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monstersandmaw · 7 months

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Male kelpie (dad-bod, single father, biker) x plus size f. reader - Part One (sfw)

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

CW: there is a very brief moment where a character (not Oats!) insults the reader for her size and uses some fat-phobic language towards and about her, unaware that she can hear him. If you’re sensitive to that, it is brief, but you can skip from “…you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.” to the paragraph beginning, “After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror…”. Also, if you squint, there’s a passing moment that could possibly be interpreted as the reader having some potential issues with food, but it’s not intended to be a big deal and it’s only for about two sentences. Still putting it in here too, just in case.

Wordcount: 7562

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” you managed to croak back at him before returning your attention, however reluctantly, to present options for your brother while the older man, Hank, hobbled out around the corner of the wooden counter to chat amicably with the man. You couldn’t hear what was said as the two chatted in lower voices, but it was evident that they were good friends. While they talked, however, you couldn’t help noticing that he stole occasional sidelong glances in your direction, and you felt your face warm pleasantly.

‘Oats’ was certainly an unusual nickname, but then again, almost everyone who rode with your brother also had their own nicknames for one reason or another. As you browsed, you wondered what Oats had done to earn that one. He certainly looked like a snack to you, but you vowed not to let your attraction to the stranger show. Awkward situations (or worse, silences) tended to arise when you let that happen.

He had a tanned, outdoorsy complexion, and longish, black hair that was tied back in a low ponytail that brushed below the collar of his black leather jacket. It looked like it had a tendency to flop into his face when not restrained by that out-of-place pink bow. He filled out the jacket very well, and clearly had a soft paunch, and his thighs looked frankly delectable in those thick, indigo jeans. You prayed you wouldn’t have to see him fully from the back if he turned around, to witness the way he filled out the seat of his jeans too.

Fuck. Concentrate.

Bike gifts for brother, not delicious-looking stranger you’re never going to see again.

“Well, I shouldnae hang about, I suppose.”

Oats’ voice cut through your musings in front of chain degreasers and you jumped a little. Glancing back over at him, you offered him a smile when he too turned to look at you one last time, and a slow, charming smile crept onto his handsome face.

“See you,” he said with a dip of his head. Before he strode from the shop though, he let his eyes roam once more down the length of you and he bit his lower lip, almost regretfully, then turned away abruptly.

Oh yes. He absolutely did fill out the ass of those jeans beautifully.

Quite honestly, you weren’t totally sure what you ended up getting your brother for his birthday. You took whatever it was to the counter in a daze, your mind replaying over and over the way he’d looked at you.

“Must say,” Hank said conspiratorially as he fished your change from the antique cash register and slid it across the polished, wooden counter towards you. “I’ve never seen Oats quite so taken with someone, miss.” He chuckled, his kind, whisky-brown eyes glinting. “You take care now.”

Swallowing, you nodded and left the shop, hoping perhaps to find Oats waiting for you outside on the street, leaning against his motorcycle, but life was not a movie, and wherever he was, he was not lingering in the hopes of seeing you. In fact, the street was completely deserted, so you crossed, clambered into your little hatchback, and drove home with the feeling that you’d let a pivotal moment in your life pass you by.

Your sour mood persisted like a raincloud for the whole week, but by the time you were driving over to your brother’s on Saturday for his birthday ride, you were trying to pull yourself out of it. You had your own helmet with you, secured in the back of the car, and beside it was (now wrapped) the present you’d got him. In fact, it was a chain care kit, and, although you hadn’t noticed at the time, Hank had thrown in a free keychain that said ‘In my defence, I was left unsupervised’ which was very on-brand for your brother. You had planned to go back and thank him for the freebie as soon as you could, but your brother’s birthday ride had been planned for that Saturday, and work had been hell that week, so you’d not had the chance.

Predictably, Alex wasn’t in the house when you rang the doorbell, so you followed the sound of metallic clinking and laughter, and went round the side to find him tinkering with his mad little Honda Grom in the garage, while his two best mates — Eggs and Sparky — were lounging around and either making unhelpful suggestions or lewd comments.

“Yo!” Sparky grinned when he saw you, sitting up straighter and almost falling off the mechanic’s tool chest he was leaning his weight against. At Sparky’s exclamation, your brother sat up and banged his head on the handlebars of the short little Grom with a curse.

“Hey,” you mumbled in Sparky’s general direction. “Happy birthday, Alex.”

Alex scrambled upright and came over to hug you, probably smearing grease and dirt all over your armoured jacket, but since it was black anyway, you didn’t mind too much. Alex was about as opposite to you as it was possible to get — straight up and down like a beanpole, and tall. You took after your mother, inheriting all her thick curves and soft edges. Soft heart too.

“Thought this might come in handy,” you mumbled when Alex released you and you held out the brown paper bag stamped with the logo of Full Moon Motorcycles.

His eyes lit up when he saw the logo, and he tore into it like a chipmunk after a peanut, grinning in delight when he’d dismembered it, and in particular he showed off the keychain to his mates. Eggs snatched it and tried to claim it for himself, but Alex was having none of it, and the three of them scrapped and goofed around while you sat down on an old, metal stool in the corner and waited for the other two of your small party to show up, with a cool, curdling kind of dread in the pit of your stomach when you heard one name in particular. Nooner.

Within an hour though, you were all out on the road.

You took the pillion seat behind Alex, and warded his mates off at red lights when they came for his killswitch to immobilise him. A while later though, Alex zoomed off down the open road that would take you all out of town and towards the somewhat famous biker cafe, ‘Elusive Neutral’, that sat nestled amongst the fragrant heather of the rolling hills surrounding the old market town.

The sky was a gorgeous, autumnal blue and the weather was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold, and as your brother’s Yamaha flew along the winding A-road that was every biker’s dream, you cracked a smile and gently tipped your head back. As much as it had scared you when you’d first ridden behind your mother all those years ago, you did love the feeling of being out on a bike. Not that you were actually brave enough to want to try and learn yourself though. Something always held you back, made you wary and unsure, and then you inevitably felt down about that too. God, you wished you had Alex’s wild confidence.

Nothing good ever seemed to last for you though, and when Alex’s R1 had purred into the car park behind Eggs and Sparky, and you’d hopped off to let him reverse more easily into a space, you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.

“…if he didn’t have his fat sister with him, we could have fucking ripped it up along those twisties.” That, of course, had come from Nooner, named for the fact that he rarely stuck to two wheels and always pulled wheelies, or ‘nones’, whenever he got the chance. Out of all of your brother’s friends, he was the one you liked the least, for… obvious reasons.

“Talk about killing the vibes, huh?” Eggs replied, trying to suck up to him, as ever. “More like ‘crushing’!”

The reason Eggs had earned his nickname was that he’d lost a bet and shaved his head when they’d all been about sixteen, and he’d looked like a boiled egg til it grew back. You wished you had the sass to remind him of that every time his spine seemed to crumble in favour of earning a half-hearted snicker out of Nooner.

When Alex joined you, he caught the crestfallen expression on your face and frowned, but you shook your head and walked away from them, heading for the cafe alone.

“Can’t wait to shove some cake in her fat gob already,” Nooner added as an aside to Eggs, and your vision blurred as tears welled along your lashes. Why did people have to be so cruel? To trample all over someone else just to feel a little taller themselves?

You vaguely heard what sounded like Sparky’s voice countering the comment, but you didn't stick around either way. If you mentioned it to your brother again, he’d just say it was banter with the guys and not to take it to heart. Easy for someone who's never been on the end of that kind of comment to shrug it off, after all.

You ducked straight for the toilets when you got inside the airy, modern cafe, not even bothering to look around or find a table first.

After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror to see that you hadn’t turned your eyeliner into a panda cosplay, you headed out again and made for the little bar that doubled as a counter for people who were there solo to sit and eat instead of taking up a whole table to themselves. None of your brother’s friends joined you, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw that they’d settled themselves around a table in the far corner and already had a number for a server to bring their food order over. They hadn’t even waited for you.

“Fuck them,” you hissed through gritted teeth, taking a seat at the bar instead. The stools were made of old tractor seats, and they were surprisingly comfortable, and as you leaned your forearms on the countertop, the young woman behind the counter came over to you with a smile that made you feel a little better.

“Hey,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

You ordered a hot drink, and then took out your phone while you waited for her to make it for you.

For half an hour or so, you sat scrolling through social media and sipping your drink and telling yourself this was your brother’s day and not yours. He did come over a couple of times, but you declined to sit with his friends, and because he’d never had any real reason to doubt you before, he took you at your word when you told him you were happy enough where you were. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you said, and he believed you.

Patting you on the shoulder, he left you for the third time, and you looked down into the dregs of your drink with a heavy sigh. “This sucks.”

Outside, the sound of more bikes arriving made your ears perk up, and you wondered idly what they rode. Elusive Neutral had once been an old cattle barn, but it had been completely redone and the walls on two sides had been replaced with vast picture windows that showed the sweeping expanse of moorland beyond, and a small sliver of the car park at one end. Craning your neck, you saw a group of maybe five or six bikers draw up, some on hipster looking cafe racers and others on racy sports bikes. There was even a Ducati Panigale among them, and behind them followed an old, battered, blue pickup truck.

The door opened a little while later, and you glanced over, eyes drawn instinctively by the movement.

Above the general chatter and merry chinking of china in the room, the energy of the new group of bikers rose like a cloud of dizzy mayflies; buzzing and excited and full of joy. You watched them all with interest from your perch at the counter.

The first through the door was an absolute Amazon of a woman, with her long black hair restrained in a thick braid, and shoulders the width of a barn door. She was lean and tall, and in her biker gear she looked… incredible. Her face was strikingly handsome, but until she glanced down at the woman walking beside her, her features were hard and glowering and unspeakably stern. She held the door open for one of the others to follow her inside, but when she locked eyes again with the brunette by her side, her whole expression melted into unguarded adoration. Your gut twisted briefly with jealousy.

It wouldn’t matter to you who looked at you like that, if only someone would.

You looked away, and by the time you glanced back at the bikers, the whole group had filed in from outside. There was a guy with golden-brown skin and beautiful dark brown eyes who had his arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a pale, skinny guy in black jeans and a moth-eaten, black jumper, with his long hair tied back in a bun, and behind them came a strikingly attractive guy in a manual wheelchair, flanked by a very short biker with slightly anaemic looking skin. You wondered fleetingly if the guy in the wheelchair had ridden a motorbike there, and if so how, before you realised he was probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, with long, flowing red hair and dark green eyes, and the kind of mouth that was made for laughing, and for kissing.

Jesus, was it an unwritten rule of being a biker that you had to be unfairly attractive? Even Hank, who you recognised with a start of surprise coming in behind the guy with red hair, wasn’t unattractive, in a bulky, older man kind of way.

The guy walking with him though… he truly made your stomach swoop.

It was Oats.

You looked away before he could spot you, sitting alone at the bar like some pathetic creature waiting for cocktail hour to begin. It was lunchtime on a sunny, autumnal Saturday though, and there you were sitting alone because you didn’t fancy sitting with your brother’s loser mates.

God, the way Oats had looked in his tough-looking leather jacket, with his eyes crinkled mid-laugh at something the guy in the wheelchair had shot back at them over his shoulder… You bit your lip and stared into the bottom of your cold, empty mug like it would divine some kind of solution to your situation for you.

The new group didn’t seem to notice you while they filed up to the counter, jostling and joking, and when they drifted off to another corner of the cafe, you turned back to your phone, trying desperately to resist the almost overwhelming urge to keep turning over your shoulder to watch them.

Before too long however, you startled at a soft tap on your shoulder, and you looked around to find Oats himself stepping back to a polite distance and smiling down at you like he’d found a treasure in an unexpected place.

“Hey there,” he said in that rolling, Scottish accent that did unspeakably indecent things to your insides. “Sorry if I’m intruding, but you were at Full Moon last week, right?”

Mute for a moment, you nodded, and mustered up a slightly dazed smile for him.

“You… here alone?” he asked, eyeing the currently-empty seats to your left and right. In fact, someone had only just gathered up their belongings and left.

“Kind of?” you croaked, letting your eyes slide over to the table where your brother and his friends were hunched over one of their phones, snickering at something. “It’s… It’s my brother’s birthday today. I… tagged along as pillion, but… you know… I’m kind of a spare part really.”

At that, Oats’ dark eyebrows knitted into a scowl and he looked across the room at them before returning his attention to you. Then, his unearthly, almost prismatic, silver-green eyes took in your empty cup and he grinned. “Can I get y’a top up?”

Your instinct was to refuse, but you bit your lip. This didn’t feel real. A cute, handsome, courteous guy was actually taking an interest in you.

“Sure. Thank you.” And the smile that spread itself across your face telegraphed your delight in a way that was impossible to disguise with any kind of suave grace.

Oats, however, seemed equally delighted, and nodded. The barista came back over and he leaned his weight on the counter to talk to her. He seemed to have that enviably easy manner with everybody, and he even charmed a free slice of cake out of her too with what felt like no effort at all.

“Chocolate? Or something else?” he asked you.

“Pardon?”

“Cake.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” you said, but he frowned.

“You sure? I’m gonna have a bit of their chocolate cake. It’s so good, it’s practically a sin.”

“I…” you faltered.

He didn’t pressure you though and shrugged easily, turning back to the barista. “Gimme two forks with that, love. Just in case.”

“No problem,” she beamed back while she bustled about, and Oats eyed the empty bar stool next to yours.

“May I?”

You swallowed your nerves and nodded. “Please.” And then, because apparently a demon of confidence had temporarily possessed you, you eyed his slightly helmet-flattened forelock and said, “No pink hair clips today?”

He guffawed loudly enough that your brother actually glanced over and frowned when he saw you talking with a stranger.

Oats snorted and shook his head. “No, not today. My daughter is still up in Scotland with her mother.” He fixed you with a more serious look and said, “She and I divorced, before you get the wrong idea about me flirting like this with a beautiful woman.”

The compliment caught you so off-guard that you just froze for a moment, but when the heat of a blush filled your face, you looked away and he chuckled.

“I’m not normally so forward, but I’ve been kicking myself for not talking to you when I first saw you in Full Moon. Hank was telling me just this morning what a muppet I’d made of myself for walking away like that.”

You looked behind you at the group of his friends and then turned back to him. “Won’t they think you’re being rude, ignoring them like this?”

He shook his head and smiled. “They’re probably all taking bets on how quickly you’ll shoot me down.”

“What? I’d have to be an idiot to do that.”

At that, his face split into a huge, handsome grin and he shook his head just a little. “Lucky me,” he said. “You ride?” he added, eyeing your jacket that was obviously a motorcycle jacket.

You shrugged. “Pillion. I’ve never ridden myself, but my brother lets me come out with him sometimes.”

Oats nodded, and then, as the barista set down his coffee, your top-up, and the plate of decadent chocolate cake with two forks, he said, “I’m Euan, by the way, but everyone calls me Oats.”

You introduced yourself, and then said, “Oats?”

He snorted and nodded. “Not the worst nickname, for sure.”

“Can I ask where it came from?”

Oats nodded and shunted the plate towards you first before leaning his elbow on the bar and watching you while he spoke. “I think it’s because I’m a dad, but I’m always prepared for most situations, and when it comes to my Natalie, she’s always hungry. I’ve usually got about a thousand granola bars stashed away about my person —” he said, cutting himself off to pat conspicuously at his jacket pockets. Pulling a slightly dog-eared crunchy bar from his breast pocket, he wielded it like a magic wand at you and said, “Case in point.”

“Hence, Oats,” you said, eyeing the healthy brand name on the packet.

“Exactly. Like I said, it could be worse. See the tall lass over there with the dangerous scowl?”

You didn't need to turn around to know which of his friends he was talking about, but you did anyway. “Yeah.”

“We call her Pixie.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” he chuckled, stowing the granola bar back into his pocket and taking a huge scoop of the chocolate cake with his own fork.

“What do you ride then?” you asked.

“Triumph Bonneville T120,” he said with almost exactly the same intonation and fondness as he’d just said ‘because I’m a dad’, and you couldn’t help smiling. “Can’t be doing with all these glitzy sports bikes and the like,” he added with a laugh, setting his fork down and blinking slowly. His lashes, you noticed, were thick and dark and enticingly long.

Laughing, you smiled. “Don’t say that too loudly — my brother rides an R1.”

“Nice,” Oats grinned back. “But nothing could entice me away from my girl.”

“I’m surprised you’re here, flirting with me then,” you said. Evidently that confidence demon was still lurking.

Again, Oats laughed, though it was more of a low whicker this time, and it rolled right through you and lit you up all over. God, how long had it been since someone had laughed like that for you?

“There are… exceptions,” he said in a rumbling murmur. “Tell me about yourself?” he asked, and you did.

You spent the next hour at least talking in an easy back and forth with him while he charmed a few more refills from the barista and a lot of answers out of you, before one of his friends sidled up shyly and waited for a lull in your conversation.

“Sorry to butt in,” the small, unbelievably beautiful woman said. She was the one who’d been on the receiving end of the adoring look from the Amazon, ‘Pixie’. She had chocolate-brown hair falling in thick ringlets around a gorgeous face, and, you were pleased to note, she had wide hips and a softness to her that a lot of the biker chicks you’d seen online didn’t have.

“Coco,” Oats beamed. “Meet my new friend.” He introduced you by name, and Coco smiled at you, holding out her hand.

When your palms connected, you felt a warmth rush through you and you felt like your heart skipped a beat. The feeling like you could tip forwards and drown in her endless, dark brown eyes almost unseated you, but she let go of you and stepped back with a pretty smile on her Cupid’s-bow lips. “Pleasure to meet you. Just wanted to tell Oats that we’re thinking of heading off soon. Ariel has a photoshoot he wants to get to in an hour or so, and Demon’s keen to get going as well.”

Oats nodded, and you tried not to let your stomach drop down to your boots at the thought of all this coming to such an abrupt end.

Coco turned her head sharply to look at you just as the feeling hit, and she smiled faintly. “You could always stay here though, Oats,” she added with a pretty smile. “We’re only going back to Full Moon, and Demon clearly has no intention of lingering there…” She shot a meaningful glance back at their table. Demon, the guy with dark hair and tanned skin, was seated with the guy he’d entered with now draped in his lap, his skinny legs dangling as he sprawled languidly back against the guy’s muscular chest. Demon whispered something into his ear before he clearly bit the shell of his boyfriend’s ear, which made him sit abruptly upright and flush a vibrant pink.

Oats laughed again and shook his head. “Fuck me,” he chuckled privately. “Never thought I’d see the day. You guys go on. I’m… I’m very much content here.”

“I can see that,” Coco smirked, and walked away.

When she was out of earshot, you turned to Oats with a hot flush of your own in your face and said, “Don’t stay if you don’t want to… I’m sure my brother will be leaving soon anyway…”

Just as you said that, and before Oats could reply, Alex reappeared at your side and jutted his chin in Oats’ direction. “You good?” he chirped at you.

“Fine,” you replied. “This is Oats. I met him at Full Moon Motorcycles when I was buying your birthday present.”

“Oh,” Alex replied, holding out his hand for Oats to shake. “Good to meet you, man. You tell her what to get for me? If you did, it was a good choice.”

“No,” Oats said carefully, his grey-green eyes sliding back to your face even while he shook your brother’s hand amicably. “No, whatever she got you, it was all her.”

“Oh, cool,” Alex said. “Listen, sis, we’re gonna hit the road in a while. Nooner and Eggs want to hit the twisties for a bit, but I can’t really do that with a backpack, so Sparky said he’d give you a ride home, if that’s ok.”

You swallowed. “Um…”

“I can give her a lift,” Oats replied after a swift glance in your direction. “She’s already got her own lid, and there’s room on the Bobber’s double seat for both of us.”

“I don’t know, man,” Alex said with a wary frown.

“Your choice,” Oats shrugged easily, looking at you and holding his hands up just a little.

For a fleeting moment, you weren’t sure, but the idea of wrapping your arms around Oats’ thick middle and sitting astride his gorgeous bike kind of decided it for you. Besides, it was a long time since you’d done anything truly just for yourself; simply because you wanted to. You nodded at your brother. “It’s fine. You go ahead.”

“You sure?”

Nodding to reassure him, you smiled again and Alex backed up a pace. “Cool. Text me later, ok?” he said as he retreated towards his friends, clearly trying to hide his excitement at not having a passenger for the great, twisting section of A-road they were heading for.

“Will do. Have fun, and don’t crash!” you called after him. “Or get a speeding ticket!”

He waved a hand over one shoulder without looking back, and you laughed and returned your attention to Oats. “Brothers.”

“Bikers,” he replied. “You try telling that to any of that lot though —” he gestured towards his own group of friends who were now filtering out of the door. “You ready to head out too or do you want to stay?”

You did want to stay, but the seat wasn’t that comfortable anymore, and you wanted to move around a bit. “No, I’m good to go,” you said and prepared to slide off the stool, but Oats stepped down first and held out his hand to you. You didn't need helping down, and his playful little smirk told you he knew as much, so you rode out the last of that demonic possession and let your fingers slide across his palm and he steadied you off the stool.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Pleasure.”

You picked up your helmet from where you’d stowed it on the floor at your feet and straightened to find him waving casually across the room to the good-looking guy with the ethereally pretty boyfriend. Before he stepped away from you and made towards the door though, you cleared your throat and said, “Oats?”

“Mn?” Looking down at you, his entire attention honed in on you, like you were the centre of the universe, and you swallowed back a sudden welling of emotion.

“Listen… Thank you… for… coming over to me today. Like I said, it’s my brother’s birthday, and he was here with his friends, and he only included me so I didn’t feel completely left out, but…” Accursed tears washed over your eyes for a moment but you blinked them away furiously and ploughed on regardless. “I’m really glad I came along today anyway,” you finished rather pathetically.

His full, beautiful lips curled into a gentle smile and he blinked softly and exhaled. When he spoke, his voice was low and his words private, as though you weren’t standing in a busy cafe surrounded by people and the cheerful clatter of coffee cups and laughter. “I’m really glad I did too. I wasn’t going to, you know? I was going to stay at home and edit a boatload of raw photographs for a client, but Demon convinced me to come out. I guess I owe him.”

“‘Demon’? For… For the speed?” you asked, wondering how he came by his nickname.

“For the horns,” Oats replied in deadpan humour. “Have a look if he’s still there when we go outside. You ready?”

You followed him out of the cafe with a nod, and just as you took a deep, indulgent breath of fresh, heathland air, Oats’ group of friends filed out past you on their bikes. The one named Demon was in the lead, and the nickname made immediate sense. Sitting astride a blood-red Panigale, with his boyfriend clinging on behind him like a limpet, the guy had pale, curving horns fixed to the crown of his helmet.

“Yeah, that tracks,” you said, and Oats waggled his dark eyebrows.

The Amazon had a Yamaha R1 like your brother’s, but hers had a pearl-white wrap that made it look almost spectral, and riding out in front of her was Coco on a yellow and black Honda Hornet.

The telltale red plait told you that the guy in the wheelchair was on a modified Kawasaki, with unusual struts at the back that looked like they would come down when he stopped to stabilise him instead of having to take his legs off the foot pegs, where they were currently Velcro-ed in place. Watching the whole group file out was Hank, standing beside a battered old pickup. In the bed of the truck, you could just see that the red-headed biker’s wheelchair secured in place.

Hank waved the last of them off, then glanced over at Oats. The older man lifted his nose just a little, as if he too was enjoying the fresh, moorland wind that whipped across the car park, and he nodded once at Oats, and then at you to your surprise, before clambering stiffly up into his pickup and closing the door. It shut with a raucous yelp of rusty hinges.

You stood there and watched Oats’ friends all file out, all waving at Oats as they passed, before they set off down the road in a roar of revving engines to leave a lonely looking Bonneville waiting patiently near the stone wall of the car park nearby.

“Yours, I presume?” you said, nodding at it.

“Yup.”

“She’s a beauty,” you mumbled, self-consciousness prickling at the sides of your neck for the silly comment.

Oats beamed though, his sea-foam eyes lighting up as the crinkles around his eyes and the slight dimples in his cheeks creased under the force of his obvious pleasure. “Thank you. She’s my pride and joy. You ready? Oh, wait, you should put your address into my phone before we get going,” he laughed.

You nodded, taking the offered phone from him. Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you took it, and a tiny thrill passed through you that you did your best to quash. With your address plugged in and a route home waiting to be followed, you handed it back to him and looked up into his handsome, rugged face as he smiled.

“Cheers. Let’s go,” he said, and you trailed along beside him over to his bike, heartbeat thudding in your ears with your nerves.

He swung a leg over and turned the key, then pushed the bike upright and nudged the side-stand in with his left foot before flicking the switch and bringing the bike to life. She growled beautifully, the low, thundering rumble of her engine sounding far more visceral and primal than your brother’s sports bike did. Perhaps it was the design of the lower-slung Bonneville, with its visible parts that made you think of a Steampunk aesthetic, but you instantly preferred it. Plus, the double seat looked way more cushioned — and less precarious — than the one you’d perched on to get to the cafe that morning.

Oats got himself comfy while you slid your helmet on, then he looked over his shoulder at you and nodded, so you took that as your cue and got settled on the pillion seat behind him. The footpegs were already down. The pulsing purr of the machine beneath you was almost enough to distract you from the fact that you were entrusting your life to a relative stranger, whom you’d never seen ride before, and as you climbed on and rested your hands politely on his shoulders, you felt a shiver travel through your whole nervous system.

“Do whatever’s comfortable for you, obviously,” Oats said over the noise of his bike, “But if you want to hold my waist — if you can actually get your arms around my middle, that is,” he chuckled self-effacingly, “— feel free. Totally up to you.”

“Thanks,” you yelled back, and, because apparently that pesky demon of confidence was still kicking around, you hugged his torso.

It was wonderful.

Slowly snaking your arms around his middle, you felt your chest press against his back and you caught the way he inhaled slowly and tried not to wonder what it meant. It felt so good to hold him that you had to remind yourself it wasn’t a hug. It was to keep you in place while a gorgeous stranger drove you home on his equally gorgeous bike. With a final thumbs-up to check you were happy, to which you replied with a nod of your head and tried not to clack your helmet against his, he pulled away and your heart leapt for the sheer joy of it.

Where the R1 was built for sleek speed and bursts of power, the Bonneville was build to be enjoyed, and oh gosh, did you enjoy every curve.

And not just the curves in the road, either.

Oats was soft, but he was solid, and the urge to rest one hand on his thick thigh was almost overwhelming, until he took the corners at just the right pace to be exhilarating without you having to worry about your safety, and you clung on instead and laughed behind the safety of your visor.

It was all over way too soon, and as the Bonneville chugged into your road like a steam train and halted outside your poky, terraced house with its quaint little kitchen garden out the front in the postage-stamp of space between the pavement and the house, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Please don’t let this be it, you thought desperately.

You went through the motions of getting carefully off the bike without staggering or falling, and again, Oats held out his hand to help steady you. You gripped his fingers gratefully and when you gave an extra little squeeze to his hand at the end, you could have sworn he answered with one of his own and a throaty chuckle.

He dismounted too, which surprised you, and you wondered if you were going to have to ask him inside. As much as you wanted that in principle, you desperately didn’t want it to happen today because the house was a mess: laundry was still hanging up all over the place, and you’d cooked a curry the previous night and it was definitely still lingering in the air.

Oats took off his helmet but left his bike idling, which went a little way to reassuring you, and when you looked more closely at his expression, you thought you saw a hint of something familiar lingering in the corners of his eyes. Was he nervous?

Swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing behind the thick, 5 o’clock shadow that looked like it lingered pretty constantly no matter the time of day, Oats took a deep breath, held it, and then smiled at you. “Fuck,” he exhaled, and laughed. “I’m… very rusty at all this.” He held his helmet in both hands before him, toying with the strap.

“If I gave you my number, would you maybe like to meet up again?” you asked, taking pity on the man.

“Very much,” he said softly. “Like I said, Natalie is with her mum for the holidays, and apart from a wedding I’m covering next week, this is a pretty slow time of year for me. I’m free… mostly whenever.”

The reminder that he had a daughter with someone else did make you wonder what you were letting yourself in for. Children weren’t really something you had any expense of, since neither you nor your brother had shown any parental inclinations yet, and you weren’t particularly close to your cousins who had small kids.

“Ok, let me give you my number and we can figure something out.”

That done, he slid his phone back into his pocket and zipped it up, biting gently at his lower lip for a moment. “I know it’s bold,” he said, “But may I kiss you?”

Your heart skipped and soared. Breathless, you looked up at him and whispered, “Yes.”

His tiny, gentle, lopsided smile heralded the kiss’ approach, and he took your jaw delicately in one, leather-gloved hand as he leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft but insistent against yours, and you answered with a little moan as your eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, pulling you closer with a low growl so that you were pressed flush against him for a moment before he stepped back and exhaled roughly. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded, feeling like you were floating inches above the ground.

You watched him re-mount his bike and adjust himself a little once he was settled, then he revved it playfully for you, and rode away after a final look back at you. He flipped his visor down as he pulled away, and you watched the bike and its rider disappear down the road.

‘Soon’ couldn’t come soon enough…

I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please consider showing your support by reblogging. It really is the best (and totally free!) way to help the artists and writers whose work you enjoy.

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#oats the kelpie #monster romance #kelpie #male kelpie x female human #full moon motorcycles #supernatural biker group #plus size female reader #plus size reader #male kelpie x female reader #male monster x female reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #dadbod monster #dadbod #single father monster #monster dad

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themeraldee · 1 month

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The Price of Love - Part 2

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

18+ Only | 3.8k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 2. Voyeurism. Dark themes. Breaking and entering. Manipulation. Fraud. Gaslighting. Office sex. Unprotected sex. Homelander being his own warning. I'm not really sure how to tag this properly tbf.

Homelander’s devious plan starts when he perfectly times when both you and your spouse leave your apartment empty. He knows you’re at the Vought tower, assisting Ashley in organizing photoshoots for the next issue of Vought Sports. Just the thought of that makes him roll his eyes. He’s got a four page feature with the Yankees, something about the importance of baseball to the American population.

No. He can’t get distracted like that. Not when he’s already been so careful. Work can wait.

He lands on your small balcony, testing the door handle. It budges immediately. Homelander grins at the revelation. You’re clearly one of those people who don’t think to lock the doors and windows just because you’re high off the ground. He’d have thought that after knowing him you’d know better than that.

Homelander steps into your apartment. He’s planning to be thorough with his little impromptu visit. It’s only fair. Thanks to your job you have pretty much unrestricted access to his penthouse. You’ve seen what his space looks like. He should get to see yours too.

The first thing that hits him is just how this space doesn’t smell like you as much as he’d want. He can almost taste the bitter scent of your spouse in the air. Yuck. Homelander immediately walks through, exploring the kitchen, the living room for anything substantial at all.

There are letters with angry red words, shouting about bills being past due. Medical bills pinned to the fridge with some generic city magnet. Coupons and budgets all crammed on the small space on the fridge. Clearly, something isn’t working. Homelander has zero sympathy regarding your spouse but he cares about you. He doesn’t want you to suffer and with him, you’d never again have to worry about unpaid bills or having a roof over your head.

He scoffs to himself. What kind of irresponsible and unreliable spouse have you got? You’re clearly working hard, he sees you relentlessly keep your head up at work and with your position only rising and more responsibilities being piled up on your plate he can imagine you earn a decent wage.

Clearly, it’s being drained somewhere. Whoever your spouse is, they’re a good-for-nothing leech that’s holding you back.

He could pay them off. Threaten them. Torture them. Kill them even. A thought that sends a thrilling shiver down his spine. But no, this has to be your decision. You need to be the one to decide to leave them. You need to seek him out.

Homelander continues with his little exploration trip. Already forming a plan in his mind. What he saw the other day wasn’t coincidental. He feels a rift. Ever since that night he watched you pleasure yourself to the thought of him he knew it wasn’t a one-off. But for the first time Homelander gave you the ammo. He told you to your face that he’s interested. He allowed you to lean into these fantasies at the cost of having no leverage in his petty mind.

He can’t wait to put his plan into motion.

Looking through the rest of your apartment should make him feel upset, agitated. Instead Homelander walks around with a huge grin on his face as he looks at the few framed pictures on the wall. They’re old. You don’t look like this anymore so decidedly your spouse hasn’t done anything worth remembering in recent times. Perfect. This is all working perfectly towards his plan.

Your spouse doesn’t value you. Clearly. He notices more signs of this behavior throughout your belongings. The cheap perfume that he smells on you everyday is so uninspiring he’s never even heard of the brand. The makeup is cheap, terrible enough quality that should only be used by teenage girls that are discovering themselves, not for a professional woman like you. Your clothes tell a similar story. You have a few nice outfits that you wear to your job. You only ever dress nicely for him. The rest of your closet feels like plastic, uncomfortably stiff and scratchy, it’s unlikely to last another season.

You will have none of these issues with him. Homelander will buy you only the best. Top of the line. All designer, original or handmade. Anything you’ll want, it’ll be yours. Only the best for his lover.

The more time he spends in your apartment the less he’s angry and upset about your initial rejection. He sees it now as a cry for help. Secretly, in between the lines you were rattling the bars of your prison begging him to save you.

And oh he will.

The cherry on the top is the cheap ring that sits on your bedside table. No special case for it, no display, you don’t even carry it around with you. Maybe unconsciously you know how little your spouse values you. He picks it up to feel it. Cubic Zirconia on a small sterling silver band. Less than $100. Homelander scoffs at the cheap representation of your bond. So easy to scuff and crush. Maybe it directly reflects your marriage.

Homelander leaves your apartment exactly the way he found it and over the next few days he watches. He watches you interact with your spouse, looking for any chink in the armour of your marriage and oh my does he find plenty.

Your spouse doesn’t deserve you, they don’t treat you with the same respect you give them. There’s room for insecurity to worm your way into your brain. He knows that now. You have sex at most once a week and even then it doesn’t look like it scratches the itch for you. Don’t worry, he’ll have you writhing under him in no time.

But it needs to be at your own pace. He knows you’re loyal to a fault, you’ve proven yourself with such quality over your time working for Vought. You won’t leave your spouse without a good reason. Besides betrayal. You clearly can deal with a non-spectacular life and even less remarkable sex life. But betrayal? A total annihilation of trust? Well, he knows you won’t be able to shake that off.

With that, he sets his plan into motion.

Nothing he does is by his hand of course, he needs to be invisible in all this. Instead he pays lackeys and he bullies Vought employees into scamming your spouse, stealing your shared banking details without them knowing any better.

Over the next month he periodically withdraws a sum of money from your shared account, slowly making his plan come to fruition. He keeps you busy at work. Really busy. You don’t have time to keep up with your household and worry about budgeting. You pull away from your spouse—a bonus he didn’t see coming. It’s even worth the stress it’s causing you. Each day you come in with dark circles under your eyes, tiredness just seeping out of your pores. But it’s okay. You can go through a bit of hardship while he plans your rescue. Things always get worse before they get better.

At the same time, your bills are going up, rent has skyrocketed—something about a new ownership, company you wouldn’t recognise as it’s outlined in the letter that came in the mail. More than ever now, Homelander sees you not skipping any overtime. Good, you spend most of your time with him now. He watches the late night arguments you have with your spouse about pulling their weight and how you can’t do everything yourself. Yes. Yes, it’s finally happening.

You haven’t even seen the main act.

When the next medical bill comes out and there’s not enough money in the shared account he waits it out. He’s planted all the seeds. All the money periodically taken out by the planted escort services. The bank statements laid out plain and clear. The call logs coming and outgoing to the same establishment. Your spouse’s lack of interest in sex with you only reinforced this notion.

Homelander isn’t there to watch the fall out. He’s too excited. Already waiting for you to spring into his arms at a moment’s notice.

But you don’t.

Each day he gets more and more irritated. You should already be shouting his praises, showing him your signed divorce papers but instead you’re moping around like a sad dark cloud, raining oh his parade.

Okay fine, he’s gonna have to nudge you a bit. It’s not going exactly according to his plan but that’s okay, he can adapt.

The next time you bring over some talking points for him to read and memorize, he stops you. He stops you from spilling out your rehearsed words, his gloved hand raised tearing you out of your mindless monologue you’ve been told to parrot back to him. You blink up at him, a little confused. You haven’t had many interactions these days so Homelander can’t blame you for acting like a deer in headlights.

“Hey, you okay? You look tired. Are you sleeping fine?” He gives his words the perfect amount of care and softness. Breaking through the shell you’ve put up around him. He gets it, you’re trying to be a strong woman—ladidadida. Normally he likes that about you but now you’re messing with his plans.

You sniffle and he smells the waterworks before they even burst the dam. One little question and you take two steps back, your back hitting the wall of the meeting room and you slide down onto the ground. Whimpering out a little wet ‘no’ you bring your knees up burying your face in them.

“Hey hey hey… what’s wrong?” He lowers to the ground in front of you.

“Everything’s wrong. My whole life is falling apart!” You sob into your knees. You start spilling as if he’s the first person to ask you how you’re doing. You rattle off an unintelligible ramble of hiccups, sobs and half-spoken words.

Homelander was lucky that you still had your face buried in your knees because he could not stop the grin spreading across his face as he heard you hiccup the word ‘divorce’. After the little indulgence, he trained his face back into a sympathetic pout and he ran his hand down the back of your head, petting your hair.

“Slow down, say what now? Did you say you’re getting divorced? What happened?” If only Vought productions could see this Oscar-worthy performance they’d be making more interesting movies than the cookie cutter action flicks he has to waste his time on.

“Yeah…my…well, my ex now. They cheated on me. I mean they poured all our money down the drain, spent it all in a strip club or on some escort or whatever. Fuck. I don’t even know. I don’t want to know the details.” You look up at him and in that moment Homelander has never seen anything more beautiful. The tears in your eyes, the swollen red rim around them. All because of his doing. This is the start of a new chapter.

A chapter dedicated to you and him.

He stops himself from smiling widely, he’s meant to be supportive now. Sympathetic. He nods as you continue.

“I’ve been breaking my back just to afford the insane rent and bills and this is what I get back?!” You flip flop between bouts of rage and fresh tears bursting at every other word.

“Shhh, shh come here.” Homelander pulls you in close to him and back on your feet. He lifts you off enough where you feel the floor underneath your feet but most of your weight is being held up by him. As if he’s saying ‘you don’t have to carry it all on your own’.

“I’ll help you, okay? Anything you need. I’m here for you.” He cooes into your ear, rubbing soothing circles into your back as he hugs you close to him.

Homelander knows you’re meant for him. But to actually have you in his arms for the first time is different. He wants to bury his face in your neck and inhale as much of your scent as he can. And forever carry that with him.

But he doesn’t have to wish. Instead you pull away from where you buried your head in his neck, you place your hands on his jaw and you forcibly kiss him. Take the air right out of his lungs. Homelander immediately squeezes his eyes shut, doing his very best to not moan out loud. That’s it! Finally, he’s got you right where he wanted this whole time.

He squeezes you closer, his one hand slides down to your thigh, hoisting your leg up. And like the good, obedient girl you are, you bring your other leg up with him, wrapping yourself tight around his waist.

The taste of you is sweet and salty at the same time, the pure flavor muddled with the tears your ex doesn’t deserve. It doesn’t matter, Homelander kisses you desperately regardless. Hungry for the taste he’s been dreaming of for months.

“Do you still want me?” You breathe out, less actively sobbing and choking on breaths, now the tears are just freely going down your cheeks.

“Always.” Homelander looks at you in reverence. You’re welcoming him in so freely. He doesn’t even need to push you to it. That’s how he knows you’re perfect for him. Barely just free out of the prison he rescued you from and you’ve already come running to him.

“Make me forget.” You kiss him again and Homelander swallows up everything you have to give. He pins you against the wall, his hands gliding from your thighs to your ass, the leather of his gloves sliding up the sleek fabric of your skirt. Through it he squeezes handfuls of your ass, before pushing the fabric up and out of the way.

“Please…make me feel good.” You sound broken and in need of good fuck that Homelander’s sure you haven’t had in years. Right, he can totally do that for you. He supports your weight easily, pinned between his body and the wall. One hand slides down from your ass, giving himself enough room to slide in between your legs, cupping your pussy.

“I will. I will. Don’t worry about anything anymore. I’ve got you.” His fingers pinch the sheer tights and with a snap, he rips the fabric, immediately pushing your panties out of the way.

He brings his hand to his mouth, biting the leather of his glove by the fingertips, pulling it off his hand. His bare hand goes back down in between your legs immediately dipping his fingers in your wetness. He feels how excited you are. How for the first time in years your body is finally gonna feel satisfied. You yearn for this. He can almost taste it.

His lips part and he moans at the feeling of your pussy just inviting him in. So hot and wet just for him. He strokes the back of his fingers up and down your slit, making your legs buzz with excitement. All nerves coming back to life. He sees that in you, the way you light up. Your heart rate elevated, breaths shallow, your muscles twitching. Homelander takes pride in the way he can make your body sing with just a few well-placed touches.

He turns his fingers around, gently, precisely, rubbing circles around your clit. He kisses you. No, he devours you. Parting his lips, he pries yours open, licking the taste of him into your mouth. He grunts into the kiss, moaning with each press of your lips. Each time you shove your tongue into his mouth he shudders, full of want.

His fingers eagerly move down, pressing two digits steadily into you until he’s knuckles deep, grinding them into your pelvis, shallow strokes in and out. Crooked upwards and thick inside you.

He’s so hard it hurts. Achingly throbbing against the uncomfortable rigidity of his suit and he cannot wait to just fucking bury himself into you.

As if you were reading his mind your hands blindly and clumsily reach for his belt, unclasping it. Eagerly with more dexterity than he expected you to have in a moment like this you undo his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear.

Homelander hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back as your hand touches his aching cock. It’s so overwhelming he barely catches your awe at seeing it.

“Oh fuck… Can I have you? Please?” You squirm in his hold your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking the head up and down.

Jesus. You’re begging for him so easily. He could cum just from this. Your hand, warm and soft around him, stroking his sensitive head all while you’re beginning for him to take you? Good god, if he knew you’d be this pliant he would have had your ex killed in an ‘accident’.

“Course you can.” He mutters out, strung out on the pleasure that’s sending sparks up his spine with each twist of your wrist. He takes his fingers out of you, sucking them clean. God you taste good. He definitely needs to come back to that. He shimmies his pants down lower, releasing his cock fully. “Course you fucking can. It’s yours.” Straining he whimpers out, positioning his cock right against your wet cunt, the head spreading you open. “I’m yours.” He almost sounds close to crying. All that effort was so fucking worth it. You are so his. Who else could you want after you’ve had him. He’s so close to euphoria he forgets that you were crying a few minutes ago.

He wraps both arms around the underside of your thighs pinning your knees closer to your body as he sinks deep into you with one push. You’re so fucking wet and warm for him he could cry out of happiness. You want him so bad!

“Fffuck me, that’s tight.” He utters, all broken and whimpering as he buries his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of you like he wanted to earlier while he stills his hips, his pelvic flush against yours.

He’s so overwhelmed with the physicality of it all. Even through all the layers he feels the heat of your body, the thrum of your muscles and the rhythm of your heart. It’s intoxicating.

He pulls out just to sink himself into you again. And again. And again. The feeling of splitting you open with each slide of his cock gets him so worked up, his own breaths coming out stuttered.

“Homelander please… just… fuck me. Need it.” You beg him to continue, and as much as he’s enjoying the warm welcome on each wet, loud slide he gets it. You just need him to pound you hard and make you forget. Erase all memories of your shitty ex and the mediocre sex you’ve learned to live with. It’s okay. You’re with him now. And everyone knows there’s nothing mediocre about him.

Homelander kisses the plea out of your lips stepping a little closer so that he’s sat deep, deep inside you. Every thrust of his pelvis is a short snap but you feel it so deep it rattles your spine with every move. The way he’s got you angled is just about rubbing his pubic bone into your clit and he can’t help but grin at the way he’s already feeling you desperately claw at him, trying to hold onto reality.

You moan for him sweetly, your body quivering around him. And he doesn’t relent. It’s frantic, sharp and needy. This is about that quick release. He will have plenty of time to explore your body and make you cum a thousand times over later. Ideally from the privacy of his bed where he can watch you from every angle.

When he feels you clench and pulsate around him he stutters, one of his hands landing on the wall, making a dent in it. More than anything he wants you to cum. He wants to show you how much better he will be to you. The pure euphoria of feeling you cum on his cock pushes him over the edge. He moans a deep guttural sound into your neck, parts of it muffled. As your pussy deliciously squeezes around him in a stuttered rhythm he empties himself into you. His cock gives you one last spurt inside before he slides out, letting you get back on the ground to regain your footing.

He’s mildly delirious and the next thing he wants to do is take you up to his penthouse and hold you close. He craves the intimacy of the afterglow.

Unlike his fantasy you don’t look to be ready to be swept off your feet and carried to his penthouse for some quality cuddle time. You look almost horrified.

“Oh my god…” Homelander watches with a frown as you push your underwear back into place, your skirt down over your thighs. You try to make a sense of the torn, tattered mess of your tights but you decide it’s better to take them off. He takes the chance to tuck himself back in while you sort your clothing situation and the turmoil in your head.

Before he can even question what has you so upset you continue. “I’m so sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” What was a warm buzzing feeling that made his whole body vibrate pleasantly just turned to ice.

What the fuck do you mean it shouldn’t have happened?

He doesn’t get a say in again as you continue before he recovers from the blow. “I just fucking used you. I’m sorry. That’s—That’s terrible! I’m no better than my ex. I–I—” You visibly panic, your eyes wide as saucers and looking around almost everywhere but him.

But your eyes land there anyway. He almost laughs with relief. This is your problem? How cute.

“Nothing like that happened. Hey, none of that talk. You’re perfect. You’ve done nothing wrong alright?” He took one step closer, his hands immediately cupping your jaw from either side. Only one hand ungloved, using that one to feel the skin of your cheek as he tenderly strokes you.

“I want to help you in any way I can. How about you move in with me until we sort this out, huh? I don’t want you staying with a person like that. Come on, I want you safe. And Vought’s got some great lawyers that can help you with the divorce.” He deploys his sweet tone, so persuasive, charismatic and charming. He knows what he’s doing and already you’re melting into his hands. Good. He grins at you. “Alright, sweetheart?”

You nod with your big watery sweet eyes and it’s then he knows that he won. Fair and square.

You were his long before you even knew it.

Finally, you recognize it too.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

#not my favourite work #this just wasn't flowing right #but I still wanted to finish this story #maybe someday I'll revisit it and see what I can change #also I should really have some sort of a schedule and not dump publish everything at once but I have 0 patience #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction #dark fic

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lumiereswig · 5 months

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I'm still seeing a lot of angry takes in the tags about how excessive Watcher's current costs are and how all fans really want, apparently, is "just shane and ryan sitting in a basement" back again. While I do think Watcher is probably spending over budget and that's a real issue, a lot of the takes I'm seeing show a fundamental misunderstanding of how video production works and where costs actually lie. So a few quick things that I just keep seeing that are bothering me:

It was never just Shane and Ryan in a basement. BFU did a great job selling that conceit and making sure you never saw anyone beyond them and maybe TJ, but they absolutely had other crew members with them on ghost hunts and they didn't do all the work on BFU themselves. This Q&A from Season 2 lists 36 people on staff for Buzzfeed Unsolved. It's fair to make arguments that Watcher may or may not need 25 people, but those arguments should not be coming from a place of "before it was just Shane and Ryan and nobody else."

If you don't know how many people are needed to make a professional video from a TV/film standpoint, you will not have a reasonable grasp of why Watcher wants to keep 25 people on staff. Sure, some YouTubers get by with a ring light and a contracted editor. The Watcher team have stated repeatedly that they do not want to work as just YouTubers and see themselves more as a production studio—so why do people keep referencing the YouTube model to understand their business? This is like asking the local shake shop why it doesn't function like the kids' lemonade stand down the block. The item category is similar but they're not trying for the same products or process.

The "gold dusted food" is not the big budget sink you think it is. On most TV shows I've worked on it's normal to partner with businesses that are shown onscreen and work out a deal where the price of the product (in this case the gold food) is reduced or eliminated in exchange for the free publicity. Watcher very likely made a deal with every restaurant it worked with to make the Korea trip affordable for the company. The real budget spends are on things you're probably not seeing but that still matter: camera and lighting equipment is expensive, insurance for that equipment is expensive, business overhead and paying your staff are expensive. So again—it's fine to critique Watcher for the streaming plan and the perceived budgetary issues, but go into this knowing the costs might not be coming from the things you see onscreen.

My source is that I work in TV and film and actually have a clue on how the industry functions. Again, 36 people worked on Unsolved (and those were the people mention in Season 2—who knows how big the team blew up past that in later seasons). Entertainment work is real work, and demands decent equipment, competent staff, and the same types of business and budget problems you'd find in any other business (overhead, staffing, etc.). Feel free to critique Watcher's business model, but first try to understand where that model is coming from and what goals it's attempting to serve.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #rant! sorry! couldn't see another take from someone who clearly thinks video work is just fun and games because “it's entertainment right”#funny how people expect normal business costs and problems for any other career but if it's involved with production they think everything #just magically happens and is made entirely by the onscreen talent. nutso #anyway i think watcher is probably trying its best; maybe got too overexcited; but cares about quality of life for its employees and #wants no one working to the bone. which is admirable! the streaming service was a bad idea but they're not the literal devil like some thin #they're 3 self described idiots doing this for the first time. they backpedaled. i don't see this as the death of the company & i'm gonna #keep supporting them :)

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blossomthepinkbunny · 5 months

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Vivzepop will always be the biggest issue with her own show if she doesn't change. And i'm not saying that because I desperately want to shit on her but rather because it's so clear that her attitude is what made Hazbin Hotel be so dissapointing after the long wait. The pilot released four years ago and Viv had these characters for much longer than that. One could assume that with this much time on her hands she would have a concise plan for how a series of her story would play out (I can imagine that having an own show is a dream for lots of creative people out there). And I get that that plan might get screwed up by a shorter episode count then expected, but she should be the one who knows her story best and who should know what stuff could also be cut out. The first season of Hazbin Hotel is so incredibly overstuffed with characters and plot that it completely looses the main premise the show was originally pitched with (the idea of a hotel were sinners are redeemed. As it is now the hotel is really not important at all). People have talked endlessly about how Viv can't handle criticism and it really sucks because criticism is one of the best ways to improve your writing, drawings, music etc. Without criticism you won't refine the thing you're working on in a meaningful way. Of course it feels bad when you put something out there you wanted to share and then people critique it, but that's part of pretty much every creative journey, or atleast it should be and Vivzepop shouldn't get a pass from this just because she doesn't like it. And there are great shows, movies or books that are rarely or almost never criticised. But the artists behind these works probably went trough years of honing what they do by being criticised for the stuff they put out. And I don't want to say that Vivzepop didn't work hard to make Hazbin Hotel, but it is hard to claim that she improves in her craft, when everytime someone says they don't like her show she throws a hissy fit. She wants the same reactions that these other amazing pieces of media get without ever listening to criticism. Which she sees as a personal attack rather than a tool that could help her to achieve the same level of writing prowess the creators behind media like that have. She believes she is already on the same level as them, just because she basically shuts anyone out who disagrees with her. There's this clip at the end of a Drew Gooden Video which I think sums up the situation with Viv pretty good (the Video is called "Leaving the YouTube Bubble"). He is talking about Lily Singh and her talk show but I feel like a lot of the stuff he says about handling criticism applies to Vivzepop as well.

(you might have to turn up the audio).

Unprofessional behaviour like that might be excusable when the creator is pretty young or they are interacting with publicity for the first time really. But neither of that applies to Viv. And Hazbin Hotel isn't just an indie animation pilot on youtube anymore. It's now a fully realized show created with a pretty prominent studio on a major streaming network and it should be held to the same standards as other shows or movies alike (not saying indie animation or animation on youtube doesn't have a standard but with more budget and support, there's obviously going to be different expectations for the show now). There have been issues in Helluva Boss and the Hazbin Hotel pilot ever since their release which could've been handled with more time and the new show. But Vivzepop shows time and time again that she isn't willing to listen to people who criticise her, which could actually lead to her show getting better. I don't like Viv or her work a lot. I think she is incredibly unprofessional and she has done her fair share of questionable or problematic stuff, which often leads to issues in her shows. There have been some characters I like, some songs or scenes that were pretty well done, very cool animation and an actually interesting premise on paper in HH and HB. There are things that make me come back to these shows to watch the next episode. And i'm obviously passionate enough about these shows to make whole posts about what I think was done badly and what could be changed. But for the aspects of HH or HB I enjoy, there are soo many more problems I have with it. Problems that won't go away unless Viv stops seeing every criticism as a personal attack. Because if Vivzepop doesn't stop acting like her writing is some unreachable stuff that needs no changes I don't really see a point in assuming that these shows will ever get better.

#vivzepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #i dont support vivziepop

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opbackgrounds · 1 month

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To be somewhat fair to OPLA, I don’t think the issues with the structural and story issues of the season can be entirely chalked up to “execs gonna exec.” A lot of it feels like it’s because the standard formula for live action television just feels fundamentally incompatible with the thing they were adapting. Live action tv’s comfort zone can be summed up as two people sitting in a room commenting on the plot, and then every 10-15 minutes the action (or “action” depending on the genre) happens. Which is a format that has made for some truly great, critically acclaimed television, but is fundamentally at odds with action-adventure/roadtrip format of One Piece. Between the inclusion of Garp and weird structural issues like characters randomly vanishing or plot points being immediately resolved/dropped, it feels like the live action adaptation is dragging its source material kicking and screaming into fitting that structure.

Season 1 was always going to be a little weird because they were going to have to make an overarching narrative where one did not initially exist in the manga. TV shows almost always utilize an A and a B plot story structure, so the marines were slotted into that B story arc role. This worked pretty good for Coby and Helmeppo, with the added bonus of them being able to adapt their cover story, but the Garp material was bad and the pacing of these scenes was also bad. However, I think it’s important to note that characters sitting around in an office set that can be reused for multiple episodes (or a set like Baratie that was already built) is cheaper than the island jumping the Straw Hats were doing. It was an efficient use of the budget for Garp to be the B plot, even if it mangled his character. This is and will continue to be something the live action will have to fight against for as long as it exists, so I would say get used to characters sitting around indoor sets talking. Otherwise an already ridiculously expensive series would just get exponentially more expensive.

TV shows also typically use mid season twists to help drive the narrative towards their second half, and as much as it pains me to say it, revealing Garp is Luffy’s grandpa early makes for a really good mid season twist. It recontextualizes everything that came before it and sets up a compelling drama for the episodes that come after. I’d have no problem with this, except, again, Garp was written really, really poorly.

The Alabasta saga has none of these problems. There is a natural marine B plot with Smoker and Tashigi that already exists in the manga with them spending a lot of time talking in offices (Crocodile also spends a lot of time hiding in an office so bonus points there, although if they are going to CGI some giant bananadiles that’d be expensive). There is an overarching narrative already written where one did not exist in the East Blue. And there is a compelling mid season twist in revealing Vivi is a princess. But by splitting the saga the live action is now going to have to come up with a narrative arc ending for the season where one does not exist in the manga, creating almost the opposite problem of season 1. Wapol as he is in the manga does not make for a compelling end of season villain like Arlong does, and I suspect that they’re going to turn Mr. 3 into that role instead just based on who they cast.

Now, while I think the live action did a good job capturing the Straw Hats, the blistering pace for season 1 meant that very few of the side characters that are so important to the manga got time to breathe, or really even exist (rip Gin), and slowing down the pace will help alleviate that flaw. The giants on Little Garden will have time to shine. Zoro vs 100 Baroque Works agents will have time to exist. The live action onlys will get it cry over a giant whale.

But dammit all, I want to have my cake and eat it too. Give me 10 episode seasons when the material calls for it, and give shorter sagas like Skypiea shorter seasons. Take the time to adapt the story that’s already there in the form that makes the most sense instead of Frankenstein’s Monstering one of the best selling comics of all time into the format a bunch of suits insist upon because of algorithm bullshit. Just let a good story be told well and the people will watch it, just as much as they watched season 1.

The sad thing is that season 1’s success proves to the suits with algorithms that 8 episodes is the way to go. If it had been less popular the solution would have been cancellation instead of fixing the pacing, and that’s why thinking too much about the state of modern TV depresses me.

#sarc talks #opla

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beelzeballing · 10 months

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actually i dont think ive posted my thoughts on ofmd s2 overall here yet have i?

ok here goes: i think it had incredibly high highs, and at some parts i genuinely enjoyed it more than i did the first season, episode 6 being peak imo. however, it had equally abysmal lows with some glaring writing-, tone- and pacing issues that all came to a head in the finale.

i once read someone say that, if you ever feel like a finale ruined the whole story, maybe you should take another look at the story. there were most likely cracks and problems all along, and the finale did nothing besides dashing the hope that these would perhaps be addressed later. very rarely do genuinely well written stories go completely off the rails in the finale and ruin the whole thing.

i think this is applicable here in some ways, SPECIFICALLY in regards to edward. good god edward was a MESS this season, and it's so sad because i loved the starting point! the kraken era was absolutely terrifying and iconic as FUCK but... they shouldn't have leaned so hard into the drama and trauma of it all. don't get me wrong, i loved that it did. it's one of my favorite parts of the season and i'm so glad we got it. but if they wanted this arc to work with the overarching plot as they wrote it, they would've had to lighten up the tone here CONSIDERABLY. had they played the kraken era for comedy then sure! edward's bad youtuber apology would've been funny. his fast redemption would've been less jarring. the lack of consequences less disturbing. but as it stands in the show, this arc is too dark to function with the later episodes.

i feel like they wanted to have their cake and eat it too here. they wanted the gritty drama of ed coming off the hinges entirely but also didn't want to deal with the aftermath of such a heavy arc in their silly pirate romcom. be that due to time constraints and budget cuts or because they were simply unwilling to, doesn't really matter in the end. the result is the same either way: a very tonally messy season with some accidentally troubling implications regarding abuse.

and mentioning troubling implications regarding abuse; izzy. my poor, poor izzy... his arc was absolutely glorious. i liked izzy the second he showed up in s1 and i was absolutely EATING this season up in that regard. and i think in this case, they genuinely did fuck it all up in the finale with that one stupid choice:

choosing to kill izzy was the DUMBEST thing they couldve done here.

ive talked about this over and over and over again. ive reblogged so many meta posts. and still i am left absolutely flabbergasted by how stupid of a decision this was. the fridging, playing at the fallen woman trope, killing the beating heart of the season and the character who delivers what is essentially a thesis statement, killing off the character whose arc is about coming to terms with his disability, having him die in edward's arms, comforting him and apologizing after an entire season of finding community and love outside of edward, the absolutely godawful pacing of it all, the extremely easy and obvious solution of just having IZZY become the new captain of the revenge to mirror s1 and hammer home how much he has developed since then in one go... i could go on. and i have. it was a stupid writing decision, completely fucked the tone and pacing of the finale and took away attention and time from things that really would've deserved a better wrap up (lucius and black pete deserved better)

now. the whole prince ricky & zheng plot line... yeah that shit sucked ass, sorry. they bit off more than they could chew here. i honestly think those are the arc words of this season:

✨️ bit off more than they could chew ✨️

right off the bat: i think he was good as a concept. bringing in a foil for stede who just doesn't Get It as stede does could've made for very good comedy and drama (and to be fair there is some of that). but that shit got away from them extremely quickly. nothing about how he's implemented past his first episode works, and i think this is very specifically because he's mostly played as the comic relief in his debut episode. making this completely bumbling fool, who gets his nose hacked off on his first job, the main villain of your entire season is... definitely a choice. idk. he didn't work for me at all.

ok wow mentioning shit getting away from the writers. this definitely got away from me. this was supposed to be a short lil post. well. i guess tl;dr i loved this season but jesus christ there was a lot wrong with it. if you want to hear more thoughts. ask box is open. be my guest. i have more to say so even if you dont ask i might add more to this at some point but im tired and have work tmrw.

#i was going to do shit today and now look at me.#0:18 at night #laying in bed #writing this shit #i havent even eaten.#christtttt #moogsin'#ofmd #izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd critical #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #the izcourse #im not tagging any of the other characters cuz i shittalk all of them 😭#listen i love edward hes my babygirl but this season did him DIRTY.

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sabotourist · 5 months

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Some thoughts on season 19

This is probably going to be one of the most personal things I ever post on social media. But I have some thoughts.

Sarge and Doc died. Doc wasn't even killed on-screen. Was barely even mentioned until the end. He died having only saved two people in his entire career as a medic. Sarge died, and Donut wasn't even there to see it happen.

Was he off grieving Doc? Was he just doing other stuff? I don't know. But he was gone.

Why was he actually gone? Probably for budget reasons. Time constraints. Studio trouble and issues with the engine or model or whatever else. Writing constraints that forced Donut and Doc into such secondary roles. Into dying off screen. Into not even being there when two people you care so much about die.

But like, how much of that was actually in the narrative's control? They had these limitations to write around, and it put these characters in situations where they couldn't be in narratively satisfying roles.

In some ways, it's the most brutal depiction of what life is like.

When I was 14, I lost touch with my best friend. I just didn't keep my phone on me often at the time. He died. I think, if he had lived, he would have gone on to do some absolutely amazing things. He didn't get to. He called me a couple days before it happened. I didn't see it.

Death isn't fair. But it's not the end.

I think, if the story had had more time, these characters could have had better roles. But life isn't always so kind. Death isn't always so kind. We lose people when we're not looking. We blink and people are gone.

Doc, Sarge, Church, and Tex are dead. Wash was in an institution again. Tucker just went through all that. Grif went back to earth.

That's... that's brutal. Why don't I hate it? On paper, I'd hate it.

I think it might be because it doesn't feel like a goodbye, or even the end. There are loose ends. A lot of them. There's so much pain there, so much healing and moving on to be done. Just because Grif went back to earth doesn't mean he and Simmons don't call all the time. Just because Donut wasn't here to maybe save Sarge doesn't mean he won't be there eventually.

Just because Doc only saved two people doesn't mean it didn't matter.

Life is brutal. Death is brutal. Shit happens. Shit that isn't fair. Whether it's people we love dying, or just studio drama fucking a show.

But... that doesn't mean it's the end.

Doesn't mean Simmons is going to be alone, doesn't mean Doc died for nothing, doesn't mean Sarge's sacrifice meant nothing, doesn't mean Wash or Tucker's lives are ruined, or that Caboose can't have a new best friend.

I like to imagine Donut taking up medical studies after this. Doc saved him. He's going to make damn sure that matters. Maybe Blood Gulch becomes something of a boot camp for some future loser rejects in need of a home that Simmons can guide.

Church, in all his forms, may be gone. But that doesn't mean they're going to be so quick to forget. Leave the past in the past. But still look back from time-to-time. It got you where you were.

Sometimes we pass memories down through stories. Sometimes, just in the choices we make throughout our lives.

But just... unfair things happened. To the show, and to the characters in it. To the people running it. My best friend died when he was 14. Monty Oum died in his prime. Life is tragic. But hey, it's not the end. It's just the start of something new.

Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't ideal. Maybe it hurts. Maybe it'll never stop hurting. But it can still be beautiful. it still has meaning.

It may just be a silly show about Halo dudes, but it matters.

Tl;dr: Raven is stupidly sentimental right now

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racefortheironthrone · 6 months

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Which federal laws and policies would you get rid of or modify in order to help the American labor movement.

I was looking through the labor law tag on my blog and your ask reminded me I haven't actually written a comprehensive post about this on Tumblr. (Indeed, you'd have to go back to my old, old policy blog from 2009...it's been a while.)

One silver lining of the Sisyphean struggle to restore American labor law that's been going on since the 1970s is that the labor movement and their allies in Congress, academia, think tanks, and progressive media have been thinking through this very issue of "what reforms would make a real difference" for a long time. I'm not going to say it's a solved question, but the research literature is pretty robust.

For the purposes of this post, I'm going to focus on the three most recent reform packages: the Employee Free Choice Act that was the main vehicle during the Obama years, Bernie Sanders' Workplace Democracy Act (which was introduced repeatedly between 1992 and 2018), and the Richard L. Trumka Protecting the Right to Organize Act (PRO Act) that is the current proposal of the Democratic legislative caucuses. There's going to be quite a bit of overlap between these proposals, because it's very much an iterative process where allies in the same movement are trading ideas with one another and trying to stay abreast of new developments, but I'll try to tease out some of the similarities and differences.

EFCA

While EFCA contained a number of provisions that sought to close various loopholes in U.S labor law, the three main provisions largely target the flaws that have made it extremely difficult to win a union through the National Labor Relations Act process devised in 1935 that has turned into a Saw-style gauntlet thanks to the professionalization of union-busting and the Federalist Society's strategy of death-by-a-thousand-cuts:

"Card check." Probably the most common pattern of union-busting in the workplace today is a war of attrition by management waged by an industry of specialized law firms. Generally what happens is that the union files for election with a super-majority of ~70% workers having signed union cards, then management delays the vote as long as possible to give their hired "union-avoidance" firm to systematically intimidate, surveil, propagandize, and divide workers, up to and including illegally firing pro-union workers pour encouragez les autres. Over several months, what happens is that the initial 70% of pro-union support starts to erode as workers decide it's just too dangerous to stick their necks out, until the vote happens and the union loses either by a squeaker or a landslide.

Card check short-circuits this process by just saying that if the union files with a majority of cards, you skip the election and the union is recognized. And for all the pearl-clutching by the right, this is actually how labor law works in many democratic countries, because the idea of a fair election that lets management participate is an oxymoron.

Arbitrated first contract. In the event that enough workers keep the faith and actually vote for a union, management's next move is to draw out collective bargaining for a year or more. After a year, the original vote is no longer considered binding and employers can push for a "decertification" vote, which they usually win because workers either give up hope or change jobs. So this provision says that if the two sides can't reach an agreement on a first contract within 120 days, a Federal arbitrator will just impose one, so that at least for two years there will be a union contract no matter what management wants.

Strengthening enforcement. As I said above, one of the problems with existing labor law is that there are basically no penalties for management knowingly breaking the law; companies literally just budget in a line-item and do it anyway. This provision would allow unions to file an injunction against employers for unfair labor practices or ULPs (at present, injunctions are only required for violations done by unions), and would add triple back pay for illegal firings and fines of $20,000 for each ULP. This would make union-busting much more expensive, because companies routinely rack up hundreds and hundreds of them during a campaign.

Workplace Democracy Act

Sanders' proposal includes the main proposals from EFCA, and adds a bunch of additional reforms, like mis-classifying workers as independent contractors, banning captive audience meetings, making "joint employers" liable for labor law violations by franchisees, legalizing secondary boycotts, and requiring employers to report to the NLRB on all anti-union expenditures during a campaign and barring anyone convicted of an unfair labor practice from being hired for anti-union campaigns and making "union-avoidance" consultants liable for fines for ULPs (which would kill the "union-avoidance" industry, because they commit ULPs for a living).

PRO Act

The PRO Act is very much an updating of the previous efforts we've talked about. It bans captive audience meetings, allows for secondary strikes and boycotts, massively increases fines and allows for compensatory damages, ends mis-classification, speeds up the election process, etc.

It also contains a couple new and ambitious proposals:

it allows unions to sue management in court instead of having to complain to the NLRB, which opens management up to a very expensive legal proceeding and discovery.

it bans "right-to-work" as established by the Taft-Hartley Act.

it requires that any worker who's fired for pro-union activity be immediately reinstated while their unfair labor practice process or civil lawsuit is going through the process. This would be enormous just on its own, because it changes the entire veto structure of illegal firing. As it stands, employers fire people and maybe maybe have to pay some back wages in a couple years when the worker has found another job and is unlikely to come back. This would reverse the balance of power, such that the worker is immediately back and other workers can see that they can speak up without getting fired, which makes illegal firings a giant waste of time and money for management.

In terms of stuff that's not on this list that I would add, I would say that an enormous difference could be made by simply making it illegal for management to lock-out their workers or hire scabs. You do that, and unions can win almost every strike.

#labor law #labor law reform #labor movement #trade unions #unions #union movement #public policy

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devsgames · 1 year

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My Philosophy on Commissioning Art as a Game Dev (or how to avoid exploiting people when/because you have no budget)

(This post cross-posted from My Patreon, where I share development insights, prototype builds, and devlogs from my games as I work. Please consider supporting!)

The other day I was speaking to an indie developer who was complaining how prohibitively expensive it was to pay an artist to make art for their video game project; they essentially complained at length about how difficult it was to find artists who would work at affordable prices for devs, especially in contexts of working as a solo dev and being self-funded.

I won't mention their name but it was certainly a complaint that I empathized with greatly as someone who works regularly on a shoestring budget and loves collaborating with artists on my games. However, I think it's terrible (and interesting) how much awful rhetoric and exploitative thinking surrounding paying people for work has propagated through our industry even at the lowest level, and how indie devs can easily normalize the exploitative capitalist practices carried out by larger studios at a small scale.

I want to hit on some of the topics in that conversation thoughts I have on them as they relate to development, as both someone who has both been an artist taking commissions and a self-funded solo developer who has sought artists to commission for working on my game, and provide my perspective on them.

Some of the common arguments I've seen for undercutting artists:

1) "If an artist charges too much, I'll find someone else who will do it for cheaper."

Seeking out artists who charge less is the kind of behaviour that drives artists to devalue their work; other artists see someone charging less who is getting more work than they are and say "well maybe I should be charging less" and then begins the race to the bottom which results in no one getting their fair wages. Sure there's often opportunity to compromise with an artist - maybe strike a deal with them, or work out a payment plan that suits your needs - bit if you're seeking the highest quality and lowest cost then you're directly enacting patterns used by capitalist exploitation, and you as a creative need to challenge your relationship to labour and how you treat someone who is offering theirs.

There's also an underlying assumption to these statements that some artists are overcharging for their work - but understand is an exception and not a norm. The reality is that artists are exceptionally underpaid for the work they do, and finding ways to underpay them further only exacerbates the cultural issue of devaluing art and the labour artists do to create.

2) "Some artists want commercial use fees when I own the IP to the game, and it makes it too expensive. My game isn't even big/expensive enough to warrant paying commercial fees!"

Consider this from the perspective of an artist: they don't know the extent to which you're using their work, how much you're profiting from it, or how successful your game will be, or how that success will reflect on them. Many developers and commissioners, at a baseline legal level, can't be trusted to be honest or impartial about what value your project has, and any artist is within their right for charging you what they anticipate the risk or gain will be to them. Especially these days when projects can go from 0 to trending overnight, how is there any way of guaranteeing an artist is being compensated fairly for the exposure (or lack thereof) your project might provide?

The reality is that even if you think your game will be a flop or a passion project, an artist kept at arms length doesn't know that and can't risk missing compensation based on 'vibes' or your gut feeling on your game's success. Developers don't even know for sure how successful their game will be, why should an artist be expected to charge you fees appropriately in response?

On top of this, Commercial use fees aren't a one-way street and they can protect developers too; it often means you're given permission to use their works for promotional materials, logos, marketing copy, presskits and the like with their advanced permission, and can give you legal protection in the event they try to rescind that arbitrarily. It's a two-way street that empowers you to promote your work by using theirs and is well worth paying the money to them, and it can protect both parties in the event of a falling out. It isn't a random restriction in place to charge more money arbitrarily, it's there for a reason.

If commercial use fees are a problem to you, you might be inclined to seek out artists who don't charge them: once again, this is enacting the practices outlined in #1. In fact, this is even worse as now you're actively seeking artists who don't have protections for themselves in place or might not be aware of commercial fees as a concept.

In my opinion, as a developer, if you find an artist who doesn't mention commercial fees in commission prices you are morally obligated to explicitly ask them about if they charge commercial fees. It could be likely they simply aren't aware of them, and this makes them a vulnerable target to exploitation by others who approach them in the future. If they don't know about commercial use standards and you choose to commission them for a commercial work then you're taking advantage of someone's naivety which is incredibly exploitative.

3) "If my game is a breakout hit there will be more work for them later, or I can come back and pay them what they're owed after it makes money."

Even if your heart is in the perfect place, the reality is: you probably won't. I've seen well-meaning people fail to pay others for a whole host of reasons, from clerical errors, sudden bankruptcy, or even just being too dang busy and forgetting to send an email. Even if you have the money it doesn't take much to forget to connect it with someone even if you're well-meaning and you have a healthy working relationship. I've definitely been on the receiving end of this before!

Whether your project makes money or no, everyone touching it needs to be paid for the work they do on it without chasing you down. Any artist is well within their right to assume they should be paid in full, up front, for all costs and risks associated with taking on your project. Moreover as a dev who should be paying someone you simply don't know their financial reality - maybe your payment is their grocery bill this month, or maybe they're jusy needing to make rent of this relationship. It's irresponsible to try and wiggle some of that payment away from them.

As for the idea of paying an artist what they're worth later down the line: How many studios have you heard of who pays an artist for work and then comes back later to pay them royalties, without being badgered or taken to court over it? Why should an artist you're approaching assume you're the exception to this pattern? Why should someone only get paid on the condition you make enough money to pay them, as opposed to simply paying them up front for all the work you're asking them to do?

On that note...

4) "Should I consider revenue sharing?"

Most developers I know of who entertain the thought of revenue sharing have never shipped a video game before, and they assume that once the game comes out there'll be plenty of money to go around. Unfortunately not only is that not true in almost every case (especially in cases where it's a game by people haven't shipped a game before). It's also a testament to how unreliable revshare models are - how many people who plan a model around revshare survive long enough to ship a game and properly enact that model afterwards?

Per #3, it's incredibly risky as a creator to simply trust someone will pay you everything you're owed after something launches, and there's risk your stinginess is imparting on the artist. Revshare doesn't protect artists if a project flops, or outright falls apart, or you run off with their work, or your computer catches fire, and so on. You're asking them to take on unnecessary risk with revshare that would be avoided if you pay them directly, up front.

Not to mention most people don't need promises of 'payments of unknown amounts delivered 3-4 years from now', most people need 'known quantities of money given ASAP'. There's no contest in equitably here.

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"Devon you don't understand, my game probably won't make any money! How am I supposed to find or attract artists to work on it if I can't compensate them for it?!"

So here's the harsh thesis I guess: I firmly believe if you as a game developer can't afford to commission people to make things that would fulfil the vision you have for your game then I believe you should not be creating a game that requires this art to be made in the first place. Or minimally, you need to be more willing to compromise your vision and ideas than you are willing to exploit a creative in order to maybe be able to execute that vision.

Cutting things, changing ideas and re-thinking your process is all part of the act of making games, and it's always better to do that than it is to take advantage of someone in order to get what you want. If I can't afford someone to work on my game, my process is ask myself "Okay, well then what can I do instead?" and find a way around it that doesn't involve that specific skillset, or I take time to learn that skillset myself. If I can't find a way to plan my project around this weakness it means I've done a poor job of planning something that is achievable to make by myself, and I need to rethink my plan and execute it in a way that takes into account my abilities and resources at hand - both financial and labour-wise.

At the end of the day your vision or idea is simply not worth taking advantage of anyone else's labour, or else you will easily fall into practices that exploit the labour of others.

Having to confront the reality that you can't ethically make the thing you want to make is a bummer, but don't get me wrong, not all hope is lost: Not only has there never been more free, open-source and pro-bono resources for making games available online, but there's never been more opportunities than ever learn a new skill.

If you can't find an asset or resource for free that you can twist into working for you, you might as well try learning that skill that you're trying to get someone else to do. There's tons of tutorials and free resources that will teach you all about game development and its many facets, and you might be pleasantly surprised at what you're capable of if you apply yourself towards it. If you have time to make a game you likely have time to learn a skill.

The fact of the matter is that seeking means to create what you want without compromise at the lowest possible cost is the exact behaviour pattern that is conductive to abhorrent exploitation under capitalism - it's why AAA studios seek the cheapest outsourcing studios in the global south to make assets for them who can maximize labour and minimize profit, or why so many creatives in game development in general are underpaid for their skills relative to other industries.

If you want to avoid contributing to a cycle of exploitation then you need to be aware of what that cycle is, who it takes advantage of most, and how it works. Then challenge yourself to consciously act in a way that disrupts it, or else you will risk falling into it yourself.

Thanks for reading!

#gamedev #game development #indie games #indie game #game dev #gamedevelopment #indiegames #game art #game industry #artist on tumblr #art #artists on tumblr #blog #commission #philosophy #advice

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olrastrology · 25 days

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Astrology / Second House / 2H

The Second House in astrology is often referred to as the House of Possessions, but its influence extends far beyond mere material wealth. It governs not only the tangible assets one accumulates but also the values, self-worth, and resources that shape a person’s life. Understanding the Second House provides valuable insights into how individuals perceive and manage their resources, both material and emotional. This essay will explore the significance of the Second House, its impact on financial matters, self-esteem, and personal values, as well as its role in the broader context of the natal chart.

The Second House: An Overview

The Second House is traditionally associated with the sign of Taurus and the planet Venus, both of which emphasize the themes of material comfort, stability, and sensuality. This house governs all forms of personal resources, including money, possessions, and talents. It reflects what a person values most, not just in terms of material goods, but also in terms of their intrinsic values and how they measure self-worth.

In a natal chart, the sign on the cusp of the Second House and any planets located within it provide detailed information about how an individual approaches matters of wealth, security, and value. For instance, if the Second House is in Aries, the person might have a dynamic and assertive approach to earning money, often taking risks to achieve financial success. In contrast, if the Second House is in Cancer, the person might prioritize financial security and be more conservative in their financial dealings, possibly seeking comfort in familiar and emotionally fulfilling investments.

Financial Matters and Material Wealth

The Second House is most commonly associated with money and possessions. It reveals how a person earns, spends, saves, and values material goods. The sign on the cusp of the Second House, along with any planets present, indicates the individual's attitude toward financial security and how they attract resources. For example, someone with Leo on the Second House cusp may seek wealth as a means of self-expression and pride, enjoying luxury and status symbols. They might be generous in their spending, often splurging on items that enhance their image and social standing.

Planets in the Second House also play a crucial role in determining financial behavior. Jupiter, the planet of expansion and abundance, in the Second House might suggest a person who experiences financial growth and prosperity, often attracting wealth with ease. On the other hand, Saturn, the planet of discipline and restriction, in the Second House could indicate financial challenges, such as limited resources or a need for strict budgeting and financial planning. This placement may teach the individual valuable lessons about responsibility and long-term planning in relation to their material resources.

Self-Worth and Personal Values

Beyond material wealth, the Second House is deeply connected to self-worth and personal values. It reflects how individuals measure their own value and how they derive a sense of security from their possessions and talents. A well-aspected Second House might suggest a healthy sense of self-worth, where the individual feels confident in their abilities and is comfortable with their financial situation. Conversely, challenging aspects might indicate struggles with self-esteem, possibly leading to issues with financial insecurity or an overemphasis on material possessions as a source of validation.

The Second House also reveals what a person truly values in life. This goes beyond material possessions to include moral and ethical values, as well as what one considers worth investing time, energy, and resources into. For example, a person with Libra on the Second House cusp might place a high value on beauty, harmony, and relationships, often investing in art, aesthetics, or social causes that align with their sense of balance and fairness. Meanwhile, someone with Virgo on the Second House cusp might value practicality, efficiency, and health, possibly investing in quality tools, organic food, or wellness-related products.

Resources and Talents

The Second House also governs personal resources and talents—what one has at their disposal to create value in their life. This includes not only physical assets but also skills, abilities, and innate talents that can be cultivated and used to generate income or enhance one’s sense of self-worth. The sign and planets in the Second House can provide insights into these resources and how they are likely to be developed or utilized.

For instance, a person with Gemini on the Second House cusp might have a talent for communication, writing, or teaching, and may find financial success through these avenues. If Venus, the planet of beauty and creativity, is in the Second House, the individual might have artistic talents that can be monetized or simply provide a deep sense of personal satisfaction. The Second House encourages the development of these talents and emphasizes the importance of using one’s resources wisely to achieve both material and emotional fulfillment.

The Second House in Relation to the Rest of the Chart

The Second House does not exist in isolation but interacts with the rest of the natal chart to provide a comprehensive picture of an individual’s relationship with wealth, values, and self-worth. The aspects between the Second House and other houses or planets can highlight areas of harmony or tension in how one manages resources.

For example, a harmonious aspect between the Second House and the Tenth House, which governs career and public reputation, might indicate that the individual’s financial success is closely tied to their professional achievements. Conversely, a challenging aspect between the Second House and the Eighth House, which deals with shared resources and debts, could suggest difficulties in managing joint finances or navigating issues of inheritance or taxes.

Conclusion

The Second House in astrology is a multifaceted area of the natal chart that encompasses much more than just money and possessions. It is the house of value—what we value in the world, how we value ourselves, and how we use our resources to create stability and security in our lives. By examining the sign on the cusp of the Second House and any planets within it, astrologers can gain insights into an individual’s financial habits, self-esteem, and personal values.

Understanding the Second House allows individuals to better appreciate their approach to material wealth and the deeper significance of their values and resources. Whether it involves the pursuit of financial security, the development of personal talents, or the cultivation of a healthy sense of self-worth, the Second House provides essential guidance on how to navigate the material world and find fulfillment in the process.

#mysticism #occultism #metaphysics #mystic #astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astro tumblr #astrology #second house #2h #chatgpt

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

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Raising the Minimum Wage and Its Effects

Ko-fi prompt from [name redacted]:

So, what does raising the minimum wage really do to the rest of the economy?

Hecking Complicated! I think I might need a doc of just. References for this one. But here are a few elements!

(Also, the Congressional Budget Office has an interactive model of how different changes to the minimum wage could affect various parts of the economy, like poverty rates and overall employment. Try it out!)

Reduction of Benefits

A common claim that is used to argue against the minimum wage is that it will result in companies cutting hours for their employees in order to recoup losses by having to provide benefits to fewer employees. This isn't 'the minimum wage is bad' so much as 'corporations are assholes,' but it is unfortunately still a thing that happens. (Harvard Business Review)

This is not a problem with the minimum wage itself, in my opinion, but these issues are emblematic of the weight that self-serving elements of capitalism carry. The low minimum wage is just one part of many that contribute to the current wealth disparity; if things like health insurance were universal, then bosses wouldn't be as able to cut them to employees in order to save money. Current regulations incentivize companies to hire more part-time workers than full-time, in order to avoid paying out benefits. Some cities have enacted Fair Workweek Laws in order to combat these approaches, though the impact is as of yet uncertain (Economic Policy Institute, 2018). Early reports, like the Year Two Worker Impact Report on Seattle’s Secure Scheduling Ordinance, do seem to indicate positive results, though:

In addition, the SSO led to increases in job satisfaction and workers’ overall well-being and financial security. In particular, the Secure Scheduling Ordinance had the following impacts for Seattle workers: - increased work schedule stability and predictability - increased job satisfaction and satisfaction with work schedules - increased overall happiness and sleep quality, and reduced material hardship. (direct quote from the Year Two Eval)

Unfortunately, these were approved at the earliest in 2015 (San Francisco's Formula Retail Employee Rights Ordinances, which went into effect in March 2016), which means that none of them were in play for longer than five years before COVID-19 ground the planet's economy to a near halt. I tried to find results for the San Francisco laws, but I couldn't find any studies for it; I did find an article from March 2023 that summarized which cities in California have brought in fair workweek laws, though, so maybe someone could use that as a jumping off point (What Retailers Should Know About California Scheduling Ordinances).

Companies prevented from cutting benefits by cutting hours would probably find another way to do the same thing, but let's be real: keeping the minimum wage low won't stop them from cutting every corner possible. EPI has some articles, like "The role of local government in protecting workers’ rights," that talk about how these measures can be, and have been, implemented to protect workers from cost-cutting employers.

Cutting the hours and benefits of part-time employees is a real, genuine concern to have about raising the minimum wage, and those need to be anticipated and combated in concert with raising the minimum wage. However, it is not a reason to keep the minimum wage depressed. It's just a consequence to be aware of and plan for.

Passing Costs On To Customers

A common argument against raising the minimum wage is that companies will raise costs in order to cover the raise in expenses, to a degree that nullifies the wage hike. This is, um. Uh.

Really easily debunked?

Like, really easily.

Over a ten-plus year period, research found that a 10 percent increase in the minimum wage resulted in just a 0.36 percent increase in prices passed on to the consumer at grocery stores. A similar Seattle-based study showed that supermarket food prices were not impacted by their minimum wage increase. - (Minimum Wage is Not Enough, Drexel U.)

I've talked about it before, but in some cases it's just a matter of how US-based labor is such a comparatively small portion of costs for medium-to-large businesses that raising wages doesn't raise corporate expenditures that much.

That said, some companies rely on drastically underpaying their employees, like Walmart. Walmart's revenue in 2020 was approximately $520 billion (Walmart Annual Report, page 29). Now, this report doesn't actually tell us what amount is spent on labor, but it does give us the "Operating, selling, general and administrative expenses, as a percentage of net sales." This is, to quote BDC, "[including] rent and utilities, marketing and advertising, sales and accounting, management and administrative salaries."

So, wages are just part of the (checks) 20.9% of revenue that is operating SG&A expenses. But maybe I'm being mean to Walmart! After all, the gross profit margin is only 24.1%, so only 3.2% is left for those poor shareholders!

Oh, oh, that means the profit is still over 16billion USD? And Walmart cites having 2.2 million associates in that same report? And that's about $7,500 per employee per year that's being withheld? And that's before we take costs up by like three cents per product?

Which, circling back: A study from Berkeley by the name of "The Pass-Through of Minimum Wages into US Retail Prices: Evidence from Supermarket Scanner Data" found that

a 10% minimum wage hike translates into a 0.36% increase in the prices of grocery products. This magnitude is consistent with a full pass-through of cost increases into consumer prices.

Of course, Walmart does sell more than just groceries, but isn't it interesting that raising a minimum wage resulted in such a small cost increase? If we assume this is linear (it's probably not, but I have so many numbers going on already), then doubling wages from 7.25 to 14.50 would still mean only a 3.6% increase costs! Your $5 gallon of milk would go up to [checks] $5.18.

Hm. Those 18 cents might be meaningful to our poorest citizens, but if those poorest citizens are more likely to be raised out of poverty by raising the minimum wage, then it might just be the case that they too can afford the new price of milk, and have more money left over for things like... rent. Or education. Or healthcare.

Maybe even a cost cutting loss leader like Walmart can reasonably increase its wages. After all, they still have 13 stores on Long Island, where the minimum wage is $15, and has been since 2021.

(I could have just cited the Berkeley study and moved on, but after a certain point I was too deep in parsing the Walmart report to not include it.)

But also... minimum wage increases are often staggered. They start out on the bigger companies, which have the resources to accommodate those changes (unless they've been doing stock buybacks), and then later on the smaller businesses, now that a portion of the economy (those working for the big companies) has the spare change to spend money at those smaller businesses that are raising their prices by a little more than the corporations.

And at that point, all I can really say is, well.

If you can't afford to pay your employees a living wage, you're not an oppressed company. You're just a failing company. Sorry, Walmart&Co, your business model is predicated on fucking over poor people, and so it's a bad business model.

Being a dickhead, while successful, is not actually 'smart' business practice.

(This doesn't even get into the international impacts, like what an "American companies should pay higher wages abroad, especially if they charge higher-than-American pricing for their products, but also at factories where we know they're committing human rights abuses" approach could be but this is already long as fuck so that'll have to wait for another post.)

Anyway.

Inflation

This one is tied into the cost argument above, but like...

Inflation is already a thing? Inflation is happening whether we raise the minimum wage or not. Costs go up whether we raise the minimum wage or not. Who is this argument serving? Not the people who can't afford rent, surely.

Quoting the earlier-mentioned Drexel report (red highlights mine):

While the minimum wage has been adjusted numerous times since its implementation in 1938, it has failed to keep up with inflation and the rising cost of living. The purchasing power of minimum wage reached its peak in 1968 and steadily declined since. If it had kept up with inflation from that point it would have reached at least $10.45 in 2019. Instead, its real value continues to go down, meaning minimum wage employees are essentially being paid less each year. Additionally, some economists argue if minimum wage increased with U.S. productivity over the years, it would be set currently at $26 per hour today and poverty rates would be close to non-existent with little negative impact on the economy. However, because gradual change was avoided, the extra funds were instead shifted to CEO compensation. A sudden change in wages now could possibly make a more noticeable impact on the economy, which is often cited as reasoning for a slower increase over time moving forward. Gradual increases with inflation and productivity could have avoided any potential economic ripple effects from wage increases and should be considered in ongoing plans.

Increasing Unemployment

A common argument is that the unemployment rate would jump as employers were forced to let employees go. Assuming they didn't just hire more employees so they could give them less hours in order to cut benefits... not really!

A 2021 article from Berkeley News summarizes the issue, along with several others, covering some thirty years of research that started with "Minimum Wages and Employment: A Case Study of the Fast-Food Industry in New Jersey and Pennsylvania," published in 1993. They also touch on the issue of subminimum wages for tipped workers, though they do not address the subminimum wages set for underage and disabled workers.

“A minimum wage increase doesn’t kill jobs,” said Reich, chair of UC Berkeley’s Center on Wage and Employment Dynamics (CWED) . “It kills job vacancies, not jobs. The higher wage makes it easier to recruit workers and retain them. Turnover rates go down. Other research shows that those workers are likely to be a little more productive, as well.” - Berkeley News article, "Even in small businesses, minimum wage hikes don’t cause job losses, study finds"

Lower turnover rates also save money for employers, as it causes them to have much lower HR expenses. How much money do you think large employers spend on using sites like Indeed or Glassdoor to find new employees?

This article from Richmond Fed does, admittedly, encourage a slightly grayer analysis:

In a 2021 review of some of the literature, [researchers] reported that 55.4 percent of the papers that they examined found employment effects that were negative and significant. They argued that the literature provides particularly compelling evidence for negative employment effects of an increased minimum wage for teens, young adults, the less educated, and the directly affected workers. On the other hand, in a 2021 Journal of Economic Perspectives article that analyzed the effect of the minimum wage on teens ages 16-19, Alan Manning of the London School of Economics and Political Science wrote that although the wage effect was sizable and robust, the employment effect was neither as easy to find nor consistent across estimations. Thus, although the literature supports an effect on employment among the most affected workers, it does not appear to be as sizable as theory might suggest.

The International Labor Organization has a similarly mixed result when taking a variety of studies into account. (I left in their own reference links.)

In high-income countries, a comprehensive reviews of about 70 studies, shows that estimates range between large negative employment effects to small positive effects. But the most frequent finding is that employment effects are close to zero and too small to be observable in aggregate employment or unemployment statistics (1). Similar conclusions emerge from meta-studies (quantitative studies of studies) in the United States (2), the United Kingdom (3), and in developed economies in general (4). Other reviews conclude that employment effects are less benign and that minimum wages reduce employment opportunities for less-skilled workers (5).

And there's the 60-page "Impacts of minimum wages: review of the international evidence" from University of Massachusetts Amherst, which looks at data from both the US and UK. I'll admit I didn't read this one beyond the introduction, because this is very long already.

Not all US studies suggest small employment effects, and there are notable counter examples. However, the weight of the evidence suggests the employment effects are modest. Moreover, recent research has helped reconcile some of the divergent findings. Much of this divergence concerns how different methods handle economic shocks that affected states differently in the 1980s and early 1990s, a period with relatively little state-level variation in minimum wages.

I'd encourage you to think of it this way:

Employer A pays $7.25/hr. Employer B also pays $7.25/hr. An employee works 25hrs/week for Employer A, and 20hr/wk for Employer B. The minimum wage goes up to $15/hr. Employer B cuts the employee. Employer A cuts employees as well, but not this one, and instead increases their hours to 30/wk for greater coverage.

The employee has gone from just under $400/wk to $450/wk. They lost a job, sure, but the end result... They have an extra fifteen hours of free time per week! Or more! With time to level out, you have less jobs, but more employment, because people aren't taking up multiple jobs (that someone else could have) just to survive.

This is a very, very simplified example, which doesn't take into account graduated wage increases (see the NYS labor table) or the benefits issue from before, but it does show the reality that "less jobs" doesn't necessarily mean "less pay" or "fewer employed" people, when so many of those employed at this pay are working multiple jobs.

Even the Washington Post agrees that the wage hike wouldn't cost as many jobs as conventional wisdom claims, and they're owned by Bezos. (Though I recognize the name of the article's author as the same person behind that 60-page Amherst report, so there's that to consider.)

The Kellogg Institute also points out that individual workers were, on average, more productive after receiving the pay increase, so the drop in the bottom line was softened. This is a bit debatable; the results varied based on the level of monitoring, but it's worth noting that most minimum wage jobs are pretty high-intensity, high-monitoring. Goodness knows you don't get a whole lot of time to yourself outside of the critical eye of your shift lead or customers if you're working fast food. They also note a decrease in profits, but I'd point out that they speak specifically of profits, not share of revenue.

To explain the difference: imagine you sell $100 of product in a day. The product cost you $50. Overhead (rent, utilities, taxes) cost you $10. Labor cost you $15. Profit, then, was $25, or $25.

A 16% reduction in the profit does not mean you now retain $11. It means that you retain 16% less of the $25. You now retain $21.

(This is, as with many of my examples, INCREDIBLY simplified, but I need to illustrate what the article's talking about, and I don't have infographics.)

Some other articles on the topic are from The Quarterly Journal of Economics, Business for a Fair Wage, The Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco (more critical), the Center on Wage and Employment Dynamics, the Center for Economic and Policy Research, UCLA Anderson, Vox, and The Intelligencer, which cites another Berkeley article. I do not claim to have read all of these, especially the really long ones, but the links are there if you want to look into them.

In the interest of showing research from groups that do not serve my own political views, I'm going to link an article from the Cato Institute; I do encourage you to read that one with a grain of salt, given that it's written by a libertarian thinktank, and they are just as dedicated to hunting for research that serves their political views as I am. There were a few other libertarian articles I came across, but the way they presented information kept feeling really duplicitous so I just... am not linking those, or the leftist ones I am also uncomfortable with due to the whole "I'm totally not tricking you" vibes. Also eventually I just got tired, there are so many articles on this and I am just one blogger who is not actually working for a magazine or thinktank, I am working for my own personal tumblr.

Negatively Impacting Slightly-Higher Paid Employees

Did you know that raising the minimum wage affects more than just those making minimum? It affects those just above as well. It's referred to as the ripple effect of minimum wage hikes by this Brookings article. They estimate that a wage hike would affect nearly 30% of the country's workforce.

"Price adjustments provide the principal adjustment mechanism for minimum wage increases: higher labor costs are passed through to consumers, mainly for food consumed away from home. Such an increase does not deter restaurant customers. Price increases are also detectable for grocery stores (Leung 2018; Renkin, Montialoux and Siegenthaler 2019), but not more generally. The effect on inflation is therefore extremely small." - "Likely Effects of a $15 Federal Minimum Wage by 2024," Testimony prepared for presentation at the hearing of the House Education and Labor Committee, Washington, DC (2019)

This overlaps with general criticisms of widening income equality, citing an AEA article I cannot access since it's behind a paywall. I wonder if it touches on companies like Amazon being headquartered in the city and manipulating the job market by sheer size? I can only speculate.

Plus, there are the health benefits! Which are mostly connected to lessening poverty, and through that lessening stress and increasing healthcare access, but still! Some of these results are debated, but I'd need to know more about the details to know how they're related (University of Washington).

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I've spent most of the day on this, so if you guys have made it this far and are interested in supporting me, please donate to my ko-fi or commission an article. (Preferably for more than the base price; I'm effectively working at a fraction of minimum wage myself, which is ironic considering the theme of this post.)

(I realistically shouldn't have spent more than two or three hours on this, but I have so many strong opinions on the subject that I couldn't stop.)

(Also: There were so many more sources I didn't even get to read the basic premise of because it was so repetitive after a while.)

#economics #stock market #capitalism #phoenix talks #ko fi #ko fi prompts #minimum wage #minimum wage increase #research

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