The failure of the trickle down economics is finally over which means:
The 👏 Koch 👏 brothers 👏 will 👏 now 👏 be 👏 paying 👏 their 👏 fair 👏 share 👏
Kansas lawmakers have voted to roll back a series of major tax cuts that became an example for conservative lawmakers around the country but didn’t deliver the growth and prosperity promised by Gov. Sam Brownback, a Republican.
A coalition of conservative Republicans, some of whom voted for sweeping tax cuts in 2012 or defended them in the years since, sided with moderates and Democrats to override Brownback’s veto of a $1.2 billion tax increase.
The law to increase taxes over the next two years comes as legislators seek to close a projected $900 million budget gap for that same period and bolster funding for K-12 schools under a Kansas Supreme Court order.
“It’s a huge vote,” said state Rep. Steven Johnson, a Republican and chairman of the House tax panel, adding that legislative leadership had explored many routes to find a tax solution that would gain sufficient support in both chambers. “It’s a huge vote for looking for an option for Kansas among limited options.”
While the US military was invading and terrorizing the people of Korea in the early 1950s, the Korean and Chinese People’s Armies reached out to Black soldiers in the invading army:
“Did you ever stop to think why you should be in Korea, fighting other colored people, while lynchings, murders and insults pile up against the Negro people at home?”
Half of Korea was already occupied by the US. And in the other half, carpet bombing campaigns killed millions of people, including Korean civilians and children. The Koreans however, under the leadership of comrade Kim Il Sung, never wavered in their commitment to revolutionary socialist internationalism.
They spoke TO the Black soldiers, whom they understood were also oppressed by the white supremacist US invading force: “We are not trying to turn you against the white soldiers. They are in the same boat as you. They are sent here to be killed for the Big Money, for Big Business profits like you are. We think that you, having been oppressed, can understand this more quickly than they do. But many of them are beginning to understand it too. […] Americans, black and white, unite and fight for peace!
"The Chinese and Koreans are fighting for their own homes and borders. We didn’t come five thousand miles across the sea to fight. We didn’t come to America with guns and bombs and we never will. Don’t risk your lives here. Ask to go home where you can fight for your own rights as a human being. Leave us at peace in our homes here.
“Your friends, The Korean People’s Army; The Chinese People’s Volunteers”
The gray seal population in New England has bounced back, and new data points to how well seal numbers are doing.
Gray seal numbers had been decimated for more than a century when the Marine Mammal Protection Act was passed in 1972. The animals were hunted in New England, and as NPR has reported, Massachusetts even paid a bounty of $5 each.
Though it has been clear that the population has grown in number, it has been difficult to pinpoint just how much.
“Past surveys based on traditional methods of counting, using occupied aircraft to survey seals on beaches, islands and seasonal ice cover, counted about 15,000 seals off the southeastern Massachusetts coast,” David W. Johnson, a professor of marine conservation ecology at Duke’s Nicholas School of the Environment, said in a statement.
“Calum!” you call after walking into the kitchen, spraying cleaner on the counter and drying it down with a rag. “It’s your turn to take the garbage out.”
“One second,” he says back, followed shortly with an unrelated, “Oh, shit.”
A moment later you glance up to see him emerge from his bedroom, shirtless, and holding in his hand a toothbrush with bristles coated in white paste.
Your arm continues to circle the counter with the rag, using slightly less elbow grease now that you’ve been distracted. “What?”
“Water’s out in my room,” he answers casually, as if it’s a reoccurring inconvenience that he’s come to expect over time. He reaches across the counter to dampen his toothbrush with the kitchen’s faucet, then proceeds to scrub his morning breath away.
“How does it just go out in one room?” you question, turning to use the same cleaner on the front of the refrigerator.
“Dunno,” Calum mutters with a mouth full of foam. Your ears catch the sound of him spitting into the sink.
“I just cleaned that.”
“And you did a great job.”
You cast an annoyed glare over your shoulder.
“Anyway, cool if I use your shower?” Calum asks, smiling at the silent threat.
The ownership you have over anything in the apartment still sounds odd to you when put into words, almost always forcing you to pause with the need to correct Calum before remembering he’s making sense. You guess you haven’t quite settled in to your newest living arangment yet, still in the habit of referring to it as Calum and Ashton’s place. You only unpacked your last box a few weeks ago, a short while after Ashton left for Las Vegas to pursue the boxing training Dennis Serrant had to offer.
Despite the fact that the reader is just a teenager, she has bigger problems, some of them unable to handle.
Also when the Jason Blossom’s case starts to become an attractive mystery to her, she looks for someone else to help her which leads her to Jughead Jones.
► Pair: Jughead Jones x Reader
► Word Count: 1,668
► Warnings: none
► A/N: Hello and welcome to the first part of the new Jughead Jones’ series. I hope you like and enjoy it, if that’s the case, let me know! I will appreciate it a lot and also I would know if I should start working on the next part! Tags are opened!
Riverdale high school. First class in the morning.
The students start to fill the classrooms. Some of
them are sleepy, as if they still were on their beds. Some others were ready to
keep learning another day more and the rest just hated to be there.
You couldn’t be put in none of the groups mentioned
before. You were just there. Ready for the classes? Of course. Eager for them? Not
that much, at least usually. First class on Mondays were always an exception.
Your favorite subject; psychology.
You were sitting in the placed you always used to
occupy since the very first day without a partner by your side. Not that you
didn’t have friends at all, you just knew how to enjoy loneliness most of the
A/N: I changed from my last post and I now write as “she/her” instead of “me/I” as I like the sound of it better! Please tell me what you think!
Out of every, possible event, she hated Tony’s “celebration parties” the most. They could have gone one a stealth mission and gone unnoticed to the world, yet he would throw a party for their victory and people would show up clueless, desperate to mingle with the mighty Avengers. It was pathetic, if she had a say in it, both from Tony’s part and the guests, but there was little she could do about it apart from not attending the party itself.
She usually ended up working in some form instead, either training or doing paperwork. This particular time, training sounded more needed.
They had came back from their mission a two weeks prior and she had spent those weeks resting. God knows she needed that time off but her body couldn’t rest for long before it began to crawl with anticipation for any kind of action. Whatever action she could get from training would have to suffice.
She entered the gym, which was eerily empty of course as everyone was having a grand ole’ time a couple of floors above. She didn’t have to worry about any machines she wanted to use being occupied however or having to hold back grunts and brutal expressions, which was a nice change.
She got on the treadmill, wanting to warm up a little with a two mile jog or something along those lines. She increased the steepness and put the speed on medium and created a steady rhythm in her movement. It was calming, feeling her body in synch with what seemed like the world. Her mind drifted from reality and to not, back and forth. She went over a few work-related things in her head that she had to remember, thought about that trip to the Caribbean she had wanted to go on for years. Before she knew it, the timer went off, indicating that her two miles were up.
She climbed down the treadmill, her mussel warm and ready to continue working out. The only problem, she could feel the stitches hurting.
After their mission which was to hunt down a group of people who had gathered way too much chitauri technology for both their good as well as everyone else’s, she had gotten a little roughed up. Some guy might have stabbed her with a blade made out of chitauri metal. She was sick for five days with alien-fever, or whtever, whilst Bruce’s serum worked its wonders slowly, and the damn guy who stabbed her managed to pierce the bottom of her left lung of course. It had been painful to breathe the first week but after that it had became easier, and if she rested any longer, she would loose her mind.
She got onto the bench press, grabbing the weight that was still resting on it which was decent enough. She clutched her hands around the iron bar and took a few, steady breaths before raising it above her head. Her mussels tensed as she began to heave the bar up and down, sweat beginning to form at her hairline. She could feel the burn beginning to build up in her arms and she smiled, feeling like she was returning to her normal self again. Training was a big part of her life. Seeing as she had no powers or intense background story, training was all she had to remain qualified for the team.
She could practically hear it.
The weight fell behind her head and tumbled onto the floor as she rolled to the side, falling to the ground with a loud and abnormally painful thud. Her hand clutched over her ribs where blood had already started drenching her white shirt. Her breaths became more shallow and extremely more difficult to take. No doubt, blood was beginning to fill up her left lung. She tried to sit up at least, but a wave of pain shot through her body, making her head involuntarily fall back against the floor.
She attempted to put pressure on the wound that had split open as she felt more blood run down the side of her chest. That hurt more than anything however and a strained cry left her lips. Her throat felt dry but gradually the test of iron became more prominent. She tried to swallow it down and winced at how painful that was too, feeling numb from the pain that she kept going through.
“F-Friday?” She called out, hoping Tony hadn’t muted her for the evening, if that was even something he could do.
“How can I assist, Ms. Y/L/N?”
Oh thank god. “I need h-help… I’m bleeding I- I can’t… I can’t breathe.” Her chest was practically jumping up and down from the short and ragged breaths her body allowed her to take.
“Contacting all team members.” She informed much to her relief. A few seconds passed of silence however which I she didn’t necessarily like. “I am unable to reach most of the team but I was able to contact Mr. Barnes.”
That would have to be good enough.
She remained as much pressure to the wound as she could but panicked as she felt blood reach her elbow. She glanced down, feeling faint at the size of the puddle which had formed around her. She was loosing blood, fast, and Tony’s damn party was ruining everything.
The door to the gym bursted open within barely thirty seconds and Bucky emerged in the doorframe, his chest heaving up and down rapidly and fear taking over him as he saw her laying on the floor. He was frozen in place for a few seconds, eyes blown wide.
“Oh god…” He rushed to her side, kneeling in the blood and removing her hand over the wound, whimpering at the sight before covering it with his own. She cried out in pain again as he put more pressure on it than she had herself, her heart rapidly beating at the increased pain which was unbearable. “I- I don’t know what to do!”
She met Bucky’s ice cold eyes, unable to focus properly as the faintness became stronger. “I don’t know e-either…” She admitted with a forced smile, revealing her blood stained teeth to Bucky who whimpered again.
Bucky looked down to her face as She lazily glanced up to the ceiling. He could see how dazed she was, how hard it was for her to breathe. Every fiber in his body wanted to do something but none of the options that came to his mind sounded any good, but he didn’t have much choice.
“Listen, Y/N. I’m going to pick you up now, okay? I need you to keep pressure on that wound for me. Can you do that? Y/N?”
He tried to contact her which became more difficult by the second. She managed to nod however and placed her bloody hand over his before he pulled away.
He put his metal arm under her back and his flesh one under her thighs, as steadily as possible raising her off the ground and feeling his heart rip at the weak sounds that left her lips from the torture she was under. He carried her out of the gym and his hearing listened to nothing but her breathing which he could swear became shorter and shorter.
“You with me?” He questioned as they reached the elevator, the doors opening up as they approached. She hummed quietly which was as good of an answer as he was going to get. He told Friday to take them to the others. He really couldn’t care that there would be a hundred guests on that floor. Y/N was far too hurt for him to care about some random people seeing her half dead in his arms, her blood covering both herself and him.
As the elevator slowed down and they reached the party deck, it felt as of time slowed down too. Bucky felt adrenaline rush through his system as the doors open and the crowded room came before him.
“Steve!” Bucky screamed as loud as he physically could, the entire floor becoming dead silent by his thundering shout before erupting with yelps and gasps of shock. Tony was the closest and dropped the drink in his hand, the glass shattering and its pieces blending with the champagne. Bucky fell to his knees and placed Y/N on the floor, his jaw clenching as he saw how pale her skin was.
“I didn’t know what to do.” Bucky stated as Tony knelt on the other side of her limp body, beginning to look over her injuries. Steve was pushing through the crowd towards them and soon reached them, his mouth dropping upon seeing Y/N and all the blood on both her and Bucky.
Tony raised her t-shirt to her chest, seeing the wound which had opened right up.
“Her stitches have been ripped. We need to get her to surgery, now! Where’s Banner?”
“I’m right here.” He just came to the scene and Natasha and Thor were not far behind. Clint, Sam and Rhodes glanced back to her with worry from time to time but had all mutually understood that the guests couldn’t be left alone. The three of them created a small barrier and kept reassuring the guests that everything was alright, although it was far from.
“Bu-” She tried to say Bucky’s name but her voice betrayed her. “I-”
Her breathing became alarmingly shallow and rapid, fear filling her eyes as she could tell herself that she was slipping.
“No…” Bucky said, a year rolling down his cheek as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. Everyone around him were in panic, hurrying for the things she needed, trying to save her. He just watched her as her face stilled and her chest fell flat against the floor, the life running out of her eyes until they were still as stone, staring right into his. “No…”
He pulled her into his arms, not listening to Tony or Bruce or even Steve. He pressed his lips against her forehead, rocking back and forth in panic as she laid there, dead.
He sat by the hospital bed where they had put her, eyes stinging red and his fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the hospital bed. He rocked back and forth subtly, anxious beyond compare. God, he had feelings for that women and he never even got the chance to tell her.
“It should be wearing off.” He said impatiently, watching Y/N’s pale face which appeared so lifeless he almost couldn’t look at her. Her pale lips were still stained red from her blood and it looked as if she would never wake up.
“It is.” Bruce tried his best to sound reassuring, and he did a good job, but Bucky didn’t care. He listened to the beeping of the heart monitor and studied her body like a hawk would its prey. Every movement he detected, every rise and fall of her chest. He noticed how her closed eyes tightened and how she sighed more deeply.
“Y/N?” His hand clutched hers, avoiding the clasp around her finger with a long wire from it. He watched as her eyes groggily opened and a smile spread across his face, tears welling in his eyes that he couldn’t care less about if she noticed.
Everyone could feel the electricity between the two of them, even Vision who had little to no grasp of the concept of love. Everyone could see it but the two of them it seemed. They were honest to themselves, at least. Bucky knew how he felt for her and she knew how she felt for him, but they were blind when it came to seeing one another.
When she had been stabilized, everyone had left her be as they knew Bucky would want to be alone with her until the second she woke up. It didn’t matter if it would have taken a week. Bucky would have stayed awake every minute incase she ever needed him. It was a mystery how Y/N couldn’t see that and it was a miracle that Bucky hadn’t been able to see the pure admiration in Y/N’s eyes every time they spoke to one another. The two of them took the saying of “love is blind” to a new level.
“Hey…” He continued to smile as her eyes met his, his flesh thumb moving back and forth softly over her hand. “You left us there for a moment.”
She sighed again, trying to gather herself as the sedatives and painkillers were still dozing her off. “You did?” Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking for affirmation in Bruce who stood behind Bucky.
“We did.” Bruce confirmed.
“You want to know something cool though? Or something I know you’ll find cool, at least?” Bucky wanted to lighten the mood as he knew that’s what she wanted. He watched the curiosity begin to eat at her as he dragged out the moment.
“Just tell me!” She said impatiently, her normal character detectable.
“Thor had to use his hammer to jumpstart your heart.” He grinned and she gasped, lips parting and eyebrows raising.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“I’m not kidding. We didn’t have time to get a proper defibrillator, so Thor improvised.”
“Ha… Wicked.” She let out an airy laugh, smiling. “One of you better have that on film. I swear, that’s going on my resume… Y/N, trained in hand to hand combat with the Avengers, electrocuted by freaking Mjölnir and still alive.”
Both Bruce and Bucky laughed when the door to the hospital-like room opened up.
“There she is!” Natasha emitted as she and Steve entered the room. She carried a bouquet of white tulips in her hand, knowing they were Y/N’s favorite. “How’s our idiotic friend, who though training after being stabbed in the lung was a good idea?”
Y/N flipped Natasha off, laughing before pain took over her features, her hand instinctively moving to her chest. “God that hurts.”
“I’m putting you on a three week rest this time. No lifting weights, you hear me? No training.” Bruce warned her and she saluted, confirming that she had indeed heard. Bucky watched as she slowly began to recover and act as herself again and it brought warmth to the old man’s heart. He had watched her die, watched her heart stop, yet only moments after waking up, she was back to normal.
Maybe it was the fighting spirit in her, or the pure joy she always carried around, but there was something about that girl that set her apart from everyone else in the best of ways.
I wanted to post this because I think Dorian is an easy character to take too lightly (getting caught up in stereotypes) or to imbue with too much darkness (I’ve seen references to him being, “a broken man,”). I think the truth is that, like most of us, he occupies the middle ground most of the time. While it’s easy to get pulled into the darker stuff in search of feels, Dorian is much more complicated and interesting.
Take a look at his space. It’s a great big padded chair right at the top of the stairs in the library. From his seat he can see who goes up to the aviary, who visits Viv, who’s talking to Fiona or dropping off items for the researcher. He’s not detached or closed off. He’s chosen a spot that puts him right in the middle of everything that happens in that room.
The piles of books are practical, research he’s pulled and brought to his nook. Those piles are lining the floor in front of the bookshelves, they aren’t obstacles or walls to any that might want to talk to him. And there’s a lute behind the chair. Does he play? Does he sing sometimes knowing he has a decent voice and not afraid of who might hear him?
The last picture has the view from his window. It’s the front gate to Skyhold. He sees not only who comes in to see the Spymaster or do research but anyone who enters Skyhold.
He’s curious, interested, and engaged. His problems are his problems but they don’t reign over every aspect of his life and even in areas where they hold a great deal of sway, as in a romantic relationship with the inquisitor, he’s one to take a breath, pull his shoulders back and push through through issues with courage. The issues he has to deal with are painful but they aren’t all he is. His place in the library is a reflection of that.
so, here’s something I’ve been thinking about for the last couple of days. I mean, it’s something I think about all of the time, but lately, it’s like, I’m always late for work, only have ten minutes to get ready, my room is a mess, I only eat junk food, and I’m like why? So whenever I try to diagnose the problem, it always comes back to, I just don’t have any time? And people will agree with you, “Oh I never have any time! I wish there were just more hours in the day, because there just isn’t enough TIME” and it’s so fun to agree! Oh yeah totally, I’m so fucking busy!
but honestly, what am I so busy with?I Like, I remember leasure. I remember having plenty of time. I remember being “bored” but I literally don’t say that anymore, and have no time ever because I’m on my phone.
Like, I wake up in the morning and check my phone for like forty five minutes. before i get out of bed or do anything else, i’m checking my email. reading the emails. checking instagram, checking my feed. Oops, something caught my interest, gotta read this article about statement sleeves, okay time to check twitter. THIS TAKES SO LONG, whyyyy do I do it. Okay, so then I try to think back to how I used to wake up, before this became a ritual. I would get ready, put on makeup, brush my hair, play music, make coffee. Now, I check my phone until it’s like, fifteen minutes before I need to get ready for work, and I just go to work in whatever shirt I slept in, and wear leggings. WHAT but I just think, “Hey, i’m late because I ran out of time.” then when it’s time to cook, I don’t want to make anything that will take over twenty minutes to prepare because i’m busy I fall asleep with my makeup on every night because i’m reading through comments on twitter until 1am and my eyes just water themselves shut.
and I think this is like, pretty normal. If I just accounted for all of this time on social media, it would probably be like five hours. Imagine if someone gave you free five hours to add to your day, imagine all of the things you could get done?? Like, imagine. I could exercise, buy produce, text back my friends, visit home, learn how to drive stick, do my laundry, Imagine!!
but I actually do have those five hours, I just waste them. There’s so much shit on my to-do list that I’ll never do because it just feels normal to spend three hours in a row on my phone every night before I fall asleep. It feels good. I’m checking up with friends, reading the news, shopping online, reading gossip, staying informed- I’m getting cultured every time I go on social media, I can’t miss out on that.
so the conflict is always this; I’ve only had a smart phone for a few years. I was pretty late to the game, and honestly did pretty well for myself with just a flip phone. So it’s really not that hard for me to think back to just a few years ago, and how much more often I was out doing something just because I was ‘curious’ or ‘bored’ and didn’t have anything else to occupy me. I used to meet up with so many more people, and ask my friends to hangout with me and we actually would. I traveled more, was in better shape, and just felt like I was more my authentic self.
how many other people feel this way. Is this one of those cute millennial complexes where we remember **before iphones** and cannot compute or is this just how i feel, and another symptom of ‘i hate myself but it’s cute’
so i’m challenging myself to be more conscious of my social media use and ‘wasted’ phone consumption time. and! I can’t use my phone if I haven’t completely, both feet on the floor, gotten out of bed.
“What, are you gonna look up more anime, or are you strictly into Dick now?”
A lengthy exploration of Dean Winchester as a consistently queer character, thank to themes he embodies with his core characterisation of
occupying both sides of binary traits.
(aka the reason why I lazily shove random things into my “Dean vs cake” tag with no explanation, written out while on a 8hr train journey)
The writing of
Dean is of a character split between endless examples of duality, moments of characterisation which have stark opposites (either generally accepted or made up into a false dichotomy by the show) where he appears to
embody elements of both at all times. Generally, the less-expected or pleasant part is something he resists admitting liking or labelling himself as.
He may be described as a killer while
being shown to be the most compassionate character by his actions in the same episode; his
projection of himself as a dumb grunt has been so successful that we have to scrape up lists of dozens of examples to prove his intelligence in arguments, despite one of the most-used examples being in only the fourth episode but is cited all the time to prove he’s not the stupid brother in contrast to
Sam’s college-educated introduction leaving a lasting impression there; a
lesser example of Dean wobbling between sides of a duality includes his strict
favouritism of pie being shown in stark contrast to cake as if he must surely
hate it, having declared himself for pie; and of course his frequently shown
interest in women is contrasted with extremely consistent queer subtext
implying that Dean is attracted to men as well.
How do you occupy yourself to not use social media?
turning off notifications, keeping my phone in my bag instead of my hand, staying busy + dedicating a certain time of day to go on & only using my laptop to go online, being mindful of social media as a source of inspiration rather than fix for my boredom, limiting the number of social media / apps i use (2). not viewing social media as a place of validation helps too. the moment i stopped using it to feed my ego i started using it less