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frudoo · 10 months ago

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Unsure if you’re still taking asks but I’ve got an idea and I can’t write stories for shit; the 141 boys getting drugged by gas at an enemy base, only after the exfil they figure out it’s an aphrodisiac, and the reader has to deal with these ~~needy~~ men <33

I was wondering when I'd get a sex pollen ask....

Warnings: This is kinda silly oops. SMUT, obviously. One (1) mention of murder teehee. No prep for poor fem!reader. (2) PIV, anal sex, triple penetration, blowjob, breeding/just SO much cum. MDNI.

“Get them separated from everyone else. Now!” You demand, quickly throwing on your gas mask and slipping into the room where your beloved 141 are hot, sweaty, and panting.

“Fucking KorTac. Did you kill the one who did this?” You ask Price specifically, but he points to Ghost and you nod in understanding.

“Big fuckin’ wanker, size o’two Johnnys probably,” Ghost snorts even through his agony, earning himself a slap on the arm from Soap, whose face is even redder now.

“Who’s gonna be my guinea pig?” You ask, sighing when you see all of them rushing towards you. “Just one!”

It’s only when they get up close that you recognize the symptoms—excess sweating, bloodshot eyes, uncontrollable flared nostrils, and the distinct aroma of rosewater that’s clear even through your mask. Fuck. Of all the gasses they could have inhaled, did it have to be sex pollen? It’s better than something deadly, you guess. When you look down, it’s confirmed—all four men have massive tents in the front of their tactical pants. You grumble and begin taking off your hazmat suit because there’s only one way to cure sex pollen. Sex, of course.

“No, love, what are you doin’? You can’t-” John begins, but you shut him up by pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

Instantly, the captain is growling and tearing at your regular uniform. You sigh in annoyance against his lips at the thought of having to replace them, but your hands occupy themselves with unzipping each of their pants anyway. Before long you find yourself completely stripped and straddling John on the couch while he slobbers all over your tits like a starved dog. With a wince, you seat yourself on the captain’s dick, whining at the painful stretch.

Without warning, Ghost shoves in alongside Price, making you scream and dig your nails into the couch with a sob. He kisses your forehead and apologizes over and over again as he continues setting a pace with John—one pushes in, one pulls out, but both tips remain inside of you at all times. Whimpering, you lay your torso down on top of Price’s in an attempt to soothe yourself. Just when you think this will be it, two men at a time, fucking Johnny climbs on top of you and spits on your puckered hole, pushing his stupidly fat cock inside. You’re so stretched, so full, in absolute agony and yet reveling in pleasure.

Anything for your boys, you have to remind yourself. Anything. You are their nurse, after all, the only one who can cure them of this damn sickness. That’s why you don’t complain or resist when Kyle cups your jaw in his pretty, big hand, holding your mouth open while he coaxes his dick inside. Instantly you’re hollowing your cheeks and sucking, using Gaz as a distraction from the searing pain of Soap jackhammering into your asshole and the delicious euphoria of Price and Ghost sharing your pussy—which, by the way, you did not know was so elastic.

Johnny is the first to come, and you’re secretly thanking the great heavens that he’s so sensitive that he can’t last very long. When he pulls out, he presses a kiss to your forehead and mutters numerous apologies and offers of thank yous—while you appreciate the gesture, it’s a little hard to acknowledge it at the moment while Kyle’s tip is hitting the deepest part of your throat. Before long, you’re sputtering on an overwhelming abundance of salty semen, listening to the sweet sounds of the pretty sergeant’s orgasm ringing throughout the air.

Next to cum is Price, and holy shit, does he have a lot of it. He grabs your face and pulls you down for another kiss, uncaring of the remnants of Kyle’s spend as he shoves his tongue inside your mouth. His own semen is spilling out of you every time Ghost pushes back in, and finally, the gruff lieutenant reaches his peak. It’s the first time you’ve heard him whimper, and it makes your own orgasm that much more intense. John holds you through your spasms until you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck while all four men pet your skin and tell you how thankful they are.

You’ll do anything for your team, so of course you don’t protest when they all start licking up their messes off of you. Such a wonderful nurse, you are.

#holy shit I feel so bad for this woman #ask me!#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #141 x reader #141 x fem!reader #cod x reader

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slimybeth69 · 5 months ago

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Pretty Pink Nails

Summary: Joel gets you a special treat while out on a supply run but it comes at a price. rating: explicitwarnings: (perceived) dark!Joel, dub-con/ referenced non-con, age gap (reader knows about nail polish/ joel is 50ish), pussy/dick pronouns.

"You ever see nail polish when you go out?" You sigh with a hint of sadness laced in your tone. Joel can see it all over your face, with your big eyes and softly furrowed brows.

Joel rubs his hands down your shins and his fingers tug mindlessly at the worn elastic of your threadbare socks. "I've never looked for it, darlin'." His eyes never leave your face as you continue your inspection of your dirty fingernails. "Why're you askin'?"

"Just wonderin'," you murmur, taking one last look at your hands before huffing quietly to yourself, letting them fall into your lap in what looks like defeat.

A hint of a smile plays across Joel's lips. "You want Daddy t'look next time he goes on a supply run?"

Your eyes dart to his face, already beaming as he wraps his hand around your delicate ankle. All you can do is nod excitedly and press the ball of your foot into the front of his jeans gently moving it up and down the soft bulge.

"Whatever my princess wants, she gets..." Joel's eyes drop down to watch you tease him. "Ain't that right?"

Truth is, Joel hasn't seen anything but dirty, unkempt fingernails wrapped around the thick girth of his cock for over twenty years. Not that he ever complained, it was a product of the environment. He noticed though; noticed how no one ever had the time to be so meticulous in their grooming habits to worry about it. His hardened heart softened at the innocence of your yearning.

It was hard for Joel to not do everything he could to put a smile on your face out here in the decay of what used to be a busy city that was full of life. Now it was almost a wasteland run by soldiers that he had to bribe to sneak him out to try and find you fucking nail polish.

Two weeks later you were in the tub, washing up before bed just like Joel had told you-- just like the good girl Joel trained you to be.

You hadn't always been so pliant in his demands for obedience, but he broke you eventually, and now you listen so well.

When he enters the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the tub, you smile up at him, the steamy, suds-less water does nothing to hide away the parts Joel has already memorized about you.

"Thanks for makin' dinner tonight, Daddy."

"You're so welcome, sweet girl." Joel leans down and presses a kiss to your damp forehead. "I got you somethin' else ya' can thank me for," he mumbles against your skin.

From the back pocket of his jeans he pulls out a plastic bristled brush to scrub your nails with, and a bottle of polish that's cotton candy pink with a slight shimmer.

Your eyes go wide, and they almost look like they're filling with tears as you take the gifts into your hands. You start to thank him again when Joel pushes his thumb into your mouth and presses the calloused pad onto your tongue.

"Now th'only way you get t'keep those is if you show Daddy how pretty them lil fingers look wrapped around him later. That sound fair, baby girl?"

"Yeth, Daddy." You lisp before your lips wrap around the knuckle of his digit, nodding as you swirl your soft, warm muscle around it slowly.

Joel pulls his hand away from your mouth with a soft, wet pop and stands. "Good. Now get all nice and prettied up, and you know where t'come find me when ya' ready." He winks at you before leaving you alone in the bathroom once again. Joel loves finding ways to take good care of his baby girl.

You take your time in the tub, carefully scrubbing your nails clean with the new brush Joel brought you. Excitement flutters in your belly as you apply the shimmery pink polish with a steady hand.

Once your nails are dry, you slip into your favorite silky nightgown, the one that barely skims your mid-thigh, another nice thing Joel surprised you with a while ago.

The fabric clings to your damp skin as you quietly pad into the living room where Joel is sitting in his armchair, one ankle resting on his knee as he cleans his revolver. He looks up when you enter, his eyes trailing over your naked body.

"There's my pretty girl," he purrs appreciatively, setting the gun aside as his eyes roam. "Come'ere and show Daddy them sweet lil' fingers."

You walk over to him, a sultry sway to your hips, and perch yourself on his lap. “Here ya’ go, Daddy.”

He takes one of your hands and studies your neatly polished nails, nodding in approval.

"Such a good job, baby. Now, remember what you promised..." His voice trails off suggestively as he guides your hand down to the stiffening bulge in his jeans.

You nod eagerly, your eyes locked on Joel's as your fingers trace over the shape of his hardening cock through the denim. "I remember. I want to make you feel so good, as a thank you for my pretty nails."

Joel groans approvingly, his hand covering yours and pressing it more firmly against him. "That's my good girl. Go on now, take him out."

With deft fingers, you unbutton his jeans and slowly tug down the zipper. Joel lifts his hips, allowing you to slide both his jeans and boxers down his, hairy, muscular thighs, freeing his thick, hard cock. It juts upward, the swollen head already drooling with a bead of precum.

"Thank you so much, Daddy," you purr lovingly, wrapping your small hand around his thick shaft, almost unable to close your fist around it. The shimmery pink of your nail polish is a stark contrast against his tanned skin as you start to stroke him slowly from base to tip.

Joel lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the chair. "That's it, sweetheart. Just like that," he encourages gruffly, his large hand coming to rest on your silk-clad thigh. “Spit on him, baby.”

You gather saliva in your mouth and let it drip slowly onto the head of Joel's throbbing cock. It dribbles down the shaft as you spread it with your fingers, making him slick and shiny.

"Good girl," Joel praises, his hand sliding higher up your thigh, pushing the silky fabric out of the way. "Get him nice and slippery."

You curl your fist around his girth again, and begin gliding your fist up and down, rotating your wrist because that's the way Joel showed you. The pink polish gleams in the low light as your hand works over his length.

"Fuck, baby," he grunts, his hips flexing up into your grip. "Love seein' him all wrapped up in your sweet lil' hand."

You preen under the praise, encouraged to tighten your grasp as you increase the pace. The wet sound of your stroking fills the room along with Joel's heavy breathing and occasional grunts of pleasure. His hand slides further up your thigh, pushing under the hem of your nightgown to cup your bare mound.

"Oh!" you gasp in surprise as his thick fingers delve between your already slick folds, playing teasingly over your sensitive clit.

"Shh, keep goin' princess," he encourages, circling your nub slowly. "Wanna feel’er slick up my fingers while ya’ stroke him with them pretty hands."

“I want him inside,” you whimper needily but obey, pumping your fist faster over his rigid, throbbing cock, working him steadily and twisting on the upstroke and rubbing your thumb over his sensitive tip to spread the precum dribbling from his cock.

"Nuh uh," he tuts disapprovingly. "She ain't gonna get him inside now, not when ya’ wanna be a greedy girl. You just focus on makin' him feel real good with those hands Daddy worked so hard t’make pretty." To emphasize his point, he gives your cheek a light slap, just enough sting to make you whimper.

You pout but know better than to protest further, instead you double your efforts to please him. You fondle his heavy balls with your other hand as you pump his shaft, loving how powerful and masculine he feels.

Joel's fingers continue to toy with your soaked slit, occasionally dipping just the tips inside your fluttering hole but never giving you the satisfaction of filling you up like you crave. It's maddening, the way he keeps you on edge.

You moan desperately, grinding your hips down against his teasing fingers, trying to force them deeper. "Please Daddy, I need it... need you inside me so bad."

"Nah baby girl, this is what'cha get for bein' a needy lil' thing. You just focus on your task now." He captures your wrist, forcing you to squeeze him tighter as he thrusts up into your grip.

Tears of frustration prick at your eyes, but you’re well trained and determined to please him. You know if you're a good girl, he'll reward you eventually.

"Don't slow it down none," Joel groans. So you pour all your desperation into stroking him just how he likes, twisting and pumping.

His words encourage you to keep working Joel's cock faster and harder, desperate to earn his praise and your own release. His fingers continue to tease your dripping slit mercilessly, keeping you on the precipice without letting you tumble over.

"Daddy," you whine, grinding down against his hand. "I've b-been such a good girl, I need it, need you so bad..."

"Shh, patience now. You'll get what's comin' to ya." Joel's voice is a low growl, thick with lust. He lets you squirm and whimper for a moment longer before suddenly plunging two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your aching cunt.

"Oh fuck, thank you Daddy!" you cry out, walls clenching greedily around the welcome intrusion.

Joel’s hand connect with your cheek harder than last time, the burning sting ripping through your flesh. “Fix ya’ filthy mouth,” he growls, his fingers and thumb gripping your face and pushing your lips into a soft pout.

“M’sorry…” You whine quietly. “Please don’t stop…”

"There's my desperate girl.” Joel smirks at your desperation, fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt as you work him feverishly. "That's right baby, work for it. Make Daddy feel real good and maybe he'll let this hungry lil' pussy cum on his fingers."

You continue working Joel's massive shaft with your hand, your pretty pink nails looking so delicate wrapped around his thick girth. The contrast is mesmerizing to you both.

His fingers plunge in and out of your soaked, needy hole, curling to rub your most sensitive spots that Joel mapped out inside you long ago.

The combined sensations of Joel's fingers pumping inside you and the feeling of his thick cock throbbing in your hand are overwhelming. You're trembling with need, desperately trying to focus on pleasuring him while your own arousal builds to a fever pitch.

"Daddy, please," you whimper, your hips rocking against his hand. "I'm s-so close..."

Joel's eyes darken with lust as he watches you struggle to maintain control. "Not yet, princess. Gotta earn it first." Despite his words, he increases the pace of his fingers, thumb roughly circling your clit as he fucks you with his thick digits.

Your hand falters on his cock as pleasure courses through you.

"Don't you dare stop," Joel growls, his free hand gripping your wrist tightly. "Keep goin' or you don't get to cum at all."

Whimpering, you force yourself to focus, pumping him faster as your body trembles on the edge of release. Joel's breath comes in harsh pants, his hips bucking up into your grip.

"That's it, just like that," Joel groans, his eyes locked on your hand flying over his cock, pink nails a blur. "Gonna paint them pretty fingers white..."

His fingers curl inside you, rubbing insistently against your g-spot as his thumb circles your clit. The pleasure is almost unbearable, but you fight against your impending orgasm, knowing you'll be punished if you cum without permission.

"Please Daddy," you beg breathlessly. "I can't hold it much longer..."

"Just a little more, darlin'," Joel grunts, his cock swelling in your grasp. "Daddy's almost there..."

You stroke him faster, desperate for release. Your wrist aches but you don't dare slow down. Joel's fingers pump in and out of your dripping pussy relentlessly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, with a guttural groan, Joel's hips jerk upward. "Fuck, baby... Cum for me. Now."

At his command, you unravel. Your walls clench rhythmically around his fingers as your orgasm tears through you. At the same time, Joel's cock pulses in your grip, spurting thick ropes of cum over your hand and wrist.

Your body shudders while Joel's fingers continue to work inside you as you milk every last drop of his release onto your trembling hand. The pearlescent strands of cum stand out starkly against your pink nails, and you can't help but stare in fascination.

"That's my good girl," Joel rumbles, his voice thick with satisfaction. He slowly withdraws his fingers from your quivering pussy, bringing them up to your lips. "Clean 'em off for me, sweetheart."

Obediently, you part your lips and take them into your mouth, sucking and licking him clean of your own juices. Joel watches you intently, his eyes have that dark, hooded look you've gotten grown to love rather than despise.

"Such a pretty lil thing," he murmurs, using his free hand to brush a strand of hair from your flushed face. "Now, why don't you keep showin' your Daddy how much you appreciate your new nail polish by cleanin' up the mess you made, hmm?"

You nod eagerly, sliding off his lap and kneeling between his spread thighs. With reverent care, you begin to lick the cooling strands of cum from your fingers and palm, making sure to maintain eye contact with Joel as you do so. His breath hitches as he watches you, his spent cock twitching with interest.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, running his fingers through your hair. "Get it all. Don't want to waste a drop of Daddy's gift, do we?"

You shake your head, “Nuh uh,” you mumble, continuing to lap at your hand until every trace of his release is gone.

Joel groans, his grip tightening in your hair. "Want Daddy t’paint ya’ cute lil toes next?"

this is me taking a swing (and probably missing) at a (semi) dark!Joel fic.

it was heavily inspired by Clean, written by @strang3lov3

thanks for inspiring me to write what I want lady, I appreciate you <3

thank you @saradika-graphics for the dividers and everything else. you're amazing.

#dark!joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #tlou joel #dirty talk #dark!joel miller

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inspired-lesson-plans · 2 months ago

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Math, grade 7, Ratios and Proportional Relationships 7.RP.A.3: Use proportional relationships to solve multistep ratio and percent problems. Examples: simple interest, tax, markups and markdowns, gratuities and commissions, fees, percent increase and decrease, percent error.

Essential Question: How can basic calculations of percent change influence major world events?

Do Now: Calculate the percent increase or decrease in each of the following equations. x = (28 - 17.9)/28 x = (41.5 - 57.7)/57.7

Class Discussion: Remind students about how to perform basic calculations of increase/decrease factors. Ask them whether this calculation would be more complicated if the quantities were dollars instead of just numbers (answer: no). Ask them whether this calculation would be more complicated if the quantities were billions of dollars instead of just dollars (answer: no). Show students that they just performed the exact same calculations that Donald Trump did in order to decide what tariffs should be put upon Indonesia and Thailand, respectively.

Finally, ask students whether important global trade decisions should be calculated with 7th grade math skills, or if perhaps this is insufficient given the severe consequences that could arise from such a dunning-kruger error.

Direct Instruction: Explain what a Dunning-Kruger error is, if for no other reason than to communicate how absolutely maddening has it is for legitimate experts who have dedicated their lives to nudging fiscal policy in the right direction and then watch as their president makes the worst decision possible on purpose.

Take a moment to explain the difference between an import and an export, so that students understand what these billions of dollars actually mean in the real world. Feel free to call out anyone who has ever questioned whether or not they would ever use this kind of math in the real world. Show them that it's happening right now, and make sure they understand how terrifying that is.

Acknowledge the variables: x: total exports from US to country i m: total imports to US from country i tau (τ): calculated % tariff on all imports to US from country i epsilon (ε): elasticity phi (φ): passthrough

Ask students what they think elasticity and passthrough mean, then show students this passage from ustr.gov:

Parameter Selection To calculate reciprocal tariffs, import and export data from the U.S. Census Bureau for 2024. Parameter values for ε and φ were selected. The price elasticity of import demand, ε, was set at 4. Recent evidence suggests the elasticity is near 2 in the long run (Boehm et al., 2023), but estimates of the elasticity vary. To be conservative, studies that find higher elasticities near 3-4 (e.g., Broda and Weinstein 2006; Simonovska and Waugh 2014; Soderbery 2018) were drawn on. The elasticity of import prices with respect to tariffs, φ, is 0.25. The recent experience with U.S. tariffs on China has demonstrated that tariff passthrough to retail prices was low (Cavallo et al, 2021).

Ask students if this clarified anything about what elasticity and passthrough mean. Most will say "no", but if anyone points out that multiplying 4 by 0.25 cancels them both out, reward them. That student is correct, because elasticity and passthrough have been arbitrarily assigned so as to make this calculation so simple that even Donald Trump can understand it.

Modeled Learning: Show how to apply these tariffs to popular imports such as raw coffee beans. For example, the USDA report of coffee imports from 2024 (page 6) shows that the vast majority of raw coffee is imported from Brazil.

A simple search with Perplexity.ai tells us that in 2024, imports (m) = $42.3 billion and exports (x) = $49.7 billion, so the reciprocal tariff would be (x-m)/m = (49.7-42.3)/42.3 = 17.5%.

Thus, all coffee imports from Brazil will automatically be 17.5% more expensive.

Be sure to highlight that this is happening to every country in the world, even those with total populations less than 1000.

Higher Order Learning:

Students should consider the following facts:

There is very little territory within the United States that can grow coffee.

Almost all coffee in the world is grown within what is called "The Global South", where the climate is warm and the labor is cheap.

The US exports significantly more (sometimes vastly more) to countries in the Global South than we import from them.

Students should then answer the following questions:

What will this universal tariff calculation do to the price of coffee?

Is there any way that US coffee companies can import the same amount of coffee as before without passing on the cost to consumers? Why or why not?

Do you think this tariff program will equalize imports and exports between the US and other countries? What other impacts could it have, good or bad, across the world?

#lesson plan #math #grade 7 #trump tariffs #teachblr #I really should be devoting my time to other‚ more important things‚ but... I just had to do this today.#It's so obviously stupid #dunning kruger #Not even queueing this‚ just post.

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thecornercat · 2 months ago

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The American tariffs

(Italian versione under the cut)

Announced by president Donald Trump yesterday, during the Liberation Day press conference, have been calculated on a rather crude basis: a ratio between, at the numerator, the US trade deficit (difference between exports - xi - and imports - mi) with each individual state/economic area, and at the denominator, the product of imports into the US from that state (mi), the price elasticity of import demand (ε) set at 4, and the elasticity of import prices with respect to tariffs (φ) set to 0.25 . That result has then been divided by two.

The tariffs, according to the office of the United States Trade Representative, should go against the effect of the allegedly "wide-ranging and harmful foreign trade barriers" adopted by other countries towards the US. It's important to note, though, that the deficit only concerns goods, not services, and is caused, rather than by unfair measures, by the country's attractiveness for foreign investors, which strengthens the dollar and makes local production more expensive.

I dazi americani

Annunciati ieri dal presidente Donald Trump, durante la conferenza stampa del Liberation Day, sono stati calcolati su basi piuttosto rozze: il rapporto tra, al numeratore, il deficit commerciale statunitense (differenza tra esportazioni - xi - e importazioni - mi) rispetto ad ogni paese, e, al denominatore, il prodotto tra le importazioni negli USA da quel paese, l'elasticità del prezzo della domanda di importazione (ε) fissata a 4, e l'elasticità dei prezzi all'importazione rispetto alle tariffe (φ) fissata a 0.25. Il risultato è stato poi diviso per due.

I dazi, secondo l'ufficio dell'United States Trade Representative, dovrebbero contrastare gli effetti delle presunte "barriere al commercio estero dannose e di vasta portata" adottate dagli altri paesi verso gli Stati Uniti. Bisogna sottolineare, però, che quel deficit riguarda solo i beni, non i servizi, ed è causato, piuttosto che da misure ingiuste, dall'attrattiva per gli investitori stranieri, che rende più forte il dollaro e rende la produzione locale più costosa.

#politics #us politics #tariffs #us tariffs #donald trump #usa #economy #politica #politica usa #dazi #dazi usa #stati uniti #economia #politics corner

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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A widely proposed solution to the concern about the rising price of housing is to weaken regulation to allow for more homebuilding. However, analyzing income and housing data from 1980 to 2020, Schuyler Louie of the University of California, Irvine, and John Mondragon and Johannes Wieland of the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco find that the effect on house prices and housing quantity of an increase in housing demand (as measured by income growth and by the increase in remote work during the pandemic) is largely independent of cities’ housing regulations. This suggests that differences in the elasticity of housing supply across cities are too small to explain the differences in house price increases, they say.

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gamingavickreyauction · 1 year ago

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It's often said, as a truism, that while climate change is caused by systems, your individual choices can still make a difference, but might not actually be true- not just that you are small, but that the difference your consumption makes is actually zero.

Standard economic analysis

The standard economic analysis is that if you buy more carbon-intensive goods, that has two effects: it increases the total quantity of carbon-intensive goods sold, and it increases the price of carbon-intensive goods (only marginally, because you are small).

This means that while you buying one unit of carbon-intensive goods doesn't increase the amount of carbon-intensive goods as sold by one, it still increases them, and the amount it increases it by depends on the price elasticities of demand and supply (i.e. the slopes of the curves). If supply is very inelastic, we expect it to make close to 0 difference, and if demand is very inelastic we expect it to make an almost one-for-one difference. Suppose PED = PES and you emitted one extra tonne of CO2, the net effect of that is only an extra half tonne of CO2.

Aside: do these diagrams actually work? Yes. This result seems counterintuitive: the price of electricity isn't going to be put up just because you used more electricity this year, so it isn't going to result in others using less - there will be no offset. And this is correct, the world comes in discrete changes. But if enough people use more electricity, prices will go up, and you have no way of knowing whether you're the one who'll push it over the edge or raise the price of electricity from 29p to 30p. So we just look at averages, and on average you will raise prices by the amount shown on this diagram (i.e. very small, because you are very small, but enough to offset an amount of consumption that matters for our purposes).

Accounting for the government

But this standard economic analysis takes place in a policy vacuum. I mean, the same welfare effect would also hold if the government's climate policy was optimal because something something envelope theorem, but the government's policy is ummmm not optimal. In any country. Governments are not trying to set a socially optimal rate of carbon tax (which would be crippling to many industries) they are trying to do something more like reduce emissions enough to satisfy an electorate that doesn't care much, and no further, because they don't want to shrink the economy.

In an idealised version of this strategy, individual actions actually have 0 effect, regardless of PED or PES, because of the policy feedback mechanism: a British person emits one less tonne of CO2 so the UK government go 'oh look an extra tonne of CO2 we can emit without exceeding our internal targets' and spend less on mitigation to cancel it out.

Whilst your individual effect is small and unlikely to be noticed by policymakers, many people's changes will be noticed, and your emissions might be the straw that broke the camel's back, so we can treat the government as if their targets are responding to your individual emissions, just like in the aside. Note it isn't the official targets that matter, but how much governments privately feel they can get away with.

If the government are decided to emit 500MTe, then 500MTe are going to be emitted by someone, regardless of if you're the one doing it. You didn't help the Bangladesh farmer who's losing their livelihood because of harsher monsoon seasons, you just helped Clyde who wants to pay less tax on his SUV.

This argument hinges on this policy feedback mechanism actually being one-for-one, which we don't know, and which is fundamentally an empirical question. Specifically in the long-run. I'm sure it's not actually one-for-one- and if we model the government as maximising some utility function of economy and environment, it can't be.

We would also need to multiply this 'do your actions have purpose (because government is a fuck)' coefficient by the 'do your actions have purpose (because markets is a fuck)' coefficient to find out the actual effect of your actions. The crux of my argument is that the government's fuck coefficient is likely to be very small.

What is the government's fuck coefficient?

The long-run government fuck coefficient is built up over years of repeatedly adjusting policy to look more like what the government wanted to do anyway: if the government undershoots their carbon budget one year, the government will want to take that as license to emit more the next year, and whilst this won't be one for one- it might be quite small- over many years it will add up to mean emissions were basically what they would have been anyway.

Policy and emissions are slow to adjust- maybe a year after you reduced emissions by a tonne, policy change adjustments have only offset it by 10%, leaving a government fuck coefficient of 0.9 which seems pretty good (it means you had 90% as much effect as you thought your were having). Then the next year the government has 0.9 extra tonnes in their budget, and again their policy only offsets 10% of that, leaving a government fuck coefficient of 0.81 after 2 years. This continues year after year, so that in 30 years time, the government fuck coefficient is 0.042- i.e. you think you've saved a tonne of CO2, but because of the policy feedback mechanism, your net effect is only 42kg. Lets call this 10% figure the government fuck decay rate (GFDR).

Maybe the GFDR is lower than that, which would mean your individual consumption has more impact for longer. But as long as this GFDR is constant over time, your impact exponentially decays over time. The government fuck coefficient goes to zero. Remember, this isn't your effect on annual emissions decaying over time, it's your effect on cumulative emissions - this means your individual actions really are being undone. Not that annual emissions adjust back to the status quo but cumulative emissions do.

The government fuck coefficient after t years is (1-GFDR)^t

Self criticism like some kind of Maoist

The one weak point in this analysis I can see is it assumes governments' emission preferences care about cumulative emissions, not just annual emissions - i.e. that governments will think they can get away with doing less this year because they did more last year, or ten years ago. This is what gives a GFDR that isn't 0. If they largely don't think like this, the GFDR could be way less than 0.1 per year, leading to a government fuck coefficient that isn't near 0 even decades in the future (and what really matters is what the effect is decades in the future when hopefully governments will doing the right amount of mitigation, at which point there is no more decay).

The GFDR might also decrease over time, as after a certain amount of time historical emissions may basically be considered water under the bridge.

But if the GFDR is anything close to 0.1, we have to accept that, bizarre as it seems, saving energy today doesn't actually result in there being less carbon in the air in 50 years.

This doesn't mean we should do nothing, but it means our actions should be entirely focused on shifting government preferences, rather than on changing consumption habits. Assuming my analysis is correct.

#climate change #economics #also please tell me if you read this I don't know if anyone reads these

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cryptic-forge · 2 years ago

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COMMISSIONS

TEMPORARILY CLOSED. i hope to be back eventually.

prints of my existing dolls are sometimes available on my ko-fi. if there is a specific doll drop you'd like to see, don't hesitate to send an ask; if something is in demand, i'm more likely to make a few for sale.

i also do fully custom bjds and art dolls. price depends on complexity, size, and whether you want clothing & starts at 200€ + shipping. this is a fully unique sculpt made to your specifications, printed and painted. can include hair, eyes, clothes and accessories. a custom sculpt that involves your design [oc references etc] will not be sold to anyone else.

all dolls are fdm 3d-printed in PLA. this means the following things:

they are very lightweight and reasonably sturdy.

there will be layer lines and imperfections. i check the quality of every doll, but a 3d print will never be as flawlessly smooth as a resin doll or a mass-produced plastic doll.

they are non-toxic, though should not be given to children to chew on because they're entirely made of small parts strung together with elastic cord.

i'm not currently selling any digital files.

payments via paypal invoice when i'm ready to start working. bank transfer and mobilepay are also ok for finnish customers. i ship worldwide, cost depends on location; around 20€ for eu, 45€ for usa, and somewhere in-between for the rest of the world. let me know where you live and i'll give you an exact shipping quote.

no returns or refunds & i can't take responsibility for any problems during shipping. if a part of your doll breaks (in transit or after), i will replace it at the cost of shipping for the new part.

#commissions #bjd #ooak

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daydreamsandafternoonteafics · 4 months ago

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Crossroads- Chapter 10

banner by shesaidpoptarts

"What do you think?"

I stare at my reflection in the full-bodied mirrors, turning to my side to get a better view of the slope of my bump under the snug fitting material.

"Trying too hard?"

In any other state, I wouldn’t have thought twice about the single-shouldered black gown but it’s the most formal thing I’ve worn since my belly popped and it feels a bit weird seeing the bump all dressed up.

Mom chuckles, tossing her cell in her purse.

“How could you be? You could never go wrong with a little black dress. You look stunning,”

After a long and stressful week, the weekend was finally here, and I was more than ecstatic to wind down with a bit of pampering and one-on-one time with Harry. I’d hardly seen him with a week full of food runs and date night had been over-due for the longest time. I’d penciled in our date in my calendar nearly a hundred times in fear that my pregnancy brain would prevail, and it’d slip my mind. I was determined to make tonight perfect.

I turn to face the mirror straight on, getting a view of my belly from a different angle. The bump strains against the silky fabric and makes me feel a bit subconscious. I was not used to having my belly be the center of attention like this.

“So, are you going to get it?” Mom asks, shattering my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I glance at the price tag with a sigh. “it’s lovely but I don’t know if I should be spending extra money. I just had to replace my battery for the Rover. It wasn’t exactly cheap.”

As much as I wanted this date night to be special, I was sure rummaging through my closet one more time wouldn’t hurt.

Mom scoffs letting out a short laugh.

“Oh, River. We both know you hardly noticed the money leave your bank account. Don’t be a penny pincher.”

It wasn’t a secret that Harry and I were a very financially secure couple, but I never liked to flaunt it or use it to my advantage.

While we had a joint bank account, I set aside finances for personal wants and needs. Even if I didn’t have to, I still worked for my own money and maintained the frugal mentality I was raised with. Harry was accustomed to living a luxurious lifestyle where money was no object and had never really gotten out of the habit. When things were broken or got old, his only rationale was to replace it. I, on the other hand, tried to make dollars stretch as much as possible. I was proud of my independence and never wanted to rely on Harry’s money to get me the things I wanted.

“Mom, you know how I feel about that. We’re just going to dinner anyway.”

She raises a sculpted brow.

“Just going to dinner? You and Harry going out happens less than a moon landing. You better buy that dress. Treat tonight like it’s special.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or take offense to my mother’s blatant insult of my crumbling marriage, so I simply hike up the dress’ skirt and retreat into the dressing room to change back into my clothes.

“I guess I owe tonight to you,” I spoke over the wooden door as I pulled down the zipper of the dress. “Your talk really helped.”

“How so?”

Her voice is muffled as I pull my blouse over my head. I suddenly feel dizzy and steady myself against the wall.

“I marched right into his office and demanded he talk to me. We decided that we’d like to know the baby’s gender and then I mentioned date night."

I say that with more pride than necessary as I adjusted the elastic band of a pair of maternity shorts under my bump before tossing the dress across my shoulder. For most women, marching into their husband’s office was a routine. For me, it was a milestone.

I open the dressing room door to meet my grinning mother.

“Impressive. See what happens when you listen to your Mother?” she replies, thrusting my handbag into my arms. “Buy the dress. Then you can thank me when you get laid.”

I gasp, my cheeks stinging with embarrassment.

“Mom.” I groan as we approach the cash register. The feeling of dizziness was returning.

She chuckles.

“Oh, don’t act innocent, River. You’re pregnant. You can’t expect me to believe you two are holding hands and praying at night."

I’d rather her believe this baby was conceived via immaculate conception than discuss any aspect of my sex life with her. My mother had always been candid and bohemian in her parenting and opened the floor for conversations about sex since my early teenage years. I was much more conservative than my mother, however, and was far too embarrassed to seek her counsel.

I placed the dress on the sale’s counter for the cashier to ring up but before I can reach into my wallet, Mom nudges me aside and swipes her credit card.

“Mom,” I chide. “you weren’t supposed to pay for that.”

She takes the bagged dress from the cashier with a grin.

“Consider it an early push gift,”

“I’m barely five months. It’s way too early to be receiving push gifts,” I grin, folding my arms over my belly. “let me at least pay for lunch and work off my debt. “

Mom chews the corner of her lip in thought.

“I do have some extra work to get done in the dining hall. It’s a fair exchange.”

***

“Oh, River,” Adele coos. “this looks lovely.”

I stare at the dining hall, satisfied with my work. The eyelet lace tablecloths and magnolias gives a dreamy, vintage feel that’s undeniably romantic. Apart from cooking, I think I was at my happiest when I was helping Mom around the B&B. It felt nice helping couples fall deeper in love. I almost felt like cupid. A cupid that was a master bowman for others but couldn’t manage to shoot arrows straight for my own sake.

“I don’t know why I never thought of magnolias,” Mom chimes in whilst adjusting a vase “it looks gorgeous and smells great. Only something my girl would come up with.”

I flash a bashful smile, swinging my legs against the edge of the dining room stage as I stuff my face with chicken Lo Mein. I know I’ll probably have heartburn later but the takeout is far too delicious for me to care.

“It’s not the most innovative thing but it does look nice,” I reply, dabbing the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “I’m more worried about your florist. He’s a total hunk. If I were single and about twenty years older. . .”

Mom chuckles as she rummages through the brown paper bag of takeout.

“River Dawn, you are incorrigible,” she laughs. “there’s not a single man who hasn’t walked through these doors without a woman that you haven’t tried to hook me up with.”

Adele grins as she places silverware on the table and I shrug in defense.

“You have to admit, Kate. He’s quite the looker. Any red-blooded woman can see that.” She speaks.

“See! Even Adel agrees. This place is full of romance, Mom. Don’t you think you deserve some of that too? It’d be a classic romance story- florist meets hotel owner. There’s got to be a Hallmark movie about it already.”

Mom takes a bite out of a pot sticker with a sigh.

“I’ve had my run, sweetie. I’m not young and starry-eyed like you,” she reaches over to smooth a humidity-stricken strand of my hair. “As far as I’m concerned, Prince Charming doesn’t exist. But I’m glad you found yours.”

Although she doesn’t mean to, her words strike a nerve. I used to think of Harry as my Prince Charming. I was Cinderella who’d ridden into the sunset of happily ever after on my pumpkin. But lately, I felt more like Rapunzel, locked away in a tower of loneliness and doubt with no way to get down.

“I think I’m going to take a walk by the water,” I speak, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat.

My mood went from content to irritable in a matter of seconds.

With date night a few hours away I didn’t want to torture myself with any negative thoughts. I wanted the night to be perfect- insecurity and tension free.

Mom’s brows set into a deep furrow, a worried look settling on her face, but she doesn’t seem to question it.

“I might need a little help getting down, though.”

She suddenly giggles.

“Alright, my little roly-poly,”

I ease off the edge of the stage feeling dizzy again once my feet hit the ground. I didn’t seem to matter how much food I shoveled in my face, I still seemed to feel lightheaded.

I don’t bother looking back at Mom or Adele as I excuse myself out of the dining hall. The sun burns my skin and beads of perspiration form on my brow as I walk the stone-lined path. The gleeful shouts of children fill the air and the beach is buzzing with activity of lively games of frisbee and sandcastle building. The pleasant smell of waffle cones from the ice cream shop on pier seems to calm my nerves. I’m in so much of a trance I hardly hear my name being called.

“River, that you?”

My head whips in the direction of Thomas Gallagher waving at me from the porch of his Nix and Knack’s shop. Ryan sits in a chair identical to his father’s and his terribly blue eyes seem to burn right through mine. I’d been avoiding him for a while since our last lunch date ended with me in tears. I’d managed to get over what he said but now I felt completely guilty for ignoring my best friend.

I force a smile as I make my way up the steps of the porch that creek underneath my feet.

“Hi,” I greet before Tom envelopes me into a firm hug.

I’d always sort of lived vicariously through Ryan’s family. They had the stable and loving family dynamic that I often craved as a child. Tom was a loving father figure that filled the void of my own father’s absence and his late wife Rachel was a bit more maternal in nature than Mom had been.

Tom knew how to fix broken toys and told silly Dad jokes and Rachel knew how to cook and make paper doilies. The Gallagher’s where a nice balance when I sometimes felt overwhelmed with my mother’s pseudo-hippie habits. I was almost like the daughter they never had.

He steps back to get a good look at me.

“Well, aren’t you as pretty as a magnolia in May? It seems like only yesterday you were a little girl and now you’re going to be a Mama.”

Tom had the same deep blue eyes as Ryan that crinkled when he smiled.

I chuckle.

“Time flies, I guess.”

“When is the little one coming?”

In the beginning, these questions had annoyed me but now that I couldn’t hide my pregnancy I was getting used to them.

“Sometime in November. Whenever they decide really.” I reply.

Tom grins, running a hand through his head full of thick gray hair that was once a deep brown.

“You’ll have to bring em’ by and let me meet your little critter.”

I grin as I press a hand to my bump.

“I can definitely arrange it.”

There a short silence between us until Ryan finally speaks.

“Mind if I talk to Audley alone, Pop?”

Tom’s brow furrows in confusion but his expression soon changes to that of realization.

“Sure, I’ll let you two kids have a moment. I’ve got to tune this organ that came in last week,” he turns to me. “take care of yourself, River, okay?”

I tuck a fallen strand of hair behind my ear.

“Yes, sir.”

With a final smile Tom is gone, leaving Ryan and I completely alone. I stand awkwardly, chewing the corner of my lip and stuffing my hands in the pockets of my shorts to distract myself from Ryan’s gaze.

“You can sit if you like, angel.”

My stomach twists into nervous knots at the use of the pet name. As long as he’s not calling me River I know things are okay between us.

“I’d rather stand,” I reply.

“Okay, then,” he grins. “I’ll stand too.”

He rises out of his chair with a smirk and I roll my eyes. Even though I know he’s trying to break the ice, I find myself annoyed.

"You're filling out nicely," he speaks sheepishly, rubbing a hand against his beard.

"What?"

My eyebrows furrow in confusion and I feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment, completely caught off guard. I stare down at my chest in horror.

Ryan smirks.

"Your belly, Audley. It looks like there's an actual baby in there."

I giggle, placing a hand against my belly.

"That's because there is, silly,” I reply.

He runs a hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

“Look, Audley. I’m sorry about last time. I never wanted to hurt you. I just want to know if you’re okay, that’s all. Please, forgive me?”

His tone oozes sincerity and I sigh.

“I’m over it, Ry. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Ryan let’s out a sigh of relief before extending his arms out to me. I can’t help but laugh as I initiate the hug.

“You had me worried, angel. The last time we didn’t talk for this long I broke one of your NSYNC dolls. I was in deep shit.”

I giggle as we pull away.

“Justin was my favorite and you knew it. You were totally jealous of his hair.”

He scoffs.

“Who could be jealous of a doll? I have something it’ll never have.”

The laughter dies down between us.

“I’m glad we buried the hatchet, yeah?” I speak, breaking the silence.

He drapes an arm around me.

“Me too, Audley. Me too.”

At least if all else fails, something good came of the day. *** After spending some more time at the beach I finally headed home to get dolled up for dinner. By the time I arrived, Harry was home but the lack of his presence around the house meant he’d retreated to his office to get in extra work before he was out for the night.

I didn’t mind, I wanted him to be surprised when he saw me tonight. Dressing without giving him a peak made me feel cheeky.

I did a quick dry shampoo on my hair and did my make-up as usual with a little extra attention to the eyes. Once I slipped into my dress my confidence surged. This was probably the greatest I looked and felt in the past four months. Suddenly I felt invincible like nothing could ever ruin this night.

“Babe? Are you ready? Our reservation is set for seven thirty. They’ll take our table if we’re not on time.” Harry drawls from the bedroom.

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Yeah, sure.”

I open the door painstakingly slow meeting Harry’s gaze. He’s wearing what he’d usually wear to work but with a casual twist of black jeans. It never took much effort for him to look handsome. His jade eyes follow the length of my body and by the expression on his face, I can’t tell if he’s stunned or terrified. Or both.

“Darling,” he drawls whilst snaking his arms around my waist. “You look incredible. You’re stunning. Bloody gorgeous.”

I grin, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. He’s clean shaven and smells of aftershave. “Me? You’re joking right?” I chide.

His hands slip lower.

“I’m not. I’m so lucky,” he presses another kiss to my mouth. “you’re so sexy, Riv. Even sexier pregnant.”

I take in a deep breath, afraid we won’t make our dinner reservations if he doesn’t shut up. My eyes drift to the bed, a bouquet of peonies rest against the pillows.

“You brought me flowers? How sweet.” I speak, wrapping my arms around his neck.

The last time he brought my favorite flowers we weren’t speaking. Harry suddenly snaps out of his daze.

“Oh, yeah. Feels like more a real date, yeah?”

I kink a brow in confusion.

“This is a real date. Just because we’re married doesn’t make it less of a date,” I toy with the curls at the nape of his neck. “it’s one of the last few dinners we’ll have before we have a squealing infant to tend to. Let’s enjoy ourselves, okay?”

“We can’t enjoy ourselves if we miss our reservation,” the corner of his lips turn up into a dimpled smirk. “or maybe we can.”

I grin.

“Don’t get any ideas. Give me a minute to put on my shoes,”

I steal another kiss, rushing off to my closet on cloud nine. For the first time in forever, the night seems glittering with promise. *** “Food’s good, yeah?”

I poke at an olive on my plate in boredom.

“Yeah,”

The smooth sounds of a Henry Mancini track fills the void of silence and a waitress passes by with a tray full of wine glasses.

The restaurant Harry had chosen fairly new in town and specialized in hyper-expensive gourmet dishes and dim lighting. He’d gotten us a table in a cozy corner and helped me in my chair and showered me with sweet compliments. But somewhere between the starter and entre his attention had waned and all that was left was radio silence. Horrible, terrible radio silence.

Harry reaches across the table for a slice of bread as I fork through the bowl of pasta I ordered. He meets my glance briefly but goes back to his meal and it makes my blood boil with deep annoyance.

I set my fork down with an aggravated sigh, scooting to the edge of my seat.

“I hate this,” I huff. “we’re just sitting here, not talking to each other like, like-”

“Like married people?” he smirks, reaching for his glass of wine.

I chew at the corner of my lip, soaking in his words. In the early stages our romance, it hadn't taken long for me to notice the pattern of couples who had been together for so many years they'd somehow forgotten how to talk to one another. They sat across from each other like zombies, poking food around their plates and occasionally mumbling about the meal or the weather.

I was certain Harry and I would never be like that but now I wasn't so sure.

"Yeah, exactly."

His piercing jade eyes meet mine over the brim of his glass, the corner of his lips curving up into a smile.

"In our lifetime, we'll have eaten about 29,930 meals together," he chuckles. "we've got all our lives to talk. A little silence here and there isn't going to hurt, darling."

I tear away from his gaze to pick up my fork again.

"Remember when we talked about everything? Remember our first date?"

Harry's grin widens as he sets down his glass.

"We went to a museum. You were wearing this blue cocktail dress and the most incredible perfume, what was it, Alien?"

I poke at a piece of pasta biting back my smile. I was surprised yet completely thrilled that he remembered such minor details. What a clever way to get us talking.

" And you wore this button up that really brought out your eyes. I was so nervous. I ran out of time to shave my legs and was so worried you'd notice. And I didn't know much about art." I chuckle, reflecting on the memory.

He rests his hand on top of mine brushing over my knuckles and sending a jolt of electricity up my spine.

"Not as nervous as I was about picking a place for dinner," he replies. "I was sure it'd be hard to impress you when you were studying to be a chef. You could cook anything any restaurant could serve- and better."

I roll my eyes with a smirk.

"You make me sound like such a food snob. We ended up ordering Chinese takeout and eating it on the fire escape. We must have talked all night, but it felt like a minute,”

Harry chuckles and his gaze roams my face until he meets my eyes.

“I wanted to kiss you so badly, but I didn’t want to seem like a creep. Didn’t really know how American girls took kisses on the first date.”

“I think I knew then that I wanted you to be the first person I wanted to tell every detail of my day to. " I sigh wistfully.

Upon the words, my cheeks flush with unwarranted embarrassment and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

Harry sighs, gently tearing his hand from mine and reaching for his silverware.

He cuts into his fish in silence and I go back to nibbling on my pasta, not feeling very hungry anymore. Suddenly he stares up from his plate, his green eyes burning into mine.

"What changed?"

I chew at the corner of my lip as I reach for my glass of sparkling cider that's probably gone flat.

"You cut your hair, started working for the firm," I shrug. "we started spending more time apart and less time together. You started shutting me out. I don’t know anything about your dreams, your goals, I don’t know what makes you tick- I don’t know you anymore. And I fucking hate it."

The atmosphere between us has completely changed. All the air feels like it's been sucked out of the room and the sound of silverware scraping against the plates of other tables feels almost deafening. I didn’t know where the sudden flood of emotion came from or how we even got to this point in the conversation. It was like that with us. One minute things were fine and the next, a beautiful disaster.

I snatch my napkin off my lap and dab the corner of my eyes, not wanting my hormonal tears to ruin my makeup. My stomach knots with regret and I can't help but feel like I've ruined our night. I always ruin things with my overthinking.

"I just, " I draw in a deep, shaky breath. "I just wanna be your best friend again."

I wait for Harry to protest or bite back with a cocky remark, but he doesn't. He simply picks up his glass of wine bringing it up to his lips once more.

"All that over some hair, yeah?"

The ride home is quiet and awkward. I stared out the window to keep myself occupied, feeling Harry's eyes on me occasionally. While the silence usually would have bothered me, I feel too emotionally and physically spent to care.

So much for enjoying ourselves.

I make a beeline for the bathtub once we arrive home, stowing our leftovers in the fridge and disappointingly slipping out of my dress. Harry would probably go lock himself in his office after being away from his work for too long, but I didn’t care. I felt foolish, small and embarrassed and didn’t want to face him.

It had been a while since I'd set time aside for a bath and it seemed like the perfect way to end a stressful week and doomful night.

The water was just warm enough to be comfortable and not harm the baby. I sink down so that the water reaches my neck, my bump peaking just below the surface. Closing my eyes, I allow the water to caress my muscles.

I sit like this for a while until I feel a strange twitching sensation in my belly. It's short and fleeting so I don't think much of it and go back to relaxing but when the feeling soon returns I grow curious.

I gently place both of my hands against my belly, staring down at the exposed skin in worry. Was twitching normal? I brush a thumb over my skin when the realization hits me.

The baby just moved.

"Oh my god," I gasp. "you moved! You're really in there."

Although the little bean had been sitting in my belly for nearly five months, I still thought of them in an abstract way. Finally feeling them move made it feel completely real.

I can't help but wonder what they feel like being suspended in fluid and bound to my flesh. Do they ever feel cooped up in there? Do they ever want to get out and stretch?

In my state of wonder, I hardly notice Harry leaned against the door frame. He quirks a brow, running a hand through his hair. His shirt is untucked, and the belt loops of his jeans are bare. I guess I wasn't the only one looking to wind down for the night.

"You okay, babe? I heard you gasp."

"I'm fine," I giggle, resting a hand against my bump. "I'm great. I’m fantastic! I just felt the baby move for the first time."

He grins, eyes crinkling and dimples on display.

"How does it feel?" he asks. His green eyes fix on mine and I can feel my stomach fluttering with more than tiny baby kicks.

"It feels strange at first but it's really gentle." I grin" I don't think you'll be able to feel it just yet."

I expect him to share in my excitement for a short time and then go his separate way but Harry surprises me by sauntering to the edge of the bathtub.

"Do you mind if I get in?"

As long as I can remember, bathing together was not a habit of ours. Weekdays were too busy for baths and our schedules were too different. We often went to bed at different times of the night. There were showers here and there but were hardly for anything other than coital purposes.

The intimacy of baths had yet to be explored.

"It's not that hot if that's okay with you," I reply.

He's already working the few buttons on his shirt by the time I end my sentence.

"I don't mind,"

I push my prenatal hormones aside and restrain myself from staring too hard as he strips. Our bathtub was larger than most, big enough for both of us to comfortably have our own space but he insists on positioning himself behind me. I melt into the warmth of his chest, sighing in contentment at the feeling of his legs wrapped around the curve of my hips. His hands rest against the swell of my belly.

"I do love you," he drawls, his lips pressing against my shoulder blade. "you know that, right?"

I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut.

“I do. I do. I think I do. “

“We’re fine babe, honestly. We’re fine. “

The thing was, I didn’t want to be fine. Fine was average, pedestrian, and volatile. I wanted to be undeniably, irrevocably, and terribly happy.

Taglist: @sassamanda77, @fangirl509east

#harry styles #1d #1d fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles angst #one direction fanfiction #dadrry

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frightmaresandscreamscapes · 4 months ago

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Tariffs

i asked elon musks ai to explain this to me, so i would be getting my information from what everyone is calling an unbiased source. so this is per GROK collection of data on the subject have fun......

Canada is a significant supplier of energy to the United States. According to various sources:

Crude Oil: Canada supplies about 60% of the U.S.'s crude oil imports.

Natural Gas: Canada is the source of nearly all (98% or 99%) of the U.S.'s natural gas imports.

Electricity: Canada exports a considerable amount of electricity to the U.S., with figures indicating around 33 terawatt-hours in 2023, which constitutes about 90% of the U.S.'s annual electricity imports.

Uranium: Canada also supplies 25% of the U.S.'s uranium imports.

This overview shows that the U.S. heavily relies on Canada for various forms of energy, making Canada one of the largest energy suppliers to the U.S.

So the government just taxes it's constituents by way of tariffs

Yes, in essence, tariffs can be seen as a way for the government to tax its constituents, but the mechanism and impact are more nuanced:

Direct Payment: Importers pay the tariff directly to the government when goods enter the country. These importers might be domestic companies or individuals.

Indirect Impact: The burden often gets passed on indirectly. Here's how:

Consumers: If importers increase the price of goods to cover the cost of tariffs, consumers end up paying more for these products. This is effectively a tax on consumption.

Businesses: Companies might absorb part of the tariff cost to remain competitive, impacting their profit margins or leading them to find cost-saving measures elsewhere, which could indirectly affect employees or other business decisions.

Revenue Collection: The government collects this revenue, which can be used for public expenditure, reducing other taxes, or paying down national debt. However, the primary goal of tariffs might also include protecting domestic industries, which can lead to higher prices for goods in general, not just imports.

Market Dynamics: Tariffs can alter market dynamics, sometimes leading to higher prices for both imported and domestic goods if domestic producers raise their prices due to less competition.

Economic Theory: Economists often discuss tariffs in terms of "tax incidence," which looks at who ultimately bears the economic burden. The incidence can split between consumers and producers based on how sensitive demand and supply are to price changes (elasticity).

So, while tariffs are a form of taxation that directly affects importers, the economic burden or "tax" can be shared among consumers, domestic producers, and importers in various proportions, depending on many factors including the specifics of the tariff, the type of goods, and market conditions.

Why does Donald trump think tariffs will pay America via foreign countries if it's the importer is the one that pays it

Donald Trump's rhetoric on tariffs, particularly during his campaigns and presidency, often emphasized the notion that tariffs are paid by foreign countries, which would, in turn, benefit the U.S. economy. Several reasons might explain this perspective:

Misunderstanding or Simplification for Political Messaging:

Trump might have simplified or misrepresented how tariffs work to fit into a political narrative. By saying that foreign countries pay tariffs, he could appeal to those who view trade as a zero-sum game where the U.S. should "win" against other countries. This simplification might be intended to resonate with voters by portraying him as tough on trade with nations perceived as economic adversaries, particularly China.

Negotiation Strategy:

Trump often used tariffs as leverage in trade negotiations. His claim that foreign countries pay might have been part of a strategy to pressure those countries into making concessions, assuming that they would see the tariffs as a direct cost they must bear to maintain access to the U.S. market.

Revenue Focus:

He emphasized the revenue aspect of tariffs, stating that they would fill the U.S. Treasury with money from foreign countries. This view overlooks the fact that while tariffs do generate revenue for the government, the economic cost is borne domestically by importers and consumers. Trump might have focused on the revenue collection aspect to highlight his plan to reduce the national deficit or fund his tax cuts without directly increasing domestic taxes.

Economic Nationalism:

Trump's economic policy was often framed under the banner of "America First," where tariffs were seen as a tool to protect and revive American industries. By suggesting that other countries pay, he could frame tariffs as a means to correct trade imbalances, even if economically, it's the domestic importers and consumers who bear the cost.

Public Perception and Media:

Trump's communication style frequently involved bold claims and straightforward messages over nuanced explanations. This approach might cater to public perception or media narratives where complex economic concepts are reduced to soundbites.

However, from an economic standpoint, as numerous analyses and expert opinions have pointed out, tariffs are typically paid by domestic importers, who then might pass on these costs to consumers or absorb them, affecting the price of goods or profit margins:

Economists' View: Studies and statements from economists, including those from institutions like the Peterson Institute for International Economics, have consistently shown that while tariffs generate revenue for the U.S. government, the economic burden largely falls on American businesses and consumers through higher prices or reduced profits.

Public Discourse on X: Posts on X have highlighted the misunderstanding, with users clarifying that tariffs are not paid by the exporting country but by U.S. importers, indirectly affecting U.S. consumers.

These sources emphasize that while the government collects the tariff revenue, it's the domestic market that feels the economic impact.

#president trump #donald trump #trump #trump 2024 #trump vance 2024 #trump vs harris #2024 presidential election #presidential debate #civil rights #human rights #thoughts and tariffs #trump tariffs #us tariffs #trade tariffs #25% tariffs #canada #grok

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pocketvenuslux · 8 months ago

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I'm doing another lingerie history throwback post, this time about the short lived diffusion line, L'Agent by Agent Provocateur.

L'Agent launched in 2013, when diffusion lines for luxury labels had become the norm in the fashion industry. These younger sibling brands offered goods at more accessible - though still expensive! -price points that allowed luxury brands to court aspirational shoppers without damaging the perception of exclusivity for their main lines. L'Agent followed this same strategy, with prices that were roughly 50% cheaper than AP.

Although many diffusion lines were eventually phased out, I think there were other reasons for L'Agent's doomed history, including the fact that it was such a latecomer to the diffusion game. Most popular diffusion lines at the time had launched more than a decade earlier and at this point, were considering shuttering operations. D&G closed in 2011, Marc by Marc Jacobs in 2015, Burberry Brit in 2016. While diffusion lines allowed luxury brands to build a larger, younger customer base, they also demanded more administrative and marketing resources and for many brands, they failed to differentiate themselves enough from main lines, dragging down that perceived luxury prestige.

Which brings me to my next point. A number of L'Agent's designs were clearly reworked versions of AP's designs. Obviously they were not exactly the same and the materials were different - but the latter is not something you can really appreciate when you're shopping online. Although AP digitally isolated L'Agent into an entirely different website, which it did not do with Soirée*, I feel its own designs were so distinctive, that didn't matter. At certain angles, I can't even tell the difference between L'Agent's Danita and AP's classic, Nikita.

While L'Agent was meant to be more youthful than AP, its early collections, especially the sets that did not crib from beloved AP designs, lacked a strong, cohesive voice. Despite this, L'Agent expanded rapidly, opening its own stores with what must have been a considerable outlay of capital. Here's an image of L'Agent's fourth store, which opened in Montreal in 2015.

Honestly, this Victoria's Secret-esque retail environment, nothing like the lush, boudoir-vibes of AP boutiques and their shop girls in their pink Westwood uniforms, strikes me as less fun and cheeky and more cheap and tacky - which is a shame because their lingerie was much better than what you could pick up at a VS.

While I didn't feel compelled to purchase a L'Agent set, I did pick up a pair of Idalia knickers for prosperity's sake. You can see the top photo of this post for the whole set. The panty has a number of costlier details such as picot edging, hidden seams, i.e. no gusset "pocket", and a two-toned lace. The stitches on the narrow elastics are actually three-point zigzags so they're tiny. However, the materials are a huge step down from AP. The lace feels stiffer and rougher and while the picot is cute, it irritates my skin a little.

You can still see many examples of other L'Agent sets online. I'll link to a few examples below.

Screenshots of the original website provided by its design agency

2013

SS 2014

AW 2014

AW 2015

SS 2016

AW 2016

SS 2017

In contrast to L'Agent, diffusion lines that were more successful were those that meaningfully created a "conversation" with the main line while having its own distinct voice. For example, I could always recognize a McQ piece, even if it was more editorial. They often repurposed elements you'd see on the Alexander McQueen runway into more streamlined, streetwear inspired pieces such that you'd never mistake a McQ piece for an Alexander McQueen RTW piece. McQ persisted through the 2010s and it was only in 2022 that the line was "suspended."

In addition to struggling to find its own voice, financial troubles at AP, which would eventually lead to the company's bankruptcy, proved to be the final nail in L'Agent's coffin. By late 2016, AP announced that it would be downsizing both stores and staff at its headquarters by a brutal 30% and L'Agent was definitely in the cross-hairs. L'Agent bit the dust the following year - it held a final sale for the 2017 post-holiday season and by February 2018, it was all over.

Despite this, I feel like L'Agent lives on. Current AP lines like Fia, Laily, Whinette and Yara all have a L'Agent vibe to me. Which is to say, the luxurious details I associated with older AP sets have increased in price at AP while L'Agent-ish sets that have simpler designs and cheaper materials have created a lower tier to AP's lingerie without actually being cheaper than the cheapest AP sets back in the day. In this way, the inflation of AP's prices are better hidden from the consumer. Can you tell from the photos below which model is wearing L'Agent and which is wearing AP's Fia?

In 2021, AP tried its hand again at the diffusion game with its "All Hours" line. This one was much shorter lived and you can read an analysis about its failure on The Lingerie Addict. Only the Lucky line survives in an "Anytime" collection.

Interestingly enough, in 2024, we are starting to see the return of the diffusion line. Society has not emerged from the pandemic unscathed and the cost of living crisis as well as punitive measures against workers have crushed the spending power of aspirational shoppers. Meanwhile, capitalists have only gotten richer. As a result, prices in the luxury sector have rocketed skyward as brands zero in on their rosters of VICs (Very Important Clients) with specialized services and double down on exclusivity. But it seems like younger brands like Aries, that may lack the rolodex and capital of more established houses, are once again, returning to the diffusion line while older lines like Comme des Garcons' Play appear to be selling well.

Personally, I'm not sure if we'll ever see a diffusion line from AP again. Because AP's brand is already youthful, playful and cheeky and no one wants expensive basics from a brand like AP, there is nowhere for an AP diffusion line to go. But the fallout of the decimation of the middle class is still playing out. And we will see if AP has what it takes to respond to this tread of increasing income inequality and financial precarity.

* While brands were launching diffusion lines, some also launched higher-tier "demi-couture" lines like Burberry Prorsum that featured more expensive and experimental materials and fashion forward, editorial designs - AP pursued this tactic as well with its Soirée line which launched earlier than L'Agent in 2009.

#agent provocateur #l'agent by agent provocateur

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