#((this all said the appeal is in the illusion of all this

[awkward-teabag]

Sadly this won't happen until after countless innocent people fall victim to it and generations are screwed, 'cause yeah, it's an easy play—appeal to racism and xenophobia for votes and so people don't have to think about the cause of their problems actually being capitalism and (largely) white men.

Because we do need immigration and have needed it for a long time.

Housing? That's Canada's top GDP industry by several percent. That's average since it varies provincially but BC's was 17.7% in 2023. The second highest sector was construction at 10.3%. We have a ton of housing already, the problem is private companies and individuals being able to buy up most of the new supply as it comes out.

Canada's real estate is also used as a tax haven like Panama and the Bahamas are used by companies and rich individuals to avoid paying taxes. It's also used to transfer large sums of money and launder money, something at least the previous BC Liberal government knew about and was fine with.

Then came the construction boom where private developers were building around AirBnB and that whole can of worms and people buying "investment property" on a bubble.

The supply is there—dare I say we have an excess of supply—it's just in private hands and a faux scarcity is used to keep prices high.

---

Education? Education is one of those sectors that governments slash funding for to make up lowering taxes or increasing funding elsewhere so the budget still looks balanced and that the government looks like it knows its finances (and that the previous government looks like it was bad/hiding money).

Thing is, though, post-secondary institutions have to make up the funding cuts in some way. There are laws they have to follow when increasing tuition for Canadian students but no such laws exist for international students, so they court international students more and more. There's even predatory cottage industries that have popped up to make it easier and to spread propaganda that Canada is where people want to go... so long as the "recruiters" get a cut of it.

---

Jobs? Foreign workers are used to keep wages down across the board and funnel more money up. Abuse of it by companies actually goes back to at least 2013. Yes Trudeau expanded it but it was Harper who expanded it first in 2006; it was Paul Martin or Jean Chretien who changed it to included "low-skill work" as, up until that point, it was aimed at high-skilled work such as recruiting foreign doctors.

The Wikipedia page on it has dozens of citations for anyone interested and the controversies section is more than double the synopsis, history, and employment sections combined. Wage suppression and increased unemployment comes up time and again in the cited articles.

One of my favourites is the one that says 65% of the net new jobs in Saskatchewan from 2008-2011 were held by foreign workers. You know, a time period where there was a right-wing provincial government and a right-wing federal government and Justin Trudeau was years away from being prime minister.

---

Healthcare? Much like education, it gets treated as a piggy bank to make budgets seem balanced and decades of it being treated as such has resulted in poorer and poorer services. There's also an effort, intentional or otherwise, to make is bad enough so people will accept two-tier or privatized healthcare. That has nothing to do with immigration and everything to do with wanting to privatize national services.

---

It's easy to blame Trudeau and encourage racism and xenophobia for the votes, something Poilievre and conservative parties are very much doing, but this has been in the works for decades and the is the result of unfettered capitalism and neoliberal policies at the provincial and federal level for those decades.

The main thing is the whole thing is finally and very visibly collapsing in a way that its effects can be felt by more than just "kids" but instead of addressing long-standing issues or how multiple governments propped those systems up, more and more bodies are being thrown at it in an attempt to keep it going so nothing has to change.

But you don't see many people concerned about why that is or how unsustainable the systems are. Instead you see people thinking it's immigrants who started it all (with some conspiracies going so far as to say it's a collective effort by foreign governments to destabilize Canada and the immigrants are in on it), often paired with it only becoming an issue in 2015 for some mysterious reason. /s

Can't wait til the people complaining about the "impacts" of immigration learn the hard way that immigration was never the problem 🤭. Everything's still going to be bad, folks!

~~~~

[speedyspectra]

XXX

Despite being in charge and in control throughout most work days (or perhaps because of it) Spectra has found that she gets a lot of enjoyment out of being more submissive in bed. The safe and consensual illusion of having no control and being left to the whims of a partner is incredibly thrilling and does a lot for her own enjoyment. The idea of being overpowered and used is more than enough to make her squirm.

[vyva-melinkolya]

we all agree that the push towards short form, vertical video (tiktok/reels/shorts) is ruining fucking everything right? Tiktok has been useful for the dissemination of political information (e.g Gaza) i’ll give it that, but that feels moreso a result of meta and twitters algorithms being just a little *more*’evil and censor happy. And i want to make it very clear that my hatred for tiktok has nothing to do with the fact that it was a product of a Chinese company, because i see a lot of critiques relying on some sort of sinophobic conspiracy. On the contrary, it’s what tiktok has become in the vacuum of western popular culture and marketing that makes me fearful.

I know that every generation faces a new, polarizing technology and inevitably, there are those among said generation who will critique it. That is the nature of things. However, there is also something to be said about how, with the acceleration of technology (running parallel to the acceleration of capitalism, acceleration towards collapse etc), each coming generation faces an increasingly more malevolent “advancement”. TLDR, i’m going to talk my shit.

I’m going to speak on the aspect that is most relavent to me, as a musician. I am petrified by what short form video is doing to music and to musicians. I think that tiktok provides the illusion of making music and being a musician more “accessible” while actually pouring gasoline on the fire that the pop music machine had already started. Standards for what popular culture “expects” from music are being doubled and tripled. Let’s talk about song length. Success and marketability favoring shorter songs is not something new, it has been the trend for decades. But with short form video, it goes even further. You’re not just hearing the same song over and over on the radio, you’re hearing the same 15-30 seconds of the same song over and over again. This in-turn, starts to influence the way people write music, persuading people to make songs that *could* have that 15 second appeal. There is an art to pop music, there is an art to writing a catchy hook—this is something else. We weren’t meant to hear or understand music like that. There are so many songs from reels that i found annoying, until i heard them in their full context. It’s insidious. It makes everything feel like a fucking commercial, even if nothing is being advertised.

I’m going to pull directly from someone else’s experiences, someone who’s music seems to be everywhere on short form videos. The ambient musician My Head Is Empty has a hundred million streams on the song “i was only temporary”. Despite that exposure, they experience “never ending copywrite issues” and have “received death threats” by people who refuse to credit them when using their song. Pulling a quote here, from a comment on their own post

“vyva_melinkolya unfortunately it just gets worse. i saw a bot content page that steals pod cast footage and spams dozens of videos with my song stolen, comment on a "motivation" spam content , who actually made a post telling people the name of my song, and the previous page i mentioned, the pod cast spam commented on that video saying "Bro stop don't give out the sauce. this audio helps me pull numbers brooo" - so people are actively INTENTIONALLY stealing it and telling people to not credit me. like. u can't make this stuff up”

Beyond this, My Head Is Empty feels frustrated that despite all this exposure, the rest of their work (nine albums) as a musician remains under appreciated, and i think that frustration is 100% valid. People cannot fully appreciate music, or even understand it as a work of art created by another human, when it’s taken so far out of its context. Again, the soul being sucked out of art by “the machine” isn’t anything new but, this is a whole other level. Being a musician is more expensive than ever, streaming earns you fractions of a cent etc, it all feeds into itself.

When a song or a musician i love deeply finds its way on to tiktok (let’s use Duster’s “Stars Will Fall”, one of my favorite songs ever as an example)I am not upset that i cant “gatekeep” it anymore. I’m not upset by the idea of something I love and hold dearly finding a larger audience. I AM upset in the manner in which it is being disseminated. I’m upset with art I hold dear to me being chopped up and used as “trending audio”. When I saw Duster in concert recently, lStars Will Fall” was the song I was most looking forward to hearing. It was the last song they played, and it was the song seemly everyone chose to talk loudly over. The audience was mostly people my age and younger. This complaint might come off as petty or pretentious or cliche, i frankly do not give a shit.

Let’s talk about how musicians are expected to promote music on tiktok/reels. This is a matter of opinion, at the risk of sounding very pretentious: the “POV we are x band from x” “My label says i need x followers before x” “posting this video until c musician notices me”. I understand that some of it is in jest but, what the fuck? When did this become the norm? I do not blame anyone for promoting their music like this, but we should want more for ourselves. I’ve always said being a musician is deeply embarassing, inherently. If being a musician is inherently embarassing then what is this? I dont have a solution for this, and the music industry has always been ugly and bloodthirsty and seldom fruitful— but i feel like the very small amount of dignity we had as artists is now lost and I cant fucking stand it. Artists seem to promote the same single with dozens of reels over the course of months, hoping that something sticks. I dont want to sound like i’m shaming or, again, sound like i can provide a solution. I’m just very fucking sorry that it seems like this is “the way”. And personally, i’m scared that if i dont “get with the program”, im going to fail.

Again, all of this speaks to larger trends in entertainment industry and even larger trends in capitalism. But i’m just airing specifics right now because frankly? I cant take it anymore.

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Chauffeur.

Yan Aventurine x F Reader.

Synopsis: Life has always made losers out of people like you. You dream even now that that could be changed. But can it really?

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, drugging, misogyny, abuse of power, and mentions of violence.

Word Count: 3.2k.

*~*~*~*

When thrust into a world filled with illusions of chance, one can only hope that change will soon arise.

The company, the appearances, the losers, the winners; nothing ever changes, not even the dreams that things will.

How you are treated is a gamble all on its own too, despite you wishing it were not so. Lady Luck has yet to smile upon you, but instead of gifting you with snake eyes, she gives you the utmost displeasure of being slapped, being threatened, or having your salary lowered. You sometimes wish she would just give you the lowest score on a physical die instead of an invisible one.

You wish she would have made you less appealing to unwanted stares, would have made you have a burned face that would scare off anyone as soon as they looked at you. Hell, even make you be an old woman begging for spare change. That would be a better existence than to live in this body, where you are forced to wave and smile and conceal the bruises and slap marks whenever they appear in a place not covered by your dress. Not that your dress covers anything.

You have three jobs in this casino. Your first one is to spin the wheel or make the letters visible after all the bets are placed and the speaker gives you the signal to do so. Your second one is to always look presentable, your boss’s definition of “best”. Appearances will bring in more onlookers, he said. Just get yourself all dolled up. Okay, toots?

You conform every time your clothes change in color, size, and pattern because after all, they could just replace you with someone more willing.

After all, you have your mouth to feed and your own back to clothe.

So, you endure not all of it, but most of it. You endure the times your assigned makeup artist has called you a whore for not letting him stay in your room during his breaks, the times the suited mascot of this place squeezed you a bit too tight when you were told to take a few photos with him. You pretend not to notice things like that, because if you start a conflict who knows what will happen?

The applause of onlookers is always paired up with lewd comments about your body instead of congratulations to the winner.

The heels you are paid to wear always manage to make you trip onto someone, or rely on some flirty stranger to help you walk to and fro. Your manager told you to grow your hair out when you first started working here, and when it finally reached the desired length he gave you very few options when it came to which hairstyle you wanted. If you remember correctly, it couldn’t have been more than four. All of them had curtain bangs and waves. There was even one, you think, that had something to do with bleaching.

You opted for the one that let you keep the most of your natural hair pattern, not that that was a lot. 

Your dresses always come with a slit to see one of your legs. Temptations bring in more dreams, and with dreams come people wanting to be big shots. That is what your boss said to you after you questioned your given work wardrobe. You did not want his glare and mocking laugh to be aimed at you any longer, so you nodded and went to change. He praised you for it later, but your brain protected itself by not remembering what he said.

All you can recall is the way you shuttered at him wrapping an arm around your bare shoulders,  a lit cigarette in his hand.

You don’t shutter as often anymore after he scowled and threatened to place it on your palm.

Your world is simpler than it was before when you were sleeping on the streets and given just barely enough to scrape by. You only have three jobs to do, but the third one holds the most importance. Sabotage the gamble. Never let them win unless they hold enough power that your boss permits you to stand back.

There have been very few instances of that happening, but they happen nonetheless. They are this casino’s equivalent of a blue moon. There are telltale signs before you are told of their status. Their clothes are always glittering like an invisible spotlight is on them. They always have guards, and people sticking to their arms like glue just itching for a taste. It is an even rarer sight to see one of them being chosen to be their partner for the night. You can tell when a person can buy you off with their proportion of pocket change. Not that anyone has, much to your gratitude.

This man is just like them. You can sense the ego dripping off of him, and can sense how much all those rings on his fingers cost.

This is the real deal. You can tell. That earring of his is probably worth twice that of all of your organs. That is being generous with the price you would most likely hold on the black market. In reality, perhaps thrice. That is not even going into his pink sunglasses, which have tiny gems stuck on the sides. 

He has a gun holster, you think, but the gun itself is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps one of his men is holding it for him. Perhaps.

From the corner of your eye, you see your boss amongst the crowd, nodding slowly at you. He is sitting in a booth a bit more distanced from the others, three women on either side of him. Every time he sits there, it is your first signal that something is surely going to happen. Good or bad. This time it is good, and you will end the night with nothing less than a few thousand credits for playing your part well. Last time it was bad, and you ended up having so much more than a simple slap on the wrist.

He has three dice between his pointer and middle fingers. One green, one teal, and one dark blue. They are each twelve-sided from what you can see, but the sigils remain unseen by you. Maybe for the best, you think, you don’t want him to take up as much memory space as he already has.

All you want is for this shift to be over, but with this unplanned patron skipping the line of gamblers to gamble himself, who knows how long until the dice stops rolling?

Your fellow staff members look happier, displaying genuine smiles on their faces. Not that you can blame them though, most of them are new hires because your boss tends to fire people on the daily.

“Hold on a sec, please. Madam, I would like to use my lucky charms before you spin the wheel. If you don’t mind, that is.” The man requests. It is not a sincere question, you note, because he clasps onto the dice in his palm so lightly like they are gravity-resistant.

Instead of looking at him, you look at your boss first. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you any longer with what looks like one of the women being straddled on his left thigh. Hmm. It’s your call then, you suppose. 

“Sure,” You answer, trying to put on your best polite grin. “Who am I to deny such an… experienced gambler?”

“Thank you for the praise,” He replies, his free arm bending as he scratches the back of his head. “But you… misunderstand, I am just a simple bettor, nothing more.”

The positioned desk with a microphone attached has just become this casino’s newest playing ground. Faster than you can blink, the dice are let out of his hand and roll. When they stop, you can hear cheers and praises, as if they are all meant for him. 

A spotlight is focused on him too, a color more dazzling than the brightest glittering gold.

“I’m going to choose the peach.”

You nod and spin the wheel, all of the colors blurring together, slowly but surely soon coming to a stop.

The pink area with the same peach is on the pointer, and the crowd all clap their hands and dance.

*~*~*~*

During your breaks, you are allowed to go to your recovery room to do whatever limited array of activities your bookshelf and dusty boxes under your bed had in store for you. The breaks are always nothing more than half an hour, but you earned the right to have your breaks’ minimal times be nothing less than ten minutes.

“I just… noticed you never play the games you so often assist, that’s all.” The blond stranger continues to follow as you speedily walk down the hallway to the backrooms. Little by little, the golden paint that coats the walls turns into a dull beige, a sure sign that your treasured little hiding place is near.

“I wish I could but right now I have my lunch break, sir.”

His speed is nowhere near diminishing, no, if anything it is getting more profound.

If you did not have unwanted company, if you did not have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, if you did not have this job you hate to your very core, you would have torn the high heels off of your blistered feet.

But you cannot because you do have unwanted company, you do have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, you do have this job you hate to your very core. So, the high heels stay on and make sounds with every step you take.

“Come on, Miss [First]. I know you want to.” You have been unable to get him off your back for the past ten minutes. Even when you attempted to walk around the less crowded parts of this casino in circles, he was there. “[First]. A lovely name, if I say so myself. [First], [First], [First].”

It takes everything in you not to frown or cross your arms. That could be considered rude, especially to someone as high standing as this man. “Utmost sincere apologies, sir, but I really-”

“Aventurine.” He interrupts. “It’s Aventurine, Miss. You don’t have to call me sir, you know. We’re alone here in this stank hallway. Without my money, I’m just like you, and I’m sure we can become great friends.”

“In my opinion, I believe that there are better people than me to form connections with, Mister Aventurine.” You try not to huff in frustration, but you could have sworn that one was let out.

In the distance, you see your recovery room, the number two on it turning off and on every few seconds.

It has always been that way. The only one who often gets renovations to their living quarters is your boss. The rest of you are nothing more than cow fodder to him, even his assistants.

“You should head back, Mister Aventurine.” You say, the smile on your face trying its hardest not to fade as you turn to look at him. “I don’t want your seat at the pinball machine to be taken from you.”

“And who do you think would have the guts to steal from me?” Aventurine smirks, one of his hands lowering his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. “No one is that suicidal, that’s the hard truth.”

He winks at you faster than you can get a grip on your door’s handle. 

“Just think about it, m’kay?”

In a flash, he starts walking off, leaving you all alone.

*~*~*~*

“Ah, you’re back!”

Aventurine is at the start of the hallway, the part where the gold paint is the most pronounced.

“My break ended.” You say your answer quickly and simply as you walk past him. Instead of your high heels, you are wearing black flats.

Your feet were bleeding much more than usual when you finally made it to your room. Yeah. That is the excuse you will give to your boss if he asks. He seems drunk and is still at his little booth, not to mention it is dark in the casino at the moment, so there is quite a low chance he will.

“You don’t look so good.” Aventurine nearly shouts, causing you to walk even faster to make it to the wheel of fortune. “Did something happen?”

His voice is soon drowned out by the crowds of people talking. Just a few more seconds. A few more seconds, and he won’t be able to bother you much longer and he will head back to that pinball machine he has been hoarding for the past hour. 

You move past the ogling eyes of drunk consumers and move past the guards, who always let you behind the stage without a hassle. Your flats don’t make nearly as much noise as the heels as you walk up the five steps.

You only have three minutes before the curtains withdraw from their positions, so you pull on your bun to make it tighter and put the stray baby hairs behind your ears. You brush any dust off your dress and then brush off any dust that is on the gambling wheel. The cleaners only work after all the shows are done and all the guests go home, so it is up to you to make sure the show is always looking its best.

You hear the countdown from the electric speakers and the onlookers.

“Five! Four!”

You take a few deep breaths.

“Three!”

You hear the confetti cannons turn on.

You close your eyes and think about the best possible future, one where you can be happy. Where you can be yourself. Where your smiles are real. Where your happiness is real. Reading for as much as your heart desires. Trying all the delicious-looking food no matter how strange it may look. 

“Two!”

Instead of hearing the number one, you just hear more cheers.

The curtains move to the designated sides of the stage, and the near-blinding spotlight shines at you. You smile, waving at the crowds of people, until you see something that nearly causes your facade to crumble down.

Aventurine stands there at the start of the line, holding his three dice just like before.

*~*~*~*

You avoid Aventurine just long enough for the casino to close for the night. It was not an easy task by any means, but somehow retreating to the bar on the job and making simple conversations with other patrons and fellow staff members was enough to repel him.

Since it is after hours, the bartender has gone back to his room to sleep after downing five shots of Spade. He will be hungover tomorrow, that much is certain.

Ah, to only work when it is far past dusk. A dream only for your boss’s most favored employees. Aside from the bartender, there is his guard, who has been seen for the past few months being so drunk that he cannot even stand; he has to sit on the floor.

There is no room for you in that little club. But your gut tells you that it is better this way, for no one unfavored can see what goes on inside.

It is only you in this bar now, spinning around on the stool closest to the gates that lead to the other side. It’s you. Despite this job, despite everything, you are still you. All you ever have to be is you. Only you.

The glass in front of you is half full. Half full with Melancholy. It is only slightly bitter, the rest of the flavor profile being floral and refreshing. This type of shot glass is only reserved for people as high standing as Aventurine due to the little scattering of gold at the rim. 

They are stuck there so they won’t choke whoever is drinking from the cup. For once, your boss put his resources into something partially useful. If only he would do the same with your salary and put some more credits into it.

The door’s chiming bell rings. You hear the front door then close. Did the bartender forget to lock the door?

Should you say something? You don’t want to get in trouble with your boss tomorrow, and his hangover will certainly make his wrath ten times worse than it already was.

The sound of footsteps doesn't fade, and another sound accompanies it soon enough; Aventurine’s voice.

“Hey. Just wanted to drop by. See what you’re doing this late all alone, you know?” 

Before you can turn around and politely ask him to leave, he sits on the stool beside you. Vibrant eyes make contact with yours.

A hand goes on your shoulder, squeezing with a purpose; to keep you quiet.

“Are you drunk? You smell like Blossom Dew and Soothing Soda. Heavily.” 

He's exaggerating, you know this. You've barely had a sip. It's not nearly enough to get you intoxicated. Not at this early into the after-hours. You still need to have a few more beverages before heading to your room for the night.

“Mister Aventurine, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” As he chuckles, your body instinctively reacts, possibly as a protective response. You wouldn’t blame it for acting this way, even under ordinary circumstances.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making orders like that. Maybe if you worked for the IPC, but you’d have to work at the speed of light to get anything close to my ranking.” His hands slither from his sides to your glass, tilting it so he can see the dark yellow liquid within it. “Hmm. Do you not have a high alcohol tolerance, Miss [First]?”

“I do.” You rebuke. He shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t think I should believe you, honestly.” With one of his hands, he takes off his pink sunglasses, putting them beside your cup. “Maybe if you drank the rest of it in one gulp.” With a slam, he puts a stack of credits on the table. “Go on, do it and I’ll give you enough credits to leave Penacony forever. I promise.”

Who are you to decline such an enticing proposition, despite your distaste for the man's company? This employment, with all its hardships, can vanish if you are simply granted the funds. Thus, you hastily consume the remainder of your beverage without deliberation.

You’re too focused on the bet at hand to notice the unusual saltiness.

With a wide grin, he applauds enthusiastically, his cheers echoing through the stillness. However, his clapping abruptly ceases, leaving behind an unexpected emptiness. In its place, a throbbing headache emerges, surpassing the intensity of any typical morning-after discomfort.

The fall into a state of unconsciousness is far from effortless; it feels more like a sudden, jarring blow to the face, sharp and agonizing. 

“I’ll keep my word, that is a gambler's responsibility after all."

[attonitos-gloria]

Oppenheimer has a scene of a very beautiful naked woman fucking a very beautiful naked man and there is zero sexual energy displayed on screen. Zero. Said woman stops halfway through it and makes the man (Oppenheimer himself) read a poem in Sanskrit about death, which the audience is supposed to associate with the atomic bomb. There is a second attempt at romance: Oppenheimer flirts while explaining quantum mechanics. Looking into his future wife's eyes under his big eyelashes, he says that matter is mostly empty, negative space; it's the bond between atoms that creates the illusion of matter being solid. What we experience as touch, he says while holding her hand, is the repulsion of this bond that stops one body from going through the other. It was in fact appealing to me, but then by the end of the movie Oppenheimer has visions of carbonized bodies laid before him: his invention destroyed matter in such a brutal way that he steps not onto them but through them. So basically. All scenes about sex are not about sex; they are about death. What is about sex in fact, the climax, if you will, is death: the most erotic scene in the movie, the high point of tension that takes your breath away, is a scene of people watching an atomic bomb explode. And that really says all you need to know about how Nolan's mind operates

[hcfiles]

Of course, you can't believe everything you hear, and should not. If I write a lot of nonsense about HC on forums, who would believe that? It's simple: people lie, especially when they want to eliminate someone, they'll invent rumours to that aim. If you believe it without checking, you can easily believe in antivax and all the other conspiracy theories too! I see that there are a lot of rumours about him, but there's no proof. And of course it's always in the forums! The incident on the set of Tudor made him uncomfortable playing sex scenes because there were people around him. It must have been a gradual process. In the interviews with Amy Adams, she and the journalist made sexual references, and he was clearly uncomfortable. He realised why he was called in the films: for his looks. That couldn't help him excel. Finally, these accounts that reveal blinds do it mostly for the views.

You said something interesting: that he realized why he was called for the movies and that it was for his looks. Did he really have the illusion it was for his acting skills? Let's admit it: As an actor, he may have potential, but still has A LOT to learn and evolve. And, if surprised about the reason he was chosen, I wonder why. Wasn't he the first to sell himself as a sex symbol and to say he was on the job, for the money was good? What did he expect? As an actor, he's usually stiff (probably for being very shy and insecure). To the industry, he's great for action, hero movies. But, he needs to evolve his skills for drama and even comedy. He couldn't even let loose and relax on Boy George's video. He was clearly uncomfortable and showed that, depending on the role, he might only perform it if there's no choice and he sees himself trapped and obligated. Or he will arrange an excuse to leave or to be fired from production. But, this discussion he brought about sex scenes, as he touched on the subject in an interview for Josh, could be for feeling uncomfortable with them or TO GIVE THE IDEA HE IS UNCOMFORTABLE AND GENERATE THE DISCUSSION. People are being manipulated. And, what is curious about this is to see him bringing the discussion when it has been said his promiscuous PR is actually, a cheap porn actress. Don't get me wrong. I do believe he feels uncomfortable with sex scenes and I agree sometimes they seem unnecessary, despite appealing. But, this discussion called my attention and made me question: Why bring it? It is as if he had faced some trouble in a production because of it. So, was that the reason he left (was fired) from TW? For denying taking his clothes off and performing sex scenes? But, isn't he a jerk with women? A jerk with women wouldn't care and even would like to perform them. So, what's the truth?

[mrpenguinpants]

Emortia.

— In the retroact rain, he sees your phantom.

— Jiyan

Spoilers for Chapter 1, Act 6: Grand Warstorm Italics represent the past [Masterlist]

I only played up to chapter 2 of the main story so if anything is wrong, don't come for me. Felt like I should post this before it becomes too outdated. Sorry if this is hard to follow, I tried my best.

The Retroact Rain. Rain that contains Remnant energy that can recreate past events, and project them as Phantoms by resonating with the frequencies of the living people in the rain. Even with an antidote and the knowledge that these people and objects are just hallucinations, it doesn't make seeing fallen comrades any easier.

"Jiyan, welcome back."

It doesn't make seeing you any easier.

"I heard you got into an argument with the General. Is everything alright? If he said anything rude to you, I swear I'll plaster him with the most colorful bandages I own," you chuckled, already rifling through your supplies to produce a box of bandages for children. He's positive you only brought that box to make fun of Geshu Lin. "Cute flowers should make him less moody, don't you think Jiyan?"

Jiyan remembers that day. It was the last time he saw you before you had disappeared, presumably dead from the Tacet Discords. Perhaps it was for the best that they never found your body. That you passed somewhere far away during the evacuation. He wouldn't know what to do if your phantom met him on the battlefield, desperately crying out for help only to be silenced.

Jiyan chuckled slightly at your response. Reaching out to pluck the box from your hands. He turns the box over in his hand, the paper lid bent and creased at odd ends. It's already been opened and closed several times. "I don't think even the prettiest flowers could fix that man's sour mood," Jiyan chuckled under his breath, as if the General could overhear him if he spoke any louder. He passes the box back to you as he returns to his practiced stoic front. "The General had different views from mine. That is all." You puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms as you shook your head. Reaching out to pat him on the shoulder loudly, although it hardly hurt, it did help to let out some of the tension in his muscles simmer and relax.

The words of the General still echoed in his mind. Too soft. Too carefree. It will be to your detriment Jiyan.

He clenched his fists tightly, feeling the rain pelting against his skin and his clothes, but making no effort to seek shelter. He couldn't ignore the pang of bittersweet regret that coursed through him. The memories of bantering with you, of laughing together, of sharing moments of vulnerability, they were all still as vivid as ever. All he could do was cling to them, even though he knew that reliving those moments was the definition of a sweet sorrow. But now, in the present, it was different. There was no laughter, no promise of a future conversation. Only silence and the knowledge that those moments would never happen again.

The rain continued to fall around you, creating the illusion of a shimmering silver curtain. Jiyan could feel his heart tightening in his chest as his thoughts swirled inside his head. His hand twitching to reach out to this hallucination.

"That's all? He makes talking to a brick wall sound appealing. I swear, that guy must be hiding horns somewhere," you scoffed, rolling your eyes with annoyance written all over your face. He smiled at that. Your relationship with Geshu Lin was always something that puzzled him. He could sense the unwavering bond you shared, as well as your deep affection for the man. Even though it appeared on the surface that you didn't view Geshu Lin in a positive light, you were his closest companion. Jiyan never had the chance to ask about what your relationship with Geshu Lin was, but he could tell you loved him. Romantically or not. "You do know that you have terrible taste in men, right?" he asked lightly, the tease in his tone carefully masking his bitterness. You immediately flushed bright red, squawking and making the most unflattering noises he's ever heard come from a human being while you attempt to hit his shoulder in embarrassment. His heart squeezes as he falls in love again.

Your hand goes right through him, a cold sensation that digs straight into his bones. A voice filtered and robotic, one where he can't even see half your face because you're not real. He needs to turn around and look away before he falls prey to the rain he so aggressively has been fighting all these years.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave.

"I-I do not! Besides, it's not like that at all! He and I- we're not- we're not like that!" you splutter, making vague hand gestures in the air as you attempt to form a coherent sentence before slumping over in defeat. The tips of your ears are so red that he almost wants to reach out and touch them. His fingers twitching at his sides before his hand snaps back to his side when you jerk your head back up. You squint at him, sending him your nasiest stink eye. It's cute. But he still raises his hands in mock surrender. It's always been so easy to act silly around you. "I know. I'm just teasing you," he said softly, unable to tear his gaze away. "Geez, you're almost as bad as Geshu Lin..." you mumble, before placing your hands back on your hip. He didn't miss the lighthearted note in your tone. As much as you pretended to be annoyed, he knew that you secretly relished in his playful teasing. "Ah- but don't tell him I said that. Anyways, hurry up and go! And don't blame me if you get reprimanded for being late! And don't forget your promise or I'll be plastering you with cute bandages!"

In the past, this is where he had been called away by another soldier. He had laughed at your expression while you attempted to throw your pen at him, nimbly dodging with the promise that he would talk to you when he returned. Now, in the future, he'll never be able to fulfill that promise. His gaze lingers on your illusionary presence for a moment before he continues on his way. There's still a lot of work that needs to be done before he can rest. Too many battles that need to be won before he can face his fallen comrades with a proud face. The next time he sees you, he hopes to tell you that they've won. That the rain no longer falls.

As he turns to go, he misses your last words. The same way he missed them all those years ago.

"Bad taste in men huh? I guess so. They never seem to catch a hint," You mumble as the door slides closed. You turn to stare out the window, droplets of water running down the glass as you whisper a promise to yourself. "I'll tell him when it stops raining."

Another promise that was swept away with the rain.

[rottenpumpkin13]

As a fun way of competition for the spooky season, SOLDIER and the Turks are both ghost hunting in an attempt to see who can actually capture a real ghost or cryptid on camera as proof of which of the departments is the most bravest. Plot twist that it's mostly the two teams tricking the other with fake props and illusions in an attempt to scare the others into quitting.

*Sephiroth and Zack approach Angeal and Genesis with a camera*

Zack: Check out what we got for the "who can actually capture a real ghost on camera" competition with the Turks!

Angeal: Notice how you people never have a "who can actually finish they're work on time" competition.

Zack:

Angeal: This is why Tseng is in nature therapy.

Zack: Anyway! We got this thermal camera that's a fool-proof way of capturing an entity on camera and proving that ghosts are real.

Sephiroth: A thermal camera detects the heat emitted by objects and converts it into a visual representation, making it an efficient tool for paranormal investigation.

Genesis: Really? You? I thought you were too pragmatic to believe in ghosts.

Sephiroth: Actually, I'm a firm believer in the paranormal. Ever since I jumped through that portal as a young teenager to retrieve Glenn and ended up at a pumpkin festival in the town of Nibelheim, where we had to fight pumpkin monsters and I was deprived of pumpkin soup, creating a void within me which has never properly healed.

Genesis, ignoring him: Anyway, when are we going to—

Zack: You're not going to address what he just said??

Genesis: Thank you, but I choose innner peace.

Sephiroth:

Angeal: Ok, boot the camera up and let's get this over with.

*Zack turns the lights off, flicks the camera on and pans it around the room*

Zack: OH MY GOD. I SEE THREE GHOSTS AND ONE OF THEM HAS ANGEAL'S FACE.

Angeal: YOU'RE POINTING IT AT US.

Zack: Oh.

*Zack points the camera somewhere else*

Zack: OH MY GOD. THERE'S A GHOST WIELDING AN AXE.

Genesis: Preposterous! Let me see!

*They all look into the camera and sure enough, there's an outline of a figure holding an axe at the end of the hallway*

Angeal: WHAT THE FUCK

Genesis: I'm unperturbed and know exactly what to do.

Zack: REALLY?

Genesis: Yes.

*Genesis grabs Sephiroth and shields himself with his body*

Genesis: TAKE HIM INSTEAD. YOU CAN ADOPT HIM BECAUSE HE DOESN'T HAVE PARENTS.

Sephiroth: Should I be concerned when that outcome sounds appealing to me?

Angeal: GUYS! THIS IS BAD! THERE'S AN AXE MURDERING ENTITY RIGHT THERE!

Zack: WHAT DO WE DO?

Sephiroth: THIS IS WORSE THAN THE TIME I JUMPED THROUGH THAT PORTAL AS A YOUNG TEENAGER TO RETRIEVE GLENN AND ENDED UP AT A PUMPKIN FESTIVAL IN THE TOWN OF NIBELHEIM, WHERE WE HAD TO FIGHT PUMPKIN MONSTERS AND I WAS DEPRIVED OF—

Genesis: WHEN WILL YOU LET IT GO?

Sephiroth: NEVER.

*The shadow figure raises it's axe, Zack, Genesis and Angeal all scream and run away*

Sephiroth: …

*Sephiroth turns on the light. Cloud is standing there, wielding a fake axe*

Sephiroth: …

Cloud: Reno paid me to stand here.

(MEANWHILE)

Reno: Sir! We got video evidence of a paranormal entity just like you asked, but we're warning you, it's intense.

Cissnei: Seriously, it's very disturbing.

Rude: We advise you not to watch it.

Rufus: Just show it to me.

*They show him a video of Zack with a sheet draped over his head*

Rufus: That is quite literally Zack fair with a sheet over his head. There's nothing scary nor paranormal about this, and I can't believe you wasted my time.

*Sephiroth walks by on screen with Jenova's shadow following him*

Rufus: SHIT

[littlefeltsparrow]

There’s this running theme of Feyre forgiving those who have wronged her, while Rhysand aggressively asserts that he will never forgive them.

We see this with Nesta and Lucien, and the whole song and dance of Rhysand refusing to forgive those who hurt Feyre or those he perceived to have hurt Feyre can be understood as a kind of fantasy. I’ve said it before, but Rhysand’s aggression towards individuals who harmed Feyre appeals to a desire to be defended by a much stronger party against an enemy you were once powerless against (all while never having to ask them and in many cases, disavowing such a reaction)

Readers who relate to Feyre can take pleasure in seeing the ones who harmed her (according to the text) be punished through becoming dominated by her new powerful and devoted protectors. Making them feel guilty for their actions, making them submit to her through force or intimidation to engage in a kind of indulgent performance of self-flagellation. We see this with the hike Nesta is forced to go on, the purpose of this hike is not for her self-actualization, but for the pleasure of seeing her in intense emotional and physical pain. The wish fulfillment narrative takes pleasure in watching her grovel for Feyre’s forgiveness, which is why it goes back on the sisters relationship development multiple times. Maas just can’t help herself.

For Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord in all the land and being impossibly powerful, flatters the reader through his aggressive defending of Feyre. Feyre who was once her family’s mule (in ACOTAR’s ridiculous and drawn out sequence of indulgent suffering porn) can magnanimously forgive her sisters for their past mistakes, while also having them punished whilst disavowing that very punishment. This is especially apparent with Nesta, the frequent subject of Rhysand’s ire, who is disproportionately punished for her past wrongdoings.

I recognize it, but I really can’t buy into the pleasure of the wish fulfillment in the story because I don’t think that Nesta or Lucien ever deserved the harsh treatment they got. Their past actions weren’t bad enough to justify such horrendously cruel treatment and intimidation on the part of the IC. This breaks the illusion and makes me dislike the IC and Feysand.

[bitter-me]

Mortals and Fools

Lyney | M. Reader

----------

"Love makes you break all the rules.."

----------

For centuries he live, never had he come across such a bright and joyful human.

He always smiles... as if he doesn't have a care in the world.

The Fae was intrigued by this, how come this human be so lively with all the things going around him? He had lived long enough to knew just how cruel the world truly is.

The world is cruel.

He had fought tooth and nail for his country, with a sword and blood on his hands. He brought his country to victory and glory. Even if it was centuries ago... the memory is still fresh in his mind, like it was just yesterday.

Filled with curiosity and interest...

He stayed.

He stayed and watch as this intriguing human does his shows. Bringing "magic" to life through his tricks and illusions.

.

.

Magic is merely a trick. An illusion. And yet some like to believe it. They see it as an escape, an escape from reality. The moment you stepped into the Opera Epiclese you entered a wonderland where magic truly exist. Where the impossible seems possible.

That is the essence of magic and entertainment.

A simple trick, a blink and you'll miss it, a flick of a wrist

It's so simple yet it's enough to catch everyone's attention and bring wonder and joy to their eyes. The way their eyes shine every time a trick is done. Quite the mesmerizing sight. It's always a joy to be able to see them.

It's the same thing with love.

"Is that what you truly believe?"

"Huh?"

"That love is just as mesmerizing and wonderful as magic?"

Lyney turned his head to the voice and saw none other than the Fae himself, [Name] [L. Name]. Living for hundreds of years, he knew for a fact that love isn't as wonderful as Lyney says it to be.

Love is cruel.

So cruel... it hurts you to your core and there's no cure for it. Therefore.. you'll continue to live with an aching heart. Forever hurting. And nothing can change that. Nothing can cure it.

"I do, yes." Lyney smiles softly as he looks at the Heliotrope on his hand, twirling it between his fingers. "It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

"To me it's not. You believe in the spell of this thing that you call "love." It's revolting." The Fae huffed as he crossed his arms, he sat there at the window sill as he watches the human he had learned to call friend tend to the flowers he's going to use for his show.

That's another thing he can't wrap his head around. Why the flowers? And why Heliotrope? Of all flowers? Shouldn't he be using roses?

Either way, he barely cares enough to ask.

"Revolting? Why is that?" Lyney asked, looking up from the Heliotrope to meet [Name]'s gaze. Curious as to why the Fae have such a horrible view of love. He knew that [Name] is immortal and had lived for hundreds of years, so what had he gone through to have such a point of view?

"Try as I will, I just don't understand it. Love is for mortals and fools. It never turns out quite the way that you planned it. So why do you break all the rules just for love?"

.

.

At first, he doesn't get it. Why Heliotrope? He doesn't understand the appeal, especially because Lyney's a magician. Why not roses?

It was later when he learned the meaning of the flower... it was later when the other gave him a bouquet of them... it was later when he gave it.. smiling from ear to ear... saying those sweet words to him as if he truly meant it from the bottom of his heart...

Those oh so sweet words...

Never would he thought he'll have the luxury of ever hearing him say those words and to him, no less.

At that very moment... [Name] finally knew why the magician prefers Heliotrope than roses....

Because they symbolizes devotion and eternal love.

Oh..... OH....

"'Love is for mortals and fools.'" That's what he said and he meant it with every word.

For his heart ach every time he set eyes on him. Love is cruel as it only brought pain and suffering for him. He knew that this wouldn't last and yet....

Why..?

Why must his heart beats for this mere mortal? This mere magician?

Was it the way he smiled at him? The way his eyes seems to glow brightly every time the magician saw a glimpse of him? How he laughed? How he acted? This is all so confusing to him...

"'Try as I will, I just don't understand it.'" Oh how true those words were...

He can't understand it... Love... Loving someone.. is such a foreign thing to him and what he knew... it brings nothing but pain and despair...

This won't last... none of this would last... how could it not?

Loving a mortal has always been a curse to immortals.

He'll die.

One day he'll day and [Name] could no longer see that smile of his, a smile that could brighten a whole room. Such a lovely mortal... such a lovely human... such a lovely magician... such a lovely person... such a lovely...

Lyney.

For the first few years, [Name] would always refuse to call him that... always calling him, "Human" every time. But over the years... as time passes... [Name] had grew fond of that name and therefore, start addressing him as such.

"Lyney.... My dear Lyney.."

"If love is for mortals and fools..."

"Then you can call me a fool."

"I Love You Too, My Dear Lyney."

.

.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry it took me this long to say it to you...."

"Your skin may not be as smooth as before... your hearing may not be as good as before... your memory... may not be as good as before.."

"....Unlike me who remain the same.."

"But similar to my never changing appearance... similar to my eternal youth..."

"My love will still remain the same... My Dear Lyney..."

[harlowtales]

Jack and Y/N stir up the toxic 😤 ☣️ ❤️

18 PLUS ONLY - Adult Themes

There was one night Jack came in high and had been drinking which he doesn’t usually do. He crept into your room where you stayed in his condo to cater to his every need as his assistant. He crashed beside you as you lay there frozen. Trying to move him was like trying to move a brick.

Had he wandered into your room thinking it was his? Did he think you were his latest fling that would stay over some nights? Those nights that were so awkward when one of Jack’s flavours of the month would stay over and in the morning you would find some confused girl in the fridge rummaging around for a snack in his Tshirt and boy underwear.

Jack would always shoot you a look as whoever it was this time blew him a kiss goodbye trying desperately to stay. You didn’t seem to care at all. In fact you thought these girls were stupid and wanted no part of Jack’s world as “Harleezy”.

You had gotten to know Jackman Thomas Harlow and Jackman is who you were trying to hide that you adored, possibly had even fallen for…as far as that was possible for you. You were pretty but didn’t really understand that, and didn’t know how to “act sexy”, or any of that stuff, which drove Jack insane for you. He loved the awkwardness, the inability to take a compliment, the complete lack of awareness of how pretty you were, and lack of being able to bullshit him.

In fact, you were kind of grumpy which Jack found cute and would go out of his way to irritate you on purpose. You hadn’t intended your first assignment to be babysitting a grown man but this grown man desperately needed it. He was so kind and sweet it became a role you filled very well. At least looking after Jack had benefits. He was lighthearted and witty, and you needed that in your life.

You were a business grad and that was your mindset. Working for Jack was your first big break. It was Jackman who told you how he really struggled with fame and felt insecure while you two would chill some nights with pups and watch a movie. “Young Harleezy” was breaking hearts and gently kicking girls out in the morning.

However, you started seeing someone else in the business as you had no illusions of you and Jack ever being a thing. Plus dating someone so recognizable didn’t appeal to you. Unfortunately when Jack found out about your new man, he went on a bender at his favourite nightclub, the Hub.

He stumbled onto your bed and crashed, intending to tell you how he felt about you that night, but was too gone. In the morning you woke up to his arm and leg over you looking like an absolute angel with a mess of curls. He must never know how you felt about him. You worked for his label. As you were taking him all in trapped under his massive frame compared to yours, he opened his blue eyes, rubbed his freckled nose, smiled, and pulled you closer going back to sleep.

“J…Jack…JACKMAN it’s me Y/N get your giraffe self off me” you said trying to move just his arm was not working as he gripped you tighter. “Earth to Jackman I’m not Alisha…or “Delilah” who we all know her name is not fucking Delilah…or Jesse who has no makeup line coming out like how stupid does she think we are…or Joanne who like bitch I’m not your maid. Clean the crumbs off the counter when you make your post-dick sucking peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!! Uughhh!”The desperation in your voice reached a strained pitch as you struggled underneath him. This was what Jack was waiting for. He knew you cared and responded half asleep as his perfect pout turned up slightly at the corner in delight.

“Listen Y/N” Jack said still groggy “I know whose bed I’m in just relax.” He nuzzled into you and was full on cuddling now. He proceeded to doze back off and talk in his sleep. You learned he couldn’t stop thinking about you, said you’re his girl no one else’s, he loves grilled cheese with the crusts cut off, and Phil owes him $20.00. You laid there under the weight of him and listened to him babble until eventually you detangled yourself from the labyrinth of arms and legs, and went to make his eggs like you do every morning.

When you entered the kitchen Ismail was there having already grabbed something to eat and was working on his laptop as the sun was just beaming through the large windows over the Ohio river you had a full view of.

“Oh hey” you greeted him off handedly

“Hey.” He said quietly. Ismail wasn’t a big talker which was perfect for you especially in the morning

“He alright?” He said motioning over to your room

“He’s fine just fucking irritating as usual. I think I have a crick in my neck. He sleeps like pups just takes over the bed. Thanks for feeding her.” You replied as you picked up pups and gave her a kiss

“No worries. Sorry he insisted he had to talk to you last night and tell you everything. I couldn’t stop him from going in there.” Ismail apologized “When are you leaving for the Caribbean? We’re all dreading it”

“I leave today…wait what? What do you mean tell me everything is he ok?” You asked Ismail. Jack is always talking shit so you took nothing he said seriously…even in his sleep.

“Nothing.” Ismail said looking like he let something slip. “I’m taking over for you. Jack said he’s not letting some snotty nosed kid from Atlantic make his eggs for 2 weeks so show me how to make the Y/N special.”

You were getting the pan out and everything you needed as Jack never slept in even the odd time he got into some “substances” the night before. You started boiling the kettle for his tea and took the eggs out and a bowl. “Well first of all he only likes them scrambled but I’ve moved him over from hard to soft and some salt and pepper. I also pan fry his toast in THIS PAN. He says he can taste the difference when it’s done in any other pan. Got it? This pan for the eggs, this pan for the toast.”

Ismail gained a new appreciation for you 1min into these instructions. “I ain’t doing all this he gets what he gets.” Ismail vowed. What did he sign up for? Was his boy really like this? “No wonder he loves you so much.” He said and immediately clamped his mouth shut, but you were busy cracking and whipping up everything so you didn’t notice.

You placed Jack’s plate of eggs and pan fried toast on the table with a peeled and fanned out orange on the side with his favourite “Throat Coat” tea. Ismail watched in admiration knowing he wasn’t going to be able to top this.

“Ok Ismail since this is your crash course in all things Jackman let’s go wake him up.” You said preparing Ismail for what it’s like to get his friend out of bed. You were armed with pups which was your secret weapon.

You unleashed puppers onto the bed and Jack was attacked with licking, whining, and barking. Still motionless and in a deep sleep you took a pillow and hit him repeatedly in the head. “Jack!! JACKMAN!!” You yelled “Eggs!!” He came too with a gentle smile.

“Hey beautiful thanks my eggs are ready?” He said looking absolutely adorable with bed head and disheveled clothes from the club.

“Go take a quick shower first. Here’s some water and pop a couple vitamin C to sober up ok? I leave today and I need to make sure you’re ok before I go. You have a conference call with management and Ismail is here. I prepared your notes for your phone interview and the studio called. I booked you in all weekend. You have to finish those last 2 songs and make sure you sign that card for your cousins birthday, and I restocked the bathroom with that soap you like.”

As you gave Jack who was still waking up a run down of everything he needed to know in his life, Ismail was starting to understand why Jack felt such anxiety with you going away. “I’m exhausted already Y/N” Ismail said in awe of you “Jack buddy let’s go bud you got a headache?” He said helping his friend up.

“Yeah sort of.” Jack said feeling more depressed than anything “Y/N you’re meeting him in the islands aren’t you? This mr. record executive.”

You stopped. “Who told you that?” You asked stunned.

“I got my sources. You could’ve just told me… I mean it’s not like I give a fuck. I can have 2 and 3 girls over at a time while you’re gone and I don’t have to worry about whoever I have over crying that you don’t like them.” Jack said being as mean as possible. He had hoped something would’ve happened last night but he was too wasted.

“Jack fuck the whole neighborhood while I’m gone I don’t care.” You retorted annoyed as you busily went about preparing for your flight “Ismail have fun. I know I will.” You smirked which drove Jack nuts.

“Have fun blowing the boss’s son who cares!” He yelled back downstairs as he went up to shower

“Your eggs are cold now.” Is all you said calmly

“Bro. Is he…do y’all always…what in the actual fuck did I just witness? Y’all need to fuck and get it over with.” Ismail marvelled shaking his head.

“Oh trust me, that was nothing.” You said rolling your eyes “now watch when he comes back down.” You predicted in a hushed whisper.

Jack came back down his curls still wet and sat at the table with a sigh for attention while you tidied up the kitchen. “Pookie.” Jack called to you as you had your back turned washing up. “Pook! Yo, my food is cold, can you please warm it up for me?”

“Of course” you said taking his dish with a peck on his forehead to which he smiled and you put his plate in the microwave. “Look I leave in a few hours. Ismail is all set so if you need me don’t call me. I will have no access to email and spotty cell service.”

“Y/N?” Jack said in the most pathetic way “Don’t enjoy yourself too much you know what I mean? You got condoms right?” Jack asked as he sipped on his tea.

With that, watching the most toxic interaction he’d ever seen, Ismail walked away and left the room, he’d had enough.

“I bought a fresh box thank you dad.” You lied stealing a piece of his bacon before handing back his warmed up plate.

“A BOX??” Jack fumed “You know what? I lost my fucking appetite” he said shoving the plate away and folding his arms.

“You know what makes me lose my appetite? All your little hoes losing their underwear in your mattress. Like I’m so glad I don’t have to clean your cum splattered room. They’re so dumb and skanky and gross” You shot back pretending to gag.

“When do you fucking leave?” Jack seethed.

“Not soon enough!” You yelled stomping to your room. He was knocking on your door in 2 seconds.

Ismail was desperately trying to get Jack’s attention to cue up for his interview and conference call.

“Fuck off!” You said through the door as you decided to call your uber and leave early. This was why you were leaving in the first place. Most of the time the toxic banter was all in fun, but sometimes it got ugly.

“Open the door Pookie.” Jack insisted sounding nicer “Can I help you with anything before you go?” Which was his way of getting you to open the door. He didn’t want you going away mad and using your whole box of condoms to spite him.

“You want to help me? Take your meds.” You said still pissed as you opened the door to find him eating the breakfast he said he didn’t want and just standing there. “Why are you so clinically insane?” You asked him while gathering your things to head out early.

“I’m sorry I’m way off lately. I love you, you know that.” He said as he often did. What you didn’t know is that it was true.

“I called my Uber I’m out of here, remember interview and all that other shit. Hopefully when I come back you can treat me like a fucking human.” You said on the edge of tears which wasn’t normal for you.

“Please don’t sleep with him. I couldn’t…I wanted to tell you last night…I” Jack stammered and sat on your bed looking paler than usual

“Jack talk to me.” You said concerned as you sat next to him. “You can talk to me you know that right?”

“Y/N please. I need you to not sleep with this guy.” Jack begged.

“Jack I’m seeing him. I can’t just refuse to sleep with him. We’re getting closer and this will be our first time. He wanted it to be special.” You said dreamily. Jack couldn’t take it he abruptly stood up and started pacing.

“What if I fire you if you go.” He said

You shot up walking over to him to stop him pacing and talking crazy. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because…I can’t…ah fuck” Jack pinned you to the wall. He pressed into you and passionately kissed you as his hands began moving all over your body. You felt him rising quickly and panted “Jack no…please”. He pulled his sweatpants down and lifted up your shirt getting one breasts free sucking and biting your nipple roughly “Jack I can’t do this!” You breathlessly exclaimed. He turned you around and felt between your legs to tease your space.

“Then why are you so wet?” He demanded as he backed you up to your bed and pushed you onto it taking his shirt off as he stood between your legs. He kneeled down just admiring your glistening pussy and started licking all the way up your inner thigh, penetrating your dewey core with his hot tongue and suctioning your clit with his juicy lips. You gripped his damp curls with agony. Was this actually happening and why was this happening?

He forcefully had your hips in his grasp as you straddled your shaking thighs around his head. Once he came back up he stood up rock hard in front of you wiping his mouth with a mischievous grin motioning for you to pleasure him. This had gone too far now. The Uber was on the way, Ismail was in the living room, and Jack had things to do.

You took him into your whole mouth pulling the shaft slowly out of your wet mouth with a rotating suck at the tip. He lost his mind rolling his head back moaning and shoving your head down. You gagged a bit but spit on his now purple throbbing cock and pumped him vigorously matching his intense energy.

You both had so much pent up energy and anger that you needed each other so much. He pushed you back and entered you slowly as you winced from his size. This is not how you imagined your first time with him as you had done many nights falling asleep knowing he had brought someone home that you would see in the morning in the kitchen.

“How you give such good head and so…uughhh so tight and wet.” He said out of breath inside you rocking in between your thighs finding his perfect spot before he pummelled you into the mattress. He couldn’t believe how good you were. Had he known he would have done this a long time ago. “Your my girl understand?” Echoing what he had said in his sleep. His tender kiss on your forehead as he went deeper stretching you had you looking into his eyes in disbelief of the painful pleasure. “I’m not nice Y/N. not when the pussy is this good and belongs to me.”

He shifted all his weight onto you making you cry out “Jack I can’t…you’re too big…I…oh god.”

He covered your mouth muffling your pleas for him to stop when he knew you didn’t want him to. He didn’t want Ismail to hear you scream. “Shhhhh” he said in your ear overpowering you in missionary position. “Relax ok? Am I hurting you? Tell me yes.”

He let you speak moving his hand away. “Yes… fuck…PLEASE Jack.! I wont be rude anymore I swear.” The ecstasy you felt was uncontainable.

He smiled and covered your mouth again driving hard and fast and was not satisfied until he felt a tear drip down your face onto his firm hand. It was too much, too much he had held in for too long. He aggressively drove hard until he exploded onto your stomach as he quickly pulled out.

It was more than he had dreamed every night he was with someone else. “Fuck you’re so good” He said dipping his throbbing tip into his warm cum on your stomach smearing it all over before lying back pulling you to snuggle up to his chest. You were both a mess. One of your breasts was out of your bra, and your underwear still around one ankle. It all happened so fast.

Just then the Uber called and Ismail knocked on the door. “Jack buddy your interview and Y/N’s Uber is here.” Ismail called out to you and Jack heaving and sweating, you with his cum still all over your stomach.

“One sec bro.” Jack called out to Ismail and frantically turned to you “Don’t get on that fucking plane.” He demanded both if you still reeling from your rough romp.

“Jack I…” you started to say but he kept you from answering your phone. The Uber was calling you.

“Miss Y/N no longer needs your services. We’ll pay you full fare. Sorry bro.” He said still a bit out of breath as he hung up and tossed your phone on the floor.

“Uughhh!! I hate you!” You said exasperated

“I know baby. I hate you too, and by the way, you’re fired.” He said.

@itsyagirljaz @jackharlow502

[3hks]

10 Types of Propaganda/Societal Manipulation

My English teacher assigned us homework related to the different types of propaganda, and I found it to be quite interesting! My content is mainly supposed to appeal to writers, but I wouldn't consider this post to be particularly targeted towards anyone! With that being said, if you ARE interested in writing something psychological or exploring an area related to it, then this could be quite insightful!

Definition of PROPAGANDA: An organized attempt to create a positive illusion in order to convince people to follow a specific belief system.

Assertion: A confident and typically forceful statement of belief. (To make something sound guaranteed.) ~

Bandwagon: Also known as peer pressure, Bandwagon is the encouragement to follow the crowd. ~

Card Stacking: To selectively leave out negative information in order to make oneself look better. ~

Glittering Generalities: Using words that people HAVE to agree with (doing things for freedom or equality). ~

Lesser of Two Evils: Suggests one to choose a bad option to avoid a worse one. ~

Name Calling: To call someone a bad name in order to diminish their reputation/credibility. ~

Pinpointing the Enemy: To shift the blame or simplify a situation by labeling someone else as the enemy. ~

Plainsfolks: To appeal to people by seeming relatable. ~

Testimonials: Using endorsements from a respected/famous person to improve their OWN reputation and/or attract more people. ~

Appeal to Authority: To claim something is true but leave the credits purposefully vague (doctors say that..)

Isn't it at least a bit interesting how easily manipulating a society can be? History provides a ton of examples for all sorts of propaganda, but it's also just as common now! In that sense, it's important to be aware of these things so we don't mindlessly believe them!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

[obsidianpen]

A small pop alerted Harry to the reappearance of Binny. The elf quietly cleaned up the remains of Harry’s breakfast—he’d been famished after the mornings… events—and refilled his coffee without even being asked.

“Thank you,” Harry said. He sipped at the hot, bitter liquid, preferring to drink it black. As requested, Binny had brewed it extra strong. 

“Of course, Master Potter,” Binny squeaked. He bowed, then disappeared, taking the dirty dishes with him.

Harry blew over the rim of his cup and waited. He flipped through that mornings issue of The Prophet, finding himself both relieved and annoyed that there were no stress-inducing headlines. More than anything, he was annoyed at himself. 

Voldemort was supposed to have freed McGonagall last night. And he was supposed to have made a list for Harry of all the prisoners being kept there.

Had he? Harry frowned to himself, feeling annoyed all over again. He’d had all night to do it, after all—maybe he had freed McGonagall as promised; maybe he’d been planning on telling him but became distracted by what’d he’d been doing with Hermione…

It was possible. Voldemort did tend to keep his cards close to his chest; maybe he’d let her out and would tell Harry about it at a moment when he needed to subdue him—knowing him, he’d arrange to have McGonagall suddenly appear in Harry’s life unexpectedly and dramatically, the way he’d done with Hagrid, in a gesture that would seem kind and wonderful at the time but would, of course, be underhanded in some way…

It was exhausting, trying to predict what the Dark Lord would do… but Harry liked to think he was getting better at it. 

He was still irritated with himself, however, because he should have asked. He, Harry, should have inquired directly about her, but he’d completely forgotten with… everything else that happened.

Poor George, Harry thought again. Even poorer Fred, maybe, though…

What was worse, Harry mused—being wandless and working at the Ministry of Magic as an unpaid servant, essentially, or having a wand and being a Death Eater, which, in today's world, was an enviable position? One which left you forever branded and tethered to Lord Voldemort, of course, but…

The illusion of freedom, prestige, and having a wand was deeply appealing. 

Harry was still pondering this when the fireplace flickered green, and he felt a familiar silvery sheen of magic. Good, Harry thought. He was getting worried that he’d have to wait around all day.

Draco Malfoy froze like a startled deer when his eyes landed on Harry.

Harry supposed he couldn’t blame him. The last time Draco has seen him, he was torturing his aunt and screaming at her to say mercy… before he attempted to kill her, anyway. And now here he was, sitting at the table, reading the morning paper and enjoying a nice cuppa like it was just another lovely Saturday.

Harry decided the best way to address this situation was to not address it at all. Draco Malfoy waa a self-declared expert in compartmentalizing, after all. We shall see just how true that is, Harry thought.

[mikuni14]

I am so inspired by this post from @miss0atae. I completely agree with every word 💖 I don't know if we see more in this series than there is actually in it (it wouldn't be the first time when fans have better thoughts and ideas about productions than the creators themselves ^^), also these are only two episodes, but I want to believe that the series wants to deconstruct "one true love", "fated lovers" tropes, the clinging to the past, idealizing it and idealizing loved ones, living in illusion, and the meaning of painful sacrifice.

The worst thing about all this is that San has a lot of time in which he is stuck and does not change, whereas he did not have this time 100 years ago. He didn't have time to experience love with all the good and the bad, because his romance with Wat was short-lived and all the time San and Wat were on cloud nine, they had no opportunity to create A RELATIONSHIP, live together, get to know each other from other sides, also the not so good ones. SAN ALSO HAD NO TIME TO MOURN WAT'S DEATH. His decision to wait for reincarnated Wat was made under the influence of great emotions, overwhelming pain, even in a frenzy. Would San do the same a month after Wat's death? Maybe, maybe not. In this episode alone, the series touched on mourning the loss of a loved one in the words of Vee's grandmother and Vee himself (whose words come as a shock to San, who never even thought of such a thing).

It seems to me that San did not know Wat fully, that he created an idealized image of her (which is not difficult, because Wat was just a good person, she was nice and loved San sincerely), especially since he said about her several times that "he must repay her for being kind to him", which is not a very good foundation for love.

I also got the impression that his problem with Vee wasn't so much that he was a guy, but that he wasn't exactly Wat. San catches himself repeatedly, finding Wat's smile in Vee's smile, her actions in his actions. But what he is most upset about is that Vee is simply different, that he has wet dreams about him, that Vee is direct and openly flirtatious, that he might be a criminal - meaning, that he is everything that the perfect Wat was not. And the fact that Vee being a guy is not such a big problem (though of course it is to some extent) is proven by the fact that in his dream San is not an nervous, tripping over his own legs, but he is just going to town if you know what I mean 😎 If it was only about Wat, about her reincarnation "awakening" and about San being straight, this dream would be ABOUT HER. And it's not 😆

Even though San is a dick, I honestly feel sorry for him. He was an ordinary young man, who met a beautiful and good girl, who helped him and with whom he fell in love, who, under the influence of unprocessed grief, made a decision that required incredible strength, self-denial and endurance, who "preserved" himself by maintaining himself the same, because he dreamed that he would just survive these 100 years when Wat would simply appear and EVERYTHING WILL BE AS IT WAS. That he and Wat… will simply jump into that happy moment just before the tragedy, that they will somehow, of all the people in the world, manage to step into the same river twice. This is clearly visible in the fact that he is a "grumpy grandpa" and not a "hip and modern grandpa", and this is because he chose to stay in the past, because he did not consciously adapt to the present (to remain the same for Wat), or as Okita Makoto from Oppan says: he didn't update himself 😄 (which raises an important question: would this old, not updated version of him would appeal to contemporary Wat?)

I really feel sorry for him, because San denied himself development, refused to participate among the community, in his city (not just his neighbourhood), in the world, and to establish relationships other than those with his immediate family. HE DENIED HIMSELF A NORMAL LIFE. And now this ordinary life is forcing itself into his preserved life and San is completely unprepared for it and panics. Nothing is as he thought it would be, the scenarios he probably created after every night of pain that kept him hopeful and sane are NOT COMING TRUE. Vee destroys his so carefully built and nurtured world, his illusions and ideas about perfect love, perfect Wat and perfect life, which he was so sure was already waiting for him around the corner. I'm really not surprised that he panics, because for the first time a terrible thought appears in his head: that he may have wasted these 100 years of pain, that for others what he did may seem stupid and unnecessary and that there is no reward at the end. And how is he supposed to reevaluate his entire existence overnight?

[boatcats]

Stipulations

My heart hurt when Ed got shackled to the rail in S2. I needed them to talk it through as a crew so fic happened.

Ed was not a master in the art of negotiation.

Or, well, that wasn't entirely true. He was great at aggressive negotiation. He was great at negotiation where there was a show of strength (or the illusion of strength) and an opponent forced to decide how much they wanted to risk. He was excellent at the old 'shot across the bow.' He wasn't great at the sort of negotiation where all you had was your earnest heart and a desire to go home.

He hadn't had much practice.

But he had his earnest heart and he wanted to go home so he was going to give it a try.

The crew had let him stay one more night. They'd even seemed chill about it. He really hadn't expected that. Now dawn light was creeping into the galley and in a few hours the crew was going to "figure this all out" as Oluwande had called it and Ed wanted to stay. He wanted to make it up to them. "Captain goes down with the ship" had always really meant "captain takes responsibility" and Ed wasn't captain anymore (was he? he felt a brief jolt of anxiety like a task left undone...no, probably not...). But he still wanted to take responsibility for what he could.

It was just....he had some stipulations.

"Stede," Ed whispered. "Stede wake up."

"Hmmph?" Stede rolled over and Ed was briefly stunned by his sleep tousled hair. God. "What is it, Ed? Are you hurting?" He looked so concerned. G o d.

"No," Ed said, "not really." Though he was hurting some - a mutiny would do that to you. "Not much... medium amount," he amended, trying to be truthful. "I just... the crew's gonna decide about me staying and I want to stay. But I don't want them to shackle me to the rail again." Ed fought down a surge of panic at the thought. "I don't like feeling trapped. It's fine if they want... I don't know, to get a few punches in. That's fair. But no surprise punches. They can do it to my face. I mean like ... they can face me about it... though I guess they can also punch my face. You know what I mean."

Ed was not going to feel trapped and he was not going to feel on edge. Everything else was fair game. But sometime during the night he'd realized he couldn't stay somewhere he didn't feel safe.

What he'd do he didn't know... but he couldn't stay. It was an awful negotiating position that boiled down to "please agree to these requirements or else I'll go back to the woods you banished me to in the first place."

Ed sighed. Then he glanced up and realized Stede looked heartbroken. Fuck.

"It's not you," Ed sighed. "I'd love to stay for you... it's just..." I might not be able to.

"It's not that," Stede said. "I just wish I hadn't. I wish they hadn't. I wish I'd protected you."

"You couldn't," Ed said. "Not exactly captain either, were you? A mutiny will do that. The whole thing about a mutiny is that it blurs who's in charge, blurs who makes decisions. And I knew what I was getting into. Not like I haven't had worse. I just..."

"You don't want it to happen again."

"Yeah."

"It wont. No one's going to punch you either. To your face or otherwise."

Ed smiled. It felt a little wobbly. But he could smile at Stede now. Stede looked so certain. Ed was not at all certain. He was pretty sure he was at least going to get punched. But Stede's optimism had always been appealing (as well as wildly sexy) so what the hell.

--

When Ed heard the crew's stipulations he laughed. A cat bell! He supposed that was fair. He'd maybe played up the sneaking around over the past few months.

But it felt - it felt like like chance to start over. Captain goes down with the ship. Captain incites a mutiny and wears a sackcloth for a while as a promise that he won't hurt his crew again. Yeah, that was fair.

And Stede's face - Stede's face - when he said "they've agreed not to hurt you - no one's going to hurt you on this ship again. You're safe."

I'm here. You're safe.

Yeah, that was.... That was.... yeah, that was... That was a lot. But it was good. Ed was pretty sure it was good.

--

So it came as an awful surprise when Jim found Ed in the shady spot he'd claimed on deck and said "Hey, about shackling you to the rail..."

Because fuck. Fuck. Of course they'd reconsider. It made sense but Ed had trusted them. And the Revenge was kind of a ways from land and maybe they'd give him back the complimentary dinghy. Hopefully they'd give him back the complimentary dinghy. But so much for cohabiting with Stede... that is... if they even let him leave at all. What if...

Apparently all this showed on his face. Because the next thing Jim said was "I think maybe you need to breathe?"

Ed took a shaky breath. "What about it?" he asked. He was pleased that his voice came out reasonably level.

"I'm really sorry we did that."

Wait. What?

"Wait. What?" Ed said.

Jim flushed. "You weren't... you were hurt and... you weren't going to hurt anyone. The rest of the stuff - not gonna apologize for that because it was fully self defense. But that... yeah."

"It's fine," Ed said. "Better to overreact than underestimate someone probably."

"It wasn't fine," Jim insisted. "It's not gonna happen again. We were... we were really jumpy. Roach made us a piñata and a cake and we nearly stabbed him. But still."

"A piñata?"

"Yeah, they wanted to like, blindfold us. To... reassure us we were safe and valued, I think?"

Ed blinked. This fucking crew.

"But yeah," Jim sighed. "You're safe and valued and shit, I guess. I don't have a piñata."

"That's okay," Ed said. "Don't need one."

[starmosaics]

Venus square Neptune

I have this aspect in my own chart and I've known many people with it in theirs. When Venus squares your Neptune, you can often brush past people’s flaws by magnifying and highlighting the good things about them to the point where you're not seeing the other clearly. Oftentimes these folks don’t see people for who they are because they unconsciously choose to only see another's positive qualities, looking at them through a rose colored lens or placing them on a pedestal higher than where they place themselves, which is why it’s so important for people with this aspect to learn the importance of somewhat detaching themselves from the other and to examine whether or not they're projecting their ideals and expectations. The idea of a person will always be more appealing than the actual person who's standing in front of us. Wishful thinking is huge with this aspect and it can be incredibly destructive as they can perceive something to be greater than it is or put high unrealistic expectations on others.

With this aspect, you kind of choose what you want to see in a person, especially in romantic relationships and when the illusion breaks, what’s underneath can be deeply unsettling for one with a Venus-Neptune square. This is one of the hardest aspects a person can have on their Venus in my opinion because it puts a veil over one's Venus beautifying everything; even the ugly. Red flags turn into a pretty pink and once that veil is lifted we have a hard time forgiving ourselves for not seeing the obvious blaring cautionary signs or for not being rational enough. Tina turner, Whitney Houston, Diane Keaton, Joan Collins, and Stevie Nicks all have this aspect in their charts and all have faced major challenges in regards to their romantic relationships.

These people may attract partners who may not always have their best interests; they may date people who portray themselves as one kind of person when they're the complete opposite, get into a relationship with somebody who is deceiving, or they may face a painful unrequited love. They can often take rejection personally as if it reflects something about themselves, but the truth is rejection is to protect us from those who aren't the right person for us. Neptune is a very distorting and illusive planet when harshly aspecting another planet. These people have a hard time saying no and often fall into people pleasing tendencies as well. Dating is confusing, exhausting and oftentimes very heartbreaking. These people may feel a sense of sorrow for putting in so much effort towards their relationships or a towards person that did not reciprocate.

In romance, Venus-Neptune people are often looking for the love of their life. They're hopeless romantics waiting to cross paths with the one. Venus-Neptune people go through the ringer when it comes to dating and over time they become discouraged and soon realize that maybe their fantasy was never going to come true. Because of this cyclical pain and rejection, they can become entirely closed off to romance by creating ideals that absolutely no one can fulfill.

They can also get into a relationship with someone who does love them, but if it’s not the kind of grandiose fairytale love the Venus-Neptune person is seeking or if the person doesn’t perfectly match their ideals or meet their expectations, they can exit the relationship out of dissatisfaction. A good way to combat this is to ask yourself if you yourself could fulfill all of the things you seek in a partner. This is the challenge because Venus-Neptune folks are hardcore lovers and they tend to repress that part of themselves if they’ve faced enough turmoil in their relationships, or like I said create unrealistic expectations in others, ruining their chance of being in a healthy relationship.

Something a Venus-Neptune individual should know is that the love that they so badly want does exist because they exist and that they don’t need to go over and beyond to receive the love they deserve; they should never plead someone to love them. They need to provide the love that they so badly want to offer another person to themselves first. They also need to determine whether or not their ideals are rooted in reality. Self love, self appreciation, and self examination are deeply needed to be practiced when one has this aspect.