#WHAT / WHO ARE WE FUNDING EXACTLY ??? WHY CAN I NOT OPT OUT ???????

[gender-euphowrya]

Are you fucking kidding me ? Are you absolutely shitting me ? Am I in hell ????

french government fucking Decided without warning without Any input from the people to take from people's fucking savings to fund war ?????

#LIKE STRAIGHT UP -STEALING- THE INTERESTS PEOPLE GET ON THEIR BANK ACCOUNTS #TO FUND AN UNDEFINED 'WAR EFFORT' ??? GIRL WHICH ONE. WE'RE AT PEACE!!! #WHAT / WHO ARE WE FUNDING EXACTLY ??? WHY CAN I NOT OPT OUT ??????? #GIRL WHAT!!!!!!!! #SENATE IF YOURE GONNA USE EVEN JUST 1 OF MY CENTS TO BUY A BOMB CAN I HAVE THE RIGHT TO LOB IT AT YOUR BUILDING #EXFUCKINGCUSE ME ??? #WHAT!!!! #WHAT!!!!!!!!!! #EMMANUEL ???? WE ALL KNOW WHERE YOU FUCKING LIVE GJFJDJD???? #HELL COUNTRY!!!!!

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 50

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x OC

Summary = Tommy goes back to London to check on his horse. Major Campbell plays mind games with Ana.

Warnings = Language...Grammar...mentions of sex... guns...violence, arrests

Word Count = 2079

 Since returning from London I had felt more stressed than ever. I wanted to know what was going on with Tommy. Why was he so secretive about that file he kept hidden in his office? What was it? Who was it about it about? I had so many questions but not one answer. Anytime I asked him about it he, brushed it off in typical Tommy fashion: Cradling my bump and kissing me deeply making me lose all sense of thought. Damn hormones.

Early one Tuesday morning Tommy went off to London, to check on Arthur and the horse he purchased at the Derby. I knew that it meant he was going to see that horse trainer, that woman, May Carleton. I didn’t trust her, she was rich and no doubt was used to getting what she wanted. Tommy was a fine specimen of a man, anyone with eyes can see it. But he was a man. And men were weak.

To ease my concerns and jealously he allowed me to journey with him down South while he worked. As much as I wanted too I felt like he was testing me and my trust in him so I declined. Deciding to focus on the wellbeing of my parents. They were discharged from the hospital yesterday.

Tommy had stationed several men around their home, hoping to ease their and my worries. But the memory was still fresh, my mother refused to step into her bedroom instead opting to stay in my old bedroom. Something I understood, it was hard but it was an adjustment. I prayed they both found the strength they needed to carry on as I hated seeing them so weak and vulnerable. Even though our relationship was rocky, they were still my parents.

Finding myself unable to settle and seeing an opportunity. After lunch, I took myself to Tommy’s office. Passing Lizzie as I walked in, I started pulling open his filing cabinets, looking for this file. I hoped that he messed up and left it laying out in the open or tried to hide it in plain sight. But this was Tommy Shelby we were talking about here. Each breathe he takes is planned.

“What are you looking for?” Lizzie asked casually resting her shoulder against the frame of the door way.

“A file” I answered quickly, moving over to his desk. Opening the top drawer with ease, I found stray pens, paperclips and a gun. Shoving it closed I tried to open the last drawer but couldn’t. I pulled at it a bit harder.

“I think it’s locked” Lizzie chuckled, I looked up at her with an annoyed glare. “What’s so important? Do you think that is where he is keeping his secret wedding plans or something?”

“No, no not that” I shake my head grabbing a paperclip and trying to pick the lock. “It’s a file on someone or something he is hiding from me”

“Tommy hides a lot from you Ana its to keep you safe” Lizzie sighs fixing herself a glass of whiskey from Tommy’s collection in his office. “He keeps a lot from everyone even Polly. Don’t be so worried”

I look up at her annoyed before going back to jiggling with the locked drawer. “Well when my future husband starts setting up trusts funds and talking about his death. I want to know exactly what he is getting up to…” I huffed slapping the drawer with my hand. “Can you pick locks?”

“No but I can try” Lizzie sighed walking towards me ushering me away from the seat with her hands and taking the paperclip. I stood, leaning on his desk as Lizzie tried to work open the drawer to no avail. “I can’t do it.”

“Do you know any other way of opening a locked drawer?” I asked holding my baby bump, the baby was moving like crazy today. I felt like they were doing circles, round and round my stomach. It was the most surreal feeling.

“Not without Tommy knowing we were looking through his stuff, no” Lizzie shook her head standing up. “Sorry Ana.”

“What if I get a desk identical to this one and we switch them?” I proposed but as the words left my mouth I realised how ridiculous it sounded. If we switched the desk Tomy wouldn’t definitely know as the lock would be different. “Never mind.” I shake my head rubbing my temples. This would be the end of me.

******

Leaving Tommy’s office I walked in the direction of the betting shop. I wanted to talk to Polly and get her opinion, her thoughts on the whole situation. I got to the top of Watery Lane when I heard the sounds of a cane behind me. Turning around I noticed the seedy police major who had it out for Tommy and his family. Without a word, I made a move to go inside the shop when he finally spoke.

“Not saying hello Miss Adler? Rather rude of you wouldn’t you say?” His thick Belfast accent coming through. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Every word he spoke sounded degrading. He truly believed he was above us all.

“What do you want Major Campbell?” I snapped turning to face him. My hands protectively holding my bump as I looked at him. His face was repulsive. The dark sneer on his lips and the darkness behind his eyes had spread a cold chill through my spine.

“I was just wondering, how you could stay with a man… who disrespects and mistreats you so badly?” He asked with an underlying menace to his tone. “I mean, going off to London on the pretence of he is checking a horse? You don’t really believe that now do you?”

“No. I know how you work you're trying to turn me against Tommy. It’s not going to work” I scoffed, turning away, moving again towards the black door leading to the betting shop.

“And here I thought you were a smart girl Miss Adler. I appear to have been mistaken.” He chuckled darkly. “A little friendly advice, call the Carleton Estate. Ask to speak with your beloved and see if he accepts your call.” He sneered walking past me, cane clacking off the pavement. “I bet you will find he is… a little preoccupied with other pleasures.”

Glaring at the man until he left the street I stomped inside the betting office. The place was bustling as usual. I saw John from the corner of my eye writing on the blackboard. He was completely oblivious to me as I stormed through the shop. I found Polly who, once she saw me immediately gestured for me to follow her into her former home through the double green doors.

“What’s happened?” Polly asked instantly fusing over me. Her hands went to my swollen stomach, feeling around it like she would feel the problem. “Is the baby alright?”

“Yes, yes they are fine moving around a lot today. I need to borrow your phone” I bit my cheek. As much as I hated to admit it, the Majors words had gotten to me. I tried to convince myself that I trusted him and nothing was wrong but that voice. That horrible voice in the back of my head wouldn’t shut up.

“What’s happened?” Polly asked her suspicions heightened. She removed her hands from my stomach, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Nothing, nothing…” I tried to brush off but it was clear she didn’t believe me. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, giving me that disapproving look until I broke. “That Major Campbell, he got into my head, said Tommy was enjoying the pleasures of that.. that horse trainer.”

“Oh Ana now, come on. Tommy is completely blinded by you, by his love for you. He knows if he steps one foot out of line you and that baby are gone. With my support.” Polly assured lifting her hand, giving me her index finger as a warning.

“I just want to be sure.” I sighed, tilting my head to the side as I rubbed my stomach. “Please.”

“Fine, fine.” Polly rolled her eyes ushering me into the living room area of their home. I sat on the large armchair as I rang the switchboard asking to be put through to the Carleton Estate.

I watched Polly place a piece of bread and jam in front of me, telling me to eat for the baby’s sake and a glass of water. I nodded thanking her as I waited from the other end to pick up the phone.

“Carleton Residence how may I help you?” A firm, female voice answered. I immediately assumed it was the head maid of the estate.

“Hello, I was hoping to speak with a gentleman who is visiting the estate today. A Mr Thomas Shelby.” I asked politely looking down, picking at the crust of the bread with my index finger and thumb.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible right now.” The woman on the other line spoke. The denial caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting to be told no over such a simple request.

“Alright, may I speak with the lady of the house? A Ms May Carleton?” I asked, my heart beating wildly in my chest. Polly looked over at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m afraid that is also not possible. Ms Carleton has retreated to her room for the evening and has asked not to be disturbed.” The woman replied and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Is the gentleman still there? Thomas Shelby, is he still there?” I asked my voice going up an octave higher in my panic.

“Yes, I believe he is.” The woman replied and I put my hand over my mouth. I almost dropped the phone when Polly grabbed it holding it to her ear. Asking questions of her own.

I was in shock, how could he do this to me I thought as I lay back on the chair holding my swollen stomach. Silent tears fell down my checks. This couldn’t be happening.

After hanging up the phone, Polly set about comforting me. Insisting we returned to her home at Bridge Cottage to think.  I rubbed the sides of my temples willing myself to stay strong and calm. This couldn’t possibly be true. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. I told myself.

Michael returned home after a long day in the office. I remained quiet sitting on Polly's sofa before a commotion at the door caught my attention. Polly was screaming, and Michael was yelling. I rushed quickly towards the front door noticing, three or four policemen pulling and shoving Michael into the back of the police car. Polly was screaming profanities as she rushed towards the car, slapping the glass, yelling for the release of her son.

“One by one you all will fall Miss Adler.” That voice that haunted me spoke. I turned seeing him leaning against the front of the house. That evil smile on his face. “Best get that baby and your parents out of here before I come knocking on your door next.” Major Campbell chuckled darkly, walking off and smirking at Polly as she was restrained.

I rushed out towards her wrapping my arm around her shoulders as Campbell and his men drove off, Michael in the back looking scared and lost.

“We will fix this. Tommy will fix this.” I assured Polly not sure if I believed my own words.

Taglist

@shelbyteller @seleneshelby @forgottenpeakywriter @babayaga67 @sweetmilkshakeluminary @slutforcoffein @sydneyyyya @happysparklingshadows @margew76   @midnightmagpiemama  @pierre-gasssllyy  @duckybird101 @muhahaha303 @thenattitude  @dolllol2405

Anyone wanting on or off the tag list please just let me know 💙

#tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #peaky fucking blinders #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #silence #oc #thomas shelby x oc

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: Brother

This fic was inspired by Toph declaring Zuko her brother in A Second Chance at Family. I started thinking about what Azula would think of that... so cue this fic. This is post-canon, where Azula is working with Zuko as a political advisor.

Aaaaaand tumblr's shitty new post editor won't let me indent the story without removing all the spacing. Fucking hate this stupid thing and you can no longer opt out of it, so that's great. Thanks @staff. This platform progressively gets worse and worse. It's literally becoming LESS functional.

Anyway, have a snip:

“He’s my brother, not yours,” Azula hissed at the earthbender who was clinging inappropriately to Zuzu’s side. 

Zuzu looked surprised, but the earthbender just grinned a smug grin that made Azula want to set her on fire.

“You lost siblingship rights,” the earthbender shrugged, “you know, when you tried to murder him.”

“Toph,” Zuzu hissed, probably able to tell that Azula was very close to incinerating her. Such an insult could not go unanswered.

Azula raised herself up tall. “Zuko is my blood,” she sniffed haughtily. 

“Literally who gives a fuck?” Toph snorted. “Your bloodline is fucked up. We’re better family to him than you’ve ever been.”

“Nonsense,” Azula scoffed. “Family isn’t something you choose.”

Zuzu coughed. “Um. Yeah, it kinda is.”

She glared at him and he winced. 

“Just saying,” he muttered. “Can we please move on from this and deal with the actual issues on our plates?”

“No,” Toph said simply, pointing at Azula. “You think your blood entitles you to him? Fuck that. What have you ever done to earn the title of sister?”

“I don’t have to earn it,” Azula sneered.

“See, that kind of entitlement is exactly why I’m the real sister,” Toph said and Azula saw red.

“Guys!” Zuzu said loudly. “Come on, we’ve got actual fucking work to do!”

Azula’s eyes narrowed at him. “You agree with her,” she said, something threatening in her voice.

“Um.” Zuzu shrugged. “You’re both my sisters, okay? Now come on, I have a meeting with the finance minister in an hour and we need to figure out–”

“No,” Azula cut him off, incensed. “I’m your blood. How can you call this – this mudgrubber ‘sister’!?”

“Oh, I’ll show you mud,” Toph began, but Zuzu stepped between them, pushing them back from each other. Azula almost set him on fire in payment for the indignity of it.

“Guys, seriously!”

“Family is a title that’s earned,” Toph said coldly. “You’ve never done shit to be deserving of it.”

Puffing up in offense, Azula let the threat of lightning crackle in the air around her – but it backfired when Zuzu said sternly, “stop it! Neither of you are helping right now! Let’s just move on and–”

Azula’s face twisted with something she couldn’t define, but it was bitter and jealous and angry. “I refuse,” she said tightly. “I refuse to have anything to do with a pretender who tries to steal other people’s families!”

“Good,” Toph snapped, “then the trash can walk itself out.”

“How dare you–”

“Guys, come on!” Zuzu stood between them again, face stressed. “We have real actual problems to deal with! Like how to fund–”

“Forget it,” Azula said icily. “As long as she’s around, I won’t be involved.”

Zuzu blinked like he was surprised at her ultimatum, but Toph’s smirk just widened. 

“Fine,” Toph said easily. “Bye then. C’mon, Sparky, let’s deal with your finance minister.” She turned and started walking towards Zuzu’s office – and Zuzu hesitated, looking between them.

Azula remained with her nose stubbornly in the air – but then Zuko took a step towards Toph. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve gotta deal with this meeting.”

And then he left, following after that brother-stealing earthbender, and Azula felt the sudden need to set the corridor on fire. 

Servants and staff ran from the area – but Zuko did not return and Azula’s rage was complete. He was her blood! How could he choose Toph over her!?

With a snarl, Azula set off to find something she could burn, leaving a smoldering section of hallway behind her.

#atla #wip wednesday #i'm so sick of losing functionality with every fucking update #fuck tumblr

[shoujoboy-restart]

I don't dislike the concept of federal bailouts for big corporations who's bankruptcy can impact an country's entire economy.

I just dislike that it seems to be completely inconsequential for the corporation while it it obviously affect the economy maybe even worse than if just let them fail, so here's some of my suggestions for how bailouts should actually work if we were to keep them:

It should absolutely follow a loan-like formula without financial gain for the provider (the state), since the state should only generate social profit not financial, instead the company would have to give shares and seat in their table to the lender(the state)

Let's say Apple went trought a crisis and lost 50% of their value and are on the edge of going bankrupt, if they decide to opt for this theoretical federal bailout, whatever amount they ask for will be paid back by the corp accepting state representatives now having executive positions within their company

those representatives being public workers with the proper qualifications for the position they will hold and NO actual congress or law making power to mitigate the conflict of interest

i.e if they ask for 1 billion in bailout, that amount will be converted into shares within the company based PRE-crisis(or even more specifically on whatever is the historical registered highest for that company), if before the theorical crisis someone investing 1 billion into Apple gave them 10% of decision power within the company, it means the state now has 10% control of the company and whatever amount of hoar meeting chairs that fills

Also to be elegeable for the loans the company MUST be or turn itself into a private investiment company, however they must also share value and net worth publicly

Any meetings, partners and other investiments specially attempts to buy other companies must be announced fully publicaly as well

The company will now follow federal guidelines and regulations, they will not discriminate in anyway shape or form when hiring, will now have diversity qoutas, follow the highest minimum wage payments and basic benefits for federal workers as well and they will not be able to fire without proper justification for it or compulsive severance payments for out of the blue firing

The companies will also be under much more rigorous anti trust laws.

Companies found to commit tax fraud should also be penalized with this same scheme or choose financial capital punishment aka be closed out and have all their acessets liquidated and used for public benefit (funds for education, military, infrastructure, etc)

If the company finds itself in more crisis and decides to seek more federal bailout, the private owners are the only ones with the voting power to decide to seek it or not

"oh my god this is so controlling and it just doesn't let the company have profits like before" yeah pretty much lmao, the company is literally saving their own ass from their own irresponsibility or fraud with public money, they absolutely should not be profiting like before since it fucked over other this much, also, this will not be the only loan available, if a private bank or corporation wants to give a loan to a company that they trust they are still allowed and won't be punished or restricted beyond common sense financial protection to their average clients.

"but what private bank would trust billions of loans to a companies that got itself in a crisis?" EXACTLY! So why should the fucking taxpayer be footing the bill for a irresponsible business owner that no other business owner would trust with no damn social benefits at all?

We must stop fueling and normalizing the privatization of profit and socialization of financial loss when it comes to irresponsible corporations, that get bailouts and subsidies from the government and come up with loopholes to fire their employees and not pay their fair share of taxes

In the current system they can just fail and fail and fail again without any material loss, they just cry to big daddy government to take their debts and failures and make you pay for it, in this theorical system, the more they fail and seek handouts from the government, the more the company becomes public, simple as that. Don't want to be under this much restriction and scrutiny? Don't get a federal bailout, and hope some bank gives you a loan or philanthropist fells sorry for you like the rest of us.

#discourse #economy #federal bailout #capitalism #socialism #Communism

[mitchyguan]

Even Jesus was provoked when he got into the temple to find out people were changing money and selling doves in there. He scattered their tables and pursued them out, then he said 'my house is a house of prayer but you all have turned it to a den of thieves'. That's exactly what's happening today in our modern world, I've witnessed countless times the reverend father's in our catholic churches try so much to raise funds for building the church, many of them even forget that it's their so called place of worship and turn it to a bargaining market. That's why I've never been religious all my life. I doubt so many things bout the principles and since I discovered they were all man made then I knew I could decide not to follow them up if I wanted to. All that matters is my personal relationship with God, I pray in silence almost everytime. I mustn't go to the church to pray because God is everywhere. That's why he's Omni present. I don't believe much in the holy communion (eating of Christ body) tbh I've thought of this for so long, that's actually a cult activity but because these religions have existed for too long so they've influenced a lot of people and we don't tend to see it as a cult (if I was born into an Islam family my family will be mad if I went to the church to pray so you see) and funny enough the whites brought this religions to us even when we had ours. They bake those bread and the so called blood is wine which they convince us to believe is the body of Christ which in reality it's not, funny enough other protestant churches are doing theirs too lol. Everyone is opening churches everywhere just to make money and not for godly purposes. I'll always stand on the fact that God exist, the icons from these religions (Jesus, Mohammed, Budda etc) are good men who helped people and where advocates of peace and justice so they influenced many people to follow them which automatically turns it to a movement. After these men died others under the movement had to take turn as the next leader of these movements, funny enough many of these men brought corruption into these good movements. Remember these men said they were sent by God to redeem mankind. One God different prophets, different movements, different religions. I've the right to join any religion that suits me and also have the right to opt out frm being religious. But it doesn't for one day stop the fact that I believe in God (most super intelligent) who's behind the aesthetics and mysteries of this universe. I don't knw what it is but it exist out there, it's nature, karma, intuition (it speaks to us only if we can listen).

#philosophy #freethinking #freethinker

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Nuclear take

Ok so 98% of the people that follow me and that I follow will FULLY disagree with me, and some may even unfollow me. But I want to prompt a discussion because I want other views on this.

So my hot take is that Prostitution should be legal. Now before you freak out let me explain myself. As there are MASSIVE stipulations for this.

I'm NOT a Christian conservative. I'm not even conservative. I'm libertarian. Not BIG L. Little l.

Now there are stipulations to this view point. But my reasoning is not based on, "Yes I want this in my life". My view is based on, "Could this have net benefits"? What might those benefits be exactly? Well before I can explain that I have to explain the caveats as the kind of solidify my points more or less.

There would be a government agency (separate from the government itself but funded by it) that would run overhead for this system. This agency would be in charge of several things to be listed below.

Mandatory testing for all people who opt into doing the profession.

You'd need to be 21 to do it.

Facilities would be created and run independently. (They would be required to get the women that work there tested) However the women would not work FOR the facility. They'd be independent contractors. They would provide a location and security to the people working there. The workers would pay a fee to use said facility. (All participants would also have to be tested for STD's and STI's before participating as well.)

The gov funded agency would be in charge of sending people to to make sure of a few things. A) Psychological Testing of all people who opt into the profession BiWeekly at the most. B) Mandatory investigations into each facility to make sure none of the workers are being forced or coerced into doing it. C) Surprise investigations to make sure everyone doing it is of age to do it.

Anyone found to be coercing or trafficking people into this profession would be criminally charged with a felony.

Any facility found to be hosting minors will be stripped of certification and be held partially liable for any harm caused to said minor.

No commercials, or public adverts for the facilities. At all. If you are on "The Hub" or something like that and there's a banner ad sure whatever. But it would need to be site specific and any outside instances of it would need to be handled quickly and with strict legal action. The same rules that apply to strip clubs in most cities would also apply to these facilities as well.

This work would only be able to be done at one of these facilities. So yes, there'd be a "tax" in that you need to pay the over head to the facility. But you would not be working FOR the facility.

There are a few other things but that's the bulk of it. But the reason I'm even saying this is not because I think that highly of or lowly of sex work. It's because I think that given the above circumstances, and ONLY under those circumstances, we could reduce sex trafficking. We could reduce child trafficking. We could also make things safer for the women that DO wish to do this type of stuff. Because fact is (SPECIFICALLY IN THIS CASE ONLY) these women will never stop offering these services, which are dangerous for them to do, but they are also consenting adults. Why not give them a safe place to do it. A place where security exists to protect them.

But more to the point. Under our current system, and ESPECIALLY with the passing of SESTA and FOSTA we forced all of this underground. The IDEA behind them were going but in practice, it did what we thought that it would do. Which was force all of this underground making it harder to save victims in general.

My entire angle here is that with my above mentioned system, and again ONLY with that system. I believe that it would actually reduce trafficking. More over I think that it would provide profit incentive to create these facilities rather than have it underground. The perk to this is that it's MUCH easier to find potential victims. And with the agency, they'd not be able to take donations at all so no bribery (though even in this case nothing is perfect).

Now do I think that this would work perfectly? No. Do I think that it would have more pros than cons? Yes. And mind you I understand that if you are religious even me saying this might offend you. And look. I get it. But my view on this is reducing harm. And not in a superficial way. I have friends that have participated in said acts because they suck at most forms of work. I feel bad for them and have tried to get them to apply themselves to different types of jobs. They tend to not last long.

So please understand something before you reply to this. If you are coming at this from a religious point of view, I can't stop you from commenting but I grew up around Catholics and Baptists. Trust me. Anything you have to say on this topic I promise I've heard it. From any other perspective I want to know peoples opinions. I know this isn't a perfect idea. But under the system we currently have there are times when only the women who get paid end up doing time when the people who pay for it get off scot free. And we've also seen a number of cases of trafficking victims and child sex trafficking vics get arrested when they were forced into it. With no consequence for the men and women that trafficked them.

Now can we change that system without my proposed change? Yes. Do I think only changing that will have a net positive in the long run? Not as much positive change as we'd like to see. I think long term we'd minimalize a few problems. The biggest being child sex trafficking. Another issue we'd solve is making the women that opt for this safer both from a disease standpoint and from a mental health stand point and physical. Another issue we'd solve at least partly is Incels. And I'm not talking about the WORST types out there. I'm talking about the ones that just need a little confidence to get the ball rolling. But it would also provide a service for people that MAYBE don't want to go to a strip club, and just want to pay for a session of sorts to cuddle with someone, and talk. Because even though that's technically not sex work, it does fall under what some of them do.

Again. Do I think this idea is perfect? No. Do I think pitfall could exist? Yes. But IF this idea did see fruition the Gov agency would HAVE to exist to check on the wellbeing of these workers.

I will say it again. I KNOW from a religious point of view, this idea is vulgar. I know it's sinful. And I know that you just wish everyone would take the Jesus Koolaid, get married have kids and be perfect little bible readers. I GET IT. People are imperfect. And our world SUCKS. This idea came to me as an idea for a means to reduce harm, while still trying to look after vulnerable people. I'd honestly just like some thoughts and opinions on it aside from, "This is sinful and you're going to hell".

#discourse #law #legal

[creatiview]

[ad_1] With Bitcoin still so early on its adoption curve, it seems that convicted Bitcoiners need an orange pill of their own.This is an opinion editorial by Austin Herbert, a producer for “The Mark Moss Show.”How do I know that Bitcoiners suck at orange pilling? Well… we are at .01% penetration. That's just one out of 10,000 people who have been convinced to become Bitcoiners. Work done by @Croesus Source The specific number is arbitrary. It could be .01% or it could be a whopping .05% adoption rate. The point is, we are ridiculously early.Here’s summary of what the .01% adoption rate means:Croesus puts us at 250,000 Bitcoin Maximalists out there, defined by holding 50% of net worth in bitcoin. This is measured out of 2.2 billion total people. Why? Because he only accounts for people with $10,000-plus net worths. We are talking about storing our wealth in bitcoin, not measuring the medium-of-exchange network.250,000 divided by 2.2 billion equals .01%.“Everyone gets the price they deserve,” right?As Bitcoiners, we believe the old system is fundamentally broken. We have an opportunity to build a new system. A fair system. A system that will remain long after we are gone. But in order for our new system to work, we need to fund that system. We need to defund fiat. How do we do that? We give people the opportunity to vote with their money, to opt out. But they won’t vote with bitcoin until they understand Bitcoin. This is my story, and this is how I believe we get the masses onto Bitcoin. Origin StoryIt’s been so long that I can’t even remember how I viewed the world before I was a Bitcoiner, which is a problem. It makes it extremely hard to see the world through a non-Bitcoiner’s perspective. To me and you, everything can be related back to Bitcoin. It’s obvious. And I mean everything, just ask my ex-girlfriend.Climate crisis? Bitcoin fixes that. Inflation crisis? Bitcoin fixes that. Food crisis? Bitcoin fixes that. Authoritarian crisis? Bitcoin fixes that. Shitcoin crisis? Bitcoin fixes that.Honestly, when I reflect back on it, I can’t exactly put my finger on the moment I reached escape velocity. It feels like I’ve always thought this way. So, if I can’t crawl back out of the rabbit hole, where do I go next? I try to tell as many people about my epiphany as possible.I truly believe that Bitcoin can fix everything and I want the people closest to me to see what I see. I don’t want to be the only one sailing into this blue ocean of opportunity after this system collapses. But, this is what happened…Force PillingI started with those people I cared about the most. My mother, my sister, my best friends, etc. and to a certain extent, this worked. This is what I call a “forced pill.” They listened to me make my pitch on Bitcoin and then they invested. It was in hindsight that I realized they invested money because they trusted me to make them money. Some of these forced pills actually converted people around me to reach escape velocity and become part of the .01%. But this was definitely an anomaly.Why? Because they don’t care about the movement. They treat bitcoin just like anything else in their portfolios.This is why shitcoiners can get so many people into their tokens, they force-pill them. Some really good, scum-bag marketer gains said person's trust and then they sell them an “opportunity switch” (in layman’s terms, an opportunity switch is: “old doesn’t work, my new way does”). To that said person, it sounds like an opportunity to make a lot of money. Bitcoin’s pitch doesn’t revolve around money. Well, Plan B’s stock-to-flow model did, but that actually worked, which is my point.Just because my advice came from a place of morality and righteousness, that didn’t change the underlying dynamics. The only difference between me and that scum-bag marketer is that he had to gain that person's trust before he could sell them the “opportunity switch.”Same-same... but diffe

rent. Source If you’re going to keep force-pilling people, use the concept that fiat doesn’t work, but that Bitcoin will. And keep it that simple. But that is not what this article is about. I wanted to get people into the .01%, to see what I see, to be a part of this new system.The sad part is, those forced-pilling experiences were the good ones. Now, let’s talk about some experiences as I moved out the trust spectrum (I’m defining the trust spectrum as: spouse/parent to complete stranger).Moving Across The Trust SpectrumBitcoin is such a complex topic. It was tough to even begin the orange-pilling process. Maybe I started with logic: “It’s a decentralized, peer-to-peer network— that no one can stop!”Be honest. Has that ever worked? I lost them at the third word… “decentralized.” What about something more vague and meme-like? For example; “Rules, not rulers!” Closer... they paused because it’s catchy. We have a ton of catchy hooks in Bitcoin. But we are still at .01% adoption. For instance, the catch phrase above one recently caught my eye when Mark Moss and I were recording with Uncle Marty at his studio in Austin, Texas.“Alright, so what if we put them both together, logical and catchy,” you might think. “That’ll work…”Let’s try it:“It’s digital gold! It’s faster, more scarce, instantly portable, And more divisible. It solves every failure point that gold has. And it’s one tenth of the price!” (Actually, at the time of this writing, bitcoin represents 3.5% of gold's market cap, according to Clark Moody.) It doesn’t matter. Even that didn’t work… They did not join the .01% club just because I told them that.But why not?!It was extremely frustrating. No matter what I said, no matter how much sense I made, no matter how much supporting evidence I gave, it didn’t affect any change in behavior for the people around me, even in a world that is screaming my case at them.They would listen to me talk about Bitcoin. Occasionally, Bitcoin would be in the mainstream news and they’d ask me about it. Some even ventured out and listened to a few recommended podcast episodes. But none of them could explain the Lightning Network. Or how to run a node. Or even describe what a node is. Self custody? Owning a hardware wallet? Hell, they didn’t even know that El Salvador made bitcoin legal tender… I got to the point where I didn’t want to talk to people about Bitcoin. I didn’t see the point anymore. Here For The MovementBut, I keep coming to the same conclusion: We are here for this movement. We are here to build a parallel economy that will eventually take over the old fiat system.I’m not a dev, I don’t have a large audience, I don’t have meetings with Jeff Bezos or presidents like Jack Ballers (no, that is not a typo).One day, I came to this realization.., I’m not the only one struggling transporting people into the new world. Cough, cough... .01%. We are all struggling to unplug people from the matrix. Hence, my motivation behind “An Orange Pill For Bitcoiners.” This is my first and probably will be the last article I ever write. But I had this “ah ha” moment a few months back. I was at the gym. By the way, here’s a picture of the water bottle I bring to the gym… Naturally, I have random people come up to me and ask about Bitcoin.Most conversations there are just some flavor of the examples above. But recently, I met a Bitcoiner, a real Bitcoiner, an “escape velocity” type. He reminded me a lot of the character from “The Big Lebowski,” The Dude. We were talking and talking and he’s telling me about all his friends who are pensioners and successful finance guys, yada yada, but none of them would listen to him either. I remember the conversation was for a full hour. The reason that I remember that was because the treadmills at my gym have a “cool-down phase” after 60 minutes. As we were talking, it obviously tripped me up when the tread stopped treading in the middle of the multisig setup

chat. I kid you not, this is word-for-word what he said at the end of our conversation: “You know what, man?” (Sighs, looks up.) “Man, you are exactly right. I never thought about it like that before.” Note: He’s retired and has a boat in St. Pete, purchased with bitcoin gains. A few weeks later, he came up to me and said, “I was thinking about what you said to me, Austin. I realized why I was able to ‘get’ Bitcoin so quickly.”(His escape velocity moment was back in 2015, to put it into context.)For The Dude At The Gym, It came down to this: It doesn’t matter if you have the perfect solution to every problem on the planet if that person you are trying to sell the solution to doesn’t know there is a problem to be solved. Now, I wish it was that easy. If it were, we wouldn’t be at .01%. Remember The Dude At The Gym was already orange pilled. He just didn’t know why he could accept Bitcoin right away. Hang with me to the end, I’m going to attempt to show you why you can’t simply tell a no-coiner the problem. Think about the “digital gold argument.” Gold is flawed, we know this. We know why it is flawed. We know the problem. But does that make a difference? The market says that doesn’t matter. Bitcoin is a massively better product. Yet it remains at 3.5% of the valuation of gold. This is why even the most eloquent, rational argument still does not move the needle.InceptionIf explaining the problem isn’t the answer and explaining the solution isn’t the answer, then what is the answer?Inception.Just like in the movie, you have to plant an idea in their head. You have to make them think they came up with the idea on their own. From the very beginning of this article, I could have just said “stop screaming the solution to people who don’t know there is a problem.” I could have tweeted that out. Honestly, I might have put a similar thought out before. But would it have mattered? No. Most likely, it would have gotten, at best, 20 likes. Who would have liked it? Why would they like it? They liked it because they were already orange pilled and they could relate to the tweet. Would a no-coiner like that tweet? No. Of those people who liked the tweet, do you think that any of them would have changed their approach because of my tweet? No. If Michael Saylor himself tweeted that out and got 20,000 likes, would it have solved anything? No.How do you solve this with inception? You make them experience it. They came to the conclusion. Not you. It was their idea, they found the problem. Then, and only then, will they start their journey to escape velocity.In one sentence: Make the horse thirsty before you lead him to the water.That’s the punchline.Now compare that to the idea that you can lead the horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. I’m arguing that you can. You just have to incept him before he sees the solution. This wasn’t an inception for the masses, it was for the already orange pilled. I’m defining “orange pill” as an expansion of awareness.Let me explain: I didn’t start off this article by saying “Bitcoiners need to ‘x’ instead of ‘y.’” I told you what I have experienced, my problem, knowing that, most likely, you have had very similar experiences. My story triggered your thoughts on your past attempts. No-coiners hear the problem, they understand the problem; it’s just not their problem.The goal was to plant the seeds that caused a reaction. What seed did I plant? First seed: the title, “How To Orange Pill An Orange Piller.” Why did you click on the article? Because, for some reason, you were curious about orange pilling. Why were you curious about orange pilling? Because you already knew of the problem, but it wasn't your problem. This is essential. Second seed: the story.I told you my experiences so that you would think about your similar experiences and, therefore, the problem came from your perspective. I showed, rather than told, you.Third seed: “The Wolf Of Wall Street” scene.The scene broke down the barrier of internal disbe

lief. You can sell anything to anyone. “But you just cherry picked that scenario.” Fair enough, let’s change it.Problem: Jordan Belfort challenged his friend, Brad, to, “sell me this pen.” What if Brad responded, “You will need this pen when the check comes.” That should create urgency, no? “Yeah, that would work. Right?”If that was your thought, then it means you still think logic and reason will convince someone to react. The problem is, he told Belfort what his problem will be. You can’t tell someone they have a problem, they have to experience the problem.In this example, it’s not Belfort’s problem. He doesn’t need to sign anything at that moment, so he actually doesn't have a problem. So, he doesn’t want the pen. Yes, logically he’ll need to sign the check. But remember, all of the examples from above… logic doesn’t matter.Inception is the moment they start to believe they have a problem. That’s when their journey to escape velocity begins. “Alright, wise guy, how do you sell the pen in the check scenario, then?” You have to wait until the waiter brings the check out. Then, pull the pen out of your pocket. Now they have a problem, now it is time to sell the solution. There was a catalyst.So there it is, inception That’s how you orange pill a Bitcoiner.This is a guest post by Austin Herbert. Opinions expressed are entirely their own and do not necessarily reflect those of BTC Inc or Bitcoin Magazine. [ad_2] #Orange #Pill #Bitcoiners Source link

[filepepper8]

Betting Guide: How to be able to win from sports betting

Every time We wondered if participating in with bets seemed to be a joke delete word. I wanted in order to meet people who earn to see using my own sight how you can win coming from betting. By chance I came across those by 5predictii. ro which have developed some sort of betting guide intended for you in circumstance you want to learn just how to win by sports betting. Wagering Guide How to win from sports activities betting Betting Manual How to succeed from sports gambling I'm not really a fan and I defintely won't be a fan involving betting but before We published this wagering guide I tested it with relatively small amounts plus it works. With thirty lei I arrived at about 60 within a fairly short moment in line with the following functional guide for gamblers. Below I request that you see exactly what you should perform to win money from sports wagering. Betting Guide: Precisely how to win by sports betting -> 51 guides that will make you smarter financially - Most people ask should they may make a long lasting cash in on sports wagering. If yes? in that case how much money can you win? how to wager? etc . You usually are certainly knowledgeable about these questions or maybe upon your tongue. The solution is definitely YES! Each game of possibility is based in probabilities. In the event you throw out a coin a thousand times it will eventually tumble approximately 500 periods per mark in addition to 500 times each penny. Even though not necessarily exactly, we may still have around 50% percentage for each and every side of the coin. This is typically the law of probability with out one can easily change it. Throughout sports betting typically the law applies merely as easily? you win or reduce, you have some sort of 50% chance for every single, just like in the case of the coin. But when it comes to sports betting then you can certainly get a get rate of more than 50% easily, due to the fact wagering is not only about luck. Is actually about everyone's knowledge of sports. In theory you can access 100% gain percentage however this will be not possible over time. If you wager on a system or even strategy, a 30-40% payout rate may bring you a lot associated with money. Given that will 50% can just be obtained if you throw apart the amount of money, think concerning how much funds can be made along with a success level of 60-70%. As a way to raise your accomplishment percentage, all a person have to perform is follow typically the statistics, the effects, and know as much as potential about the match you are planning to bet about. That's why the internet exists, in addition to the good part is that an individual can find any information you need concerning the matches a person want to wager for free. It is not easy, although with slightly patience and a peaceful mind you might get good results. Associated with 야마토/ could always opt for the very simple way? namely typically the paid predictions nevertheless you will have to learn how to handle your money to generate a profit. In typically the following lines regarding this section we all will explain some game systems through which considerable profits can be obtained with an earning percentage of simply 40% or even less. Bankroll is perhaps the almost all important thing inside sports betting. Healthful money management offers security, and security and financial serenity of mind help you create the best selections when betting on-line. Bankroll is money lets you lose this! It's the money you don't require for other things! Typically the need for money and despair will influence your mind and calm, and came from here to complete loss is merely one particular step. Regardless of how you bet, what sort of betting system or strategy an individual use, the framework of the bankroll will always remain the particular same. To begin with, you have to divide the whole amount associated with money in your own betting account simply by 4. This course of action you will always risk 25% in the bankroll and you will protect the rest of your money to the deep days with collection of losing gambling bets. Let's take a good example: Let's say a person have 1, 500 Bankroll lei. Divide it into four equal parts in addition to you will include 250 lei to use in a betting system. Parenthetically you will find extra 200 lei? Immediately add the money to the total amount plus raise your bankroll: (4 x 250 lei) + 200 lei profit = twelve hundred lei. So a person will have twelve hundred lei which you will divide once again by 4. This specific means that you could have: 300 lei by 4 = 1200 lei Now a person can head out to the game together with 300 lei and multiply them once again. We assume that after the next circular of betting an individual will have a profit of two hundred fifty lei. So bankroll increased by two hundred and fifty lei. (1200 lei previous + 250 lei profit round two) = 1450 lei Bankroll Typically the procedure is repetitive even if you still lose. Why don't say you already know 310 lei on the following betting stage in addition to so you can be for the circumstance: 1450 lei Previous Money - 300 lei loss = 1150 lei All you have to carry out is divide 1150 lei into 5 equal parts (1150 lei / 4 = 287. five lei) and you may gamble 287. 5 lei for the up coming betting stage. This money management process is essential and very powerful simultaneously. Work with it to create a solid long-term bankroll. You will need to start using a little money and along typically the way raise your money. A solid money grows with a secure bookmaker. Precisely how do 야마토/ be a professional gambler? Many individuals think that a person need to get at least 80 percent of your bets to be able to make serious money from it. At first you may point out that it really is normal to think therefore , but the reality is completely different. The fact is that the difference between percentage of success associated with professional bettors in addition to amateur bettors is usually much smaller than you could have ever dreamed. For the pursuing explanations we will define the thought of " balanced bets " since bets with set two winning variants, having equal possibilities for each. Instance: Bets on "Total Goals" - Over 2. 5 and Under 2. 5 goals, with a great odds for every variant of just one. 93. For this type of bet there are usually 50% chances regarding each winning variant. Also within the class of balanced gambling bets are bets in total corners, overall cards or even Asian handicap (in some cases). Simply by playing balanced gamble anyone can achieve a 50% accomplishment rate. After almost all, what you just have to do will be spend the money and even you have a great chance of building 50%. The profit of the bookies comes from typically the difference in possibilities, but this is an additional discussion and I will certainly not detail it here. Professional gambling players rarely promise a 57-58% effectiveness in the extended run, and almost all of times they usually are somewhere between 54-55%. But after all, where does the profit of professional betting players arrive from and specifically how can they control to win the lot of funds? Mathematically, it might be displayed that the revenue obtained from 2 hundred bets at a success rate associated with 55%, is greater than the profit obtained after 50 bets with a success price of 60%. Within other words, the particular more you bet, the more you win. Another thing of which professional bettors understand is: The a lot more bets you set, typically the closer you'll to be able to the success percent that reflects the value. As in the case of typically the coin, if you put only ten conditions, it can tumble 8 times within the mark and 2 times on the dime. But if you act like you throw the hundred times, or even even a 1000 times, then you will get nearer to the normal portion, 50% - fifty percent for each part of the money.

#야마토/

[sukirichi]

true gift

A god like Naoya is about to see how his little mortal is hiding a true gift.

REQUEST.  deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink

CONTENT/WARNINGS. virginity loss, naoya isn’t nice, mentions of blood,  murder, abduction, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, creampie, orgasm denial, mentions of slavery, face fucking, reader is willingly consenting to pain, reader is a masochist, naoya is a sadist 

NOTES. ah...it feels so natural to write naoya...also can someone send me some good erotic hentai panels, yay <3

Today is the day – the one you’ve been prepared for ever since you’ve forced to make acquaintance with the blinding darkness and smell of rust.

What time is it? Is it morning, night...maybe somewhere in the middle?

There’s no telling, not when you’ve been staring at the pitch black darkness for what seems like forever. It’s been too long, so long, that you’ve forgotten what the world looks like. It’s like one day you’re helping your family tend to the farms when rough hands grabbed at you, and you’re shoved in a cold, dark cellar before you could even say good bye.

Oddly enough, the servants – or at least that’s what you assume they are, since they’ve been nothing but tight lipped and inherently obedient to a faceless figure – have taken extreme care of you.

Twice a day, they’d open the cellar, the sound of keys rustling and nearly muted footsteps like music into your ears. The slight sliver of light passing through from the outside is immediately concealed within a split second, a black smooth material wrapped around your eyes before they strip you off. Normally, you’d complain and fight back, but you’ve lost all the will to even defend yourself at this point.

You’ve given up a long time ago, and life’s been a lot more tolerable ever since.

Today isn’t any different. Maybe it was hours ago, two servants had came in to wash away the grime and dirt from your body before you felt something combing through your hair. Then, you felt it. A smooth, cold blade running up and down every inch of your body, rendering you immobile in fear even breathing could cut you open.

It didn’t. If anything, you felt a lot smoother, lighter, and freer.

“Is she bare?” an old, croaky feminine voice echoed in the small room, equally wrinkled hands removing the strap of your bra off before she lathers a rose-scented cream all over your body. “Naoya-sama prefers his slaves hair-free, you know that. Not even stubble is allowed, do you understand? Keep shaving her until she’s spotless.”

Naoya-sama.

So that’s where you were. It all made sense now.

For as long as you could remember, that name’s been spoken with terror, the slight tremble of voices and darkened eyes pooled with fear never absent in the presence of his name. You’ve never seen him, but you know enough to understand that he’s a prominent figure especially in your little village. He’s not human, but he’s not exactly a god either – at least, not one that people would willingly worship.

You’ve heard telltales on how his beauty alone had women dropping to their feet, the malice in those eyes of his enough to make even the strongest warriors stick to his side in fear of what he’s capable of.

He’s as old as time and as strong as the steady flow of the river you and your people have always bathed in. It doesn’t make sense that someone as fearsome as he was is living at the mountains where nothing but quiet, peaceful people rejoiced, but the more you think about it, of course he’d prefer his people submissive, heads always ducked in fear and shaking in terror.

This whole time, you thought you’d been sold off to a neighbouring clan head because your clan didn’t have enough funds to pay for the latest trade.

In a way, you’d feel a lot luckier if the former had happened instead, because there’s really no proper way of making sound of the fact you’re sacrificed to your own deity, Naoya Zen’in, after not completing your offerings to him for ten whole moons.

It’s bad, horribly so, and you should be shaking, should be crying, should be wishing for death instead, so then why are you deferential? You don’t complain when two rough hands pull you from the ground and keep your arms tight in shackles at your lower back, vision still obscured by this cloth as you’re guided somewhere – someplace that all the sacrificed women for your deity are received.

Your feet are sloppy and smacking against the hardwood floor, heart pulsing in your tongue for all the wrong reasons. Faintly, you can smell a rose-scented candle and water splashing, but it doesn’t register until you’re immersed under it.

You gasp, hair flattening onto your skin while you look around blindly, struggling to clutch onto something as your feet keep slipping into the tub.

You’ve never been into a tub before; much less recognize the soft, paper-like objects floating into the water with you. Head swaying side to side until water is sprayed everywhere, a firm hand keeps your head in place just as a pumice stone is scrubbed into your skin. It’s not painful, but the rough scraping sensation feels sensitive from your skin that hasn’t been exposed to normal, breathing air for who knows how long.

“Stop moving,” that same elderly voice commanded, and her assistants, most likely, move quickly into extending your limbs until you’re sprawled out everywhere. “We are to make you perfect, presentable, lavishing in front of our deity himself.”

“B-but —”

“You have no right to speak!” You’re left stunned as your cheek bruises red, lips wet from the water as you pant. The sting on your skin becomes more pronounced, but you dare not speak, opting to keep your lips shut instead. The elderly woman takes notice of your behaviour, humming before she makes you stand up, that same blade swiping down your exposed regions. “You learn fast and submit well. I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.”

“She is gorgeous too, my Lady.”

“She should be,” comes a retort, your jaw clenched as you keep still. She forces your legs further apart until you’re embarrassingly exposed, the rose petals in the water sticking into some corners of your skin. “If she was not, she’d be dead already. It’s her pretty face that’s keeping her alive at this point.”

Everything is a blur after that.

One moment, they’re shaving you, the next you’re thrown from one body to another. They perform all sorts of things – towel drying your hair, exfoliating your skin, plucking your eyebrows to perfection before applying a shimmer to your cheeks and something sticky and glossy to your lips, then finally you feel the warmth of silk robes you could never afford even if you work yourself to death caressing your body.

After that, you’re locked inside a much bigger room, the blindfold falling off your face slowly.

You blink in surprise.

The room isn’t that dark, but dim enough, and your heart beats louder in your chest when you see the size of the room. It’s ten times bigger than your village meeting point, a large tatami bed sat in the middle. From one side, a window is open, allowing you to see the white illumination of the moonlight that looks hauntingly romantic.

Candles are lit on either sides of the room, and your gaze lands on odd whip-like weapons placed proudly on the walls.

Your legs are wobbly as you stand, life just coming back into your unused muscles. Making your way towards it, you reach out to touch this...weapon that’s still somewhat coated with the stench of blood. It’s immaculately clean and the leather is shiny, though it’s clear this has been used for far more gruesome situations before.

I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.

You recoil your hand that’s a breath away from coming into contact with it, terror plaguing deep into your bones as you take a step back.

You’re a sacrifice, an offering, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice – you’re brought here to die, and your god would kill you himself. Others may have considered it an honour to have died from the mercy of his hands, your oh-so divine lord who’s brought prosperity and wealth into your land, but you turn away, breathing hard as you make a break for the door.

But you never made it.

Your back lands into someone’s chest, a slight gasp falling from your lips before you’re pummelled into the ground, strong hands pinning your arms above your head. Eyes widening, you come face to face with your deity, his fox-eyes lined with dark kohl sharpening his already predatory features, ears pierced with tiny skulls and black dots.

His knee nudges your leg open and you groan, the sound making his eyes dart at you in warning before he smirks upon seeing you make no move to get away from him.

“As I’ve heard,” his deep voice cuts through the eerie silence of the room, the night so mute not even birds or insects cricketed at the presence of your deity’s need to have you for himself. “You are a compliant little lamb sent to the slaughter,” you shiver as his fingers run to caress the side of your face, his free hand undoing the knots that keeps your modesty. Naoya hums deep in his throat when the cloth falls to the sides, revealing perky nipples that pushed closer and closer to his awaiting lips at each heavy breath you took.

“You are stunning,” he praises, using a thumb to graze over the hardened bud. It’s barely a touch, but you’re sensitive, wholly new to this that you whimper. The sound is humiliating and utterly pathetic, your teeth coming down to capture your lips.

This displeases him entirely and Naoya taps your lips open, glaring at your wide, fearful yet aroused gaze. “You do not ever conceal such shameful sounds when I’m above you, do you understand?” You nod shakily, freeing your lip from its confines. Naoya snickers, chest puffing up with pleasure before he leans back to his calves, pushing the rest of your robe to the side until you’re completely exposed to him.

Your breathing grows more laboured when Naoya spreads your legs open, smirking as you whimper at the stretch of having your knees flattened by your sides. Legs placed on top of his knees, your elevated posture gives him more access to your bare pussy, his gaze zeroing in on the gleaming arousal that’s beginning to form on your lips.

“So fucking wet,” he comments, using both his thumbs to pry your pussy apart. You moan at the sensation of him pressing down on a part of you that you don’t know existed, and Naoya laughs, the sound sinister yet erotic. “You’re a virgin.”

It’s not a question – it’s a statement he takes pride in, especially because he knows he’s the chosen one to take something precious away from you.

“I’ve always loved virgins,” Naoya’s hands roam all across your body, slowly, sensually, passionately, the rough, calloused hands running under your legs to hitch them up behind his broad back, to cup your soft ass before he cups your pussy, groaning into your neck when he feels you leak and he’s barely touching you to begin with. It makes his ego swell when your hands wrap around his neck; he hates being touched by mere, lowly mortals like you, but you are undeniably gorgeous and so wanting of him that he allows you just this once. “Always so sensitive – do you want to be good for your deity? Hm?”

“Y-yes!” you cry out, eyes snapping shut when he suddenly inserts a finger in.

The feeling is foreign yet not totally unwelcomed, but you grimace anyway at the slight sting his digits bring. Naoya pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy to coax your arousal to drip further into the sheets like a waterfall, your nails digging into his robes while he watches you with a smirk. He laughs when your eyes widen at the second finger pushing in, thumb rubbing over your clit until your legs tremble around him.

“Virgins are always so gorgeous once they finally learn of pleasure,” he scoffs to himself.

You look at him straight in the eye, mouth falling open while small gasps fall through at the speed he’s pushing into you at.

Something begins to form in your lower bally until your body grows utterly warm, something...something close about to snap when he pulls his fingers out of you, throwing his head back in laughter when you cry for the first time that night.

Naoya stares at the way your gaze darts from his cum-soaked fingers back to your drenched core, brows raised cockily before he stands up, his figure looming over you. “What? Got something to say?” you only whimper in response, closing your legs as you try to provide answers to the brooding confusion punching at the back of your skull.

The sound of faint rustling brings you back to life, your eyes snapping to witness your god undressing himself, the robes falling from his shoulders too wonderfully that the mere sight of him has you clenching around nothing.

Fat cock standing tall and proud, tip red and glistening with pre-cum and a body carved by fellow gods himself, the rumours were right.

He is beautiful, and it’s no lie that his slaves aren’t really slaves to begin with, not when all of them have been so eager to please him, just to have a taste of this divine being that stands before you. Naoya easily reads your face; from the slightly parted lips, thighs rubbing together and hands looming dangerously to your core – you look so needy it’s actually fucking pathetic.

He’s slow in his movements, languid and taking his time because he’s got time and more in this world that he never cares about wasting something he has a plethora of.

Naoya makes himself at home above you again, basking in the way you’re struggling to breathe even without his hands on you. It doesn’t take long before he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, clenching his jaw when you open your mouth submissively, innocent eyes blinking up at him as you take your juices into your mouth.

You’re a natural at this, he observes, tongue expertly swirling around his digits until you’ve licked it clean. Naoya pats your cheek affectionately, his own way of applauding you for your work.

Under him, you grow shy and abashed, arms covering your bare breasts because he’s a god, why should he be pleased with you?

Naoya doesn’t give you enough time to think before he’s hauling you upwards, your shoulders shoved back onto the ground. You kneel below him in prayer and he tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him, or rather his cock that’s slipping past your lips. You gag when he pushes his length all the way inside, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat.

Naoya sighs at finally being taken in – you should be grateful he even fingered you – his hands guiding your head to bob up and down him.

You do well at pleasing him even through the tears, clutching at his thighs while you suck in his length and swirl your tongue around the prominent veins. Naoya watches with hooded eyes as your cheeks hollow just to take his whole length in – and again, you’re a natural – so eager to please him too when you keep pushing and pushing, his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

His muscles ripple above you while he lets out a long, drawn out groan, nails scratching your scalp. You feel him twitch inside you and that’s when he takes over, snapping his hips ruthlessly until you’re left gagging and sucking his cock helplessly.

Your saliva is dribbling at the edges of your mouth, looking so fucked out and whore-like while he pushes himself to the edge. He doesn’t care that you’re choking and your eyes are zooming out of focus from not being able to breathe. He doesn’t care that you could die from asphyxiation, he doesn’t care because you’re his sacrifice – if you can’t even do this simple thing, then how else could you prove you’re worthy to live?

You know this too because you force yourself to breathe through your nose instead, wanting to show that you are worthy, that you can please and take him however he pleases you to.

Naoya isn’t stupid, he can see what you’re doing and can read your mind even in his lust-driven state. Nothing edges him more than a good, submissive whore. Now that he knows you’re willing to do anything without complaints, Naoya pulls his cock out just seconds away from orgasm, pushing you back into the mat with a grunt.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he hisses and pushes both your legs to the side, your body bent and pussy left open for him.

Naoya groans as he slides himself inside you. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but your virgin cunt is still too tight and new to this that you scream around him, subconsciously clenching around him harder.

“You’d do anything for me, yeah?” he challenges, cupping your face while he rams into you hard, uncaring that your walls are beyond abused and a ring of blood is already coating his cock. This isn’t the first time he’s taken someone’s purity, but this is the first time he’s had someone look gratified that he’s hurting them, fuelling him to fuck harder into you despite the steady stream of tears down your face. “Look at you – so obedient,” he pinches your nipples and rolls them between fingers, growling at the way your pained moan sounds more like an encouragement for him to go harder. “You want to please me so bad you don’t care I’m hurting you? Are you so eager to worship me that you won’t even stop me?”

“N-no, my lord,” you manage through the pain, regulating your breathing as you completely break down in tears. Naoya is hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your insides feel like they’re about to burst, and he takes note of this, pinching your clit just to get you to clamp down on him. “Please – use me however you want – please.”

Naoya smirks, pressing your knees flat on the ground before he hovers above you, forearms planted beside your head. At any other given moment, he prefers to fuck his sacrifices with their face planted on the ground because he can’t bear to see how disgusting they are, but you – you’re so damn beautiful it puts his fellow gods to shame.

Now yours is a face he’d like to keep looking at, so he roughly grabs your cheeks and squeezes them with his fingers, kissing your puckered lips and nipping at them.

You taste heavenly too; his servants did a good job of choosing honey as a gloss. Naoya greedily licks your lips until he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth the same way his dick is ramming inside your walls, tight, puffy lips wrapped happily around his base.

You’re moaning inside his mouth as he squeezes your breast painfully. Never in your whole life have you thought that pain would feel so good, enticing you to moan louder when the sting finally subsides, replaced with the mind-numbing sensation of his thick length rubbing against every ridge of your walls. Naoya pulls his face away from you, his cum and your saliva sticky on your face and he chuckles, the sound stuttered and breathy, brows drawn together.

He looks down to watch the way you accommodate him; this is by far the tightest and wettest cunt he’s ever fucked – ever will fuck – that he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with any random whore’s pussy anymore.

Naoya frowns as anger bubbles up inside him, hatred making his cock swell inside you because how dare you make him wish he won’t take anyone again.

He wants more – want to kill more people, want to fuck more virgins, want to have more blood showering his skin until he’s bathed in glory and gore, but even though you’re the one he’s destroying, he’s slipping on the edge, too lost and hypnotized at the way your tight walls suck him in. Your moans don’t help either; they’re breathy and whiny, so defeated yet so eager to have more that Naoya grips your hips tight enough he might’ve cracked a femur from his godly strength.

Your scream this time is that of pain and loss, grappling on the sheets while white bursts through your eyes. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you overwhelmingly and you fall limp to the sheets, your translucent cum soaking his cock along with the previous blood, but Naoya doesn’t stop.

He keeps slamming into you until you’re mute from oversensitivity, hands cold with sweat and eyes empty while he uses you as his own fuck toy.

He gets there eventually, the room painted with his groans followed by a feral snarl, the rhythm of his thrusts turning sloppy and unbalanced. Naoya stills inside you after burying himself to the hilt, his crotch angrily rubbing at your pelvic bone as he cums. You whimper at the feeling of his warm seed spilling inside you in thick spurts. Naoya pulls out with a slight wince, scoffing at the mess you’ve made on his precious dick, but he’s forced to soften a little when he sees both your cum spilling out your hole in a messy puddle, the liquid coating your ass.

Meek as always, you don’t move a muscle when Naoya spreads your legs open, inching his face close enough to watch the way your pussy stutters and legs tremble in front of him.

You’re absolutely ruined – the puffy lips spread out and hole still pushing out the remnants of his cum. He doesn’t bother pushing them back in, uncaring if he’ll get you pregnant or not because it’s not like matters to him. You are nothing but another body to fuck and dispose of under the river once he’s satisfied with you, but he surprises both you and him when Naoya suddenly pushes two fingers inside of you, his eyes dark as he insists on keeping his seed right where they should be nurtured.

Now that he’s sure that will make your belly grow and provide him with a half-mortal heir, Naoya retrieves his robes and walks out the room, the slamming of the door shut similar to an impending doom of an imminent death.

But not yours.

You’ve fulfilled your duty as the death curse bearer of your clan; the greatest and most formidable weapon they’ve been carving to perfection the moment you’re born. The cracks in your bones and bruises on your body immediately heal as you turn to your side, chanting under your breath a hushed whisper of the words of your ancestors who’ve perfectly planned the death of the Zen’in God who’s made his people suffer for thousands of years.

They would be proud of you.

And as a body crashes outside the door followed by the frantic screams of his confused servants, you smile to yourself, falling into a deep sleep upon using your true gift.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya x reader smut #naoya zenin x reader smut #naoya imagines #naoya x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #naoya x you #naoya x you smut #suki: 500 milestone event #i think this is kinda darkkkk?

[flightlessnightingale]

On Lesbianism

I’ll state it at the top here, because many have not understood my stance. The purpose of this essay is not to say that Lesbian cannot mean “Female homosexual.” Rather, my objective is to show that Lesbian means more than that single definition suggests. Female Homosexuals are lesbians, unless they personally do not want to use that label. Now, on with the show: Lesbianism is not about gatekeeping, and I don’t want to have to keep convincing people that the movement popularized by someone who wrote a book full of lies and hate speech then immediately worked with Ronald Reagan is a bad movement. In the early ’70s, groups of what would now be called “gender critical” feminists threatened violence against many trans women who dared exist in women’s and lesbian spaces. For example, trans woman Beth Elliott, who was at the 1973 West Coast Lesbian Feminist Conference to perform with her lesbian band, was ridiculed onstage and had her existence protested. In 1979, radical feminist Janice Raymond, a professor at the University of Massachusetts, wrote the defining work of the TERF movement, “Transsexual Empire: The Making of the Shemale,” in which she argued that “transsexualism” should be “morally mandating it out of existence”—mainly by restricting access to transition care (a political position shared by the Trump administration). Soon after she wrote another paper, published for the government-funded, National Center for Healthcare Technology — and the Reagan administration cut off Medicare and private health insurance coverage for transition-related care.

Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism is a fundamentally unsustainable ideology. Lesbianism is a fundamentally sustainable existence.

There used to be a lesbian bar or queer bar or gay bar in practically every small town — sometimes one of each. After surviving constant police raids, these queer spaces began closing even Before the AIDS epidemic. Because TERFs would take them over, kick out transfems and their friends. Suddenly, there weren’t enough local patrons to keep the bars open, because the majority had been kicked out. With America’s lack of public transportation, not enough people were coming from out of town either.

TERFs, even beyond that, were a fundamental part of the state apparatus that let AIDS kill millions.

For those who don’t know, Lesbian, from the time of Sappho of Lesbos to the about 1970′s, referred to someone who rejects the patriarchal hierarchy. It was not only a sexuality, but almost akin to a gender spectrum.

That changed in the 1970′s when TERFs co-opted 2nd Wave feminism, working with Ronald fucking Reagan to ban insurance for trans healthcare.

TERFs took over the narrative, the bars, the movement, and changed Lesbian from the most revolutionary and integral queer communal identity of 2 fucking THOUSAND years, from “Someone who rejects the patriarchal hierarchy” to “A woman with a vagina who’s sexually attracted to other women with vaginas”

How does this fit into the bi lesbian debate? As I said, Lesbian is more of a Gender Spectrum than anything else, it was used much in the same way that we use queer or genderqueer today.

And it’s intersectional too.

See, if you were to try to ascribe a rigid, biological, or localized model of an identity across multiple cultures, it will fail. It will exclude people who should not be excluded. ESPECIALLY Intersex people. That’s why “Two Spirit” isn’t something rigid- it is an umbrella term for the identities within over a dozen different cultures. In the next two sections, I have excerpts on Two-Spirit and Butch identity, to give a better idea of the linguistics of queer culture: This section on Two-Spirit comes from wikipedia, as it has the most links to further sources, I have linked all sources directly, though you can also access them from the Wikipedia page’s bibliography: Two-Spirit is a pan-Indian, umbrella term used by some Indigenous North Americans to describe Native people who fulfill a traditional ceremonial and social role that does not correlate to the western binary. [1] [2] [3] Created at the 1990 Indigenous lesbian and gay international gathering in Winnipeg, it was "specifically chosen to distinguish and distance Native American/First Nations people from non-Native peoples." [4] Criticism of Two-Spirit arises from 2 major points, 1. That it can exasperate the erasure of the traditional terms and identities of specific cultures.           a. Notice how this parallels criticisms of Gay being used as the umbrella           term for queer culture in general. 2. That it implies adherence to the Western binary; that Natives believe these individuals are "both male and female" [4]          a. Again, you’ll notice that this parallels my criticisms of the TERF definition of Lesbian, that tying LGBT+ identities to a rigid western gender binary does a disservice to LGBT+ people,—especially across cultures. “Two Spirit" wasn’t intended to be interchangeable with "LGBT Native American" or "Gay Indian"; [2] nor was it meant to replace traditional terms in Indigenous languages.  Rather, it was created to serve as a pan-Indian unifier. [1] [2] [4] —The term and identity of two-spirit "does not make sense" unless it is contextualized within a Native American or First Nations framework and traditional cultural understanding. [3] [10] [11] The ceremonial roles intended to be under the modern umbrella of two-spirit can vary widely, even among the Indigenous people who accept the English-language term. No one Native American/First Nations' culture's gender or sexuality categories apply to all, or even a majority of, these cultures. [4] [8] Butch: At the turn of the 20th century, the word “butch” meant “tough kid” or referred to a men’s haircut. It surfaced as a term used among women who identified as lesbians in the 1940s, but historians and scholars have struggled to identify exactly how or when it entered the queer lexicon. However it happened, "Butch” has come to mean a “lesbian of masculine appearance or behavior.” (I have heard that, though the words originate from French, Femme & Butch came into Lesbian culture from Latina lesbian culture, and if I find a good source for that I will share. If I had to guess, there may be some wonderful history to find of it in New Orleans—or somewhere similar.) Before “butch” became a term used by lesbians, there were other terms in the 1920s that described masculinity among queer women. According to the historian Lillian Faderman,“bull dagger” and “bull dyke” came out of the Black lesbian subculture of Harlem, where there were “mama” and “papa” relationships that looked like butch-femme partnerships. Performer Gladys Bentley epitomized this style with her men’s hats, ties and jackets. Women in same-sex relationships at this time didn’t yet use the word “lesbian” to describe themselves. Prison slang introduced the terms “daddy,” “husband,” and “top sargeant” into the working class lesbian subculture of the 1930s.  This lesbian history happened alongside Trans history, and often intersected, just as the Harlem renaissance had music at the forefront of black and lesbian (and trans!) culture, so too can trans musicians, actresses, and more be found all across history, and all across the US. Some of the earliest known trans musicians are Billy Tipton and Willmer “Little Ax” Broadnax—Both transmasculine musicians who hold an important place in not just queer history, but music history.

Lesbian isn’t rigid & biological, it’s social and personal, built up of community and self-determination.

And it has been for millennia.

So when people say that nonbinary lesbians aren’t lesbian, or asexual lesboromantics aren’t lesbian, or bisexual lesbians aren’t lesbian, it’s not if those things are technically true within the framework — It’s that those statements are working off a fundamentally claustrophobic, regressive, reductionist, Incorrect definition You’ll notice that whilst I have been able to give citations for TERFs, for Butch, and especially for Two-Spirit, there is little to say for Lesbianism. The chief reason for this is that lesbian history has been quite effectively erased-but it is not forgotten, and the anthropological work to recover what was lost is still ongoing. One of the primary issues is that so many who know or remember the history have so much trauma connected to "Lesbian” that they feel unable to reclaim it. Despite this trauma, just like the anthropological work, reclamation is ongoing.

Since Sappho, lesbian was someone who rejects the patriarchal hierarchy. For centuries, esbian wasn’t just a sexuality, it was intersectional community, kin to a gender spectrum, like today’s “queer”. When TERFs co-opted 2nd Wave feminism, they redefined Lesbian to “woman w/ a vag attracted to other women w/ vags”. So when you say “bi lesbians aren’t lesbian” it’s not whether that’s true within the framework, it’s that you’re working off a claustrophobic, regressive, and reductionist definition.

I want Feminism, Queerness, Lesbianism, to be fucking sustainable.

I wanna see happy trans and lesbian and queer kids in a green and blue fucking world some day.

I want them to be able to grow old in a world we made good.

#Lesbian #Trans #Transgender #Queer #Queer positivity #Queer history #Police brutality #Gay #Linguistics #Sappho #History #Femme #Butch #R #TERF #Terf friendly haha jk fuck tERFS

[lo-frequency]

Bakusquad + Todoroki Pet Headcanons!

Just some hc’s of what pets I think the boys would have and how they’d treat them. This is definitely a crack post 💀

Bakugou

-A bulldog, named Killer. Killer the Great Explosion Murder Dog to be exact.

-He’s an all white bulldog with a little spike collar around his neck. The alternative is a collar with a fake grenade attached, usually used when Bakugou takes him out in public.

-Killer also has a harness with the little flare attachments on each side like on Bakugou’s mask.

-Despite his name (and what Bakugou wants you to believe), Killer is as sweet as they come. “C’mere, Killer!” Bakugou calls him, smacking his leg and you’re expecting this absolute menace to come charging down the hall. Instead, Killer’s stocky self comes trotting out of Bakugou’s room with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his lil’ tail nub wagging.

-Bakugou’s like “I’ve been training him to be an attack dog” and Killer only runs like a few feet from the house before stopping, opting to lay down and roll over for a belly rub.

-Don’t be fooled by all his tough talk, Bakugou most certainly spoils Killer, that’s exactly why he’s so lazy. His days consist of begging for treats and pretending not to understand Bakugou’s instructions. Not to mention that he has a big, memory foam dog bed, gets fed real food, and Katsuki takes him for 2 walks a day, everyday.

-Pats him roughly, but Killer is one of those dogs who likes slaps on the butt so he doesn’t mind lol. They play rough too, and at any given time Bakugou can be found rolling around the floor, play wrestling with Killer.

-Imagine if he posted tiktoks of Killer and people started trolling him like “Killer is slow, my dog can run faster than him” “Killer is overweight” “He can’t even run down the street”

-Bakugou truly believes Killer can do everything he says about him, and gets offended if you even insinuate otherwise. He would get mad at all the haters in the comments, clapping back at them like “I know you’re not talking with that lil’ rat dog in your profile pic” and he’d challenge them to races in the local dog parks so he can defend Killer’s reputation 💀. Well, one person actually accepted so now Bakugou has to train Killer for his first race.

-And then when he posts videos of him and Killer exercising, people are like “You’re pushing him too hard” “Poor Killer” “Stop forcing him to exercise” He just can’t win 🤷🏾‍♀️.

-Denki comes over and exposes him like “Killer’s been training alright, training his jaws” while filming Bakugou passing Killer food under the table.

-“Where’s Killer?” “He’s training in the pool right now.” “In the pool? Dude, you know bulldogs can’t swim, right?” “Well my Killer swims all the time!” And his friends rush to his backyard to see Killer lazily paddling around Bakugou’s pool with a floaty fitted on his little body lol.

-Killer loves him some Katsuki. He would be so clingy with him, following him everywhere he goes in the house, to the point where Bakugou has almost tripped over Killer several times. He has to close the door or put a baby gate up so he won’t interrupt him and all you hear in the background is Killer howling at the door.

-Killer fan cams, lmaoo

-Katsuki goes live and all people are asking about is Killer, and all the donations are “Killer’s Treat Fund” “Feed Killer on Camera” “Give him a belly rub”

-Bakugou never should’ve showed Killer on social media, it’s his account now 💀

Todoroki

-I can see Shoto with beta fish, but he wouldn’t know that you can’t put two males in the same tank.

-So one day, he comes home from work and sees that one of his fish is,,,not alive.

-Shoto quickly puts two and two together after seeing that the other beta fish is a little injured too, and he is absolutely horrified.

-After he cleans up the mess, he just looks at the survivor fish. Shoto can’t help but feel contempt toward him. He’s a murderer, he killed his other fish.

-From then on, Shoto does not like the survivor fish. He still takes care of him, but out of duty as his owner, only 😒.

-People on social media ask him what his fish’s name is. “He doesn’t have a name.”

-And then he makes a post like “Some of you have asked me why my fish doesn’t have a name. It’s because I don’t like him. He’s a murderer.” (Y’all, please 💀)

-People start calling him Killer Fish and Bakugou comments that there can only be one Killer, and that’s his dog.

Kirishima

-A turtle. He’d have one of those turtles with the raised horns/spikes on its shell and his name would be Tank.

-So Kiri thinks Tank the Turtle is the toughest little dude around, and often posts videos of him swimming or walking around outside.

-He’s like “You know, I think he’s faster than most turtles.” “How do you know that?” He shrugs, watching Tank with a grin “I can just tell, I mean look at him, he’s going!” And Tank is chugging along the ground at a good .002 mph.

-He’d have Tank on his back as he does push ups or on his chest as he lifts weights. “What number are we on Tank? 100? Alright, 100 more to go!”

-Kiri would make videos of Tank doing tricks, like knocking down a wall of tiny styrofoam bricks or climbing over a little ramp he made. He’s cheering for him the whole time, and he gets a treat after. “That was so manly, Tank!! Good boy!”

-Yes, a turtle can be manly too.

Denki

-A guinea pig, mostly blonde except a little black mark on her head, just like Denki. And you guessed it…he named her Pikachu.

-Denki is enamored with her for the first couple days, carrying her everywhere with him and constantly posting her on his social media. He couldn’t wait to get home from work so he could play with her and feed her little bits of lettuce.

-She seems to adore him too, hardly moving when he pets her so she can maximize his attention as much as possible, and jumping on his lap whenever he takes her out of the cage.

-He holds her up to the camera like “What can I say? The ladies love me. Isn’t that right, Pikachu?”

-She’s so cute that he doesn’t question how her cage seems to pop open by itself sometimes, or how she sometimes nios at his fingers if he holds her for too long.

-The unfortunate truth is that Pikachu cannot stand Denki 💀. Idk what he did, maybe it’s the way he smells, maybe it’s his voice, idk, but she is trying her best to stay away from him.

-The cage doesn’t pop open by itself, Pikachu has figured out how to escape, so now Denki regularly comes home to an empty cage and he has to track her down to put her back.

-“Day 3 of missing Pikachu. This is what come home to everyday, guys” and he flips the camera to show bits of food and guinea pig droppings scattered all over the place. Her little squeaks haunt him at night, but he knows he won’t be able to find her.

-He has such a hard time finding her, and he swears she teases him by squeaking nearby, then running somewhere he can’t get her.

-He’s on live and people try to give him advice but none of it works. Pikachu rushes past the screen behind him and they tell him to look. Denki abandons his live to chase after Pikachu and you just hear crashing and yelling in the background.

-When he comes back, he’s in his ‘fried’ mode and people are like wtf happened 💀

-He managed to put her back in the cage, but he had to end the live early.

(Can y’all imagine being jealous of a guinea pig? 😔) Thanks for tuning in! :)

#bnha headcanons #bakugou headcanons #todoroki headcanons #kirishima headcanons #denki headcanons #bnha x reader #denki kaminari #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #bakugo katsuki #bnha crack #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou

[merakiui]

hello!!<3 can i request an angst scenario (it can have a happy ending it's up to you!!) childe x fem!reader where they are together for some time and she didn't know he's fatui (she hates them bc her parents were in debt and overall they ruined her life and he's too scared to tell her) but she finds out and wants to broke up?? THANK YOU

In which you discover Childe’s ties to the Fatui.

cw: angst, debt, small mention of depression as a result of debt, female reader note - I woke up and chose pain with this one. >:) it also got long;;; oops!

You hate the Fatui. And although that’s such a strong, hurtful word it's your true feelings. You’ve never experienced their wrath firsthand, but you have witnessed what it can do to people. Your sweet, loving parents, who took loans out of the bank in order to pay for repairs to their shop, were reduced to frightful messes at the mere mention of that harrowing F-word.

It’s horrible to see them in such a state, especially since a few agents had come by once and practically demanded the money. As a result of such a distasteful discussion, you refuse to go into any sort of monetary career: trader, merchant, and even a wandering saleswoman. You’ll find a way to make things right by getting a job that will bring in lots of riches for your poor parents. Then the Fatui will have no choice but to leave your family alone.

Your own funds have dried up, having gone into another Fatui agent’s gloved hands. You can’t even argue because you have an inkling as to what will happen when you finally run out of money to give. Ever since this entire debt charade, your parents have become hollow shells of their former selves: paranoid, depressed, and starved of the happiness that comes with being in a regular, debt-free family.

Childe tunes into your rant as if someone had just turned on the switch that designates his listening skills. The two of you are sitting on a lovely hilltop, watching the stars twinkle in and out of focus. Liyue Harbor can be seen from afar, glittering in warm colors of gold and red. If Childe remembers correctly, another festival should be right around the corner. He’ll have to take you when he finds time to slink away from his work.

Speaking of his work, he’s never actually told you about it. When you asked, he simply said it was a job that allowed him to travel. It sounded like a traveling merchant to you—perhaps even a fishmonger specializing in exotic types—considering he was seemingly loaded with Mora. It made you jealous that he was so well-off with his finances, but you couldn’t complain when he so readily emptied his pockets for your sake.

“And then that stupid agent shows up at our door right when I get home! It’s the worst timing ever. My parents were pretending to be out of the house and I showed up and ruined their plan.” A heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as you flop back onto the grass, where Childe fixes you with a lopsided, sympathetic grin. “I hate it. They’re not even themselves anymore. It’s like they lost all sense of life. I’m picking up as many commissions as I can, but it doesn’t even help. The Fatui just take it all faster than I can save it.”

“They’re the worst, aren’t they?”

“And the sky isn’t blue. Of course they’re the worst!” You inhale softly. “No use getting mad about something that already happened, though.”

“You’ll just give yourself more stress and you don’t need that.” He joins you on the plush grass, turning his head to look at you rather than up at the inky night sky. “I can help with your commissions, you know. I’ve been itching to smash some hilichurl camps.”

“I can handle it myself. It’s fine.” Only it’s not and you’ve started realizing that. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Funny. I was going to ask you something, too!”

“Oh. Uh...”

He chuckles, staring at you with blue eyes that don’t sparkle. “There’s this festival coming up and I wanted to take you. It’ll be just the two of us for one night. You can forget all about work and money—”

“What about you? You said your job has you traveling all over the place. That’s why we’ll rarely see each other in the future. Once you’re done here in Liyue, that is.” You move onto your side, holding yourself up on your elbow. “I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Well, my boss doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our tiny secret!”

You roll your eyes, smiling a little. Deep inside you’ve always felt like something was off about his story. For the past few months, he’s remained in Liyue and once you even caught him slipping into Northland Bank when you were running some errands. You hope he isn’t in a similar situation concerning debt and poverty. No, he wouldn’t need to be. He’s shown you just how many lavish things his funds can afford. Why would he be in debt if he has a stable job?

“Are you...doing something bad?”

You could’ve phrased that better, but it’s already out in the open now. Sheepishly, you avoid his befuddled stare, opting to watch the moon as its light becomes obscured behind a dark cloud. An airy chuckle escapes him, but he doesn’t say anything. His silence confirms your fears and it dawns upon you that he hasn’t been truthful this entire time.

“This mask.” It’s in your hands before he can stop you. You’re tapping at it with a finger, equal parts curious and apprehensive. You refuse to beat around the bush; your doubtful gaze catches his and it hardens at once. “You’re Fatui, aren’t you?”

He sits up calmly, holding out his hand. “That’s quite the accusation, my dear. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping to any conclusion. I’m right, aren’t I?” Now you’re sitting up, staggering to your feet to find some sort of leverage over him. He’s taller than you and far more powerful than he once let on. “Childe, why would—“

He sighs, lowering his hand out of defeat. “I suppose there’s no point avoiding it now. You were bound to find out one of these days.”

“One of these days? What? Like, when my family’s on the streets because the Fatui took our house?”

It hurts that he wasn’t honest and it hurts even more knowing that he has the power to help. He could’ve spent his time working out ways to get you out of debt, yet he decided to shower you in affection and useless trinkets! Trinkets that are only good for selling and receiving money to pay off the debt. You could cry; that’s how much it hurts. And when he makes no solid effort to comfort you, the tears begin to form.

“Of course not. I’d never let that happen!”

“Then why would you lie about it? Why not help me? Why can’t you just be honest? You always avoid questions you don’t want to answer and I hate it! I’ve been with you long enough to know that that mask is bad news. I was just waiting for you to confirm it, but you didn’t.”

You think it’s selfish for wanting his help—for wanting help from a Fatui agent, no less—but you’re too upset to care.

“(Name), you know that’s—“

“What else haven’t you told me? What else have you lied about? I don’t care if you’re trying to protect me. I’m already on a list. The Fatui still show up to my house and you just...let them. Why?”

“If I interfered, it would look bad in front of Her Majesty. You know I can’t go against her orders. I want to help you—I do. But...”

You’re fumbling for new words, at a complete loss with yourself. No matter how many questions you spout, he’ll evade them like they’re optional. And even if you want answers and honesty more than anything right now, you know he’ll fail to provide it. You shove the mask into his hands, shaking your head in disbelief. A swell of emotions overcome you: sadness, anger, and regret. You feel utterly betrayed. The sweet Childe, whom you once thought was your perfect match, is working for the Fatui—the people who have turned your life into misery.

And that’s probably not even the half of it.

“Let’s break up,” you say before he can spin another false tale. Another easy excuse to avoid this downfall. Childe stops short to stare at you in surprise and it’s weird to see that emotion scrawled across his face. He’s usually smooth and collected; he always knows what to say and how to act. Not this time, though. “It’s not going to work if we’re together while the Fatui are hounding my parents. And they wouldn’t approve of our relationship either.”

“Now, (Name), wait a moment. You’re not thinking straight. You’re just—” He struggles to find the correct words and in that small moment between foggy clarity and paralyzing uncertainty he plasters another plastic smile on. “Look. I know you’re upset, but I didn’t mean to lie to you. I was going to tell you eventually. Just had to find the right time to do it, you know?"

“I know. And that’s why we should go our separate ways.” Like Childe, you also put on a faux show, building up your walls as high and strong as his are. You don’t think you’ll last another minute in his presence, as you’re far too close to tears. “Thank you again for tonight. I’ll take my leave now.”

Rather than pain, it’s bitter when your lips fall upon his soft cheek. And the gesture stings harder than a slap on the wrist. 

The searing pain returns when you pull away and begin the descent from the hill as fast as your trembling legs will allow. You refuse to look back and fall into his arms in hopes that he’ll reassure you. The fact that he doesn’t chase after you—doesn’t even call out—stabs your conflicted heart and it’s more than enough confirmation. Childe isn’t exactly boyfriend material. He’s callous when it comes to a battle and he’s driven by his own ulterior motives. Surely this relationship was just a means of spending his extra time when he found himself bored and lacking a fight. Maybe he thought of his work when the two of you were on secretive dates. Maybe his heart was empty when the two of you were intimate. Maybe you were just the glue holding this crumbling bond together.

Childe remains on that hilltop, watching you disappear into the distance. And it’s then when realizes he’s lost you. The feeling is different from the battlefield and it’s far more real than when he’s snooping around as a Harbinger. You’re just a normal, good-natured citizen and he...ruined that part of you. With his ties to an enemy that has crushed your family. He’s partly, if not fully, responsible for what transpired just now and for the first time in a while real guilt gnaws at him. He’s left wondering why he did all of that—why he couldn’t just face your questions head-on.

It’s his fault, isn’t it?

On that windy hilltop, under the silent, disapproving darkness of the sky, he’s left to pick up the pieces of a fractured relationship. And it’s all because he couldn’t admit the truth to his precious girlfriend.

In a way, the Fatui have taken something from him, too, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to patch it up with honeyed promises. 

Looks like we won’t be going to that festival anytime soon...

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenario #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin impact ajax #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #childe #tartagila #ajax #i hope it was good!! #i wanted to capture childe's undesirable #personality traits in this #such as his tendency to lie smoothly #and avoid prying questions #tw: angst

[potteresque-ire]

Concerning the incredibly far and deep reach of CCP’s propaganda, the narratives the government can spin and call the truth; does ‘the common normal populace’ actually know what’s really going on?

Hello everyone!!! Happy Chinese New Year!!

I’m grouping these asks because if I hear them correctly, they’re all related to this question: how much do people in China know about the atrocities committed by their government, and why don’t they do something about it?

It’s a difficult question, isn’t it? A potentially upsetting one too, just to think about. My answers are more opinion-based, more personal this time. Since there’re no polls about what people know, they have to be based a little more on my own impression, which has more chances of error. Please bear with me and proceed with caution ...

As with people in most countries, what people know is hugely dependent on individuals. Specifically, re: politics, I can think of at least three reasons why people don’t have the facts

1) they have limited access to information 2) they’re being lied to about what they know 3) they’re not interested in current affairs.

1), of course, is what most people think about when it comes to China. You’re right, Anon(s), that VPN use is indeed rampant in the country and is essentially an open secret; there’re no official numbers but surveys have estimated the number of users can be up to 100 million, most of them being youngsters. They use it to do exactly what most of us would imagine: gain access to things they don’t have otherwise. Instagram has been (sporadically?) blocked since 2014 September and so while users may have set up their accounts while being overseas, it’s indeed, (very) possible, that they’ve set up and maintained their account under VPN use.

Wait, you may ask, so you mean the Great Firewall of China doesn’t exist?

That’s exactly the official stance. Not because of private VPN use, but because individuals/companies can apply for a license via their telecommunications company to visit all internet sites. Hence, the government’s claim that the Great Firewall doesn’t exist—you’ll be let through as long as you ask (and we’ll watch your every step)! There are also no explicit laws prohibiting the use of private VPNs; only a handful of arrests associated with private VPN use have been made and only since 2019, and the punishment is considered light—no imprisonment, just fines. It is, in contrast, against the law to *provide* private VPN services, and while companies have been shut down, the crackdown has still been incredibly sluggish by Chinese government’s standards, especially when the Xi regime has made its intention of banning VPN known and directives have been issued for that in 2017.

Why has VPN continued to enjoy this “grey existence”? Because without VPN, a lot of foreign businesses would leave—some, for example, require the most efficient online tools developed outside China to track the foreign markets, and talents have rejected job offers in the country when they realised they couldn’t get on their favourite social media. The science and tech sectors also rely heavily on VPN—programmers relying on Google to search stackoverflow, for example, to find known solutions to bugs. 

VPNs have also served political purposes—Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Chinese Communist Party (CCP)-critical communities all over the world are all painfully aware of the Chinese government’s practice of hiring its own collection of internet commentators (”50 Cent Party”), and at times, mobilising their youths (gamers, fan circles) to scale the Firewall and astroturf, throw insults at the “CCP enemies” and bomb message boards with pro-CCP messages.

Also, a significant fraction of VPN companies, both in China and overseas, have been reported to have Chinese ownership, by companies with government connections. These VPN services provide a false sense of security for those who do not enjoy having big brother peeking behind their backs while acting as surveillance tools that extend beyond the country.

(Please be careful about free VPNs).

The next question: If until now, users of private VPNs only rarely get into trouble, what’s holding them from scaling the Great Firewall and learning the facts?

It is this: the law isn’t about “climbing the wall”, but what one does outside the wall.

Article 6 of the 2016 edition of Cybersecurity law states the following: 

第六条　国家倡导诚实守信、健康文明的网络行为，推动传播社会主义核心价值观，采取措施提高全社会的网络安全意识和水平，形成全社会共同参与促进网络安全的良好环境

Article 6: The State advocates sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct; promoting dissemination of the core socialist values, adopting measures to raise the entire society's awareness and level of network security, and forming a good environment for the entire society to jointly participate in advancing network security.

What this article implies is this ~ legally, Chinese citizens are bound to the Chinese government’s rules of good internet conduct, regardless of whether they use VPN to get on the internet. As with many Chinese laws, however, the vagueness in wording invites more questions than answers. Is it getting on Twitter, a banned website, “sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct”? Obviously, it’s illegal to interact with other users about the Xinjiang’s internment camps, but what if one only goes there to talk about their favourite stars, because on Weibo supertopic they can’t even mention the stars’ name, can’t ahkgkhagjkfaskjgdf about their favourite fics? What if one goes there to discuss a M- or E-rated fic? Where is the line drawn and given its vagueness, will that line move tomorrow? How?

Most people, therefore, have opted to simply stay away from VPN. After all, China offers its own version of many of the fun websites out there (Weibo-Twitter; Instagram-Oasis; Tiktok-Douyin; Youtube-Bilibili). For those who do use VPN, they tend to stick to websites that are unlikely to cause issues (such as Instagram; Instagram became an issue when Hong Kongers started to upload information about the protests on there).

Now, let’s proceed to 2): People don’t know the facts because they’re being lied to about what they know.

There’s a difference between having access to facts and knowing that they’re facts. This is among the most painful lessons, perhaps, for those who followed the politics of the United States in the last few years (please forgive me for the US-centric-ness of the following few paragraphs!). Even with equal access to identical information, people can vary a LOT in their understanding of what are facts and what are lies.

This illustrates the power of propaganda—and propaganda in the US isn’t even centralised. Some media outlets and individuals (political leaders and analysts) have more say on what should be viewed as the truth, but parties without significant power—small foreign and domestic interests, fringe political organisations, conspiracy theorists, regular folks—have also made critical contributions to the “fake news” phenomenon in the US. There haven’t been apparent coordinations between these parties;  little concerted effort has been made to create one coherent story out of the many tales told.

In China, the propaganda effort is centralised, coordinated, free of distractions from competing story lines. The One Story the government decides on is repeated, over and over again, on newspapers, in shows, in textbooks, on signs on the streets, on social media. To put it another way, when it comes to political discourse, the country is designed to be an echo chamber with 1.4 billion people. Over time, the One Stories inevitably become firmly held beliefs—so firmly held that even if the people are exposed to facts, they no longer believe in them.

This is especially true when the source of the facts are countries with strong traditions of freedoms of speech and press, where the facts are often laid out with a critical eye to the administration and with vastly different opinions attached to them. While we view the latter as evidences that the values we embrace are alive and well—a critical eye to the administration means the Fourth Estate is doing its job, and the different opinions means freedom of speech gets to live another day—people who haven’t been exposed to these values tend to interpret these things as signs of weakness of the government. They may think the Chinese government is better than its counterparts elsewhere because no one is penning scathing criticisms against it. They may think the Chinese government is stronger because it unifies the opinions of their people—the failure of which, they’ve been taught, would lead to social chaos and economic free-fall.

The Chinese population has also been “immunised” against the truths that may be exposed about their government by a propaganda talking point used since Chairman Mao’s days—that the “Imperialist” western world, particularly the United States, is always scheming its downfall. The phrase often used is 美帝亡我之心不死 (”The heart (intention) of Imperialist US to bring us down will never die”). Unfavourable truths exposed must therefore be part of the “bring down China” scheme. This decades-old demonisation of the political apparatus of the US and Europe also prepares the people to accept what most would see as outrageous conspiracy theories: for example, in March 2020, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs claimed that the US Army intentionally planted COVID in Wuhan during the 2019 Military World games. “Foreign interference” becomes a frequent and convenient scapegoat for policy decisions gone wrong, sometimes to a (somewhat) hilarious effect ~ for example, a Taiwanese journalist calculated the cost required for the CIA to fund the 2019 Hong Kong Protests, as the Chinese government had claimed—and it turned out that the CIA was too poor to do it. 

(Many of us in the US would probably laugh at the idea that our government is capable of secretly paying 2 million foreign-language speaking strangers to show up together in one march.) (It can’t even get the COVID relief payments to its own people right over a period of months.)

(Fun trivia for turtles! As 美帝=“Imperialist US” is the synonym of a feared, imaginary super-villain—super organised, super efficient, super everywhere and super impossible to take down—c-BJYX, the indestructible No. 1 CP fandom in China, has been nicknamed “美帝 cp” by those not so enamoured with it.)

Finally, there’s the psychological factor. Once a set of beliefs becomes personal truths, listening to alternatives can be very upsetting (for those in the US: imagine the blue voting block made to listen to Fox News). Hence, even when people gain access to the facts later—for example, when they study/work abroad, even emigrate—they often don’t take advantage of the access. Instead, they remain logged in in the Chinese social media sites where they’re comfortable with not only the politics but also the language and the friendships they’ve built, and continue to immerse themselves in an environment heavy with CCP propaganda. They remain defenders of the Chinese government; some have even gone out and harass people who disagree with it, in the name of freedom of speech that their country of origin never offered to them.

Censorship, of course, is an important component of building a One Story echo chamber, and I should add a note about it: censorship in China comes in vastly different strengths. The restrictions on LGBT+ issues, for example, are fairly lax, relatively speaking—“homosexuality” remains a term one can find on their internet and a topic the administration continues to address, and while BL dramas are censored, their adapted versions, along with highly publicised discussions of their original material, have so far been tolerated. The strictest form of Chinese censorship would’ve allowed neither: any mention of the 1989 June 4th Tiananmen Square massacre , for example, is immediately removed, including any hints that the event may have happened. When the former leader of the Chinese government, Jiang Zemin (江澤民), was rumoured to have passed away, the censorship apparatus went so far as to remove all mentions of Jiang, which also happened to mean “large rivers”. Chinese netizens therefore joked that major rivers had ceased to exist in China that day, as one couldn’t find any information about them online.

(LGBT+ activists have therefore remained optimistic about the future of their campaign, despite the current state of affairs. To put it simply: the Chinese government has bigger fish to fry. Sexual minorities haven’t had major clashes with the administration, haven’t embarrassed the Chinese government with their demand for rights as the ethnic minorities—the Uyghurs, the Tibetans, the Mongolians etc did. Political dissidents, including the millions in Hong Kong, are also (far) ahead in the ranking of fish size.)

For most issues, the censorship effort sits somewhere in the middle and is often inconsistent over time. The people, therefore, often have knowledge that an event has happened — even when the event is considered, beyond the Great Firewall, damaging to the reputation of the Chinese government. However, critical information is often missing in their knowledge, or is heavily distorted. For example, overseas Chinese citizens have insisted that the motivation of the 2019 Hong Kong Protests was economic, echoing the longstanding CCP propaganda that Hong Kongers have been jealous of China’s prosperity (reality: China’s GDP per capita was $10,268 USD in 2019, and Hong Kong’s, $48,713—more than 4 times higher). They missed out a critical fact: while the fast economic growth of China has created some unease—Hong Kongers have always known the Chinese government has only tolerated them and their freedoms for their ability to generate wealth—what has truly ignited Hong Kong’s anger is the Chinese government’s violation of the 1984 Sino-British Joint Declaration, and the terms it had agreed upon to get back the then British crown colony. Hong Kong hasn’t been demanding autonomy and freedoms because it’s a troublemaker, but because these things were promised to the city as conditions of the 1997 handover. As residents of the world’s third largest financial centre, Hong Kongers are diligent drafters and executioners of contracts (which international treaties are) and above all, faithful believers of them. For an asker (the Chinese government) to claim a contract as “historical”  because it has received the goods (Hong Kong) and no longer feels a need to pay (allow Hong Kong 50 years of freedoms and autonomy) is offensive to the principle, the very heart and soul of the city. 

(Gg’s former boss was a Hong Konger, and his experience working for him was a rather accurate reflection of Hong Kong’s view on business. What made an impression to Gg—that the posters should be without rips and misprints, even if these imperfections were not the fault of the design company—is a no-brainer to the Hong Konger in me reading the interview. Delivering high quality goods and services isn’t an act of kindness but rather, of professionalism and respect for the contract.)

(This interview is a highly recommended read, for those who’ve missed it!)

(One more example of “conveniently missed critical information”: remember GG’s show on Chongqing? Did you know the underground bombing shelters were not built by the Communist government, but the Nationalist government that was still ruling China during WWII?)

Anyway, where was I?

Right. We’re getting to 3): People are not getting the facts on the political situation in China because they’re not interested in current affairs.

Some—well, many— people are not interested in politics.

Some of you may be thinking: well, I’m not interested either. I follow politics because it’s important.

Why is it important? Because political engagement means you can do something about the many ills of the society, speak for those who cannot, force the government to change by voting, by voicing your opinion, by going to marches and protests etc.

What if you follow politics and still can’t do most of these things? What if, if you do choose to do these things, the price you pay may be astronomical? Will you still follow politics or devote your time, your energy to something else, something you’ve got more control over, something that won’t be as saddening, frustrating because it’s something you can actually change?

3) is therefore intricately related to why people often don’t do anything, even if they manage to find out about the facts.

There’re no national elections in China. Marches and protests are practically banned because while the Chinese Constitution guarantees the freedom of assembly (as it does freedom of speech and press; Article 35), it also explicitly states that "Citizens of the People’s Republic of China, in exercising their freedoms and rights, may not infringe upon the interests of the State, of society or of the collective, or upon the lawful freedoms and rights of other citizens.” (Article 51) — ie. the freedoms and rights only go as far as if they do not stand in the government’s way. Social media and all communications platforms are under constant surveillance, and so only opinions tolerated by the government is allowed... 

And so, the fact, social ill that has broken your heart—you can’t tell for sure if it isn’t talked about because the government has censored it, how many people know about it and more importantly, how many among the people who know about it will agree with your take. If you break your silence and voice your concerns, how many people will have your back, even if you also conceive them as victims of the social ill? If the social ill is the lack of rights of a minority group, for example, will they appreciate your speaking out, or will your “rocking-the-boat” make things even worse for them? A heavily watched net means communications with the oppressed/vulnerable social groups are often filled with obstacles, if not outright impossible. You don’t know how these groups feel; you don’t even know how many affected individuals are there. You watch the and news and shows and they all talk about how wonderfully things are going; how everyone seems so hopeful and positive and happy with their lives—are you the only person feeling that way? Are you wrong? If you speak out then, will you be yelling into the void, or worse, yelling at the police who “invites” you for a chat in the police station? To speak for those who do not have a voice to speak, are you ready, willing to take the risk of also becoming one who no longer has a voice to speak? Is your family ready? 

To put it another way: the opportunity cost of “doing something” about the political situation can be astronomically high in China, compared to the opportunity cost of us doing something similar in our own country. 

If I want to support the LGBT+ population in my part of the US, for example, I can do so effectively with minimal investment and most importantly, with minimal risk. By pasting a rainbow flag on this Tumblr post, for example, I’ve already signalled to those who need support on this issue that I’m ready to give mine. And this “signal” of mine will join the hundreds and thousands on the site, collectively telling the activists doing the “on the ground” fighting that they’re not alone; that they have my vote of support. I pose no danger to myself in doing so; no one will accuse me of, arrest me for infringing upon the interests of the State and the Collective. The rainbow flag, a display of my stance, will not turn into a blurred blob the next time I look at it, transform overnight from a symbol of solidarity to a warning sign to those who may wish to join the cause. There’s no danger for me, even, to carry an actual, huge rainbow flag to Pride, perform my activism in person. I don’t have to worry about my phone already giving away my identity as a protester to the government, especially in post-COVID times. I don’t need to watch out for plain clothes pretending to be my allies. I don’t have to look at the many surveillance cameras present and wonder if I’ll get blacklisted as a troublemaker.

Am I still being tracked and taken pictures of? Possibly. But for this cause, at least, I’m not afraid that these information will be used to arrest me. If I were arrested, I know there'll be lawyers and activists who would come to my aid. LOUDLY. ANGRILY.

I’m not afraid. Period. I’m having fun. And I doubt I can say the same if I try to carry a rainbow flag to Tiananmen square and march there.

This vast difference in the opportunity cost of taking political action is the reason why I’ve refrained from demanding those who live under authoritarian dictatorships to stand up for their neighbours who’ve been oppressed / bullied by their governments. I’ve refrained from criticising them for looking away, minding their own business. Do I wish they’ve take action? Of course I do. Am I aware that their lack of action is potentially more harmful because of the frequent atrocities happening around them? Yes. But I also understand that going on a fight is far more frightening when one doesn’t even have a sense of how many will join their side of the fight; I understand that fighting for what one deserves—freedoms, rights, justice—should never equal martyrdom, and just because a regime has elected to put equal signs between the two doesn’t mean those equal signs should ever be there. I remind myself that, to ask the people in any authoritarian dictatorship to stand up for a political cause is to ask them to make sacrifices that we, as people in relatively free societies, do not need to make when standing up for the same cause. In a country where a father demanding the truth about the milk product poisoning of his own son got jail time for “eliciting social disorder”, to stand up for even a single issue, no matter how small that issue is, requires courage that I’m not sure I have.

I can’t ask anyone to do anything I may not be able to do myself.

And this is why I, too, have chosen to support these people, even if many of them are single-issue activists, even when many support the Chinese government on other issues that matter. For example, the late Dr Li Wenliang, one of the eight COVID whistleblowers in China who passed away from the disease, was an opponent of the Hong Kong Protest, but I still (greatly) appreciate, respect him for what he did. As long as they’re not actively helping the government to cause (more) harm to others, as long as their cooperation with their government falls within what is demanded of them as citizens, they have my support. Why? Because most people who speak out in China cannot afford to stand up for more than one cause before it becomes dangerous for them. Because even if it’s only a tiny vulnerable social group, one small minority that makes a tiny step towards more rights, more freedoms, more justice, it’s still a victory in a country where rights, freedoms and justice are luxury items for those with neither political nor economic power. Because those who’re not part of the ruling class cannot afford to cherry pick their allies, cannot afford to in-fight when the ruling class already holds absolute power. Because I still believe in pay-it-forward, that most people who’ve benefited from someone standing up for them, even for one small incident, one minor cause, is more likely to stand up for someone else.

This is, admittedly, not always an easy choice to make—not for me, at least. I do get frustrated, can’t help but think at times that those who subscribe to and spread propaganda are, to a certain extent, corroborators of the atrocities committed by their government. (So, to those who’ve felt this frustration, you’re not alone!). And the Hong Konger in me has every reason to be furious with everything about China right now—all I could think of, when I listened to Gg singing 異鄉人 Foreigner the other night, are all the Hong Kongers fleeing the city now, as refugees, because of their political beliefs.

But for now, I’m hanging on. I’ve been able to tell myself that given the country’s political reality, given its tradition of collectivism (which tends to view confrontational dissent with scorn), the paths to freedoms, to equal rights and acceptance, will not be the same as what I’ve seen, what I’ve wished for. They’ll likely be slow; They’ll likely be long and winding, taking three steps forward and two steps back; they’d likely be unexpected in places, offer us surprises —

And since it’s Chinese New Year / Valentines and I’m feeling brave (irresponsible?), I’d venture a little bit of speculation and say this ~ yes, I’ve wondered if one of these many paths may be trodden, intentionally or not, by two beautiful male idols and their millions of turtles. Is it wishful, fantastical thinking? I’d be the first to admit the answer is yes. But the BJYX scheme has been so well executed as of now, so effective that I can’t help but wonder if it’s leading towards some sort of a goal, whether devised by the humans involved or by the gods/Fates who, as c-turtles have said so romantically, have been writing an original BL story with our favourite boys. The goal may be personal —simply two people being able to act more like themselves again under the spotlight—or a bit more ambitious…

… Because the sneakers + ice-cream post did catch my attention (will probably have to devote a post on that?). Another small incident that has caught my attention, unrelated to Gg and Dd but can significantly change the path they may be trodding, is this — in June 2020, People’s Daily, the state controlled newspaper, boasted its country’s increasing friendliness towards the LGBT+ communities on Twitter . While the tweet was met with skepticism and soon removed, the message it sent is this: the Chinese government may have figured out the the Western world (in particular, the younger generations) view LGBT+ rights as a measure of progressiveness. While I’m still leaning towards the government maintaining a tight grip on LGBT+ rights within its borders, with the strengthening call to boycott 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics because of the country’s poor human rights record, I can see a glimmer of possibility that the same government may do the unexpected and cater to the queer community for the sake of propaganda.  As I mentioned, the queer community hasn’t caused much headache for the Chinese government, and so it’s far more likely to be chosen as the “benefactors” of such a “we’re a human rights champion too!” propaganda campaign than, say, ethnic minorities and political dissidents. Promoting dissemination of core socialist values has always sat high on the CCP’s agenda list, and its target audience has always included foreign, non-Chinese populations; this effort is known as 大外宣—“The Great External Propaganda”. And who better to cast as leads of an international propaganda campaign on LGBT+ rights than two of its own stars who’ve already demonstrated loyalty to the government, who’ve already garnered international fame from a TV series widely viewed as queer, and who may actually be queer?

(And if—if!!!— this ever happens, may I ask everyone to please consider doing the following? Please do not feel a need to express gratitude. Please do not act as though it’s a gift. Celebrate as you would celebrate anyone in a free country exercising their birthright to live, to love the way they want — no less than that, no more than that.)

(For those who’ve asked ~ as international fans, not allowing the CCP to modify our expectations of how a government should behave may be one of the most effective ways to protect Gg and Dd.)

(I call this learning from the best: get the goods we want (more rights for the people in China), refuse to pay the cost (subscribe to CCP’s propaganda), and RUN! ❤️💛💚)

#pie metas #yizhan #bjyx #pie answers

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x Oc)

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2  ~ Its okay to want something to end and also be sad that its ending. 

With infidelity, its never black and white. 

There’s different kinds of infidelity and you can’t ever say which is worse. That depends entirely on the people involved and the values they hold dear. What may be a small indiscretion to someone, may well be an unforgivable act of betrayal to someone else.

 And that’s fine. People aren’t one dimensional. We can’t all have the same perspective. 

So infidelity is also never one dimensional. 

Sometimes its a one night stand. Something done and forgotten. Discarded from the mind like the used condom in the motel room floor. 

Sometimes its a dear friend who betrays you, your best friend who apparently always had a thing for your husband and felt perfectly fine making a move on him. That one stings . Because you lose two people. Two very important people at the same time. 

Sometimes its a coworker, someone who stays by their side majority of the day. Who offers a sympathetic ear when your husband wants to relax.

Sometimes men just fall out of love and are too much of a coward to say it out loud, opting to cheat on you instead. 

Sometimes, they are jealous, of your career, of your kid, or your friends. Too lazy to win your affection they go find satisfaction in some one else’s bed. 

Sometimes it never even gets physical. Sometimes its just someone catfishing your husband or sending him nudes.

And sometimes, its an emotional connection. They actually fall deeply in love with someone else and I think, for most women, that would be the one that would sting the most. 

With Taehyung, it had been a night of drinking. He had had one drink too many, had tumbled into bed with some trainee a decade younger and had broken our marriage vows. 

Not really a very thought out or planned mistake. He hadn’t cheated with the intent to cheat. He had just been too drunk to know better. 

So, why did I leave him?

Because it hadn’t been about the cheating. 

It had been the drinking. 

When we first met, Taehyung couldn’t hold his liquor. Not that it mattered because he didn’t like it all that much. Didn’t mind sipping juice when other’s nursed beers. 

But as he grew older, as he grew more successful, he had started accepting drinks from producers and directors and fellow actors... Because, it was rude not to and Kim Taehyung was nothing if not the personification of politeness. 

 His tolerance hadn’t increased but his drinking had and that was a bad combo. 

:”You need to stop doing this Tae. You can’t just come home black out drunk, every time you have an after party.... You’re going to hurt yourself or god forbid someone else... some day and I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to wreck your entire life over a stupid drink....” 

It was a speech I had made way too many times. The words recycled and reframed, and rearranged to try and give them more  weight , to help him realize how  serious  the issue was. To help him understand that what he was risking, it wasn’t just his reputation. It was his entire career, his  life  if he somehow got behind a wheel someday. 

And Taehyung, who had won a bunch of Daesangs for his acting always convinced me that he understood what I was trying to say. That he understood the magnitude of my words and would heed them the next time. 

So really, what people didn’t understand was that....

That evening, when he stood in front of me and said that he slept with another woman because he got drunk out of his mind, it wasn’t the sleeping with the girl that had bothered me. ( at least not that much. it hurt of course but it wasn’t that strong. it stemmed more from a place of “why didn’t you just ask someone to drive you home, you idiot.”.. rather than, “ how dare you sleep with another woman?”  ) 

It was the got drunk out of my mind thing. 

That was what I ended my marriage over. 

That was it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The details were hashed out easily and I didn’t particularly protest or change anything. Taehyung suggested an equal division of assets and I quickly disagreed. I wasn’t exactly poor. I worked as the Head of Marketing in a successful conglomerate. I had no use for excessive amounts of money. After some debate we agreed on setting up a trust fund for Hoshi with the money. He could use it after he turned twenty five. 

And then came the next part. 

Compensation for physical / Mental Damage. 

I felt like i was spiraling. 

“None On my side. None.” Taehyung said quickly and I swallowed. 

Ms Lee gave me an encouraging smile. 

“You can be honest Mrs Kim. We’re trying to go for a clean break between the two of you without any resentment carrying over. So its best to be honest. If you feel you need recompense for any emotional distress or abuse Mr. Kim may have put you through, you’re free to tell me. I’ll make sure it goes into record.” 

And this was why I hated the idea of getting divorce. 

That entire dialogue had sounded so...so... terrible. So accusatory and ugly. It wasn’t at all the way I felt about my husband. 

It was just hurt. Plain and simple hurt because he didn’t take me seriously. Because he didn’t think my words were worth listening to. It was hurt laced with fear because he was putting himself in danger with his reckless actions and I wanted him to stop. That’s all it was. 

It was hurt. 

Taehyung had hurt me but it wasn’t emotional distress. It sure as hell hadn’t been abuse.

“None for me either.” I said firmly, honest . 

I glanced at my husband, trying to tell him that I wasn’t just saying it. That it was true. I really didn’t want him to pay me money for what had happened. 

But, Taehyung wouldn’t meet my eyes.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung signed over full custody of Hoshi with a smile. 

“I trust you. “ He said quietly, penning his initials carefully on the document. 

I nodded, feeling a little like drowning.

 We had a very comfortable way of doing things as far as our son was concerned. Taehyung got Hoshi anytime he had time off and also on weekends. 

With a very shifting schedule it was hard for Taehyung to pin down exact dates so we had long decided we would make things easier for each other. He would call me a day or so in advance and i would drop him off at Taehyung’s penthouse or the company. Special days like birthdays were always celebrated in a neutral place with both parties attending. 

Hoshi loved it because it was a pleasant surprise for him, when his dad swooped in out of nowhere and took him off to amusement parks or arcades or swimming. He loved Taehyung . 

So the visitation rights were easy to sketch out. 

It was nothing new but to have it all put down on paper and initialed and notarized....it just felt invasive. Some judge somewhere would read all about how my marriage had crumbled to ashes and would pass judgment on me and that just felt odd. 

 Like airing your dirty laundry. Like letting strangers into your bedroom. 

And the worst part was this :   I felt myself getting upset , anytime Ms. Lee gave the slightest negative connotation to Taehyung’s actions or responsibilities. Anytime she tried to imply that he couldn’t be neglectful as  a father, I wanted to jump right up and defend him. To tell her that he was a better father than the ones who lived 24/7 with their kids and didn’t know a damn thing about them. 

That even as my husband,  he had been so good to me. Had treated me like his best friend, his confidante, his lover. Had never shied away from showing me how much he loved me. Had been the best husband in the whole entire world. 

And I hated myself for it. 

What was wrong with me? 

Why was  I still so fiercely protective of him, I wondered. I hated the idea of him being criticized by anyone for any of it.

 And it made feel like such a hypocrite because if he was so amazing, why on earth were we here??

Why on earth were we getting a divorce if Kim Taehyung was husband and father of the fucking Year?!! 

Was I making a mistake? Had I made a mistake? 

It confused me. These feelings that just refused to go away. I would never act on them because therein lay the path to misery but why were they still there? 

 This desperate clawing urge to make sure he came out of this whole debacle as a good guy. To make sure no one would brand him as a cheater . Because they would. When the divorce went public, they would dig things up and they would know. 

 I didn’t know how I’d gotten to this point where , I could somehow forget everything that was wrong, simply because I wanted to focus on what felt wrong....

Technically I should be happy. 

Taehyung did something unpardonable ( for me, at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I felt like I could forgive him for it but he hadn’t asked for forgiveness. What he’d asked for was a divorce.  ) and I left him. We were separated . And now finally we were getting a divorce. 

Divorce meant we could finally get out of this no man’s land of uncertainty where we had hung for two whole years and move on, from each other and finally give a label to where we stood. Exes. We were exes. We were done. It was over. 

Hadn’t I just yelled about him about how I liked labels? 

And yet, 

This entire divorce  felt so wrong. So unnecessary.

And in a moment of clarity, as I watched Ms Lee read he whole thing over again for our benefit, I realized why it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong because Taehyung was the one who wanted it. 

Why did Taehyung want it? What had made him want to end it, officially?

Was he seeing someone else? Was he considering seeing someone else? Did he want to start enjoying the single lifestyle again? 

Did he finally take a good long look at our marriage and found nothing worth salvaging anymore? 

My head ached. 

 I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. And yet my heart broke at the thought of it. 

Ms Lee finally gathered up all the documents and gave us a wide smile.

“I wish every client I had was this reasonable. You two are a delight .” she shook her head. “ Should we get a drink to celebrate a day well spent?” 

I opened my mouth to accept when Taehyung said, “  Sure, but it would have to be a juice for me. I don’t drink.” 

I felt my heart take a swoop, nosediving to my knees. 

I stared at him, stunned speechless. 

“Haven’t had a drink in two years Mia. I’m done with that shit.” He said softly.

I swallowed. 

“I didn’t know that.” I felt miserable all of a sudden, the weight of what we had just done pressing down on my heart like a 200 pound stone, 

His gaze held mine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.” 

We stood staring at each other in silence and Ms. Lee cleared her throat. 

“Uh... I just got a text from my next client. Maybe raincheck on the drinks? “

I nodded , watching her leave. Thank you i wanted to say, but for what?

 For ending my marriage of eight fucking years? 

And how ridiculous that very thought was. ..... She hadn’t ended our marriage,   I had. 

“I have the next two days off.” He said casually. 

“You can pick Hoshi up from my mom’s place. I need to head back to the office.” I muttered, choking a little on tears that had sprung out of nowhere. . 

“Hey.” his fingers closed over my wrists tugging me gently and I let myself get pulled into his arms. I hugged him, feeling my tears soak through the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I choked out. 

He stroked the back of my head gently.

“Me too. “ He pressed a kiss to my hair and it only made me feel worse.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Tae is 35, OC is 32 

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung #taehyung fanfics #bts fanfics #bts smut #bts fanfic

[true-blue-megamind]

FAN THEORY THURSDAY – Why Did Metroman Retire?

Happy Almost-Friday, everyone! And even though Minion threatens to smother everything he cooks in old Limburger cheese each time I say it: SPOILER WARNING!

Yes, I know, it’s three a.m. and it’s technically Friday, but I’m still calling this Thursday night, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Okay, let’s be honest, Metroman is a character who seems, on the surface, to require little explanation in the film Megamind. He’s only present in the beginning and end, and we spend half the movie believing he’s dead, and we learn that Metroman has done something almost unheard of among superheroes: he’s chosen to retire. The question is: why? There is a tendency to think that he's simply a spoiled rich boy who, (in his social life, at least,) does what he wants without regard for others, but is that really fair? Or could there be other possible reasons? Well, let’s take a look at a few fan theories that may explain why he chose to abandon heroism for a music career.

Metroman Didn’t Want to Be a Hero

Although he’s clearly based on—and perhaps even poking a little fun at—the Man of Steel, Metroman was no Superman. (I mean, okay, he was technically a super-man, since he had strength, speed, and powers far beyond what a human would possess.) Except, here’s the thing: he’s not a carbon copy of the Man of Steel; Metroman and Superman have completely different lives and personalities. This remains true despite the fact that they share a similar origin—that of being aliens from a dead planet—and identical powers—including laser-vision and flight. Even their code names are comparable. However, if we look deeper, it becomes obvious that Metroman and Superman are two very different characters.

Superman is all about being an upstanding hero. Although he can be annoyingly persnickety, and sometimes displays nearly oppressively unyielding strictures about right and wrong, one thing you can say about the Man of Steel is that he’s generally integral. He is exactly what his public image portrays him to be: a Good Guy through and through. The same isn’t true of Metroman, and in some ways that makes him a more complex and interesting character.

The childhoods of the two heroes are extremely different. As I’ve mentioned in Why Was Megamind Raised in Prison, when a boy, Metroman was a bully, not only making young Megamind an outsider and the object of everything from teasing to physical attacks, but also inspiring other students to do the same. Superman, on the other hand, far from being a bully was bullied by Pete Ross. Rather than using his powers against others, he was too responsible and good-hearted to use them even against Pete Ross. Metroman is adopted by super-wealthy parents, and is essentially a trust-fund baby, while Superman was adopted by a farm family. He grows up with a good work ethic and hometown values. Indeed, this economic discrepancy continues into adulthood. As far as we can tell, Metroman doesn’t need to work and has no job outside being a superhero. Superman, conversely, has to earn a living as a journalist. Finally, in the majority of comics, Superman avoids most public appearances, unless he feels they serve some beneficial social purpose. Indeed, he goes to great lengths to keep his identity a secret and avoid the public eye as much as possible. The first time we see Metroman in the film, however, he is basking in a crowd’s adoration at the dedication of a museum in his honor. Indeed, in the original script, then called Mastermind, Metroman’s real identity seems to be widely known. (In case you’re wondering, this is where the name Wayne Smith, commonly used in the fandom, originates from.) So, we see that these character are actually very different: one is a hero strictly for the greater good, and the other, while he certainly does a lot of good things, is also in it for the fame.

This may seem like I’m being harsh toward poor Wayne Smith, but his flaws do not, in fact, make him a bad person. The issue is that we’re comparing him to Superman who, while still certainly imperfect, is intended to be a better-than-average person in every way, including moral. Make no mistake, Metro City’s former hero isn’t any sort of villain; what he is is normal. If we’re honest, most of us would be pleased by wide-spread accolades and honors. He reacts to positive fame the same way nearly anyone would because, at his heart, he’s really just a typical guy. That is the material point: Wayne Smith really only wants to be an average citizen—a music star, perhaps, but still a relatively ordinary person. In that way, he and Megamind are alike: they both desire, more than nearly anything else, to be normal. The key difference is that Megamind’s sincere and driving concern for his city also makes him ideal for becoming a hero. (You can learn more about this particular fan theory in The Warden and in Megamind and Identity.)

So, why did Wayne Smith become a Defender in the first place, then? Again, I’ve briefly touched on this in previous posts, but it appears likely that Metroman was pushed into heroism just as much as Megamind was pushed into supervillainy. Because he was a bully with superpowers, it’s likely that adults around him realized something had to be done about Wayne. Otherwise he was a danger. So, they constructed an environment—the Li’l Gifted School—where he could be conditioned to seek the praise of others as well as to fight Megamind, who had been singled out as his future nemesis. (In fact, that conditioning is probably why he opted for a career that would put him on stage, aside from a probable love of music.)

Because the path chosen for Megamind involved more hardships and pain, it’s easy to forget that Metroman was in essentially the exact same plight. However, the fact remains that these were both children, and they were both being coerced into perceived destinies they didn’t want. Neither of them were given a choice and, in the end, both of them cast off the expectations pressed upon them to become the people they really wanted to be. The difference is that, because of our natural biases, Megamind’s rise to Defender of Metro City seems more noteworthy than Metroman’s step into Mr. Average Joe. The truth, however, is that both characters were basically doing the same thing: being true to themselves.

Metroman May Have Had Health Concerns

We know Megamind and Metroman are close to the same age—although the latter appears to be about a year rather than days old when he lands on Earth—but what that age is is open to supposition. We know, however, that they are almost certainly in their thirties, probably in their mid- to late-thirties. (Take a look at How Old is Megamind for more information about that.) However, we can see that Wayne is already going gray around the temples. Of course, some people’s genetics simply cause them to go gray earlier, and that’s certainly a possibility, but one fan theory suggest there may be more going on. The idea has been put forward that Wayne’s super-speed may be having an adverse effect on him, forcing his body to work overtime to keep up. The resulting physical stress could be making him age prematurely.

That’s not the only factor to consider. As hard as heroism may have been on his body, the effects on Metroman’s mind would have been even greater. Before the events in the movie, Metro City’s authorities—and, indeed, all its citizens—became too reliant upon their superhuman hero, and as a result that hero was run ragged. That isn’t a mere hypothesis. A scene that was storyboarded but never included in the final film makes Metroman’s plight perfectly clear. We see him being called from one end of the city to the other for everything from a massive explosion to an old lady needing help opening a jar. Keep in mind that, when hearing a cry for assistance, the hero would likely be unable to tell who truly needed him urgently and who was simply making unnecessary demands, thus he would have to rush to every call he heard. Even the city’s law enforcement seems to take him for granted, refusing to take criminals he just hand-delivered to jail because they’re on lunch break. The cumulative effect is that Metroman looks nearly frantic with stress.

This is important because, aside from the obvious mental and emotional concerns, this sort of stress accelerates aging as well. According to an article in the Huffington Post, when glycation and telomere shortening, as well as the over-oxidation, are caused by enduring heightened stress for prolonged periods of time, it can result not only in graying hair and premature wrinkles, but heart trouble as well. Even the memory can be affected, as one study by the University of Wisconsin found that stress can age a person’s brain up to four years faster than normal, and contribute to cognitive problems later in life. (The study was part of a presentation—you have no idea how badly I wanted to write that word in all-caps—and is thus currently unpublished, but information about it can be found in an article from Over Sixty.)

Metroman Retired for the Good of Everybody

As you can see, in a strange way, having a super-powered Defender was actually crippling Metro City. In fact, it may be truly damaging to the local infrastructure and official organizations. Youtuber Olaf Scholtens, in his video Megamind: Power and Identity, uses the metaphor of an airplane manufacturer to explain what’s going on. (If you’ve read my own post Megamind and Identity, you’ve seen this before.) Engineers and factories put a lot of effort and expense into making certain aircraft are as safe as possible, but what would happen if they felt they could confidently assume a superhero would simply catch any plane that crashed, saving everyone on board? Safety standards would probably become far more lax, and people might be in far more danger as a result. Given the way that nearly everyone in Metro City seems to assume Metroman will always save the day, it’s possible that, within the urban area, the same thing could be happening with things like building code enforcement, large construction projects, and even public safety measures. Bridges might not be properly built, fire hazards might not be addressed, and, given the blasé attitudes of the cops in the storyboard, law enforcement officers might not even be bothering to keep an eye on things. By retiring, Metroman forced the city to become more self-sufficient again.

That, however, may not have been the only problem Metroman was trying to solve. Remember the whole discussion about the former Defender’s school boy bullying and the apparent conspiracy to turn one boy into a hero and the other into a supervillain? It’s possible Wayne may have felt remorse for the former and found out about the latter. Having battled Megamind so much in the past, he also may have realized that the blue man never actually hurt anyone, and in fact went out of his way to stage their confrontations in abandoned places. (Again, you can read more about that in both Megamind and Identity and The Warden.) It may be that Metroman real “brilliant plan” wasn’t simply to fake his death, but in doing so to prod Megamind into becoming a hero and thus accepted by society.

There is an alternative theory, put forward in a Reddit post, that Megamind and Metroman’s parents may have known one another, and may have sent both children to Earth with the intention of them becoming a dynamic duo, fighting evil together with Megamind as the brains and Metroman as the brawn. This could have been what Megamind’s father meant when he told his son: “You are destined for greatness.” While there is very little support for this in the movie, it would explain why, in the vast cosmos, both of the young survivors were sent not only to the same planet, but even to the same city.

Whatever the reason may have been, one thing is certain: there certainly is some evidence that Metroman intended his one-time nemesis to become a hero. One of his lines, after Roxanne and Megamind discover he’s still alive, supports this. You know the one. “If there’s bad, good will rise up against it. It’s taken me a long time to find my calling; now it’s time you find yours.” Then, of course, there is another line, when Music Man is watching his former enemy take the role of Defender of Metro City: “way to go, Little Buddy. I knew you had it in you.”

If Metroman really did purposefully help Megamind step into heroism, that could also explain why he didn’t stop Megamind from taking over the city—perhaps he trusted the blue man not to harm anyone and to eventually come to his senses—as well as why he refuses to overtly help defeat Titan. He does, however, clearly subtly assist Megamind, as the latter almost certainly went back to Wayne’s hideout to scan his appearance and voice into the holowatch. All of this together makes it seem quite plausible that Metroman not only wanted to retire, but also wanted the blue man to take his place.

Megamind and Metroman by White-Night-56 on Deviant Art

Maybe this means that, now that Megamind is the Defender of Metro City, he and Music Man occasionally get together to commiserate over the more difficult aspects of being a superhero and joke about the old days.

It’s also quite possible that all of these fan theories could be true. The film Megamind is, among other things, surprisingly subtle, complex, and subversive for an animated movie. Every time I dive deep into some aspect or other of the plot, I am once again impressed by the amount of thought and detail that went into this work. No wonder Megamind—and its characters—have so many dedicated fans.

#Megamind #Megamind movie #Metro Man #Metroman #Wayne Smith #Megamind fan theory #Megamind fan theories #DreamWorks #hero #Defender #Metro City #fan theory #fan theories #Fan Theory Thursday #Megamind fandom #Youtube #megamind

[rostovs-lover]

roy rogers

brian may x reader | cursing, some suggestive language, a little bit of anxiety, alcohol consumption | she/her pronouns | fluffy? slow-burn?? | wc.3667

i’m low key tempted to make a part two,, 

anon : Can I request a super cute fic where Bri needs more money for uni, so he starts offering guitar lessons and the reader has a little brother who really wants to learn how to play, so she signs him up. Maybe her brother is extremely good with a guitar and he has a lot of lessons with Bri. He also sees the reader a lot and he catches feelings HARD. Maybe the reader’s little brother spills something to both of them with the help of the rest of the band and they end of together. I just need major FLUFF

your younger brother thinks his guitar teacher is perfect for you and he’s adamant about getting you together. requests open!!

     A Roy Roger’s is a nonalcoholic drink made of cola and cherry grenadine and topped with a maraschino cherry.

     Your younger brother, David, practically lived in your apartment. For a fourteen year old he was brilliant and very, very sneaky. Sneaky enough to creep out of your mother’s house in the dead of night and crawl up to the fire escape of your second story apartment.

    When you’d stumbled to the kitchen, half asleep, he’d been at the table thumbing through a cookbook. He’d also had the audacity to laugh when you screamed, thinking he was an intruder. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it most definitely wouldn’t be the last either.

    “One of these days something is going to be thrown at your head,” You hissed, setting a bowl of cereal in front of David, who looked at it with the utmost disgust.

    “What is this?”

    “Quisp, either eat it or starve.”

    He glowered at you, “I like Waffelos,”

    “That's so sad, I have no money, its Quisp or nothing.” It was quiet for a while as you both ate, David still looking through your cookbook.

    He closed the book, examining the cover as he spoke, “Mum said you have to sign me up for guitar lessons,”

    “Mum said what?”

    “You have to sign me up for guitar lessons, she’ll pay. I have a well of untapped potential in the musical realm. That's according to her coworker, Deirdre.” He sighed, exasperated, “Mum trusts Deirdre apparently because now I have to learn guitar.”

    “Where on earth does mum expect me to sign you up, I mean did she give you any specifics, like a price range? Do you even have a guitar?”

    “First, I have mum’s old guitar. Second, she just said lessons. I think she trusts your judgment.”

    Despite how much you appreciated your mother trusting your judgment, finding reasonably priced guitar lessons with someone who wasn’t a creep was harder than anticipated. You had collected a handful of flyers and business cards, all offering said lessons. The first call you placed was to a nice old lady looking to take up some spare time by providing lessons but she lived too far away for your mother to drive every week. The next was almost promising until you told Robert MacIntere that the lesson was for your brother, not you and he hung up the phone. One woman had too many cats, another man asked for your shoe size, someone else cursed you out when you said you couldn’t do their outlandish prices. The only promising thing you had gotten was a History professor, a very nice man too. You were thrilled when the lessons had finally been scheduled until he bowed out at the last minute and you were back at square one. 

    You had almost given up when, one rainy Thursday evening, you found an advert pinned outside of the auditorium. Guitar lessons, not too far away, open every Tuesday and Wednesday after three o’clock. The document was typed, all except a phone number scrawled on the bottom, almost as if an afterthought. You scratched the number on the palm of your hand and called straight away when you got home.

    The line wrung for several seconds, “Yo?”

    “Hi. Hi, yes I’m calling about a flyer I saw posted at Imperial College? It was an advert for bi-weekly guitar lessons, and your number was on the paper. I was wondering about booking a couple of weeks?”

    The person on the line snorted, “Sorry dear, that’s not me. I assume you’re looking for my mate, just one moment and I’ll gather him-” You heard his hand cover the receiver as she called for someone, “Just one sec’ lovie,”

    The phone was audibly handed off, “Hello?”

    “Hi, um I’m calling about the guitar lessons?”

    “Oh!” His voice, “Yes, of course! That's me, are you looking to schedule one?”

    You had scheduled for the following Tuesday at four, to meet at his apartment. In the car on the way there, David rambled on about everything he wanted to learn and exactly how ecstatic he was for this. He had named his guitar George, after George Harison, who he admired. On the elevator ride up to Brian’s apartment, David was practically vibrating and he bounced on the balls of his feet as you waited at the door.

    The door was opened by a blond, clad in a bathrobe and flannel pyjama pants who puffed at his cigarette as he stared at you, “What brings you here?”

    Before you could speak David, who the blond hadn’t noticed until just then, piped up, “The guitar lessons. I’m the one being taught, [Name] is just sitting in.”

    “Oh, well come in then, I’ll go and get Brian.” He tucked his cigarette behind him and lead you inside, “Um, make yourselves at home, couch is all yours.” He howled Brian’s name and ducked into the kitchen, snuffing out the smoke in an ashtray.

    David got settled on the couch, tugging out his guitar, and you set into a chair. From around the corner rushed a very frantic body, clutching his own guitar. He was very tall, and the black pants he wore made his legs seem unproportionate to his body. What caught your eye the most though was his hair, he had a thick mane of tightly wound black curls, which also added to his height.

    “Hi, I’m very sorry about this, I got a touch caught up in a bit of school work.” He settled onto the couch next to your brother, “You must be David, I’m Brian.” He gestured a hand to your brother.

    David, ever the charmer, shook firmly as he spoke, “Its pleasure meeting you. I wasn’t quite sure that lessons were even going to happen, no one seemed right, according to mum, but you seem nice! Your guitar is neat. Oh! That's my sister, [Name], I believe you spoke on the phone.”

    “We did,” Brian leaned forwards to shake your hand as well, “Its nice to meet you,”

    A better teacher would have been hard to come by. Brian was patient and soft spoken, he worked at your brother’s pace, never rushing past anything he didn’t fully understand. The lesson was only an hour long but it seemed much shorter, with a book in tow you didn’t pay much mind to anything else. That was until you caught yourself glancing over the cover to watch the lesson. Brian was attractive and he had very nice hands. You were somewhat aghast you’d never seen him on campus, he seemed hard to miss.

    The lessons became weekly, and despite trusting Brian and his roommate, Roger, you still opted to stay for every one. It was always pleasant, the apartment was nice, Brian was nice, and you had begun to get acquainted with his friends. During the third week, Roger had let it slip that they were in a band. Brian’s face had flushed scarlet and he’d played with his fingers as he explained that it wasn’t anything serious. On that same visit, you’d had a conversation with Roger in the kitchen while he got you a glass of water. He was nice, only half awake at the time, but you’d realized you had an evolution class together at school. He had also given you his number, and David would absolutely not let you hear the end of it.

    “Please-” Your brother cried as he threw himself onto your sofa, “You haven’t had a boyfriend in ages. The last one was, what was his name?”

    You rolled your eyes, “Chet?”

    “Chet Robbins! Chet the safe bet!”

    “Chet the safe bet? Did you make that up?”

    David smiled, very proudly, “I did! Just now actually, because it's true! Chet, the business student, trust fund child, frat boy. Why not date a drummer?”

    “Because I like stability David,”

    “[Name] date the drummer. I beg, I plead. He was so into you, he gave you his number!”

    “If you will recall, I have his number. Because his number is the apartment number and that's what I called for the lessons. I also refuse to date your teacher’s best friend. How would I approach that, ‘Hi Brian! You’re teaching my brother an instrument, I did your friend last night. How have you been?’”

    David gasped in mock disgust, “I never said a word about doing him. You foul wench, I simply implied dinner. Maybe seeing one of his shows.”

    “Oh my dear, when you date a drummer it's never just dinner.” You snorted.

    “Well, when I date a drummer it will be. Only dinner, no foul play.”

    “Please, please keep that attitude for the rest of your life.”

    It was quiet as he mulled over your words. You started off, putting away your bag and coat when he abruptly sat up, “You don’t dislike the drummer, in fact, it has nothing to do with him. You don’t like my teacher’s best friend, you like my teacher.” He grinned when your face lit up, “Oh you do, you absolutely do! I’ve never seen you blush that hard.”

    “You little twit,” You hissed, “If you say a word about this I will have your head. This stays between us and us only.”

    David was sneaky, very sneaky. Your conversation had planted an idea in his head like a seed and every brief glance and soft smile you shared with his teacher was water. He was growing a downright devious plan, with you directly at the center of it.

    David, after quietly looking over the house and picking up on Brian’s affinity for science fiction, had been the one to recommend you start reading George Orwell’s 1984. He had also purposely disappeared to the restroom when he caught sight of Brian eyeing the cover.

    Brian carefully cleared his throat, “Do you read much Orwell?”

    “Oh, Orwell? No, not really. I, um- I read The Road to Wigan Pier for a book club a while ago. Are you a fan?”

    “Oh yes,” He smiled, leaning forwards, “I’ve read that, actually. I was in a band a few years back by the same name,”

    You cocked your head, closing the book against your finger, “1984?”

    “Yes, quite silly, I know. Never was much good at naming.”

    “Roger said you’re in a band now, what's that called?”

    His cheeks were beginning to pick up a soft pink again, “Um, Queen. Our singer named it-”

    David sat back down, “Did I miss anything important?”

    Brian looked away and you went back to your book. The only noise became the guitar residing between the two boys on the couch. David had learned enough to start on a song, I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash. It was recognizable enough to draw your attention, and it was lovely at first until it was all David played. When you returned home, when you visited your mother, he played it so much you had memorized the fingering to it.

    It was at another lesson, several weeks later, when you had been left by your lonesome. David had gone to get a drink and Brian had run to retrieve something from his room. All alone and with nothing to tell you not to you settled into the couch with the guitar and tried at the song. It was choppy, a bit off-key, but mostly there.

    “I didn’t know you played?” Brian’s voice was soft but you still jumped, shooting around to find him. Leaned against the back of the sofa he twirled a coin between his fingers, grinning down at you.

    You swallowed, “I don’t, no, not really. Dave’s just played this so much I remembered how it looked.” 

    He propped his chin in his hand, “I think you could be quite good. Just, here-” He slipped the coin between his teeth to reach down, softly grasping your wrist, adjusting your placement on the neck. His hands were warm and it sent a shiver up your spine as he carefully moved your fingers, “That should do nicely, I trust you’ll do well with the right placement.” He was quiet for a moment, silently pondering something, “Friday night we have a show at about ten o’clock, say you come and maybe I could show you something on the guitar afterwards.”

    You considered, “Where is it?”

    “The Cameo, downtown London.”

    “It sounds lovely, very, but I have to admit I’m not big on the downtown London clubs. I actually don’t know where that is. Although I do have a friend whos well versed with the scene, I could ask her to show me there?”

    “Wonderful,” He grinned, “It's a date!” Something else David wouldn’t let go of. Usually, all he talked about was the music he learned but now he was enthralled with the prospect of a new romantic venture. You had been informed on exactly how to dress, what makeup to wear, what drink to order. He also picked the exact shade of blue for you to paint your nails.

    You called Marilla after your mother picked David up and she had agreed, enthusiastically, to show you to the club. When she arrived you had been called ‘prudish’ and were forbidden to dress yourself. In the very back of your closet was a floral dress you’d bought for a wedding reception that never happened. It was supposed to be returned but you just hadn’t gotten around to it.

    “It doesn’t scream rock n’ roll,” She inspected the green fabric under the kitchen light, “But anyone can look like Twiggy with enough eyeshadow so it’ll have to do. You should invest in club clothes, you might have to if anything goes with this guitar player.” Her eyebrows wagged.

    You rolled your eyes, taking the dress from her, “Hush, you’re just as bad as David.”

    “Your brother?” Marilla snorted, “What's he got to do with this?”

    “He's an insufferable little shit, that's what-” You pushed off your top, “At first he tried to get me with the guitar player’s flatmate but when that didn’t work he really pushed Brian and I,”

    Marilla was amused, far more amused than you, “He's a cunning thing, I’ve always liked him. Oh boy, now I really want to see your guitarist, Brian was it?”

    The club pulsed, dull lights glaring down against everything. It was smokey and smelled of weed and whiskey. The band onstage was far too loud and you clung to Marilla’s hand as she pulled you up to the bar.

    “What do you want?” She practically had to yell for you to hear but it went through you, you couldn’t think with all the noise and lights. She sighed and patted your hand, “A Moscow mule and a Roy Roger’s please.” She shouted at the bartender, “It's alright babes, no alcohol, just fancy cherry coke.” You nodded and accepted the drink, taking a tentative sip as you scanned the crowd. The band onstage had seemed to conclude their set but it didn’t make things any quieter. It was overwhelming really, moreso as Marilla started to pull you up to the front.

    “Come on, it's almost ten. Your boy’ll be up next!” She settled in front of the stage, rooting you to the spot next to her.

    Brian’s flatmate came out, twirling a drumstick between his fingers and he was met with loud cheers. Marilla whooped, waving big up at him. He was followed by the bass player, Brian, and the singer. They were all enthralling, and you were enraptured. The boys on stage looked ethereal, in flowy tops and sparkly makeup. The frontman was clad in glittery jewelry and the bass player wore platform boots. Their music drew you in and eased your nerves about how crowded the club was. The last song had a guitar solo and as he played Brian’s eyes met yours. A rose of warmth bloomed into your cheeks and he grinned, fingering at the chords.

    Marilla, immune to none, elbowed you in the ribs, “That's him?!”

    You nodded, “It is,”

    “Damn girlie! Good for you! But for the record, I think I like the drummer,”

    “His name is Roger. If you come backstage with me you can meet him.”

    She grinned, “I’m so proud of you, getting connections!” As they finished Roger flung one of his drumsticks into the crowd. You flinched as Marilla’s hand shot out. She squawked as she caught it, quickly tucking it into her pants and taking your hand, pulling you towards the back lounge. She pushed at the thin curtain to the side, slipping in.

    It was quieter and you watched people in glamorous outfits dally about. A redhead in hot pants dropped onto the shabby leather sofa, passing glass bottles of something to both the drummer and bassist. The singer was swirling what you could only assume to be a cosmopolitan. He looked up, catching sight of you and Marilla, both looking a bit lost.

    “Hello, come come!” The singer waved you over and Marilla practically dragged you.

    “You are spectacular!” She raved, “All of you, magical!” She tugged the stick out of her waistband and made her way to the drummer.

    You cleared your throat, “You really are amazing, you have a lovely voice.”

    The brunette smiled, “Thank you! I’m Freddie by the way, our charming drummer is Roger. The lovely John plays bass and Brian should be around here somewhere, he plays the guitar.”

    “It's nice to meet you, Freddie, I’m [Name]. I was actually looking for Brian,” You twiddled with your fingers, looking down, “He asked to meet here tonight. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is would you?”

    “You know, he may have popped to the kitchen. I’ll show you,” Freddie stood up. He seemed to catch your hesitation, glancing back to Marilla, “I’ll keep an eye on her. Roggie really is no harm, he plays much bigger than he actually is, I don’t think he could hurt a soul. Not an undeserving one at least.” He started towards the kitchen with you in tow.

    Aforementioned kitchen was small and shockingly clean. Your guitarist sat on the counter with a glass of water.

    Brian seemed to be in his own world until Freddie caught his attention, “Someone’s been looking for you, my dear,”

    Brian looked up, “[Name]! Hello, I’m so glad you came!” He slid off the counter setting his drink down, “Did you bring your friend?”

    “I did, she’s become infatuated with Roger though.”

    He grinned, “Oh Rog seems to do that to some people.”

    “Well, I'll leave you to it!” Freddie called, waving and walking back to the lounge.

    When the door shut Brian began to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, “I left my guitar in the other room, I could go and grab it if you’d still like to learn that song.” He studied your face, “But you don’t look comfortable, are you alright?”

    “Yes, this just isn’t really my scene. I’m not used to the noise and everything, there's a lot of people here.”

    He smiled sympathetically, “I know, it's crowded. There's a nice little diner just down the road, we could walk there and talk if you’d like.”

    You nodded, “Sure, that would be lovely.”

    The air was crisp and it brought you back to reality from the club. Brian had lent you an extra sweater he had brought, it was warm but you had to roll the sleeves a few times. It was quiet as you walked, the occasional car rushing past. The sidewalk narrowed as you got closer to the strip of restaurants and you felt the back of Brian’s hand brush yours. You caught his fingers, lacing yours into them and nervously looking up. His expression mimicked yours, jittery and shy and totally taken.

    “You look very pretty,” He murmured, thumbing over your knuckles, “That green looks very nice on you.”

    You smiled, “Thank you, you look lovely as well.”

    “Oh pish posh, this is just stage wear. But I’m glad you think it looks okay, Rog said I looked frumpy.”

    You giggled, “Marilla, the one who brought me, called me prudish earlier.”

    His laugh was soft, “Well, we can be fashion disappointments to our friends together,” He pulled open the door to MaryAnne’s Diner, holding it for you.

    You were settled in a booth waiting for your order when Brian spoke, “David really has potential,”

    “With the guitar? I’m not surprised, he's always been good at everything he tries. It's really quite annoying, how brilliant he is.”

    “He seems so, a very nice kid. Does he live with you?”

    “No no,” You smiled, “No he lives with our mum, he just sneaks out to see me more than he should. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for letting me sit in, I know it's not common practice. I just worry about him, he seems so much older than he actually is and I’m worried it’ll get him in trouble one day.”

    Brian patted your hand, “Oh darling, I understand. I really don’t mind at all, I’m glad I met you.”

    “I’m glad I’ve met you as well.”

    He had walked you home, contently explaining the story behind one of the constellations he saw.

    He stalled at the door, keeping your hand in his, “So I suppose I’ll see you next week?”

    “Absolutely,”

    He moved one hand to push a piece of hair out of your face, “Well until then I suppose,”

    You leaned up, closing in on him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks, “Is this okay?”

    He nodded, “More than,” And pulled you into him. 

     He was as gentle in kissing you as he was in everything else, carefully nudging his nose against yours. His mouth was warm and he stroked your mandible, easing deeper into the kiss. He relished in the taste of maraschino cherry from the Roy Roger’s you’d had earlier. You gasped softly as he nipped at your bottom lip, pulling away. The lipgloss he had been wearing was smeared against the corner of your mouth and he carefully wiped at it with his thumb.

    David would never let you hear the end of this either.

#Brian May #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagines #queen #lennie writes