a thrill ride decoration dummy.

After the shocking revelation by TV crew in 1976, McCurdy was transported back to Oklahoma, where he took his last breath 66 years ago, and finally laid to rest after a graveside service attended by 300 people. (Under 2 feet of concrete, to prevent grave robbing)

Source: Atlas Obscura

[racefortheironthrone]

how do you feel about gen ed requirements in college majors?

Oooh, that's a good question, because I feel genuinely conflicted about it.

Cards on the table, I should say that I picked my undergraduate university precisely because it had a broad core curriculum of literature, philosophy, art, music, and science (and because it didn't require math) for all majors.

As a freshman, I had very wide-ranging interests and wasn't sure what I wanted to do for my major when I started, even though I started taking as many history electives as possible starting in my second semester. But even though I didn't need much time to "find myself," I still feel that the "well-rounded" education I received was good for my intellectual development, my ability to participate in society, and so forth.

And then there's the fact that my grad school career was entirely dependent on history classes being used as gatekeeping requirements for poli sci, communications, and sociology majors, which generated a steady demand for TA labor. So I do recognize that gen ed requirements are absolutely essential to the economics of many disciplines, and universities would have to rethink how they fund departments if they got rid of gen ed requirements altogether.

That being said, I do recognize that these kinds of requirements can also be really bad for students who are quite different from myself. As generations of students forced to take Physics for Poets or English for Engineers can testify, it can be legitimately frustrating for people who have a strength and an interest in an area that they want to develop that they can't specialize and instead have their academic success depend in part on their weakest subjects. Moreover, given the rise of tuition prices and student debt, every additional class a student has to take is more of a burden on their shoulders.

This is where I see a symptoms/cause long-term/short-term thing going on. Because of increasing competition, credentialism and credential inflation, and the increasing uncertainty about whether rising educational costs will be requited with secure employment at a professional income, I totally understand those people who want to make the college experience shorter and more specialized as a way to save money.

At the same time, if we ask ourselves why we provide education as a society (as opposed to making employers pay the bill for the training of their workforce), I go the other way. In order for modern democracy to function effectively, we need the population to have a baseline of quantitative reasoning so that they can tell when someone is lying with statistics, to be able to close-read texts so that they can tell when someone is lying with rhetoric, and to be sufficiently media-literate to spot propaganda and misinformation.

That being said, if we are going to say to young people that they have to acquire all these skills, the quid-pro-quo is that we have to provide education as a de-commodified public good, and guarantee a job to everyone, so that the economic incentives pushing us towards shorter, more specialized higher education no longer exist.

[sol1056]

My father was the son of a carpenter (no HS degree) and a nurse (associate’s degree). His parents couldn’t afford college for him, but he scored high enough on college exams that a state school offered him a scholarship. He ended up enlisting for three reasons.

One, he lost his scholarship (D in history, geez, Dad). Two, with a draft afoot, enlisting was the only way to make sure he had any choice (however slim) in what he’d do and be. Three, the military paid for his bachelors, his master’s, and his doctorate -- and that education is what got him out of that small southern Georgia town and into teaching at some of the most prestigious universities on the US’ eastern seaboard. 

Enlisting has always been trade-off. If you come from middle class or higher, then you probably don’t need major financial assistance for your education, or a down-payment on a car or house. Even if you're legacy military, once your family’s middle-class, the tangible benefits aren’t as great, relatively.

But if your parents are farmers, factory workers, miners, or similar labor-intensive blue-collar workers and it’s looking like your only choice is to follow them down that same road or learn to be a waitress? The military has been, for several generations now, your best ticket out of a dead-end town, job, or life.

A lot of the time, it’s your only ticket.

The whole point of the GI Bill was to make enlisting worth the risk of dying in a foreign land for some rich man’s war. You put in so many years of your life and (assuming you survived), you'd walk out well-trained or even well-educated, with good job prospects and a social network of fellow former military to help you land softly. You’d have decent healthcare, a good pension, and access to a fair home loan. (And if you didn’t survive? The VA provides for children & widow/ers, so at least your family would see the benefits.)

Yes, to everything @johnbrownfunclubofficial and @natalieironside​ said above, because all of that is true. (Hell, it’s not much better when you’re a dependent, although the enlisted-wives and officer-wives bullshit is lot better than it used to be.) But it’s also true that depending on where you’re coming from, sometimes that trade-off is worth the price.

But we have to unpack that to see the real problem: we have no other consistent and reliable means for people to hoist themselves out of a lack of generational wealth or skills. There’s no broad-based funding for kids in poorer counties or states to get solid training or education (let alone with room & board provided plus a small stipend!).

The challenge of “if you want to do X, go learn how to do it” doesn’t work, if you’re coming from that far down. Learn it? From whom? And you pay for that training, how? And who pays for you while you do it? Education of any kind costs money and time. You may have the time, but without the money? It remains a pipedream.

Does the military take advantage of this? Absolutely. Blocking all other options for kids with minimal/limited prospects is by design. The US military complex absolutely wants those kids to see no way out except to hope they can survive that war in a foreign land fighting on behalf of rich men who couldn’t give a damn what those kids did, and will, sacrifice.

But now we come to a parallel truth.

This is a less-discussed but important contributing factor in the pushback on universal basic income. The Pentagon (and American imperialism and its wealthy cronies) are fully aware that, given any other choice, the average blue-collar, labor-raised, lower-class kid would not join the military. In short: basic income would cause enlistment to plummet.

It’s not difficult math. Beyond even the truth of the internal tyranny of the DoJ and the UCMJ and just the sheer madness of the insular culture known as ‘living on base’, most human beings prefer careers where “high chance of potentially being killed” is not in the job listing. And I’d be willing to bet an even larger number of human beings, given any other choice, would want nothing to do with a job that requires “potentially killing other human beings.”

As for those who would, they can just go be cops.

One time in Army we got into a big nerf gun fight inside our building and a bunch of people got really mad and decreed that all kinetic weapons including nerf guns fit the legal definition of firearms under the UCMJ and made us go secure our nerf guns in the armory.

I hid mine tho. I said this is goddamn America and we got a second ammendment.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello hello! Long time follower!

I really like reading all your translations, theories and fanfics! It's really great to be able to read your thoughts about characters and cards because am a f2p so I have a very limited stash of gems to pull lol

So I was thinking about the rrcent jp update and I went back to read some of your work on Scarabia. I'll admit they weren't amongst my favorites before so I haven't paid too much attention to them. I was wondering then about the couple times you've said Jamil is well off? Maybe it's from one of his SSR cards of his home event, but I can't remember where he or maybe Kalim implies that?

That's it, just a silly question thanks so much for all that you do, I love so much all your theories and thoughts about the lore and the cast! Have a good day!

Hdsbskwhsk I’m glad that my blog brings you joy and makes your free to play experience more fun 🤩 Thanks for sticking with me all this time!

As for your question, I’m not actually sure if there's dialogue which explicitly states the Viper family's level of wealth. I couldn't find any when I combed through, so I had to go off of implications and my own interpretations of those. From what I’ve gathered, I see the Vipers as upper middle class, or at least middle class with a LOT of benefits (the benefits being present boost them to upper middle class due to the lifestyle the benefits afford them).

So firstly, I think there's a lot of debate surrounding Jamil's family income. Some fans seem to think that the Vipers must be destitute due to their position as servants and Jamil's disdain for how the Asims throw around their money and influence. However, perceived social status or class does NOT always equate to being low income. There are people irl who are technically "servants" and "hired help" that make a significant salary while working for much wealthier individuals. There is data for bodyguards, private chefs, executive assistants, and skilled nannies who earn six-figure incomes and/or excellent benefits working for celebrities, politicians, businessmen, etc. (Notably, guarding, cooking, scheduling/planning, and generally looking after Kalim are all a part of Jamil's duties.) Real world examples of this include employees of the White House and the British royal family.

Now, that all depends a lot on the type of people the employers are. There are many wealthy families who mistreat their staff and/or don't pay them well. From what I've seen of the Asims though, I definitely feel that this is not the case. To begin with, the Vipers don't just do one task for the Asims, they do a LOT. You're already aware of the constant work Jamil has to do around the clock to keep Kalim safe and satisfied, but his parents must do the same. They're described as experts in hospitality and are frequently hosting and entertaining guests from all over Twisted Wonderland. This is skilled labor, and that demands commiserate pay. Not only that, but Kalim describes his father as someone who is very generous (and the guy has plenty of money to spare). I don’t see why Mr. Asim would purposefully skimp on specifically paying the Vipers.

I would also imagine that the Vipers are afforded other benefits. Jamil has said many times that he has to look or act a certain way, as his behavior/appearance reflects on the family he serves. Therefore, the Asims may provide other things Jamil and the Vipers need to “look good” and to best represent and serve the Asims. This could mean food, clothes, transportation/travel expenses, education (like additional training, manners lessons, certification exams, etc.) all paid for on the Asim family’s coin. Jamil has mentioned that his parents gave him lessons in everything he’d need to know in order to serve Kalim, so this tells his parents are also well-educated and/or were at least able to pay for lessons for Jamil. And these lessons aren’t “normal” lessons either, it includes things like formal bodyguard training (you’d have to pay for this irl) and formal table manners (which most of us aren’t taught unless we seek it out).

We also recently learned in book 7 that the Vipers live on Asim property, which is very luxurious. Jamil states that his family would be on the streets should they lose their place serving the Asims—and this could be interpreted in a very literal sense if we think of as losing the roof over their heads. Yes, it's technically not land or housing that the Vipers own, but it is still free high-class lodging, nonetheless. It is a benefit that is afford to them (among others) because of their job(s), similar to those real life examples I mentioned before. One could make the argument that none of this wealth truly belongs to the Vipers. However, you could also argue that because these benefits come with the job, it technically is theirs as long as they keep their job (which is, in fact, how jobs irl work; if you stop working for an employer then naturally you’ll stop getting the benefits that come with that job eventually). It’s complicated. I suspect that, at the very least, part of the reason why the Vipers don’t want to depart from serving the Asims is because they don’t want to lose the pay and the perks that come with their work.

I want to add that the Vipers’ position also gives them the unique advantage of exposing them to tons of important individuals. They are able to meet and connect with these VIPs when most people could never even dream of meeting them, even if just from the viewpoint of a servant. It’s a similar to Lilia and Silver, who technically are not rich (money-wise) but still have ties with majorly influential people (members of the Draconia royal family).

Obviously, the Vipers still aren’t as rich as the Asims and probably will never be, but I believe they still enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. We never see Jamil worry about money or being short of it. He gives his VDC/SDC earnings away without batting an eye, unlike Deuce (from a single-parent income family) who keeps the money since it would really help out his mom. He doesn’t have to work a ton of odd jobs to make ends meet (unlike Ruggie). But Jamil does haggle and act frugal. I think that behavior comes from not a genuine need but Jamil being mindful and planning ahead to avoid being scammed. He’s shown to be a cautious individual who often is the one putting the breaks on Kalim’s extravagance, so I feel the skill also comes partly from having to be the one to curb his ridiculous spending and bring Kalim down to earth. Jamil is still the type of person who would tell Kalim when he’s buying too much or overdoing things, even when it’s not Jamil’s own money being spent and he knows Kalim can afford it. That’s what leads me to believe his frugalness isn’t necessarily the result of him being low income and “needing” to save. If that were the case, he shouldn’t care if Kalim throws his own money at buying diamond jewelry for all the dorm members as souvenirs.

I think the closest metric we have as a frame of reference for how wealthy Jamil is comes from the Tapis Rouge event. In it, Jamil forks out 500 thaumarks (or 50000 madol) to buy a jacket. He remarks that the price is fairly expensive but good quality so it’s worth it. Whether you consider this an indicator of his low or high wealth is really all relative to what your own perception is. Jamil had also previously remarked that what the Mostro Lounge charges is absurd. In Ruggie’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes, Azul quotes the price of one soft drink as 4 thaumarks/400 madol. Jamil responds with “Four? Talk about a markup.” It should be noted that the latter example doesn’t mean Jamil cannot afford a drink of that price; he’s complaining about how expensive Azul has made it to capitalize on the high demand. Do with this knowledge what you will.

Anyway, those are my thoughts! I hope I was able to explain myself well. If you have any thoughts, please feel free to express them ^^

[thirtysixsavefiles]

For the kiss prompts: Dreamling, 22. ...in a rush of adrenaline

22 - in a rush of adrenaline (Kiss meme prompts)

“How do you have this?” Hob breathes, moving toward the last sword in the rack. It’s a dull, grimy thing, but when his hand closes around the hilt his fingers fit into the grooves worn into the leather as if he’d last held it yesterday and not centuries ago.

“The armory of the Dreaming will hold whatever you like,” Dream says, coat swirling around his legs as he comes up to inspect the sword that Hob has drawn. “Do you miss it?”

“The fighting? Nah,” Hob says immediately, although he doesn’t let go of the sword. “Blood and mud and terror — I’m well out of that. It’s just…” he trails off as he draws the sword a little out of its sheath. It shines; it’s been well cared for, here in the Dreaming.

“Yes?” Dream is watching him intently.

“It’s just —” Hob laughs, shaking his head, resheathing the sword. “It’s just something I was good at, you know?”

The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches up. “Yes,” he agrees. “I do know.” He pauses then, eyes searching the armory. It has an impressive spread, although they are mostly weapons of a type that the waking world has moved on from. Dream moves past Hob, selecting another sword and drawing it out, testing its balance with a practiced ease.

“I didn’t know you used a sword,” Hob says, curious.

“I do not,” Dream says, giving the sword an experimental flip. “But there is a swordswoman sleeping in the highlands who has trained for the blade since she was eight. And I thought that perhaps you might like to — exercise that knowledge.”

“Dream.” Hob can feel the grin pulling at his mouth. “Are you asking me to spar with you?”

Dream sniffs, but there’s an answering curve to his lips. “If you like.”

The training ground outside the castle looks pristine, and Hob is not sure that Dream hasn’t invented it on the spot. It hardly matters though, not with Dream settling into a ready position across from him. Hob sets his own footing, although it soon becomes clear that Dream is waiting for Hob to make the first move.

Very well, then. It’s not like Hob isn’t used to that.

Dream meets Hob’s blade cleanly, the sound of steel against steel ringing out over the courtyard. Dream dances backwards and then forwards again, nearly slipping underneath Hob’s guard, but old reflexes rise from the depths and Hob counters, holding him off. They trade blow for blow, circling each other underneath a high sun and Hob can feel the blood singing in his veins, the sweat collecting at his temples. He is good at this, and even if it’s been some time since he’s called upon these particular skills there is pleasure in exercising them here for low stakes, or maybe no stakes at all.

Well. Hob catches sight of Dream’s grin over a flurry of parried blows and his already labored breath catches. Maybe not no stakes.

Dream circles Hob and Hob circles Dream, blades held at the ready. Hob’s breath is labored but he doesn’t feel the exhaustion that he would were he awake, only the thrill of pushing himself against someone evenly matched. He spares a brief thought of thanks for the sleeping swordswoman, and then Dream is pressing forward again and Hob has to pay attention.

The sun hasn’t moved in the sky but Hob suspects that’s because Dream doesn’t want it to; or maybe it’s because Hob doesn’t want this to end, the push and pull between them that has found outlet here on the training ground. Dream’s blade finds an opening in Hob’s guard and cuts neatly through the seam of his shirt; Hob retaliates by slicing a button from the front of Dream’s coat. Dream’s appreciative smile as he steps back, fingers coming up to touch the damage, warms Hob all the way down to his belly and he allows himself a shaky breath before moving forward.

One strike that Dream parries easily; a second that reverberates between them, and Hob meets Dream’s gaze over their crossed blades. A third, and Dream’s grip suddenly falters, his sword dropping, and Hob presses the advantage —

Dream’s blade goes spinning away and then his hands are spread, unarmed, with Hob’s blade pressed neatly against his throat.

Dream’s throat works and Hob blinks, blood still pounding through his veins and muscles singing with exertion. He lifts his eyes to Dream’s —

And throws his own blade down, stepping forward and fisting his hands in Dream’s coat. Dream’s mouth when it meets his is just as hungry as Hob’s own, and Dream’s hands settle eagerly at his hips, pulling him closer in encouragement that Hob is all too eager to answer. The kiss deepens and Hob grows dizzy with it, but Dream is solid underneath his hands and that’s all that Hob needs, really.

Finally he draws back, although not far; Dream’s arms are still strong around him and Hob has no wish to be anywhere else except right where he is. Maybe Dream can feel that, because his lips are curved in a smile as they brush against Hob’s jaw.

“What happened?” Hob gasps as Dream noses down the line of Hob’s throat. He can’t imagine Dream had given up on purpose —

Dream’s grip tightens on Hob for a moment. “Everyone wakes up eventually,” he says, face tucked against Hob’s neck.

Hob shivers. “Hey, not me,” he promises, sliding his arms around Dream’s shoulders. “I’m already wide awake.”

Dream’s hands flex, and he doesn’t say anything, but Hob grins up into the sky as Dream pulls him close under the Dreaming sun.

[ancha-aus]

Gifted Drabble - NewAgeAu - Q&A

As I said! I totally wasn't scheming :3 @spotaus

But i had to wait until you uploaded your drabble about very sneaky Cross to make sure I got more references and a better idea about his character :D

So... here we are :3 Also yes the name of the drabble is a very bad joke but i thought of it and it was too funny.

*------------------------------------------*

Cross just sits there... He is such an idiot!

Getting caught?! As quickly as he did? that must be a record on how incapable he was.

It wasn't as if Cross had an excuse. Dream and Blue warned him! Warned him that the Knights were very skilled and watchful. That he had to leave as soon as he got the information and plans. Do not linger!

That had been the mission!

Instead he was a coward and just. Took too long. He spend too much time trying to form a plan instead of just acting. And then He tried to solve mysteries himself instead of just grabbing and leaving as soon as he could!

But he just... Cross groans.

He hadn't found anything fitting the brief. He hadn't been able to find anything that spoke about hurting people or raising taxes to hurt the poor or anything!

In matter of fact.

All he found was plans to improve the infra structure. To tax the nobels more and lower the taxes on people who earned less. He found information on how the king had contact with farmers to work on more structures and installations to help farmers recover from the change in weather and to fully utilise the land without exhausting it.

Projects on testing mixed crop planting and stricts rotation schedules to make sure the soil itself wasn't exhausted from nutrients or risks infections or fungi growing which would hurt the soil and specific crops.

There was even this whole program about apprentices!! something about orphans and children and teens on the straights and a way to offer them schooling and housing and even training with the people helping them! That the crown would pay these people for helping those who don't have family to count on!

It is still in draft clearly as it had been covered with sidenotes in this very elegant and curve handwriting. notes about how to pay for it. where to start it. which people to ask for posibilities. but also notes about how to check the children. how to make sure the children and teens weren't use or abused or even worse!

And... well... not too shortly after that one of the Knights just... Sat in the chair and spoke casually... Scared the shit out of him at the time.

How was that dude so quiet?! or so strong for that matter?

How could his magic had backfired so badly?

Cross sighs as he turns to his side. He is an IDIOT. How could he have gotten so reckless?

Drema and Blue would have already been happy with him getting anything back from the king's plans... maybe he just couldnt see the danger in them clearly? Hell if he knows what the state in the country is. He knows nothing about this place.

Maybe the things he saw was a bad thing? Maybe there was some... weird way to make them look bad?

Like.

Maybe there was already little nature? Sure Cross saw a lot of it on his way here but hell if he knows? maybe there is little in the cities or soemthing?

Maybe the nobels are already being taxed a lot? maybe this will make the nobels all poor? and euh.... Cross isn't sure how taxing the poor less could be bad but maybe there is some way?

the farming thing... Well... Cross isn't sure... maybe the farmers don't want him to micro manage or soemthing? maybe the king is being too controlling about it? that works...

The children are obvious. those are vulnerable kids and teens! Who are being used and exploited!! Well... he would have to ignore all the sidenotes about the kids wellbeing... and the notes about banning child labor...

Cross groans. Why is it so hard to see the things he is doing as bad?! Dream told him that Nightmare is corrupted and the thing ruling now is evil and terrible and needs to be removed to save his twin!!

Then why are the plans good? Maybe he is faking it? But why? XGaster never bothered to fake anything... He was just rightfully the king and people should respect him.

Cross frowns as he turns on his side. Ignoring the guard standing well guard outside of his cell. He tugs on the magical blocker on his arm. Making him unable to use his magic to summon any weapon or try to take control over someone elses magic again.

Well... Not like he can try that with the guard guarding him again anyway. Seeing as it is Dust guarding him...

Cross tugs on it again and Dust speaks "Don't bother. Those things can't be removed by the wearer."

Cross freezes and looks over. He thought he had been sneaky enough. The one with the panther mask stares back.

Cross frowns as he turns back to the wall.

The Knight goes quiet again.

Cross tugs on the band one more time. Just to be spiteful. Before laying back and staring at the wall.

Fuck... He is going to die here? Isn't he?

Maybe they will just starve him...

Or maybe they will first torture him to figure out who he works for.

Cross is going to have to withstand it until he dies. He can't give up Dream and the fact he is planning a revolution.

He can't ruin another revolution that could save and help so many people.

He will have to be strong. Not give in. Not even an inch.

"I apologise I took so long Dust. Thank you for keeping watch."

Cross freezes at the new but familiar voice. Cross had heard the voice before. He had seen the owner walk around and had been getting information on him.

The king.

The fucking king.

Nightmare himself!

Why was the king here?!

Sure Cross had been spying and stealing information. But was that really such a big deal to get the king himself to interrogate him?!

Then again... Shed's tail had aparently been removed and used for cat toys...

He is so dead.

A click and the door to his cell slowly creaks open.

Cross's pulse is beating so fast.

Footsteps walking closer. before the door creaks closed. and is relocked.

He is so dead.

A few more steps and then silence for a moment as Cross tries to keep his panic at bay. He regrets staring at the wall.

"I know you are awake. Speaking will be a lot easier if we face each other."

Cross keeps laying there. What does he do?! He can't ignore him. Come on Cross. Be brave. You faced down scarier threats!

'But you had magic back then.' his mind whispers 'You had a way to defend yourself.'

Still. Cross sits up and turns around. Making sure he is glaring. He is not going to give in. "What is there to tell?" His voice holds the challange. He isn't afraid. He will not give in. He is not going to give this so-called king anything!

Nightmare tilts his skull slightly. intrigue clearly. Cross doesn't like the fact that he seems just so... unbothered by Cross. Cross is the enemy! He is sitting in the cell after Nightmare's forces found him snooping around, trying to steal information.

So why is this king staring at him with just intrigued! No rage? No disgust?!

Nightmare speaks again. Seemingly taking his time to think about his answers. trying to be actually truthful? or trying to think of an answer that Cross wants to hear? Wait... Is the king already in cross's head and mind? is Cross already being tricked?

Nightmare's voice breaks him out of his spiralled thinking "I think I disagree. there is a lot to talk about."

Cross tilts his skull upwards. stubborn energy in his soul "I won't tell you anything about who send me or why. No matter what!"

Nightmare looks slightly amused "I don't exactly care about who send you or why."

... what?

Nightmare continues, at his aparently obvious confusion, as he explains "I know there are people who wish to know what I am doing. I know people are scheming against me. It is nothing new. Even a spy as yourself is nothing new." he looks amused "The fact they even send you implies they know close to nothign about me, my land or my home. Or, that they don't care about you at all."

That.. that doesn't make any sense?!

Ngihtmare nods "I do apologise you swore your loyalty to those who know nothing of the target they send you to spy on. Otherwise they would have known that I am aware of what goes on in my castle and land." he smiles "they would have known that my Knights are everywhere and good at their jobs." he shoots Cross a look "They would know that i am aware of who is suposed to work where at which moment."

Cross feels his mind lock up as the information filters in... How... how hadn't Dream known this?

Ngihtmare waves a hand casually "You are a rather inexperienced spy. Not that it matters. As there is very little any type of skill could have done against me and those of mine. Either your employers know nothing of me which means they aren't much of a threat quite yet. Or they were willing to throw you away as some sort of test against me or you. Which just makes me unimpressed with them overall."

Cross just stares at the ground.

The Knight speaks softly "Way to ruin his worldview my king."

a moment of silence before "I apologise. I shouldn't have said those things. You did not deserve to hear those or have to worry about which case is true."

Cross snaps "Why am i not dead yet?!" He had heard about the terrible punishment this parasite of a king does. How he hurts people for jsut the hell of it... From Dream... form the guards working here... It makes no sense that Cross is still alive. Unless he wants to torture him of course...

A moment of silence.

Ngihtmare speaks a bit softer but still sure and confident "You meant no harm. You were here for a few days and no one was attacked. Neither myself, my knights, my servants or my people in the city. I do not see why i would punish you with death if you did not do a crime earning such a thing."

Cross glares up "And if i had hurt someone?" So he was just doing this own test?! this is just a test. That Cross can deal with. Cross can deal with someone trying to trick and test him!

The king chuckles and shakes his skull "It is very bold of you to assume you would have been able to hurt anyone. Just because we aren't obvious you were not walking around unnoticed or unwatched. If you had made a single move to hurt someone you would have been stopped and caught right away. I must admit however if you had tried that this conversation would be going very differently."

Cross frowns, wait... "If i moved to hurt someone? Anyone?"

Nightmare nods "Of course. The people who work for me are people who's safety i take very seriously. They are willing to work for me. in trade for their servitude i make sure they have what they need and want and more importantly. That they are safe to live their lifes." He sounds so certain and the answer is instantly.

He didn't even need to think about it.

Cross's mind is swimming as he tries to focus. This makes no sense... Why is he implying that he only punishes those who deserve it? That isn't waht others said. This... this is weird. This is the weirdest interrogation he has ever been part of. But he manages to find his voice again "What do you then even want to know?" It isn't like he knows anything.

Nightmare watches him "I am curious about the Lost Kingdom."

Cross flinches as he looks away. "It isn't called lost..." it isn't lost... it isn't! His... his brother- Nine is trying so hard to fix the mess Cross left behind. the mess Cross helped cause. It may be broken and a bit of a mess but it isn't lost. Lost implies there is nothing that can be saved from it.

A soft hum before he speaks again "I apologise. It is a name i took over from others." a moment of silence "I supose I am just curious what made the most loyal of knights of that land leave the country he was working on protecting."

Cross freezes. huh?

Nightmare waits for a moment but when Cross doens't answer he continues "It doesn't make sense to me. Your every move and motivation was from trying to protect the country you served. Yet here you are. Instead of there."

Cross looks to the side. He... he had tried to protect but he failed everyone. He always failed... He made the most terrible mistake of mistakes... How could he stay? they didn't want him to stay. He didn't deserve to stay after that.

Cross looks to the side and speaks "No one wanted the loyal dog of the tyrant to stay. so i left." there.

a moment of silence. "Seems a bit of a harsh name for someone who was loyal to the country."

Cross glares "I wasn't! I just did what the old tyrant wanted!" Like an idiot who can't think for himself. He just did whatever his father told him. Too blind and too stupid to see that XGaster was hurting others.

Nightmare continues to look at him "And you believed in him to make the right choices for the country. That is the job of a king. Make sure that what is done is done to improve the land. improve the country. improve life for the people. It is not your fault that XGaster didn't honour his rule. That he did not do what he was suposed to. What he was sworn into."

Cross can't hear this. Not form sometone who is suposed to be eveil but seems to know so much. Who seems to know what it means to be king yet who isn't suposed to care. Why is this thing who is possessing an innocent acting as it he cares? How would this thing know what makes a good king?!

Cross asks him as much. "Why do you care!?" it is more of a snap than a question.

Is it... Is it Nightmare? Influencing the thing brainwashing him and controlling him? Fighting back?

Dream would be happy to hear that.

Nightmare still thinks about the question. He looks ahead of himself with a tiny frown. Seemingly thinking.

Cross however can't help that notice how blue the cyan eye is. Clearly unnatural. Toxic even... Yet calm. There is no rage hidden that Dream warned him about. No edge of insanity or madness. Just calm and insightful thoughts. Control over his mind? but that makes no sense if he is brainwashed...

The body is not at all what Cross even expected to once see. Ngihtmare had this imposing presence. The fact his form was covered with a goop that had melted over one of his sockets didn't help. The way those tentacles on his back moved and idled. Seemingly without a single thought- wait... didn't octopusses have like... brains in each tentacle. Did that mean that Nightmare had five brains working and thinking for him?

Still... The corruption is so clearly... strange. Dream had told him that the powers given by the ritual was suposed to make a king and warrior of light. Of good. This form is proof that Nightmare wasn't suposed to gain this power. It is dark and moving and changing... But Cross can't help but think it doesn't look that bad, that the name corruption doesn't quite fit. It doesn't radiate any harm in anyway. Not like that time in the hall... Is... Nightmare able to control the presence it gives off? Why wouldn't he use it now? The slight magic he can still feel is potent and strong and unlike anything Cross ever felt before... But it isn't like other poisonous magics Cross had learned about. That he had trained to recognise. It is strange...

Cross decides to focus on the clothes he is wearing. It is clearly high quality stuff. not to forget the golden accents and actual bands around the tentacles. the clips with apple motifs. the detailing of branches like swirls in the same cyan colour as that eye, just less obvious because the fabric is slightly see through.

It makes for one intimidating image. One that the king carries with confidence and familiarity.

Nightmare speaks "I care because i wish to understand. We learn by understanding others. Even if i don't agree with someone doesn't mean i don't have to understand them. In matter of fact. the only way to truly disagree and be against something is to understand or at least know about the concept. When it is about why people do certain actions it is important to learn their motives and reasons. to understand why they did what they did before casting out judgement."

Cross can't deal with him... how is this suposed evil tyrant so understanding?

He is nothing like XGaster.

Nothing at all.

Cross can see that so clearly and so easily. This is someone who knows what he is talking about and who doesn't just say what you want to hear. Cross thought he knew what he was going into. He thought he would meet a man simular to XGaster.

Someone who manipulates. Someone who lies. Someone who turns every answer into a small insult. Someone who tells you how to think and why you are an idiot for not thinkinf like that from the start. Someone who believes himself to be perfect and not capable of fault.

Cross believed his father to be rightful in being this way and thinking that way for so long. It wasn't until after the revolution Cross finally noticed the cracks in the facade.

Cross thought... he figured he would be able to see through whatever mask Ngihtmare is wearing. Metaphorical of course. But he can't... he is failing. He can't figure this out.

Is... is cross being an idiot again? is Nightmare lying to him and is Cross still just unable to see it?

Or is there no mask to see through? no mask to spot the cracks in?

What does he do?

Nightmare waits and remains quiet until Cross actually focusses on him. When he does Nightmare speaks again "I wish to know what happened there. In your home."

His home...

"It isn't my home..." not anymore...

Nightmare nods and speaks again "Then what happened to the country that you used to serve and protect. What caused the downfall?"

Cross looks to the side "A revolution obviously..."

Ngihtmare nods and waits.

Cross glares "I was an idiot and could not pick a side. I couldn't fight my brother who lead the revolution but i could also not betray my lord. I ended up trying to help both yet messed everything up." he glares at the king "I made everything worse." all because he just couldn't pick.

Ngihtmare tilts his skull "Rather extreme. Thinking just one person can make or break a revolution."

Cross blinks.

Nightmare nods calmly "I am not saying that you couldn't have made it go better. That is always an option. However. A revolution... a rebellion. It is the same thing, and it is messy. it is dangerous. One person can not make things go perfect. that is impossible."

Dust coughs lightly into his hand. The king shoots him a look but nothing else happens.

The king turns back to him "You are not responsible for everything that happened. could you have helped? Yes. But... the choice that you made also enabled you to do the few things you could. the little bits you did to help your brother. If you had picked to defend the old tyrant. You would have had to hurt others."

Cross glares down "I know i should have helped."

Ngihtmare shakes his skull "That isn't what i am saying. the point i am trying to make is. You never know what you would have done in the other two situations. You could have joined your brother. but then you would have had to fight the very people you trained and fought beside before. The same people who know you through and through. who know how you fight and move." and he looks at him. "You helping them. either side of the conflict. would have meant you would have been at a different position at any given point. The things that happened wouldn't and couldn't have happened because your actions in this... neutral choice also had consequences and effect. It meant that XGaster stationed you as a guard. if you hadn't been available he would maybe have used two others to gain the same protection you gave him. You didn't stop the revolution when they got to you. instead there would have been two guards guarding the door." And nightmare give shim a moment to let that information sink in.

Cross stops... he... hadn't thought about... all he could think about is how he could have made things different. Thinking about how his skills could have helped specific moments... he hadn't considered that... him helping them from the start would have chanced everything...

and the moment where he could have helped... may never have even happened.

Cross shakes his skull "Things would have been better if i had picked a side."

The king considers it "Maybe it would have. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe by not picking a side you were able to do enough damage control for both sides that enabled it to even be successful. Maybe not picking a side made it last longer. You can not know which choice would ahve been better as you never saw the options."

Cross isn't sure what is even going on anymore. He had believed... He had been sure that him not making a choice just made everythign worse. Everyone agreed. Everyone must have agreed or else they wouldn't have made sure to remind him about his mistake each moment they could...

right?

Nightmare nods before getting up. Cross only now notices that Nightmare had been using his own tentacles as a chair "But I think I have pushed you too far already with my questions. You need rest and time to process and calm down. Food will be brought to you later." he turns towards the cell door and exits.

The king nods to the guard and starts to walk away.

Wait...

Wait!

Cross jumps up and rushes to the bars "Wait!"

The king stops and turns back to him "yes?" and he waits.

Cross pants "You said... Way before... at the start... There had been others like me. other spies. Where are they now?" Dream said others had been send before right? Or maybe even other forces. That Nightmare killed them?

Nightmare tilts his skull "My knights or I myself spoke to them. Much like I am doing wiht you. Those who meant no harm and held no wish to hurt those here... They were offered a change of scenery. They mentioned they couldn't and didn't want to return a failure to their old leaders. There is always room and a need for people willing to work and help."

Cross frowns "And those who did wish to return home?"

Nightmare looks unbothered "After making sure they were no threat they were released at the border. With a warning to not return. Once is an happening after all, one people can learn from. However if it turns out they lied or wished to return to do harm after all they were punished for their crimes."

Cross looks down as his mind spins "Oh..."

Nightmare waits for a moment longer before nodding "Rest up. I will come back either tomorrow or the day after to continue our conversation." he turns and leaves.

Cross slowly lets go of the bars and goes back to the bed in the cell... He can't help but notice that it is actually rather comfortable here.

Sure there are bars and he is locked in and unable to use magic...

But there is fresh air. Some natural sunlight comes in through the barred windows. It isn't cold or wet. There are warm blankets and soft places to sit...

Even if it is a jailcell. It is comfortable at least.

Cross rolls back up on the bed and thinks.

His mind going over the past conversation and thinking about what he learned. For it having been suposed to be a way for the king to learn about Cross it was just Cross learning about Nightmare.

What had the king even wanted to learn? All Cross told him was how he thought about things and experienced it. Not even how the revolution happened or what events took place.

If Nightmare had wished to know those it would make sense. Then it would gain Nightmare insight to how the revolution managed to be successfull and what to defend against.

And yet...

and yet...

He didn't. All Nightmare wished to know was what Cross did.

It doesn't make sense.

None of it does.

It doesn't take long but eventually a maid comes along. a human and she bows in respect to the Knight before turning towards Cross with a smile "Hello there. I brought you some food. It are roasted potatoes and a salad." she puts it on the little opening to push it into his cell "Once you are done please place it back in this same area. Makes us able to clean it up which will leave your area a bit cleaner!" she smiles happily before nodding once she sees Cross paying her attention.

After that she turns away, bows to the Knight again,before leaving.

Cross makes his way to the food slowly but the Knight standing guard doesn't make a single move to take or mess with it.

Cross grabs his food and takes a seat on his bed again. He eats it slowly and feels his hand shake once he realises it is actually good.

It is taste and warm and filled with nutrients.

Why are they treating him so nicely?

Cross just... doesn't get it...

Maybe he can ask the next time Nightmare comes to him to talk?

Maybe he can get some answers after all...

*------------------------*

In case you guys don't get the title name. It is a joke. Because Cross is being interrogated but it is more a mutual Q&A...

I will leave now.

[ihopesocomic]

Sorry for the mini-essay but I think people massively underestimate how much hard work and dedication goes into a Passion Project. People think that creators who make free content, who do their work as a hobby and not as a job, must only get enjoyment out of it.

That’s not how it works. Doing it purely because you want to doesn’t automatically make the more challenging, frustrating, or (gasps) TIME CONSUMING parts of the project any less burdensome. If anything, it makes it worse because you aren’t being paid for all of that labor. You’re just doing it for the sake of doing it, and as rewarding as it can be, it can also be demanding.

Im finally publishing a fanfic for the first time and don’t get me wrong, it’s been great to get feedback on my work and interact with a community. I love that there are usernames and profile pictures I can actually identify because they’re regulars on my work.

But does that mean I don’t have to constantly redo work because I don’t like how it turned out? No. Does that mean I always update on time? No. Never get burnout? No. I still very much go through all of the things paid writers do, because the Creative Process is difficult and demanding no matter what they paycheck is or isn’t.

And all of that is just if you guys WERE missing updates, which you’re NOT. So like… these complaints are not only very entitled and ignorant, but also just confusing. People really just be mad for the sake of being mad, I guess?

Anyways yeah, free content creators are still content creators, and passion-driven hard work is still hard work. You two are cranking out absolutely STUNNING visuals, compelling characters and engaging worldbuilding every single week and that’s amazing. Thank you for your hard work and I’m sorry about the twerps that don’t appreciate it enough!

Ah the price we pay for being human and having a brain, amirite haha

It's to be expected, to a certain point, that people simply don't understand that things like comics and cartoons take time. General impatience is something that can be ignored. If people asking for updates bothered us, we wouldn't post anywhere ever haha You gotta have at least SOME backbone if you want to do a comic. Or anything really.

Comics are a TON of work, and I knew this going in cuz I've done shorter comics before. It is not to be treated as if its easy. (Well, its easier than animating a whole series by yourself LOL) There's a lot of pre-comic planning that people don't tell you about. And that's just the stuff you have to do before you even start drawing. Of course this only applies to long-form storytelling, there's different rules for different kinds of comics.

And I won't even get into what it takes to making the comic itself, there's a lot of parts that need to be considered like formatting, time-management, what shortcuts you have to take to save on labor, and getting across as much information as you can in a short amount of time, while using mostly visuals. It's a skill, so it can be learned haha

A lot of doing comics is on-the-job training. Which I know can be frustrating for perfectionists, but from a reader's perspective, part of the joy of webcomics is seeing how far the art has come. And you can't exactly get out a webcomic if you keep redoing things over and over. You'll burn yourself out even faster. This is why it's important to have a plan lol it just makes it easier to adjust if you have to change things, than if you have no plan at all.

Even if RJ and I for whatever reason no longer felt passionate about this story, and wanted to move on to something else entirely, we wouldn't leave everyone hanging. We'd tell everyone what happens one way or another. Because too many people just abandon a story just to tell another one, and that's not fair to people who were here to read a story that appealed to them.

But the entitlement of people sucks, the constant heckling, the fact we can't moderate our own comment section, and more importantly Webtoons just sucks as a site anyway. - Cat

[deejadabbles]

Desperate Distractions (Rex x Reader)

Summary: Two times you and Rex distracted each other from work with something spicier.

Rex x afab Jedi Reader, established relationship.

A.N: It's been a long while since I wrote spicy lemon content, and who better to ease back into that with than our favorite captain? Hope you guys like this sexy little treat.

Warning: this is an 18+ fic minors DNI!!, oral (m receiving), praising, unprotected PiV (plz wrap it up irl), "sir" kink, inappropriate use of meditation mats.

Rex, the skilled captain of the 501st, always so composed, commanding, even. Always quick to snap an order, or put his men in line, nothing could shake him.

So, could anyone really blame you for taking any chance possible to turn him into a hot sweating mess?

He was whispering curses under his breath, and the way he was holding that data pad in a death grip said that all he wanted was to bury those fingers in your hair. That was the best part, he couldn't, he had work to do after all.

You took him slowly to the back of your throat, as far as you could handle given his considerable length. And right when you had him as deep as possible, you let out an intoxicated moan at the back of your throat.

Rex actually dropped the data pad with a clatter as he let out something that could only be described as a cross between a moan and scream.

"Kriffing hell, cyare!" he grunted, his hips rolling just the smallest bit, desperate to feel that vibration again, "You're going to be the death of me," he was panting hard, eyes fluttering closed and trying to grip the edge of his desk for some kind of support.

You pulled your mouth off of his length, letting out another moan as you went. "And here I thought clones could work well under any pressure."

"You know damn well they didn't train us for- AH!" his words were cut off the moment you lowered your head and took one of his balls into your mouth.

Rex didn't resist the urge to reach down and grip your hair this time, and your name fell from his lips along with another string of profanities.

"Hm, I think I like you like this, Captain," you hummed, before licking a slow wet trail from base to tip. "Like the sounds you make," you took nothing but the very tip of his cock passed your lips and suckled gently, loving the moan he let out in answer.

"Please, mesh'la," he whispered, and you knew he was on the brink.

As much as you loved teasing him, you could never resist him saying the magic word. For all your bravado, you were always so weak for him. "My captain knows how to ask so pretty," you hummed, "I think he deserves his reward."

And with that you took him deep again, cupping your tongue to cradle his shaft as you bobbed up and down, until you pulled him as far back as you could and let out that vibrating moan again.

It was all you could do not to choke when he released hot and wet down your throat, but you managed to gulp him down with practiced skill.

The hands that had been buried in your hair moved to your throat, tired, distracted little rubs tried to easy your hard swallows, a sweet act really.

Rex looked so flushed, so worn and disheveled, so perfect as you got to your feet. Now his hands were running through his hair as he tried to get his labored breathing back under control.

All you did was hum in satisfaction, pleased at the sight as you reached over his desk and picked up his data pad. That's when you let out a teasing tisk tisk.

"You didn't finish your report, Captain. I guess this means that I win," you smirked, referring to the little bet you had made when he told you he needed to get his work done before fun.

When you thought that he was still too flushed to act, you were wrong. His chair clattered to the ground as he jumped up, knocked the data pad aside, and began tearing your robe open.

"Right now, you're the only thing I need to finish," he growled, before burying his face into your now exposed neck.

You had thought that the glorious things that followed were his pay back. That taking you on his desk until you begged for him was his revenge.

No, his pay back was much bitchier, as he proved two days later.

You had been meditating, practicing your skills in the force by hovering a variety of small objects around you, when Rex came by to drop off some reports.

The moment he saw you concentrating, you were done for. He had knelt behind you and started rubbing your shoulders as he whispered in your ear, asking if you wanted a real test of concentration.

That's how you ended up like this, on all fours with his cock buried deep inside you. All while you tried desperately to keep those objects off the ground.

Rex hummed behind you as he placed little kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders, holding his hips back for a moment, giving you a reprieve from his relentless thrusting.

"Hm, you know what," he whispered against your skin, "I don't think a Jedi needs hands to command the force," and with that his fingers were around your wrists, dragging them back and pulling you down so your face was pressed against your meditation mat.

He clasped both wrists behind your back with one of his large, skilled hands, leaving you to look over your shoulder at him helplessly.

"Now," he purred, taking his other hand to gently stroke your cheek, "where was I?"

The sudden thrust of his hips were hard, causing you to let out a needy cry as he resumed his relentless pace. You felt your concentration wane at the sudden burst of sensations, but you couldn't much care.

The hard plastoid of the armor he left on bit into your skin with every thrust, but you relished the feel, hoped it would leave an imprint. You loved it when your captain left his marks on your skin.

He put his free hand to good use, trailing it down your body, gripping and rubbing and stroking every part of your body that he knew made you come undone. That he knew made you whimper and moan.

"And you say I make pretty noises," he chuckled, "tell your captain what you need, mesh'la, be nice, and I may even do as asked."

You let out a helpless noise before you could manage to answer, "Harder, 'want you slow and hard, please."

Rex smirked, "Please, what?"

"Please, sir!"

You barely had that title out before he gave you what you needed, pounding his cock into you hard, drawing out each thrust like something to be savored.

It wasn't long before, between that, his grip on your wrists, and his fingers finding your clit, you finished in a blinding burst of pleasure. He didn't stop there, not quite, as he chased is own end, changing his pace back to a speedy rhythm.

You were still high off the aftershock of your first orgasm, so it was little surprise that when he let out a moan and filled you to the brim, another was sent crashing through your body. It wasn't as intense as the first, but you basked the sensation.

Rex was panting hard as he released your wrists and gently pulled out of your sore body. You hummed when you felt his release drip down your thighs.

He started leaving little kisses across your shoulder as he turned you onto your back, making his way up your neck until he reached you ear to whisper in it.

"Looks like I win this time, sweetheart," he chuckled as he nibbled your ear.

"What?" you hummed, still half dazed.

A nod of his chin towards the objects you had been holding aloft with the force, "You dropped everything a long time ago."

You just laughed dreamily, "Oh, who cares," and drew him in for a long kiss.

Tag List: @blueink-bluesoul

[gaybananabread]

•• @bluebliss777 I'd like Carmen Sandiego, with Carmen and Shadowsan for Days #13 and #22 . If you could include a character death and some angst of sorts in one or both of these it would be great! Please have fun! Ty! 💗🩷💖 ••

TickleTober Day 22 - Role Reversal

~Hello again! I did a death in the first one, which I will link, so I’ll just do some very light angst here. I’m having a lot of fun writing Dadowsan in these; he’s so awkward-silly-parental-figure shaped. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

(Day 13 of the request)

Lee: Shadowsan

Ler: Carmen Sandiego

Summary: After a small debacle during Carmen's first teaching attempt, the super-thief is left feeling like a failure. Shadowsan agrees to let her practice teaching him, though he'd never expect the tactics she employs.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

“Just hold steady, take a breath, and- ZACK! NO!” Carmen dashed over to the platform Zack was falling off of, sliding just in time to catch him. She’d been trying to train the thieves in the ways of stealth and general burglary, though success was incredibly limited.

“Woah! Thanks, Carm,” Zack chuckled nervously, shaking off the adrenaline from his fall. It was about 15 feet from the warehouse platform to the cement ground, promising some broken bones if they weren’t careful.

“Jeez, Zack! I know Shadowsan was givin’ ya ninja lessons and everything, but ya can’t practice kicks up there!” Ivy shouted from nearby, still trying to balance the glass vase on her foot while another rested on her head.

“Are you alright?” Carmen’s voice was a bit frantic as she looked him over, imagining what could’ve happened if she hadn’t gotten there fast enough. Just like she had all those years ago…

“I’m all good! Takes more than that to knock me down!” Zack flashed her a bright smile, somehow already recovered from the thrill of his fall. He got to his feet, picking up the staff he was “training” with. Ivy felt the need to add, “It’s ‘cause of your thick head!”

“We’re done with training for the day.” Carmen brushed her hair aside, taking quick strides away from the pair. She could hear the faint sound of glass shattering as she left, Ivy’s concentration no doubt spoiled by Zack’s annoyances.

She went into their little gym, ready to punch out her feelings. Instead, she was greeted by Shadowsan meditating, his eyes opening at her entrance; she wasn’t exactly being quiet, clicking heels and slightly labored breaths.

“Carmen. What is wrong?” The man moved into a kneeling position, scooting over on his mat to offer her some room. Carmen sighed before sitting down beside him, leaning on her knees in front of her.

“How did you do it? You taught a bunch of impatient, trigger-happy, sticky-fingered teenagers and young adults the skills of master thieves. I can’t even keep my friends from falling off high ledges during balance training.” Carmen tossed her hands out, forcing out the entire exasperated rant in almost a single breath.

“It…was not easy, I’ll admit. I often questioned whether my methods were working at all, especially with…certain students.” A subtle smile graced his lips as he glanced over at his sort-of daughter, trying to offer reassurance. “It takes great patience, but that patience often pays off in the end. Do you not agree, Carmen?”

“I know, patience, but… How? Ivy was doing really well with the balance practice, but Zack is about as elegant as an elephant on stilts. They need to know this stuff.” The redhead sighed, leaning her head forward to rest on her knees as well. “I’m failing them; I know it. How do I prepare them?”

“You are not failing them, Carmen. Your friends, as foolish as they may be, trust and care for you deeply. While you could use some direction with your teaching, you are trying to help them. That’s already much more than some people ever attempt. It shows that you care as well.”

Shadowsan’s wise words sunk in, making the twisting feeling in Carmen’s stomach ease. It wasn’t an emotion she allowed herself to feel very often, and the light relief seemed to put her at ease. She still had to get better at teaching, though…

“Would you be willing to let me teach you? Maybe as a practice dummy?”

The ninja quirked a brow at that, his soft smile returning. Barely there, yet it told those closest to him everything they needed to know. “I suppose so. However, I will not make it easy on you.”

“Alright, got it.” Getting to her feet, Carmen squared her shoulders, a calm-enough expression settling on her face. She had it that time; how troublesome could Shadowsan be?

…

“Like this, Miss Sandiego?” Shadowsan stood in – clearly – the wrong defensive position, his footing so weak that Carmen could’ve knocked him over with a shove. He’d barely listened to a word she’d said, taken everything as literally as possible, and purposefully messed up more often than not.

“No. We’ve been over this. Feet about a shoulder’s width apart, planted on the ground, weight centered.” Carmen got into the exact position in front of him, gesturing for him to mirror her. He messed up once again, half-heartedly holding up his arms.

“My arms are tired. May I have a water break?” Shadowsan asked, his tone almost whiny. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t make things easy for her…

“Yeah, go. Take five.” Carmen massaged her temples as the typically-stoic left, catching the low hum of chuckles fading away. He knew exactly what he was doing; or, rather, what he wasn’t doing. It was driving her insane.

While he was gone, the woman’s mind couldn’t help but plot revenge; Shadowsan had purposefully been a massive pain, and payback wasn’t uncommon around HQ. It didn’t take long before she had formulated an equally annoying – if a bit immature – revenge plot.

Carmen fought the grin off her face as the man returned, crossing her arms. “Alright. I’m gonna see if you’ve been paying attention to anything. I’ll come at you from different directions, but you aren’t allowed to step outside a box I’ll make for four minutes. If you do, you’re going with Zack to the race this weekend.”

Carmen smirked as his eyes narrowed, sensing something hidden in her words. Good, let him speculate; he’d never guess until it was too late.

“Deal. I’ll be using more than just your teachings, however.” He straightened the sleeves of his wafuku as she made a square with chalk on the gym floor, standing in the middle of it. Whatever Carmen’s hook was, he was sure he could handle it. She needed to relieve some stress anyway.

“Fine by me.” Removing her coat, Carmen smirked and circled him, eyes flashing with mischief. “Begin!”

Shadowsan blocked her first few strikes, huffing at the easiness of the challenge. Did she really think he couldn’t handle basic defense tactics?

When one of her jabs did finally hit, it wasn’t exactly what he’d expected. Two of her fingers had tased his ribs, sending a small, unfamiliar buzz through his nerves. It had been decades since he’d felt that…

He made the rookie mistake of letting his thoughts distract him, unable to block the next strike. Carmen quickly spidered her fingers across his back ribs before he knocked her arm away, a choked laugh catching in his throat.

Shadowsan’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the expression concealing all other emotions he might have shown. “Carmen, we are practicing combat, not playing games!”

“It’s still technically a defense lesson. Don’t wanna get tickled? Block the shots.” Carmen’s voice was unusually smug as she continued attacking, sending poke after scribble after squeeze at her "student." She actually landed a good third of her little strikes, forcing the man to stifle both laughter and a smile.

Shadowsan was actually holding up pretty well, all things considered. His feet remained inside the square, expression stoic; only his eyes gave him away, narrowing and twitching with each successful poke.

Carmen's next attack was with both hands, raking ten fingers down the backs of his ribs. He hadn't been fast enough to block that time, arching his back with a strangled sound.

“Th-this is foolish!” Shadowsan was starting to regret not asking more questions. What kind of thief blindly agrees to a challenge?

The kind that doesn't expect nonsense from their nonsensical mentee. Rookie mistake.

While the coy game of cat and mouse was enjoyable, Carmen was hoping for some more contact. She had two minutes left to be a menace, and they'd never specified what kinds of attacks she was allowed to make.

So, Carmen charged, barreling at the already uneasy man from behind. Shadowsan heard her coming, turning to block what he thought would be another attempt for his ribs.

He was not expecting to be tackled to the ground like a literal practice dummy.

“Grghk- Carmen!” Before he could scold her for the loophole, she dug her fingers into his ribs once again.

“Ooo, sorry, Shadowsan. You lost, punishable by extra endurance training.” She did her best to pin the older man while still ticking him, though it was a lot more difficult than one might think. “Now endure."

Shadowsan thrashed and writhed beneath her, a pinched grin taking over his features. It obviously tickled, but he was refusing to acknowledge it. Instead, he fought like a wild panther.

Good thing Carmen was used to dealing with feisty kitty cats.

“C'mon, you know you wanna laugh!” Carmen grunted with effort as she managed to stay on his back, digging her fingers into his ribs. “Everyone here did this! It's a right of passage.”

“R-rehelease me!” He grit the words out, but the damage was done: he'd giggled. They sounded more like little grunts than anything, but Carmen was pleased nonetheless.

“See? That wasn't so hard.”

Carmen would’ve been happy to keep going until he really started laughing, but her timer went off. She was almost entirely sure that her mentor-father figure wouldn't like it if Zack or Ivy saw him like that, so she pulled back respectfully.

“You…are still such a trouble maker.” Shadowsan took a few deep breaths, sitting back on his haunches as he quickly recovered. Instead of the glare Carmen was expecting, his expression was…soft. Fond, almost.

“I did not expect a terrorization method from you, Carmen. It was…” He trailed off, an unintelligible emotion settling on his face. “Effective. I was unable to keep my guard up.”

“Oh. Thank you, Shadowsan.” Carmen blinked, not expecting praise for attacking him. He must've been in a really good mood…

“I'm gonna go check on Zack and Ivy. See you at dinner.” Carmen smiled before dipping out of the room, not sure how long the moment would last. If he did decide to get double-revenge on her, she wanted to be ready.

Shadowsan watched her go with a gentle smile, smoothing a few fly-away hairs down. While he might have preferred less…intensive methods, Carmen had obviously worked out her nerves for the moment. It was always nice to see the super-thief act like the child-self she had to abandon.

Even if it meant things got a little ridiculous.

[dwellordream]

“After the war, more young women worked and lived away from their families. Rural women, in particular, migrated to the country’s urban industrial centers in search of work. Rural areas offered few ways to earn a livelihood, and opportunities to grow and experience the world seemed far more limited on the farm. Single young women migrated at a greater rate and earlier age than single men to seek work in the cities. On the average, single urban women were 18 years old while men were 20. Although cities offered more employment opportunities, women’s choice of occupations was limited primarily to jobs that men would not take or to work that seemed appropriate for women, according to the social standards of the day--that is, work that duplicated women’s domestic and caretaking role, such as teaching, nursing, sewing, and domestic service.

Women with few skills and little or no education had even fewer choices. Factory work, waitressing, and domestic service were among their few available options. Among these, many women preferred factory work because they perceived it to be less demeaning than housework. Yet factory work was arduous. Although most female factory workers were employed in the garment industry, women also worked in factories that made boxes, artificial flowers, canned foods, and other products. For all factory workers the hours were long--anywhere from 10 to 12 hours a day--and the loud clack-clack-clack of machines echoed in their ears as they sat hunched over their work for wages of less than a dollar a day.

…African-American women also chose domestic work as a last resort. To them, the relationship between employer and servant was painfully reminiscent of the relationship between mistress and slave. Most black women in Southern cities, however, could find no other work except for domestic service. But black domestics usually refused to live in their employers’ homes and instead worked strictly as day servants. Cooks and maids earned between $4.00 to $8.00 a month, and nursemaids earned about $1.50 to $3.00. The workday generally lasted 12 to 14 hours, at least six days a week. Black women with children had to leave their own children with family or neighbors or all alone.

Although a black woman might be hired as a cook, she could also find herself watering the garden, cleaning house, or running errands. Her title may have specified a certain task, but her duties were as varied as her employer decided. Like white servants, she had to deal with impersonal and sometimes abusive behavior from her employer. She was variously called “cook,” “girl,” “Mammy,” or by her first name, even by her employer’s children.

…Parents seemed especially eager for their daughter to attend school. They knew that with an education their daughters could find work later on as teachers within the African-American community. From 1880 to 1915, more African-American girls than boys attended school, mainly because parents needed the labor of their sons in the fields. Even with an education, however, young black women had little hope of finding professional work outside the African-American community. Schools and businesses in the white community refused to hire them.

In contrast, white women with more education or the means to pay for business courses found new employment opportunities in office work. In 1870, there were only 19,000 female office workers nationwide; by 1890, this number had multiplied to 75,000. In 1870, only 4.5 percent of office stenographers and typists were women. Ten years later, women held 40 percent of these positions.

…The post-Civil War era opened up new employment opportunities for women in nursing and teaching as well. Traditionally a job performed by women at home, nursing evolved into a profession after the Civil War, complete with professional training and accreditation. In 1873, Linda Richards became the first American woman to receive a degree in nursing. She graduated from Dr. Susan Dimock’s nursing program at the New England Hospital for Women and Children in Boston, Massachusetts, and went on to teach at newly established nursing schools in New York, Boston, and Japan. She also founded several nursing programs. By the mid-1880s, 22 schools for nurses had opened in the United States.

African-American women had always ministered to their people’s medical needs. In slavery, they nursed sick or injured slaves and served as midwives and wet nurses to other enslaved women and to white mistresses. In freedom, they continued to care for ailing members of their communities, using herbs and potions in their treatments. But in the postwar era, they faced obstacles if they wanted to acquire a formal nursing education--most white nursing schools refused to admit black students. One exception was the New England Hospital for Women and Children, which admitted one black student and one Jewish student each year. In 1879, one of its students, Mary Eliza Mahoney, became the first African-American woman to receive a nursing degree.”

- Harriet Sigerman, “‘Women Have Always Worked’: New Employment Opportunities.” in Laborers for Liberty: American Women, 1865-1890

[beardedmrbean]

The president of the United Auto Workers (UAW) labor union leading the ongoing strike against the largest three U.S. automakers earned hundreds of thousands of dollars last year, placing him squarely in a top earning percentile in his home state, according to financial filings reviewed by FOX Business.

Shawn Fain — who was elected to lead UAW in March and has been a firebrand proponent of autoworkers — has at least two significant streams of revenue, the filings showed, earning $187,259 a year leading a UAW non-profit training program and another $160,130 per year in his previous role of administrative assistant at the union. Fain's UAW salary likely jumped well above $200,000 per year upon taking over as the union's president earlier this year.

"The Big Three want you to believe that what we are asking for is dangerous and unrealistic," Fain remarked in a UAW video released this week. "What is truly unrealistic is to keep making record profits year after year and then think that the workers who made those profits are just going to settle for scraps. What is truly dangerous is for corporations and the billionaire class to continue making out like bandits while the working class gets left further and further behind." 

"That is why these companies and the corporate media are so desperate to try and convince the American people that unions are the problem," he continued. "We are not the problem. This so-called ‘competition’ is the problem. Corporate greed is the problem. Our solidarity is the solution."

Fain's annual salary of $347,389 places him in the top 5% of earners in his home state of Indiana where, according to a Forbes analysis, individuals whose salary exceeds $192,928 per year are in the top 5%. 

If Fain's new salary as president matches his predecessor, former UAW President Ray Curry, his union income increased to $267,126 and his overall salary — including what he earns from the non-profit UAW Chrysler Skill Development & Training Program — increased to $454,385, a salary that would make him a top 1% earner.

Meanwhile, Fain has established himself as the face of the ongoing strike against Ford Motor Company, General Motors and Stellantis, even appearing alongside President Biden for one rally in which he compared automakers to Nazi Germany. The union boss has even donned an "eat the rich" T-shirt at protests and rallies.

"They look at me and they see some redneck from Indiana," Fain said during a rally last week. "They look at you and see somebody they would never have over for dinner or let ride on their yacht or let fly on their private jet. They think they know us. But us autoworkers know better."

And while striking UAW members are making just $500 a week in substitute pay from the union while they strike, ABC News reported, it is unclear whether Fain himself has taken a pay cut. 

In an open letter to Fain sent Tuesday, the Mack Trucks Workers Rank-and-File Committee demanded the UAW bump striking workers' pay to $750 a week and that leaders including Fain should accept a pay cut taking their salary to the same level as strikers.

"President Fain, if you are unwilling to meet these demands, which correspond to the demands of the membership, then you should step aside and turn over control of the union to the rank and file," the workers wrote to Fain. "It is, after all, we who have the 'final say.'" 

"To our fellow autoworkers in the Big Three, we call on you to take up this fight yourselves and not allow your strike to be sabotaged by the UAW leadership," the open letter continued. "We have launched our strike in defiance of the apparatus, and we call on you to do the same."

On Wednesday, the UAW expanded its strike to Ford's most profitable truck plant in Kentucky. Although leaders have signaled progress in UAW's negotiations with Ford and the other two automakers, Fain has continued to say the companies are failing to meet the union's lofty demands on wages, a modified work week and pension benefits.

Fain did not immediately respond to FOX Business's request for comment.

[neo-shitty]

road runners — l.yb

description. road running was just like any other high-paying job brought about by the new road management system. high risk, high reward. another position had been vacated in your station, you just hoped the newbie would last a little longer than the last one did. 

pairings. lee felix x gender-neutral reader

genre. dystopian!au, kind of workmates!au

warnings. graphic imagery, slight discussions on morality, animal death, multiple death by accidents, implied suicide (not of main characters), major character death

word count. 2.6k

notes. posting this after seeing this scene in the 5 star trailer haha kinda morbid thinking how i came up with this in driving school lmao hope everyone’s doing well! it’s been so long (。_。)

On the job, you were but an observer—an additional pair of eyes with the extra skill of executing actions that the cameras could not. There would come a time when the development of technology would give birth to advancements that’ll eventually take over most human labors. But that day was not today, nor do you imagine it to be any time soon. For now, you’re stationed on one of the many towers that lined the Gyeongbu Expressway, roving the highway for something interesting. Just like usual, there’s nothing.

Becoming a road runner had been every child’s dream at some point. Every head turned towards car windows on expressways and busy highways, watching out for the moment the black-suited figures zipped from one tower to another. You were no exception, so when the teachers asked what you wanted to be when you grew older you answered the same thing every year: I want to be a road runner.

It wouldn’t be until high school when you learned the grim reality behind the coolest job you’ve ever known. Road runners never existed until about half a century ago when the government decided on the full enforcement of all traffic laws to eliminate the ever-growing traffic problem. A decade-long transition was put into motion in the year 2068; road and highways were reconstructed, and at the end of the ten years, most of the country’s major networks functioned in the same way train railways had, complete with a centralized system to track all of its users.

Automatic transmission vehicles ATVs took on a new definition, now functioning on auto-pilot and programmed to sync with the central system. While some people resorted to purchasing new cars with the built in systems, the government couldn’t force everyone to make the switch. They could, however, launch the strict implementation of all road and traffic laws through the system.

And so they did. 

The decision was marred with controversy when the accidents began to happen. While most citizens brushed it off their shoulders as a good riddance for nuisances, others saw through and began thinking there was a more sinister reason to it. The government never explicitly stated that MTVs were banned from the streets, though driving them grew more and more risky. They were rogues to the system, undetectable. Highways have turned into railroad tracks, cars into bullet trains. ATVs were hot-wired pods meant to get you to your destination via the quickest route possible and on the road, there was no stopping them. 

Both traffic and pollution significantly lessened with the transition, but one problem spiked—road-related accidents. Pedestrians were ploughed by high-speed ATVs, MTVs crushed by collisions, and the death toll reached hundreds within months of its implementation. But the government did not waver, nor did it carry the blame for everything that had happened. They wiped their hands clean.

“The system has been programmed with rules that have long been implemented, pre-existing ones we were already meant to follow beforehand,” they said. The ignorance of the law excuses no one, and so the government played court and passed judgment.

Right wings argued that roads were meant for vehicles alone. Why were pedestrians prioritized all the time when there were designated times and places for them like sidewalks, crosswalk lights, their very own safe zones. Pedestrians and other street-users abused their privilege, compromising vehicle drivers and contributing into traffic congestion. Humans were smart but they were slaves to their own egos, susceptible to being easily put back into place when reminded of a higher authority.

Sanctions towards traffic law violators were dropped. No more fines and months in probation and arrests. If you weren’t registered into the system, you were still free to use the roads as you liked. You could cross it whenever you liked, drove an MTV side by side with the ATVs but you could no longer sue other parties for what could happen to you on the road.

Little by little, as every road was remodeled and programmed with the centralized system, traffic law enforcers one by one disappeared—giving way to another job, one that acted as a countermeasure to the growing number of highway traffic accidents, road running.

The government thought response teams took too long to get to the accident area, hence the birth of the organization for road runners. Road running was a high paying profession, right for a job just as risky. Runners were stationed along major highways and roads, functioning as both lookouts and quick response teams for any accident, be it minor or major, that may occur. Minor accidents were meant to be dealt with by a single runner or in groups of three depending on the gravity. Major accidents were reported to the system which then rerouted upcoming road users for an hour until the highway was once again spotless. 

You never thought you’d land the job as an act of desperation but you did, filing in your application within days from quitting school and getting it. For a job that was sought for, it was vacated a lot. Runners either chickened out when accidents finally did happen or died in the process of cleaning up one. It wasn’t an easy job, it was gruesome. You felt the same way towards it when you were met with an accident a week into the job. But the fear and the ick passes and you began to look at things differently, observing street users with the detachment of someone who agreed with the government’s ideals.

For the past year, you’ve kept to yourself most of the time—staying on your tower through all the eight hours you’re supposed to be there unlike the others who roved around for anything. Compared to prior years, accidents now happened few and far between and most of the time on purpose. Your shifts were more eventless than not. Until a rally against corrupt ATV manufacturing companies took to the streets to make their point a couple of months ago. No rerouting was called that day, not until each and every one of the protestors lied mangled on the streets. The massacre was quick but the repercussions it left behind went far and wide, giving birth to a generation of new-minded individuals who were curious why the way of things had to be that way.

Felix was one of them and he joined the road runners in the midst of it.

“Chan quit. We’re getting a new guy today.” Changbin doesn’t even bother looking up to greet you, gaze fixated on his phone—making the most out of the few minutes before your shift began.

Beneath your finger, a green light flashes and the machine beeps. “Saw that coming,” you said, looking across the room to where Chan was stationed, a part of the tower office that you’ve seen more often vacated than occupied. “New guy on an expressway? That’s new.”

“Heard he’s one of the fast ones.”

Either that or they needed more people on the expressway. You joined the runners back when the positions were still fought for, the profession respected rather than shun. Starting out as a newbie, they assigned you to small streets and country roads until you were working on bigger roads then national highways. It wasn’t because you were getting any better in your job but because those positions were harder to keep than to earn.

The new guy was a bright-eyed boy with star-studded cheeks and a nervous smile. He blinked at the both of you as he walked in, unsure of what to say when you just stared at him back. The scanner beeps beneath his finger and he walks to the back of the office to where Chan used to sit.

“Lee Felix, right?” He turned to you, wide-eyed and alert. 

Road runner contracts only lasted a year and even then only a few stayed in the job long enough to renew it. It took one good look at Felix to know that he’d be one of those who wouldn’t make it past the year—either by quitting or some foolish mistake on the road.

An alarm blared as the clock struck 4 and runners from the last shift burst through the doors of the tower from both sides of the line. It wasn’t the splotches of wetness on their suits nor the expressions on their faces that gave it away, but the metallic stench that followed them as they came in. 

“What happened?” Changbin rose from his seat, giving way to the runner who shared his desk.

“Someone tried to cross the street on a green light.”

“How many?”

“Just one,” he answered, before finally looking around. “New guy?” He pointed at Felix who still stood frozen in the middle of the road. The quiet boy nodded. “Good luck then, kid.”

You never liked it when anyone glossed over the truth of the road-running profession. It paid high for the risk of cleaning roadkill carcass all the while preventing yourself from becoming one, but it never compensated for the images wedged into your subconscious of mangled bodies, scattered insides and pools of blood. So you’ve made it a habit to put a fair warning to anyone new to the job, turning to Felix as he followed you out the tower saying, “Do yourself a favor and quit.”

But of course he didn’t, they almost never did until witnessing their first deaths. The only thing that was different with Felix was his unpredictability because he stopped his first accident from happening. It wasn’t that you didn’t see it coming. He was curious and inquisitive, a dead giveaway of his political biases. He always asked why you never stopped the pedestrians or flagged down the MTVs and you always answered the same thing: these people knew the rules and the law and whatever consequences they suffered were beyond you.

Felix never seemed to get it, his humanity completely intact. Of the three of you, he always ended up black out tired by midnight, running up and down the road to warn people to use the overpass instead of the road or entertaining impatient folk and tricking them into waiting until the crosswalk lights turned green. 

But just like him, there were hard-headed people who never listened regardless of the measures he took. The first time he saw a person carelessly cross the road in a manic sprint, he jumped right after them. Grappling hooks burst out of his belt, piercing through the wind to hook onto metal bars across the highway and he swung across like a madman, saving the man at the last second before a truck rolled past where they once were. 

You met his triumphant smile with disbelief and horror. “Maybe they haven’t oriented you, Felix, but our job is to clean up, not pick up.”

“I know and I don’t get it. Of all people, road runners can save lives and lessen traffic accidents, so why not do it?”

You’ve heard of this subtle leftist movement spreading across the provinces, the new generation of road runners adding saving pedestrians into their list of obligations. It was counterintuitive to what the government wanted to be done, but it was morally aligned with what most people thought. Road runners were being hailed again, looked up to. But the inversely proportional scales tipped, lower accident rates meant higher risks for runners. 

It didn’t guarantee a 100% success rate. There was a dog one day, got loose from its leash and sprinted off the highway sidewalk. Felix had been the first one to see it, tunnel vision narrowed to the dog’s path as it leaped onto the highway. But you’ve seen it too, along with the bus barrelling down the highway that maybe he didn’t.

“Felix, stop!” You dashed from your station, reaching him before his grappling hooks shot out. The dog continued running across the street, the bus continued moving at speed limit. Wind blew past you as it passed, leaving you puzzled on the sidewalk with nothing but dust and a carcass in its wake.

“I could’ve saved it,” Felix said, already mourning the pup he’d only met seconds ago. But even he sounded hopeless, half-knowing that there was no way helping that dog out of this one because he couldn’t have made it across without the bus ramming into him in exchange.

You remembered a time when you thought the same way but the years have dulled your hope, whatever righteousness you’ve had in you dissipating with the disbelief that people still refused to listen. And the accidents came often, desensitizing you with every death happening before your eyes. These people didn’t care about themselves no matter how hard you tried to save them.

While you grew to accept it as the months passed, Felix did not, or he wasn’t on the field long enough to know that in the end he couldn’t do anything about it if the same people who were saved never wanted saving. 

Felix was never assigned to your part of the highway before, so he never knew about that regular passerby—one who only sat by to observe the timing of things. The man always came by on weekday afternoons rain or shine. The expressway was never made for pedestrians but he still came anyway. It wasn’t hard to predict what was in his mind but you never made a move to approach nor interfere. And he disappeared for quite a while, months, and you thought he finally kicked the bucket. But he comes back one day, with a brighter expression over his once gloomy face and you’ve seen too many suicides to know what another attempt looks like.

Felix, however, did not. You didn’t see the man coming because if you did, you would’ve stopped him the way you did before during close calls. But he sees the man before you do and in the spur of the moment, the man had jumped into the highway, Felix following immediately behind him. And you can still hear Changbin behind you, shouting about upcoming cars but it falls on deaf ears and you watched the accident happen—both the man and Felix run down by a parade of cars coming from a recently greenlit intersection. You saw them launched into the air, landing so far from the point of collision and further ploughed by upcoming vehicles. Pieces of the body landed scattered down the highway, cars coming too often for any of you to get any cleaning done. 

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you felt your lungs begin to burn. For a moment you stood there, both in shock yet expecting what had happened. It was only a matter of when it would happen. Eventually you snapped out of it when the cars stopped coming, green light finally turning red.

From your pocket you dug out the device meant to access the central system and set the timer. The system closes off the highway and reroutes all upcoming vehicles to other roads. You began the dreadful trek to where the bodies, or most of it, actually were. Changbin called for a highway sweep, the two-man team seeming not enough to clear all parts of the bodies off the street. 

“Shame, I thought he’d last longer.” Changbin muttered as he caught up beside you, his mask and gloves already on.

“He didn’t really have it in him, you know? He was too soft.” You answered. “This might’ve been the best way to go and better now than later.”

© neo-shitty, 2023

[random-thought-depository]

A perspective that I think may be clarifying on what "skilled labor" as a class relations concept actually is and why "skilled workers" have more leverage:

Complex cognition-intensive difficult-to-monitor labor gives the laborer a lot more opportunities for difficult to detect and effective resistance.

With low-tech agricultural labor, "put the workers in a chain gang and have an overseer watch them and whip them if they practice passive resistance such as working with deliberate slowness or incompetence" can basically work. This is because much low-tech agricultural labor is physically difficult but not very cognition-intensive and therefore is easy to monitor; the overseer can feasibly keep track of what the workers are doing and understand what they're watching, and they can do this without too much extensive training.

With computer programmers, "chain the workers to their chairs and have an overseer watch them and whip them if they practice passive resistance" is how you end up with a software package that causes your nuclear reactor to go into meltdown without any alarms being triggered within ten minutes of installing it.

With a surgeon, "chain them to a chair and have an overseer watch them and whip them if they practice passive resistance while they give your nephew stomach surgery" is how you end up with your nephew getting something really dangerous to his health sown into his stomach lining.

The more opportunities for hard to detect effective resistance a task offers, the more the good-will of the worker matters, and thus the more it pays for a boss to incentivize workers with rewards instead of punishments and to generally be nice to them. This applies not just to slavery vs. paid labor, but to things like incentivizing workers through the reward of high pay and good working conditions vs. incentivizing them through the implicit threat of destitution.

Maybe more importantly here, programmers and surgeons have a lot more opportunities for less drastic low-level passive resistance, the sort that often never gets detected and shows up only as a lower level of productivity and/or a higher rate of plausibly deniable accidents. A cook can poison food, but if they aren't willing to escalate all the way to poisoning, well, it's not difficult to tell whether a dish is palatable, and giving your boss overcooked beef in the stroganoff isn't much of a revenge. A programmer often has a lot more opportunities to make life very difficult for their boss in ways that are plausibly deniable and probably won't kill anybody.

The greater leverage of "skilled" labor is not just about the abundance or scarcity of people with the relevant skills and the resource-intensiveness of training (though those are factors), but also about how difficult the labor is to monitor and how many opportunities it gives the laborer for hard to detect and effective resistance.

I suspect some of the Steven Pinker decline of violence thing is down to a high-tech society relying more on complex cognition-intensive difficult-to-monitor labor (as the examples chosen illustrate). A shift toward complex cognition-intensive difficult-to-monitor labor may be a major factor in the decline of slavery, and may be exerting a significant upward pressure on wages, through the mechanism I've just described. On the flip side, I think this dynamic is part of why bosses and capital owners benefit from de-skilling; de-skilling decreases the opportunities for passive resistance available to laborers; an artisan had much more opportunities for passive resistance than an assembly line worker.

[intersexalastor]

au where the todorokis live in some little village and they have a village witch, a witch that's bound to the village in some ancient rite. before they die (or decide to leave) the current witch must raise/teach another to take their place and bind them to the village to release themselves. (and if they don't: consequences.)

the witch is at the village's service, providing medical care and bending nature. they have discretion in that they're not obligated to heal everyone and fix every problem, but they have a duty to keep the village overall safe and moderately prosperous. they are also seen as a leader in some ways, but the elders bear most of that burden.

in turn, the village makes offerings, whether that be of food, money, or labor.

well, the current witch has had enough of these bumbling idiots and calls for enji todoroki. she demands an offering of one (1) child, specifically his youngest, shouto. this witch is far younger than enji, and he knows what this means.

but when he comes back the next day, it's not shouto he's dragging by the arm up to the little home some ways into the forest. it's his eldest, touya.

which is funny, she thinks. because she had shown him great kindness by avoiding choosing the eldest son, and he chooses to disrespect her by bringing her the wrong child. when she mentions this, touya immediately bursts into a flurry of anger at the realization that enji was trying to save shouto by sacrificing him.

she agrees to take touya, mentioning that she will overlook this transgression but "the next witch may very well make you pay for your sin."

enji brushes her off. touya isn't as bright or as strong as he needed him to be, and he doubts that he'll thrive as a witch.

unfortunately for him, she says as his figure retreats far into the forest, hatred and anger are powerful sources for magic.

she binds touya when he turns 16 and fucks off. it's an ancient seal that he cannot break. something that she warned him, because it's something many before him have attempted, including herself. and, like all others before him, though he's skilled enough to complete the tasks the village needs, he has far more studying to do before he can adequately train a replacement. and even more to bind them (and, in turn, unbind himself)

he figures that, after his predecessor leaves, he'd be lonely. he's not (he very much is, but he has to wall that part of himself off)

he does do his job. and he does it well enough. but soon after touya takes over, the todorokis meet hostility. touya does not heal everyone. and he does not keep all of their crops from withering. and, if he feels villagers are a bit too proud and a bit too mouthy, he isn't afraid of reminding them who sustains them, especially through painful punishments. his family, who try to keep their distance, become shunned.

he also has an annoying little girl, named himiko, who is often the designated errand girl for the witch, who brings him eggs and rice and bread and milk and begs him to show her a trick, or a little spell. he does not. but he gives her little trinkets and harmless potions. and maybe he saves some sweets or the best of his medicines for her, in case she falls ill.

when an outsider swipes some goods from one of the shops, the elders shake their heads and mutter that this is not their charge. they deal with internal conflicts, and an outsider is none of their business. take him to the witch, let him see what is best.

of course it's jin. a man who speaks oddly and scares them. they drag him to touya, who isn't happy to see them. he says that this is none of his business. the goods were recovered anyway. but they insist on punishment.

if touya saw natsuo in the crowd, he pretended not to notice.

he tells them to hold the outsider still. jin doesn't put up much of a struggle until he sees the knife, but he's not strong enough to fight off several grown men. touya carves his own seal into jin's shoulder, declares that jin is his now, and that they should all leave.

the villagers are none too happy. pissed, in fact. touya's doling out his home brewed punishments on them everywhere they turn. then this stranger turns up and he gives the guy a free pass.

they don't get much in the way of their arguing, because the first naysayer falls to the ground, clawing at his throat, lips blue. jin is scared. so is natsuo. the crowd is silent. jin pipes up, half-demanding and half-asking that touya not kill him. touya stares at him, but a beat later, the man suddenly regains the ability to breathe and gulps air. jin lets out a shaky breath.

one of the others says something, and touya tells him that his pregnant wife will miscarry by tomorrow. he pales, apologizes. they disperse, natsuo with them.

jin follows touya into the little home. he thinks of making a break for it, but he knows a witch's seal isn't some pretty little doodle and thinks better of it.

touya announces he needed some extra hands around the place. jin isn't suitable as a replacement, but he'll work as help (and to stave off touya's loneliness, though he doesn't admit that, not even to himself.)

touya gives him several tasks, which is mostly gathering some items. when jin asks what they're doing, touya scoffs and says he's going to make that man's wife miscarry. jin balks at this and refuses to help until touya, who's fucking annoyed, decides it's too much trouble and goes back to starting dinner, ordering jin to chop wood outside.