#business units are accountable for driving

[ceruark]

liquid courage

synopsis: aventurine leaves your drunk boss on your doorstep. notes: ceo! sunday x gn! personal assistant! reader. modern au (he's still an angel though, don't ask me how or why. the wings are important to me). fluff. cw: none! (implied aventurine/ratio, but nothing major) words: 3,147 inspiration: every kdrama ever

It was, for the first time in several months, a relaxing night.

After weeks of traveling between worlds and meeting with various business partners, you finally landed back in the place you called home: a rather luxurious unit in Golden Hour's finest apartment complex. It was far too big for one person and beyond what you dreamed of affording growing up, but it was necessary.

Not only were Golden Hour's Platinum Terraces a fifteen minute drive away from Dewlight Pavilion, but they also had the best security Penacony could offer. As the personal assistant of Halovian Corporation's esteemed CEO, you had a rather large target on your back. So, despite your initial hesitations, you'd agreed to live in the flashiest building in Golden Hour.

It wasn't like your wallet was suffering because of it. The astronomical cost of rent hardly put a dent in what the Oak Family deposited into your account every other week.

You sighed and stretched out leisurely on your couch, flipping through the channels until you settled on a showing of one of your favorite movies. You let it play in the background while you responded to messages from friends you hadn't had the chance to get back to during the trip. In between enthusiastic conversations and pictures of the fancy meals and hotels you'd stayed at, you scrolled through your social media accounts, grimacing at your feed when it recommended a picture taken of you without your knowledge.

It shouldn't have surprised you that being around Sunday constantly would put you under the same spotlight he grew up in. Heir to the Oak Family's fortune and beloved by Penacony's citizens, the only person on the planet who could complain about having more cameras shoved in their face on a daily basis was his darling sister. As his assistant, you showed up in almost every photo his fans snapped of him. Over the past four years, his fanbase picked apart everything about you: your appearance, your upbringing, your interests, and your lifestyle habits. You weren't quite sure what spurred them on— sheer jealousy at your proximity to him, or their infatuation for him extending to you— but they had all reached the same conclusion: you were rather unremarkable.

You were raised by your parents in a suburb about 30 miles out from Golden Hour. You performed well enough in university, graduating in the top percent of your class, but not as valedictorian. You managed to get hired at Halovian Corp out of college, and you'd been consistently promoted each year since then, moving from secretary to administrative secretary to personal assistant of a high-ranking director, until eventually, you ended up at Sunday's side.

Though your career was impressive, your life lacked intrigue that news outlets and Sunday's fans vied for. You didn't come from money, you weren't dating anyone famous, and therefore, you weren't worth thinking about. You preferred things that way, but it still didn't make seeing pictures of yourself floating around online any easier.

(Especially when people began overanalyzing how Sunday spoke to you in this video, or looked at you in that photo. Their theories had substance to back them up, and you didn't like to think about it. It took damn near two years to perfect the professional front you kept up with your gorgeous boss, thank you very much, and it had only been about a year since he started actually acting himself around you— you couldn't afford to start slipping up now.)

As you scrolled past a fancam of Robin, a message notification popped up at the top of your screen. You tapped on it, and raised an eyebrow at the sender.

Aventurine: hey. you in?

The IPC director was an unlikely friend, but after dealing with Sunday for years and becoming the unofficial point of contact between the IPC and Halovian Corp, you'd started seeing him often enough that you agreed to go to a bar with him one night when you were off the clock. He was good company, and the two of you kept in touch.

One day, after finding out you'd been talking with Aventurine outside of business ventures, Sunday was oddly insistent that he join you two on that night's excursion. You were hesitant to agree, given that Sunday and Aventurine were civil at best and downright antagonistic at worst. But, Aventurine had readily agreed to letting Sunday attend, so you said yes as well. The night had gone better than expected, and after a few more impromptu meetings, Sunday had started talking to Aventurine regularly as well.

You were glad to see your overly cautious boss make a friend, even if he would never admit that they were.

You: yeah, what's up?

His response was instantaneous.

Aventurine: great. let me in, will you?

Your eyebrows drew together. You'd mentioned you lived in the Platinum Terraces, but you'd never brought Aventurine back to your apartment. How did he know where you live?

You leaned off the couch and toward the coffee table to pick up one of the screens hooked up to the alarm system. You tapped a few buttons on the screen until the feed from the camera facing the hallway came up.

Aventurine stood in front of your door, talking animatedly to your boss, who was propped up against him. You couldn't see his face, but you didn't need to to know he was inebriated. He probably wouldn't be so close to the blonde otherwise.

"What the hell?" You muttered, rushing over to the door. Sunday hardly ever drank, and if he did, it was never enough to get him past the point of tipsy. You quickly undid the bolts and threw it open.

Aventurine and Sunday looked up at you. Amusement danced in the former’s eyes, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be very pleased with himself.

Sunday blinked slowly, adjusting his vision to the sudden disappearance of the door. His eyes scanned your face for a moment before his features lit up with recognition. His wings twitched a bit as he tilted his head to the side. The slightest of smiles pulled at his mouth, and your name fell from his lips in the form of a whispered question.

You flushed red. You suddenly felt very self-conscious of your Hanu themed pajama pants.

Your gaze snapped back to Aventurine, who smirked back at you. You ignored it. "What happened?"

"We went out drinking and someone—" He turned to Sunday, whose gaze still hadn't left you. "—got a little carried away."

"And you didn't think to take him back to Dewlight Pavilion?"

"I think you and I both know there would be consequences if he returned there in this state."

You grimaced. He was right. Undoubtedly, there would be paparazzi camped outside of the Oak Family's estate. There always was.

"Okay, you didn't think to take him back to your place?"

Aventurine moved his free hand to his chest in mock offense. "Bringing a drunken man home to my brilliant boyfriend who's already waiting for me in bed? You must be praying on my downfall."

You glowered at him, but before you could respond, the rustling of feathers caught your attention. You turned, watching your boss sway on his feet. He watched you with a frown, appearing more upset than you'd ever seen him.

"You don't want me here?" He pouted, and his wings fluttered dejectedly.

Your stomach flipped over, and you reached out to grab his other arm as he stumbled away from Aventurine.

"No, no, that's not it." He moved away from the blonde completely as you reassured him, leaning into your touch. You grunted as you struggled to keep him upright. "I'm just worried about you being somewhere you don't feel comfortable."

He hummed, leaning forward and nuzzling his face in your hair. "I'm far more comfortable with you than the gambler."

Aventurine watched the two of you, smugness rolling off him in waves. "Yeah," he laughed, "we can see that."

You were going to kill Aventurine. You were going to tuck Sunday into your bed, leave a glass of water and an Advil on the nightstand, and then you were going to hit the blonde with your car.

You shot him another glare before turning back to Sunday. You pulled one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapped one of yours around his waist to steady him. He turned bright red suddenly and you opened your mouth to ask him if he felt sick, but his wings started flapping again. This close, a few feathers smacked into your mouth, and you sputtered.

Aventurine's unrestrained laughter brought your attention back to him. You snapped at him. "Can you make yourself useful and get the doors for me?"

It took everything you had left in you to get Sunday into your bedroom and withstand Aventurine's teasing, but eventually, you managed to get there. You eased Sunday down on the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ensure he stayed sitting upright.

"Are you feeling sick?" You asked.

Sunday shook his head. He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder. Fighting down another blush (you refused to give Aventurine more ammunition), you tried to pull yourself away from him, but he wrapped his arms around yours and held on.

"Sunday," you said, "I need to go get you water. Can you let go of me, please?"

His voice was muffled by your shirt. "Aventurine can get it."

Said man huffed, but he was too entertained to be truly annoyed, or to decline. "Sure I can," he agreed, before addressing you. "Where are your cups?"

"Top right cabinet," you answered, and he set off.

Sunday's head lolled to the side, rolling off your shoulder. His pout was still there, and it set your face aflame. "It's too hot," he complained.

And then he started to take his coat off.

Well, he tried to. His clumsy movements caused it to get tangled in his arms.

"Here, let me help you," you offered against your better judgment. You stood and reached behind him, carefully guiding his arms out of the sleeves. You turned around and walked over to your closet, hanging the coat on a nearby hook.

When you faced him again, he already had his shirt halfway off.

Xipe, give me strength, you thought to yourself, tearing your gaze away from his bare skin. Your gaze lingered on the wings sprouting from his lower back, which sat curled around his abdomen. When he managed to get the shirt over his head and onto the floor, he unfurled the second set of wings. They spanned the entire length of your bed and were much darker than the ones by his hair. He gave a few languid flaps before settling down, causing them to droop. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against them. So much for keeping up your professional front. You had no idea how you were going to face him when he sobered up.

A choked gasp prompted you to drop your hands from your face. Aventurine almost dropped the glass in shock when he returned. 

"Well," he said as he placed the glass down on the nightstand. "Seems like it's time for me to leave."

You sent him one last scathing glare. "I can't believe you."

Faux innocence crept onto his face. "Whatever do you mean? I haven't done anything."

You crossed the room and shoved at him. "Out." You pushed him back down the hall and to the open front door. "Get out of my house."

"Wow. Eager aren't we?" He winked at you.

"Eager to get my revenge. Veritas will love the video I have of you drunk and blubbering about how much you miss him," you said. Then you slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the door shut, Sunday called for you from the bedroom. You'd heard him use a sickly sweet tone with clients before, but this one lacked the venom that usually accompanied it. It was like he was singing each syllable of your name, savoring the way each sound rolled off his tongue.

"I need to type up my resignation," you muttered to yourself. You could handle Sunday in the beginning when he was standoffish and paranoid, but there was no way you were making it through this.

You walked back to the room, willfully overlooking the way his hanging wings straightened up when you reappeared in the doorway. You stopped a few feet in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Hey," you said softly. "Let's get you to bed, alright?"

Sunday blinked at you, then looked down at the comforter under his fingers. "I am at the bed."

You snorted. "Well, we should get you under the covers."

His nose scrunched in displeasure. "No. It's too warm for that."

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him in this state. "Alright, then. Lay down, and make sure to stay on your side. If you feel sick, there's a trash can right here by the bed. If you need anything else, I'll be down the hall."

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist with surprising speed. He stared up at you with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"

You tilted your head at him. "Um, to bed?"

His brow furrowed slightly, the way it usually did when he was in deep thought. "But this is your bed."

"Yes, it is." You slipped your wrist out of his grasp, but he caught you again by the fingers. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. I won't be far."

The hold he had on your fingers was tighter than you thought. You pulled away, expecting to be freed, but tripped a bit when the rest of your body didn't follow your legs. He pulled you toward him and tumbled forward, falling onto the bed. He moved over and drew you closer to him, draping one of his wings across your waist and legs.

You didn't know if your heart had stopped, or was just beating so fast you couldn't feel it.

"Um, Sunday," you said, the rest of your words coming out as a babbled mess. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he just clung on to you, refusing to let go.

"Please don't leave me," he mumbled.

You finally managed to put enough distance between you two that you could look him in the eye. "Sunday," you said, "you're drunk. You're going to regret this in the morning."

He frowned. "I will not regret something I've dreamed of doing for months."

In the end, it was neither. You were certain your heart was beating so hard it burst, and now you were dead. When you tried pulling away again, he placed a hand on your cheek, freezing you in place.

"Please," he whispered. "Just give me five minutes."

The desperation in his voice whittled away at the rest of your resistance. You settled down on the mattress, allowing him to hold you but not getting close enough for it to be considered cuddling. Staring at the ceiling in silence, you mulled over his words.

He was dreaming about cuddling, or intimate touch of some sort. It shouldn't be surprising that a twenty-seven year old man longed for that kind of companionship, but whenever other members of The Family had brought up him not having found a partner yet, he always shrugged them off. You figured it was because he generally wasn't interested in finding someone, but maybe it was just that he didn't want the rest of The Family involved in something as personal as his love life.

"I can talk to Robin about suggesting eligible suitors for you, if you want," you said. "We can even outsource their background checks to the IPC. Aventurine will be annoying about it, but I'm sure he'll agree to do it."

There was a long stretch of silence. Sunday finally spoke just as you'd begun to regret your words. "Why would you do that?"

You looked at him, confused. "You said you've dreamed of this."

"Yes," he said, "I did say that."

Was he really going to make you spell it out for him? Well, it had to be more embarrassing for him than it was for you. "If you desire... intimacy, it's only natural we start looking for potential suitors for you."

His eyes darkened, and a slight scowl pulled at his lips. At least this face was familiar: disappointment.

"I just told you I've dreamed of this," he muttered.

You nodded in agreement. "You've dreamed of holding someone."

"I've dreamed of holding you."

Oh. That complicated things.

You swallowed back a fit of nervous laughter. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. "I'm sorry." Your voice came out as hardly more than a croak. "I wasn't aware that's what you meant."

He leaned forward, eyes earnest. "Do you still want to look for other suitors for me?"

You considered your words carefully. "Not if it's something you don't want."

He hummed, then laid his head against the pillow. His breath fanned over your face as he spoke. It smelled like mint and whiskey. "Do you want to be my suitor?"

You pulled your gaze away from his lips and to his eyes. You didn't even know how your eyes got there. "I think you should ask me again when you're sober."

He studied your face for a long moment, then let his eyes flutter shut. "Fair enough," he said.

You laid there for a moment, allowing your heart rate to come back down and letting yourself take him in. His lips were slightly parted, even breaths slipping through them as sleep claimed him. His face wings twitched ever so often, usually followed by a twitch of the larger wing still wrapped around you.

You weren't certain how long you stayed there, just studying him, but at some point your blinks had grown heavier and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You gave one last shove against Sunday's arm and wing to try and free yourself, but even unconsciously, his resolve could not be shaken. He huffed at the disturbance and buried his face further into the pillow. His wing tightened around you as he tried to curl in on himself, dragging you closer to him.

You sighed and rested your head on the pillow again. It was going to be impossible to get away from him now that his limbs were heavy with sleep. Knowing it was futile to try again, you let your eyes slip shut. You shifted into a more comfortable position, moving one of your arms to rest on top of the wing.

Five minutes, you lied to yourself. I'll try again in five minutes.

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Nine - Cough Cough I'm Sick

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.3K

(idk who sorts out the media stuff so i just said marketing manager)

Series Masterlist

Here's the thing, it was exactly what it looked like. Max let out a laugh as he looked at the papaya drivers panicked. "Relax," he said quickly and walked out of the driver's room. "I'll meet you both outside."

Y/N and Lando looked at each other as Max shut the door. "Fuck," she whispered as she pulled her clothes back onto her body. She swapped Landos shirt for her own.

Wordlessly, Y/N left his drivers room. She pushed past Max and sped walked out of the track. She was so fucking stupid - this was why they had those rules in the first place!

And now that Max knew, what was going to happen?

She didn't sleep that night, anxiety overtaking her. For the first time of the grand prix weekend, Y/N checked her phone. She went onto her private account, went to the for you page (for the memes) and was immediately flooded with pictures of her in Landos hoodie. Fuck, that was right. She was wearing Landos hoodie.

She didn't know if Lando went to the club with Max, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around her pillow and tried to get some sleep.

***

They'd been home for two days and they hadn't slept together. It was unusual, but Lando couldn't blame her, especially after what had happened in Spain.

He missed her. Which, this time just a few months ago, would have felt impossible. But he really did miss her, everything about her.

She didn't entirely avoid him, but it felt like she didn't want him anymore. They hadn't properly spoken since the grand prix, almost like they weren't even friends anymore.

Lando kept himself busy. He gamed and streamed a lot, rarely giving himself time to think about the little hole in his heart.

It was an overreaction, Y/N knew. But she was terrified of the consequences that they'd inevitably get. So far, nothing had happened. But that didn't mean it wasn't coming.

The next week was the Canadian grand prix. For every grand prix since they began living together, Y/N and Lando had travelled together. One of them would usually drive to the grand prix, taking it in turns.

This time, though, Y/N travelled alone. She made her own way to the grand prix, over thinking and then sleeping on the flight.

Lando hadn't realised she'd left. He knocked on her bedroom and pushed it open. "Y/N?" He called, but she wasn't there, already on her way to Canada.

Obviously, Y/N arrived before him. She’d slept on the flight, sure, but she still made her way to her bedroom for a nap. Exhaustion gripped her as she got under the blankets and closed her eyes, still in her travelling clothes.

When Y/N woke up, there was insistent knocking on her hotel room door. “Fine, alright!” She shouted, her voice croaky. Her throat killed as she pulled open the door and came face to face with the McLaren marketing manager. “Hey,” Y/N said, rubbing at her eyes.

“You’re meant to be doing media things with Lando,” the marketing manager said quickly.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath and checked the time on her phone. Had she really been asleep for that long? “Okay, I’ll get dressed.”

She shut the door and got changed. What she would have loved to do was take a shower, but with the way the marketing manager was talking, she definitely didn’t have time.

As soon as she was dressed, Y/N followed the marketing manager down to the lobby of the hotel. Outside there was a car waiting for her. She climbed into the back seat and pressed her head against the cool window as they drove towards the track.

Somehow, she fell asleep in the car once again. She woke up to somebody shaking her shoulder, and was quick to follow them into the McLaren hospitality unit. Her had swam as she walked, but she ignored it; she had a job to do.

It was the first time she had seen Lando since she left their apartment. “Hey,” she said through a croaky voice as she sat in the seat beside him.

“Are you okay?” Asked Lando, his arm resting on the sofa behind her.

Y/N quickly moved it. She nodded her head and looked at the camera in front of them as a member of staff past her and Lando question cards.

***

She was sick. That was clear to anyone as she threw up into her bathroom. But to her, it was just stress. She’d had a taste of her first win and she wanted more. Th thought of trying to keep being consistent was making her so stressed that she was coming across sick.

She threw up before qualifying. How she made it all the way to Q3, she didn’t know, but she struggled to qualify in the top five. As soon as qualifying was done, Y/N rushed back to the hotel room while the team at McLaren took care of the media for her. She managed to avoid fans as she was driven back to the hotel.

As soon as she was in her room as she asleep on her bed, still wearing the McLaren shirts and shorts that she had left the circuit in. She didn’t even climb under the covers before falling asleep, her head just about on the pillow.

Again, she woke up to somebody knocking at her door. Again, she reluctantly stood up and pulled open the door.

Only this time, it was Lando on the other side of the door. “Shit,” he whispered as he looked at her. “You look…”

“Like shit,” Y/N answered for him.

“Are you okay?” Lando asked again and Y/N nodded, leaning her forehead against the wood of the door frame. But Lando clearly didn’t believe her. He stared at her, raising his eyebrows, waiting for her to take it back, to tell him that she was feeling as terrible as she looked.

Still, she couldn’t admit it. Lando tried to walk past her, to get into her room, but she stood in his way. “What do you want, Lando?”

“I want you to admit that you’re sick and let me take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me,” she said, somewhat stubbornly.

So, Lando grabbed a hold of her shoulders and forced his way into her room. He sat the door behind him and sat her on the bed. “Talk to me,” he said, kicking off his shoes and laying back against her pillows.

“About what?” She spat back, crossing her arms as she looked out of the window.

“About why you’re not talking to me.”

She visibly deflated. Fuck, she had missed him, but their last time had scared her enough to keep her away. No, he was just asking to get into her head before the race.

“Max hasn’t told anybody, you know,” he said, leaning forward and placing his large hand on her shoulder. “He’s not going to.”

Y/N twitched her head towards him, but she didn’t say anything.

“We could go back to the way we were, you know,” Lando continued. “I… I miss you and I want to go to how we were.”

She let out a sob and wiped beneath her eyes. She missed it too. Missed him. “I-“ but she couldn’t say more than that.

Wordlessly she crawled towards him. she laid down beside him, placing her head on his chest. “Lando, we can’t tonight,” she said.

“I know,” he responded with a nod. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick!” She insisted.

“You’re sick.”

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[lesser-mook]

Footage of Texas STANDOFF With 302k Migrants on US-Mexico Border Has Gon...

https://youtu.be/cL7X4cskd8Q

(shitty *melodramatic thumbnail aside- and brace yourself this is finna get deep, 90% of this is lore)

This is like The Walking Dead Season 4, but the Zombies came with bags and are given free resources after they invade. Literally a zombie horde forcing their way in, to consume resources that should've been going to Americans. 

But this sudden surge of resources given to these aliens shows that the Gov. had the means to help Americans the entire time but chose not to, which we all knew already but it's confirmed by the same people that left us to burn.  

(To clarify, this isn’t on the illegal aliens entirely, like ‘let’s dehumanize these people’ because of the dumb policies our “leaders” made

Yeah some of em are coming here not for some Dream but they want free shit because Biden is an agent, ie. Who allowed them to come in here in the first place? The Illegals aren’t actually taking anything by force--  they’re being GIVEN the motherload by your own Administration)

 What a joke. 

Every Empire has it's fall. America. Your turn.

And how we got here starts with the simple things, like relations, tensions between the power-houses of society. 

The dichotomy, Man & Woman. 2.Two forces of nature, two pieces of an incomplete entity that is the “Hu-man” 

The agenda is simple, it wasn’t quick, it was a slow burn: If these two pieces fit so well together that when they are getting along, things are great, community is stronger, the culture is healthy, values/norms/standards intact- Traditional family works...but the problem is

A civilization united like that well? is a lot harder to fool/control/manipulate.

 So the agenda is simple:

Keep people fighting, invent more labels, enable toxicity/ hostility in the culture, propagandize with stronger signals in the music, movies, political spectrums = Separate men and women on a cultural level. Plant a disconnect and keep it intact.

Drive the sexes apart in the intangible sphere, thought, norms.

Propagandize & overstimulate girls with a crap-ton of unrealistic expectations of themselves and men. 

Give women every incentive not to be responsible with their reproductive powers, to the point young men are stuck with grown children who are looking for Papa at Ages 19-35 to pay for everything and offer next to nothing of their own accord. 

The world owes you for being born female

 And when every woman is a special snowflake & pandered to, womanhood is trivialized, accountability becomes an option. 

It’s why your culture worships “Girl bosses”, you call your adult females “girls” so casually, it’s casual condescension. Patronizing.

It is so casual- WOMEN call each other “girls”. Reinforcing a state of infantilism.

So a bunch of girls and yet you have no “Women”, America has stopped raising women years ago. 

Castrate, degrade, bash and shame men to the point where young women are now stuck with Sub-Males who are out of touch with their balls. 

America doesn’t make men like they used to, they’re too busy neutering them.

And then develop fetishes wanting giant women (aka a hybrid construct of mommy/female authority issues & Gynocentric society) to castrate, degrade, bash, and subjugate themselves- They developed a fetish where they castrate themselves in the exact same fashion society does except they depict actual violence happening. Manslaughter even.

Now, what do you call a condition where a victim normalizes the abuse as a coping mechanism?  Stockholm Syndrome.

Macrophilia is just an advanced/tragic case of mass Stockholm Syndrome.

See psychologists aren’t allowed to say that, they stay very neutral because that’s what keeps them employed. 

But I’m not getting paid for this- so there you go. Macrophilia and it’s mother: (toxic-gynocentrism/ not Women having opportunities-- but TOXIC Gynocentrism/Female Privilege) & it’s father (misandry) are all connected. 

One big inbred family of dysfunction and societal collapse (which if you pay attention that’s what a giant woman mainly does, collapse civilization, cause pain, destroy, evil-

Something women are not, just to put that out there, because I feel it’s necessary or we’ve fallen so hard as a species, that HAS to be said now. Women are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy, Men are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy of Men. 

So it’d be a good idea to stop emulating the hatred that’s implanted.

Macrophiles/ or Macrocreeps as I lovingly dubbed them- are literally/indirectly/ & repeatedly communicating that women will cause or are the collapse of civilization, women being empowered means women are enemies of humanity, women are evil- the same narrative on repeat)

NOW THAT- is misogyny, 100% learned, 0% nature. 

If you were raised in a small town like Black Forest (Germany): 

or a Mongolian Steppe Nomad life. Healthy upbringing, healthy-equal community for men and women, away from misandry & gynocentrism, unplugged from the Matrix/ aka The HATE-trix

-you’re not going to have this crap living in your head. 

You just might even have a life.

It’s why this movie (The Red Turtle) is so poetic, simple and beautiful. it displays simply what life is without the bullshit:

Every time I watch this movie, I’m reminded what the “human experience” boils down to, as repetitive as it is, it really boils down to having each other, family.

See people were freaks back in the day, but within reason, this macro-cancer wasn’t really popping back in the 70s when men and women were for the most part in an okay place. 

You get more of a rise of this kind of thing when things are bad between men and women, it’s really a mirror of HOW bad it’s gotten in society or in your own childhood, your mind, your subconscious where seeds are planted.

When men & women are happy on mass, when the culture has shows like Good Times, The Cosby Show, Living single Roseanne, Full House- positive culture, when that is the repeated narrative, positivity, you tend to get positive signals implanted in the people watching it, namely children.

 Fact is, you get an infection in the body when there’s a problem, not when it’s healthy, plain and simple.

See you don’t simply feel the need to replace women with a demonic sociopathic mile-high she-beast or in a neutral sense you need to have Mommy looming over you & make you feel like a loser to feel secure because the giantess needs to be MAN enough for both of you combined: (Hence, women are stuck in a generation of SUB-Males who lost touch with their balls and a lot of the time women have the carry them both) 

And this has nothing to do with confidence, you can be confident and have no balls, want to be mistreated or not know what being a man is about.  There’s a lot of confident losers on this planet, do not confuse the two (Confidence vs Security) together.

vs when you have actual healthy relationships with women throughout life here in reality or a society that doesn’t tell you you’re less than dirt or outright communicates you are stupid, inferior, and something that needs to be fixed or stamped out by a more competent woman presence-

Hellywood definitely hasn’t been doing that, TV shows definitely hasn’t been doing that, Culture, various IRL situations (some caught on camera) definitely hasn’t been communicating that.

One just can’t help but share that misery with the world & await a “congratulations” from fellow cult members for posting the exact same thing for the 15′000th time for the 13th year in a row.. An example of misandrist propaganda birthing a mini-industry of misandrist propaganda. (Though women are victimized as well in the fantasy, lesbians can be macrocreeps too, and the opposite spectrum exists *Giant males* but let’s focus on the popular one, women.)

The compulsion comes from the fact that it’s a generational conditioning operation. I personally think it’s unintentional, there’s no way this shit was calculated, and macrocreeps are too small a group to even be measured as a problem but the problem actually is what they represent, the question: “Where in you is that fantasy coming from?”

What they represent, and what they’re literally showing us (Cry for help / Red Flag) in the content is the concerning factor. And how *consistent it is.

A normal person gets tired of watching the same movie, playing the same game, hell- some people break up from boredom. 

Most fetishists (especially macrocreeps)- DO NOT evolve, grow up or move on, they will stay on the same radio channel for- EVER. I repeat: FOREVER. 

The same horror, the same scenarios but from new artists (so much talent wasted on nonsense, it physically hurts me), the same-

“me male, me insignificant, yes goddess” 

disrespect/Misandry narrative on repeat and repeat and repeat. As per design.

It’s literally a case of an internet economy where nothing changes, like it’s recycling the narrative that their culture convinced them to be true. 

And most will eat it up for years to come (Literal Matrix tier enslavement of the mind)- as if following an installed directive, robotic. If only that level of commitment was shown to marriages or idk actual women? 

But nobody tryna have that conversation, a she-devil in your head who’s entire function is to hurt you & belittle will get more of your time, your skills, investment, devotion than women here in reality, hilarious. 

(And don’t be fooled, these are everyday people, some with families, these aren’t neckbeards but men & women with serious issue, and it’s about time we stopped pretending being broken is a virtue or some kind of badass badge when at the end of the day what you’re producing is blatant misery.

 It’s just ironic the level of commitment given to some lala-land kaiju, a paragon of misogyny that will NOT give you anything back in this life but wasted time, is still more effort than they’d give to women with something to offer)

And it’s even more hilarious that American birthrates started the drop just around the70s to 2020, now that is very interesting to me. Seems like the 70s was just around the tipping point for everyone over in America. Including Biden, because his stance on borders was verrrrry different way back when:

Funny how the media has all the resources to ride Trumps D 24/7 but they conveniently leave out this little gem. 

.Biden In 2007_ “No Great Country Can Say It’s Secure Without Being Able To Control Its Borders”

source

And so, again, women are now stuck with a good chunk of  house broken Man-children or live in a culture that cultivates this attitude where some men  in a bizarre sense want to worship women to a disturbing degree and want their mother to domineer over them and tell them how insignificant they are as society successfully programed into them (rarely is it from one experience), thus women are shipwrecked in this generation with a good number of American males-

-who don’t know how to be or afraid to be men (not men’s fault). And yet the consequence is they turn to fantasy, Anime, fetishism- escapism or any escapism where they condition themselves to have unreasonable expectations of girls and women’s behavior, bodies & themselves.

All to overcompensate what they couldn’t or CHOOSE not to step up to be in reality as men. 

Keyword: They <choose> fantasyland over choosing to be better, which is 100% in their control. They’d rather play victim in a fantasy where they lose control instead of growing a goddamn pair.

Product of the times.

Modern day wars on masculinity is what happens when we are taught women have a right to say “no” (True) but as a society we never tell a woman “no”. (A problem)

A woman happily serving the husband is toxic & repressive, but “Happy wife, Happy life” is normalization of men suffering in silence as long as their domestic adult-baby is pacified.

Notice how I’m throwing haymakers in both directions, because either way you slice it (and yes, it does go both ways) on either side it’s not efficient nor sustainable, as we’re now seeing. Everyone actually, because the Americans aren’t the only one’s suffering dropping births.

But it’s only okay when women get the better end of the deal. But the punchline is women aren’t receiving anything good from an atmosphere like this.

Do women today feel safe? Do they trust the men of their country? (that is a big one),  Does their culture prepare girls or pander to them to keep them in a box? Because padding women’s ego’s is a subtle form of control by giving women the illusion of agency.

That’s the ultimate fallacy of a Giant Woman being used by Feminists as an  empowerment symbol, and Fetishists as a symbol of power:  When in fact, a woman that big has even less control over her life because her interaction with civilization (and all the resources they have that she NEEDS from care to tampons) is now limited. The gigantism is fallacy in itself. 

The illusion of control.

Inflating the importance of a woman’s “independence” from men in society (when it’s not dependence to be with a man, it’s coexistence)

Some society shame the egos of men  because they are afraid of what men are capable of when things go wrong (Shootings, R*pe, murder).

When all that needs to be done is to teach boys & men to regulate and channel their ego instead of snuffing it out, teach principle, not hedonism. 

Abusing boys, drugging them up to stay still & smothering masculinity because the result is that a lot of  men now think they have no power and some believe & revel in the narrative they should have no confidence or power and only women should be allowed to have an ego & overwhelming advantage (Gynocentrism).

When it's just another perpetuated narrative (harming women & men) that men should be nerfed because they're a threat and not women because-

 women aren't a threat. Apparently only in a fantasy are they anything close to a danger.

  Exacerbating a woman's ego because you or the system presumes they won't ever do anything about it, zero threat. 

That’s why American culture is biased toward women so hard: They don’t take you seriously.

Misandry  is when the village fears men

Gynocentrism is the result of underestimating women's egos, underestimating women, painfully so.

Which is also why these macrocreeps use the fetish so they can fabricate a woman with near omnipotence over the “tiny”, 

Some psychologist taking on macrophilia theorize (paraphrasing): ‘Macrophiles seek to create women with overwhelming power in light of society lacking female empowerment’...... uhhhhhh excuse you, where have you been in the past 15-20 years of American pop culture & real time events? 

A “LACK” of Female empowerment? What?! 

Women are in fact doing better than the fellas.

This is a brutal form of gaslighting harder than a politician.

 And you want to know the most insulting part? Their assertion It’s conceivable to an extent but they never dig deeper.

Example: Most of these qualified people will use the “lack of female empowerment” point but rarely do any of them mention the rampant misandry in society & the culture inflating women’s egos, more so the normalization/glorification of male expendability as a logical alternate or logically the primary reason why Macrophilia has taken root in this era specifically to glorify what? You guessed it Glorification of male expendability and inflating the hubris of a woman.

Coincidence, it’s all coincidence.

But you see, when you say men wanting to be destroyed is because of gynocentric society lacking female empowerment: That’s another way of saying:

It’s not the fault of culture putting women on a pedestal at men’s expense as to why men developed stockholm syndrome where they also put women on a pedestal at men’s expense, even to the point of desiring their own oblivion- #Deflection

No instead they assert or suggest women aren’t being gassed up ENOUGH!!!

 So it’s not about men & women being culturally (& possibly at some point physically or emotionally) abused and propagandized- 

let’s make it about women not getting enough pandering, reinforcement, benefits, exceptions, compliments, priority, priority priority, priority. PEDESTAL.

(I think you get it, and I also think you see the problem. Men ARE ALWAYS AT THE BOTTOM, even in a situation where they are the focus per the fetish & might look to these psychologists for answers, somehow these people still make women out to be the victims anyway because society isn’t doing enough, so women deserve more more more.)

THAT right there is the freaking problem, not that women are involved in the conversation, but the fact that men are shelved yet again to make it about women.

But so many go to these pages for answers to be met with enabling the problem further, thus the source of the problem is lying in the place you go to get answers, how ironic. 

The dishonesty with some of these professionals is astounding, and you know what? I don’t think they’re doing it on purpose, that’s the scary part for me.

But yes, I do believe a lot of these people are holding back information or a degree of transparency to prevent from seeming like a persecutor.

Listen, I get empathy, you can’t just come at people any type of way. But if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we have to stop holding people’s hands. The truth doesn’t exist to breastfeed you, the entire point is to enlighten, teach, and if that involved discomfort that means it’s working. 

And saying essentially ‘women deserve better’ is why men glorify women destroying humanity is just signaling more entitlement, toxicity, excuses, zero accountability. 

And worse? Enabling people to worship Anti-Humanity obsessions.

This isn’t about accountability of women, not this time, Macrophilia wasn’t created by women, it was created by the overall culture, the village, the atmosphere that enabled female privilege, how matriarchal society is despite how patriarchal civilization is or was, but society? Is very matriarchal, Gyno (Women)- Centric.

Namely the people on top that own these companies, these news, media platforms of all types, owning everything we see (global too)- that are pushing the narrative.

Then we wonder why so many ladies are infantile and panic whenever asked “What do you bring to the table?”, this is not women’s fault, mind you. 

How are women supposed to answer the question, when they’re taught that they have all the answers, they’re bosses, they’re in charge, they run the world, the future is female, girlpower, #girlpower, #GIRLPOWER, empowerment, ass-kissing-

WOMAN WORSHIP culture. (Macrocreeps anyone?)

That’s what’s pumped into the average Americano lady like crack, like being reliant on the world to tell them they’re awesome. And then they grow up (physically), trained to be reliant on external validation for life-

A form of control over a woman’s mind, not fantasy but here in reality.

Spend a lifetime with a phone in your hand, depending on anon’s to signal they want to sleep with you instead using those hands of yours to actually build something or spread something constructive, like the truth, or a song, or a story, an empire, create something, anything other than your Two-Millionth selfie for the day.

That’s the sick joke: It comes off as America’s boner for Female Security when it’s female subjugation/pacification, on top of male subjugation/castration. Both parties are trivialized as a result. Nobody wins, nobody. 

Everyone’s a prisoner. That’s the point.

A giant 5′000ft tall woman destroys civilization, kills everyone. 

She laughs about it, gets off on it, and then what? She’s left stuck as a giant, no grocery to shop from, no one to love her, no one to talk to, no dental care, no resources, no infrastructure, no friends, no home, no support system, she’ll starve, she’ll dehydrate, she’ll get lonely, she’ll die alone. No fucking point,  that’s the part of the fantasy these muppets very conveniently leave out, reality.  Strength for days, but zero power. 

The natural consequence of the fantasy emulates reality. Nobody wins, nobody. Not even in fantasy. 

No intimacy, just horror, ugliness, death, destruction and emptiness. 

Because that’s what women are, amiright boys?

The common theme? I repeat, Nobody wins. 

It’s so closely similar in both fantasy & reality, the parallels are blood related (Hence my mother & child analogy). 

Propaganda is scary like that and moreso predictable, as are fetishists. 

We underestimate the effects of what children internalize (regardless of how minor the experience is) & regurgitate it and the fact that we don’t stop doing that emulation when we become adults.

It’s how we read rooms, social cues, our lovers or dangers, develop traumas.

We see, then spread the message. Whether it be school, a cool line from a movie, a song stuck in your head, an insult that sticks with you, someone intimidating you, threatening you, or you being threatened by a misunderstanding,  a compliment etc. 

No difference. 

We need less female empowerment, and more mentors.

Respect to women as humans first, and not singling them out constantly as “first woman to do-” something a man did 75 years ago. Patronizing women and making them like being a participation winner.

Mentor girls of womanhood as a principle, aka accountability, protecting your reproductive powers, not giving it away. 

America panders to female ego but does not respect womanhood. 

Society failed women and men by convincing us women are the exception when they actually deserve less- until  they’re willing to contribute something beside an open hand in a relationship.

You don’t get to win by just showing up.

women need to learn what earning a man’s time, money/ His life, His sacrifice, 

What earning his LIFE for hers really means.

Women need to learn what it means to earn that shit, I swear to god, a man’s life is so trivialized now, women don’t even think about what a big deal it is for man to just pay his life as a toll for hers to go on 5 more seconds.

 It’s disgusting how overlooked that is, but I keep hearing “As he should”, WHOO buddy. Americans are beyond lost baby.

But you see in 15 years or less that’ll be considered “hate speech” or a thought-crime, or perhaps this entire rant would be worth an insta-trip to ban world.

 because #MenAreTrash is trendy that’s fine 100% males don’t have feelings right but the same time we want them to be sensitive, but not too sensitive or else he’s a man-child. It’s never enough.

 #MenNeedToStepUp we can agree on 100%, but #WomenDoBetter or #WomenNeedToEarnAMan is misogyny

Everything is misogyny when name calling or witch-hunts aka “Cancel culture” (how it’s called today)- doesn’t work.

Right, keep that up. Doing a good job so far, lmfao.

But gee, I can’t figure out why the birthrates are falling

& men are flocking to other countries for real women? When there’s plenty in America, far in-between but they do exist.

All we wanted to do was just treat men/husbands/fathers like second class citizens, like idiots- so horrifically mistreated that the goofballs went & created a fetish/Cult where they actually enable each other to want to be treated like second class citizens.

ZERO connection, all coincidence!

Wanting Women to be their gods and mistreat or destroy them and the whole of civilization: um wow.

Did you even have a mother? I mean My God, what happened?!

You know, ZERO red flags there. Nothing to see here. Everything is fine. Go back to deviantart, enjoy the genocide.

No btw, I AM NOT shitting you, this is real. 

(And the access to A.I art made it SOOOOO much worse, now these lovable dorks can just spawn the most horrific shit with zero effort now)

If you didn’t think that group’s issues weren’t that deep? (because naturally, they’re just minding their business beating off/worshipping human genocide- until you realize how comfortable they’re getting, too damn comfortable, normalizing the most anti-human shit, it makes you question if you’re even awake sometimes)

Trust me, a good majority of them don’t even know where their obsession came from--- AND that is the point of propaganda, subtle, like a socio-cultural virus. A weapon for your mind. neurological malware.

I repeat: Neurological/Socio-Cultural Malware for your mind. A prison for your mind. It used to be heroin, still is for some, but now fantasy is the new drug, no drugs in your system, not “harming anyone” but that justification to keep doing it is why the prison is that much stronger. You tell yourself there’s no problem because no one’s hurt, you’ll keep doing it for the rest of your life.

The change begins when we allow ourselves to stop lying to ourselves.

And again, to no one’s surprise (Brain mappings show fetishism or sex addiction is parallel to addictive habits like drugs, alcoholism, etc.) So no, not harming anyone (until it does) but yourself through re-wiring what your brain imprints on, I believe it’s through firing signals via the synapse endings at climax, like you’re physically making changes to your brain on a microscopic scale. 

That is precisely why breaking the habit is difficult and the more rewarding, with any bad habit btw.

Fact is, Nobody knows exactly when a virus gets in your body or your pc/phone  machine, but when it’s in, it’s on you to do something about it or cope with it by not coping at all.

Superboy-Prime’s level of petty is not even close to an average GTS NPC, and ironically he could solo 99.99999999% of them all, even the god level one’s. And he’s smaller than most of them-

So yeah, despite having the word in their mouths 24/7, macrocreeps don’t really understand what  “power” is, lol.

Even if it’s a gentle scenario or the cringe “unaware” crap (where the appeal is more manslaughter but the excitement is she’s doing it unintentionally *yes, society failed this hard*)

The visual point of a woman being bigger by that much is visually signalling: “superiority”, female supremacy, gynocentrism. Males being lesser, weaker, vulnerable, under control, a security/self-esteem/ ultimately a Life-skill issue- that is the point.

It’s always a “power-” dynamic scramble, it’s so toxic and dysfunctional. 

To belabor the point, It’s no accident that what American society (from movies to articles) is pumping into you guys, is exactly what these cats worship with a level of dedication that makes Christians look like amateurs. 

They could legitimately begin a religion, I’m actually genuinely surprised they haven’t by now. 

In this context though, in Fantasyland where genocide is a goddamn game, that’s the entire appeal, #SizeDifference #Macro #Giantess #GiantessCrush #Sizeplay SizeSIZEsizesizesizesizesizesize, it’s really unhealthy. 

Hence Fetish hence “Obsession”, that’s what fetish means = You have nothing better to do.

This is why macrophilia is so unique though, solely because of how relevant it is to this era, the socio-cultural relevance.

And the reason for that (again) is this toxic gynocentric era in the west/ First world countries in general enabled it/ birthed it/ cultivated it in the first place.

Hear me: Macrophilia (One obsession) didn’t cause the problems between men and women, it is simply one of many manifestations/ & ultimately a spawn of these problems. 

It’s literally an example of what your civilization did horribly wrong whilst trying to empower women, you left men behind. 

Worldwide issue btw, Macrohphilia is not exclusive to America, neither is toxic-Gynocentrism. But America is Gold Medal champ in making their Men are 100% aware they are expendable to society, made to feel inept or stupid, should do more, here’s a superhero movie showing a guy being cool but IRL we’ll treat you like garbage in policies & law making. 

A lot of Japanese are into MacroCultisms, to no one’s surprise. 

Not in the 50s to 70s, but during the 90s, post-Internet 2000s era is when it really sparked, now all of a sudden we got a huge influx of goofballs wanting women to commit mass genocides on entire cities (Which involves children & babies- #ThisIsFine) or men the size of germs shrining women for existing, living on their bodies like Demodex (your hair mites)... just the most mind-numbing shit just to feel like you’re worthless, on purpose.

Kind of like the narrative privileged society pumps into you? #FutureisFemale (How inclusive) 

Or articles propagating that men are “Falling behind”, any & every excuse to plant seeds of disconnect and potential resentment, always negative.

The goal is to propagandize female supremacy to either frustrate men into resenting women (some of MGTOW), turn them paranoid (Anti-Woke Tards that complain about any movie with a female lead or women doing anything cool or competent), or straight up break them like dogs & the victims will ask for more (Macrocreeps)

or turn them indifferent, numb to even want to say or do anything about the problem. Men who unplugged and absolutely do not care anymore.

A lot of Men have been whipped & brutally trained by their own culture to be and somehow want to be second/third class citizens in some respects. and you’ll have attention seeking narcissist women infiltrating these communities garnering a following calling themselves “Goddess- [insert name]” , absolute silliness, just the most infantile stupid crap you’ll ever see. 

The strongest degree of secondhand embarrassment I’ve ever experienced, it’s like watching younger siblings just ruin....everything they touch for no reason.

These women banking on the insecurity of thousands of men who just need help or a fucking hug.

And the simple chemistry of men and women boils down to: SEX, connection, life, be happy. That’s it. That’s really all people want.

How do you complicate that, this badly? And it NOT be an artificial catalyst that caused it, life was not designed to be this convoluted & silly. This is what happens when you make relations between men and women more complicated than necessary. 

Otherwise, frankly: How does genocide correlate with sex. 

Vore? Still cringe, but at least you can loosely correlate that with oral sex, digestion (psychotic) but believe it or not it’s wanting to be in the womb again. 

(Male or female) it applies, yes brains are stupid like that. This is why what you ingest through the eyes to your soul is important, most people don’t even know where the impulses are coming from but WELP *wank wank

KNOW THYSELF. FREE THYSELF. Ya’ll better watch The Matrix again and really listen to what it’s telling you, not “was” telling, what IT IS telling us, still today. 

“A prison for your mind.”, notice how The Matrix in context was a “Fantasy” land/ distracting from the real war going on outside of the fantasy, outside of the prison. 

We better catch what these films are communicating.

Back on topic, how does being abused/bullied/destroyed/digested/ all of this crap by women- relate to sex and making love and NOT be related to some psychological struggles or a mass installation op. Even if unintentional.

Propaganda, abuse, societal/generational neglect. That’s how. Genocide ain’t it boi, something upstairs went sleep mode & it needs to wake up.

“The sleeper must awaken.“

I’m not smart at all, I just know what shit smells like and I’m more than willing to step on toes, and happily brave a ban or 2 if it means saying what apparently no one wants to say because we have this unspoken rule that all kinks are sacred & immune to judgement.

HA!, I don’t know what planet you came from, but that’s not how life works buddy. Whenever I tell fetishist this, they shut down completely or unravel, their confidence just goes away like fart.

Why?

Because they rely on the world saying “Sorry, carry on.” Nope! That’s not how life works. A fetish is not a baby, so adopting it gives absolutely nothing to us.

Really, all we have to do is pay attention to the world in real time and the rest sorts itself out. But our everyday can muddy & blur the lines, I get it, and that’s part of the game. Blue Pill baby, it was never about being asleep, it’s about being distracted.

“You need to see.“

- Jamis (DUNE PART TWO)

Some of these hombre’s aren’t even abused as kids, sometimes all it takes is one awkward moment with a girl overpowering you verbally or physically, a moment of vulnerability, or you get yelled at by an adult woman, or you see abuse or a woman having an overwhelming advantage in a movie and society does the rest with crap like #GirlsRunTheWorld over and over and over again-

No strong male role models to build up a healthy ego, or no dad at all, or a competent father, or even a big brother or sister, then when your confidence isn’t properly built (by your parents or environment) in time when you see something that makes you feel inferior or put-off and your mind can’t register it properly.

Like psychological indigestion and or in layman’s terms “Intrusive thought” that manifests into something it shouldn’t.

So it doesn’t bounce off as it should, or make you mad & you reject the negative signal.- instead it actually sinks into you, you internalize it. And it sits there, and sits there, & you keep seeing things in shows, feeding that seed.

And through a coping mechanism post-puberty where your hormones turn off your intelligence entirely (Yes, Sex chemicals actually make you stupid by design),  where you then normalize the toxicity because it’s women doing it, and women are attractive. So genocide is a good thing if a woman does, because women are hot. 

You’re horny now + the epic scale of giant women having near omnipotent control over your fate provides unrivaled excitement & dopamine levels that no woman could or would even want to measure up to (Cause it’s goofy af, Gulliver’s Travels #headass). 

Then the newborn fetishist propagates #Giantessisms over and over and over again with the unbridled freedom of the web- ready to act a fool.

And the ever so convenient echo-chamber of fetish spaces where everything you do and say came straight from Christ himself, where you’ll receive ZERO challenge. (Another part of the problem)

Indulge comfortably until someone, eventually goes against the grain in 4-15 years, roasting it- and then your defenses activate.  Because how dare they insult something that provides absolutely zero value or tangible substance to your life amiright?

But my oh my, I don’t know where it came from, I guess it’s always been there but It’s pretty much my personality and ”a part of my identity”....it’s a “hobby” 

-some say this crap, of course on threads where the likeminded are & will upvote everything they say, naturally naturally.  

Challenge is their Kryptonite. Questions make everyone queasy.

Painting women as inhuman psychopaths is a HOBBY. Riiiiiight, Okay then.

Pretending in make believe land that you’re a tyrannical burden to the society that would bend over backwards to protect you at the expense of men, any day of the week. 

You actually want to be an evil & mortal danger to people if means your fragile ego getting a stroke from being a couple meters/Mile  taller than everyone else, for a sense of control you obviously can’t manage to obtain as a competent adult here in reality. That’s part of your “identity”? Oooooooookay then.

Definitely not overcompensating for anything.

But don’t judge them though, you don’t want to hurt anyone’s fee’s fee’s now do you? You don’t want to be a meanie or a bad person.

Because saying nothing & pretending “This is fine” has worked out so well for mankind thus far right? 

Just ask Japan 2023 (Age of consent raise in that year, look it up. *If I talk about it, that’s going to be another essay, let’s stay focused: 

Sexes Disconnect/Gynocentrism/Gynocentric-Fetishism/Birthrates/Illegals/Decline )  🚨

Cycle of toxicity birthing more cycles.. 

The biggest woman you see first/imprint on in life is ideally your mother-figure. 

These cats just want mommy, thus from the place of a child (thus small like a child) so macrophilia has some PeterPan syndrome-isms in it’s core, thus to no one’s surprise this is a very cringe case of some suspended development because for most, all of this started when they were at their smallest & VULNERABLE to begin with.

“Vulnerable“, something they want to feel. That’s part of the high. “Helpless“, you’ll hear that term a lot in their subtext, it’s like a religious mantra next to “insignificant“, they LOVE that one, holy shit is that one a cult favorite line. (Z from ANTZ #headass, “You’re right Z, you are insignificant.”)

I’m telling you, all you have to do is pay attention. How our brains work is not that complicated especially when what these innocent goofs choose to share with us is literally spelling out the picture- How can I tell? Consistency and the fact that they NEED the world to know, like a cry for help:

Except they’re getting likes & money, and not a fuck to give to provide a solution vs exacerbation. 

And no, unlike what some of these exploitative women will say: NO providing an outlet or safe-space for these little angels is not therapeutic. 

Therapy is an actual solution, letting it go is a solution. Indulgence? Is like dumping a truck full of “happy snow” in a rehab center and then calling that “therapeutic”. 

The women arguing this want their meal tickets to stay delusional, stay deranged and remain imprisoned. Money baby, it’s all money.

This fetish became an industry, like many tend to do.

The repetitive nature of the “content” is too consistent, Artwork evolves it’s narrative. Art changes.

(I repeat) But this? It stays the exact same, same narrative, same bloodshed, same dialogue, all that’s different is the production value and who it’s coming from.

And yes, all of this & others mentioned prior contributes or related to the birthrates issue (China, Japan, Russia & others suffer this too), thus this illegal invasion in America.

All of it is connected, all of it, this isn’t the usual rambling session or tangent. There’s a point to this entire lecture, this is actual lore for the movie you’re living in.

The Twilight Zone episode that will not end even after you do.

These are real people, it’s not doing America any favors pretending these clowns/more-so the implication and subtext of their issues or more importantly THE issue doesn’t exist.

It’s the same with Japanese men and their infatuation with Anime culture & how that mega industry and so many other factors are causing Japan’s own falling births, social shut-in’s, etc.

We can’t just ignore this crap because no one wants to be “that guy”, screw that. Nothing’s gonna get done if we’re stuck in our own little worlds. 

Doesn’t make sense to have the Internet and be this connected & still be so distant at the same time.

We gotta at least address the roots of the issues while having fun-

That’s the operative concern, what caused the phenomenon in the first place, how do these obsessions work, why, and where is it coming from?

And why is it almost prophetic? Like a warning.

This isn’t about Macrocreeps being the problem, they’re a result. 

This ain’t about coming after them, though it’s been high time somebody put their ass on blast, so long overdue, holy shit. 

Because if you step back and really look at the concept of a giant woman committing genocide because her job sucks or she needed to bigger just to feel good about herself instead of just getting her life together? 

It’s pretty silly lol, infantile even.

But this is really about the subtext, that they are living breathing red-flags/reminders that your culture is failing and it’s failing everyone.

Woman is god, male subjugation good, women destroy civilization (including killing kids & babies by the thousands apparently, so marcocreeps are indirectly beating to slaughter of children, yaaaay) and yes, some also sexualize children too, casually. 

Japan would be proud or as of 2023, maybe not? Lol. 

Wash rinse repeat, it’s never enough. Men, humans, animals, life needs to be red paste on the bottom of a woman’s feet or else the itch isn’t scratched. 

For an average macrochump to feel some sort of sexual vindication in the context of the fantasy:  Women. The ONLY natural  threshold of human life, absolutely need need to trample, torture, and destroy life. 

That is indicative of something very concerning.

This is what I mean when I say Macrophilia is at it’s core: Anti-Human

That is straight misogyny, and I’m one of those people that hate the overuse of the word “misogyny”, I never use it but here I am using it (If I’m not mistaken for the first time in serious context) because this is actually that disturbing.

Click “upvote” on the psychopath content (”content” lmfao, more like commissioned propaganda)

comment for more, make video games repeating the same exact, and I do mean SAME EXACT narrative. 

(Yes, these goofballs make games & comics *they’re shit storytelling btw, absolute garbage, it’s not even appropriate for ironic cringe, it’s just bad*, it’s not creative either. But the lengths they go to to realize the exact same talking point they’ve heard a million times? The sheer determination to want to be demeaned, disrespected, & bullied by women and girls? That’s the impressive part. Again, I sincerely doubt they’d put that same effort in their kids. Just saying.)

further internalize male self-hatred as you were programmed to do so. Follow the script. Question nothing. Consume. Consume. Consume. Indulge, sink, drown.

You’d think they’d get bored of it, or maturity would fight it’s hardest to tame that beast of a brain in one’s cranium, and fit some sanity in there. God forbid

All in all, The American Culture state has weaponized women against men for decades now- so the fetish itself is not surprising or a shock.  

Men or women wanting to give up “control” for a sense of security in being ruled or abused in every way possible by a giant entity (male or female) sounds ideal for a (giant entity) state/society/government that literally would love love loooove for men (aka the first & last line of defense of civilization) or women (first, second and last line of defense to the children AND the only natural threshold of new life) to bow down, and want to be slaves.

So (in general) if your protectors are too busy kissing the ground, who’s protecting you? 

It’s why so many women are wondering what happened to men? Where did the men go? Why aren’t men performing? 

To put it simply (fetish or no fetish), a lot of western men:

They’re broken. Tamed. Clipped. Sterilized. By the same entity that tells you you can have it all “The Party”, The collective, society, the entity, the giant. 

Because there’s a lot more men committing self-termination than women, look it up. They’re suffering.

So most, not all- But all in all, women need better “uplifting” messages and the men are in serious need of society giving a crap about them.

  It starts in the home, both the solution and the problem starts at home and the village/society. Because parents can do everything right and society will undo 70% of that work.

I’ve said all this before, and I will keep saying it until I’m dead & probably still talking & ranting from beyond the grave.

If I personally wanted to "RIP” a country, “If.” Theoretically

I would convince the men that being a man is toxic, that they shouldn’t be men, to the point where they actually want to give up their manhood. 

Enable a superiority complex in the women regarding the men, to keep them in a constant state of resentment & entitlement and they don’t even know why. And the men are so passive & broken, they won’t challenge the women unless pushed, and when pushed, they will be frustrated, & what could result in a solution will just deepen the resentment on both sides.

And while one group is insufferable and the other one is groveling and pathetic and angry, or they just fight each other- The children are now exposed.

 Corrupt the children, you take that country’s future. Checkmate. 

Same with race. 

Not a nuke, not poisoning the water- but poison how the people see each other. 

Corrupt what they believe until they believe in nothing at all, not even in themselves, let alone their Gov., let alone their Homeland. Poison the culture. Keep them fighting, so when I do pull up on their doorstep, it’s too late.

 [Destroy the traditional family first, the pillars. Trivialize values until you stand for nothing: Destroy the country]

Convince the Protector Class/Men they should want to be destroyed by the group of people they should be protecting in the first fucking place: That is the power of propaganda people, corruption of the natural instinct. Anti-Human.

Size is not power, 

controlling what you see, influencing what you should think, what you don’t believe, who you hate, how to hate, what to hate, what to see as good, even now influence what you obsess over- To control how the world changes, controlling the triggers to your mind, propaganda, knowing you better than you know yourself, how to speak, what to say, weaponizing the mind against you, propaganda, that is power. 

Message = Power

 Always has been.

This is psychological warfare in real time. Brain-Malware, this is not a joke.

And trust and believe, I actually do have better things to do,  I only talk this much because I actually give a hoot.

 It’s just a crime that professionals with lengthier credentials WILL NOT tell you any of this. 

Propaganda is CONTROL, and can convince you to give yours up. 

Propaganda hurts you and conditions you to want to be hurt by the other half of humanity who’s entire instinct is community, birthing life, emotional propensity strength & nurturing. Things that glue civilization together. 

Things that are trivialized by civilization but things that civilization needs to stay intact, that only women provide in a way only women (as a collective) can. That’s womanhood, but you’ll sooner hear about empowerment on a corporate ad on Youtube to sell some damn soap than these companies tell you (what I just said) that truth because people actually NEED to see and hear this.

Hear me out, women are physically softer, designed to be more pleasant and lovable to appeal. Even an average woman’s voice triggers pleasure chemicals in your brain.

But somehow the popular obsessive scenario in the cult is women destroying everything, with a smile, with pleasure, and obscene satisfaction. Absolute demon-spawn who’s birth is a mistake.

Sooooo the overtone being, again, that a woman with any power- is a threat to civilization? A threat to men. 

Wow, that’s how you feel? Lmfao!  Again, smells like misogyny.  Smells like an implanted narrative. 

See, majority of the “GTS” (Gratuitous Trivial Silliness) -producers just conjure their content to receive likes, appease the intrusive thoughts living rent-free in their head and most importantly validation for their Misandrist-macabre & maybe money from the fellow members. 

The actual overtones of what they’re spreading out in the Human races digital continuity (Inter-Nets) and how that insults/slanders women or what that says about them because that’s coming from their own heart & mind about women- that  will never sink in for them to devote 5 seconds of self-awareness. 

Or they did, and just don’t care because they know nobody replying will say anything less than “More please!”

Too much dopamine addiction to the validation to properly think about the subtext or what they’re actually communicating by drawing/shooting/programming  the same crap over and over again.

A beautifully implanted rotted seed (on part of the powers sabotaging men & women), twisted, horrifically sick joke. 

Completely Anti-Human narrative, because who even portrays women like that, all women wanted was Equality. Why do we absolutely need them to loom over us like overlords when they actually just want someone to love them, listen to them, and see them? Flaws and all.

That’s all women want. Women are not a mystery, they’re just made to be complicated by the media & hacks that dictate the prevailing narrative that articles spread like wildfire, because women being complicated helps the disconnection. It romanticizes it.

Tell someone a lie enough times then it becomes true.

Some bro’s propagate “Woman with power is a man’s undoing” / “The threshold of life being the merchants of death” for a living and sleep at night without considering “Why is that coming from inside me” ? 

Nothing. 

This is why accountability, judgement, criticism is necessary. 

It helps prevent society from becoming a mass asylum (where it gets to a point where a woman who steps on toys for a living is actually given an interview, yes this happened). 

It never “hurts anyone” until it does-

Just. Ask. JAPAN. 

(’2023 Japan Age of Consent Law change’, look it up and look up why they changed it)

Some commenter said something simple yet true on the same video where some goofy attention seeking woman who sells videos of herself stepping on plastic toys & sells said footage to mouth-breathers, she ultimately claimed “I’m a Giantess” (*nice job parents, good to know where Americano Tax dollars went)

And the commenter didn’t insult her, they didn’t say anything wild, no essay, no lecture, not even something I personally expected, they said simply:

“Western society has derailed.”,

 that’s it.  It’s not profound, but it’s so candid & haunting. 

That stuck with me.

Because that’s the point.

And then if you’re not dealing with human footstools who want to be literal pets for giant-women, you have the other end of the spectrum: Man-Boyos who are actually toxic, the kind that grooms, unwanted advances persist then calls you a “bitch” because the situation didn’t play out how it did in his head, the R*9ists, harassers, stalkers etc.

Plenty of confidence, but misplaced, no humility, no maturity, nothing intelligent to say but talking the loudest. Can’t tell you how many times I almost threw hands with those types of dudes.

And in-between, you have the normies just trying to keep their heads down, live out whatever’s left of the “American Dream/ Theory”, racking up 50 exes every 6 months trying to figure it out because the only legacy society has to pass down to you is failure. 

Consider this hookup culture where women are expected by a lot of men to be LVL99 Sexperts but if she’s had too many partners she’s considered damaged/used up/monkey branching by MGTOW groups...who in concept should be a good thing, some good messages, but overall just boil down to divorcees & bitters bashing women while sprinkling “male empowerment” on top of it.

Again, we need less empowerment and more principles. With principles, you won’t need someone rubbing your belly telling you you’re a special girl or a special boy.

She hits 30, she’s over the hill when actually 30-35 is physically prime time to have babies. 20-30 should be young women figuring it out (mentally, existential), as with any adult.

Or women told/encouraged to “experiment” or made to think they can have the swingers life at 19  and then settle down when it’s convenient. 

Which they can, however, consequences don’t take a break because you’ve been taught to think that’s having fun- Then they’re worn & torn before they’re 25, just way too eager to sleep with 70% of America, like slow the hell down, jfc.

Have a laundry list of expectations for a man, but who you are doesn’t match half the good things you expect from him- How is that a recipe for success?

Just having your cake, eating it, and choking on it on both sides.

Both sides have podcasts asking “what happened?” or pointing the finger to the other side, when in reality--

 We’re not enemies nor meant to fight in nature, powerful women are not a threat, civilization NEEDS that. We need more women that earn their power, & have something offer.

A woman with advantage is not something that will threaten civilization, that’s advancement you goofballs lol.

 Ad proud men aren’t something to keep caged, broken and exercised.

We’re not even designed to fight each other. This is precisely the point as to how forced this all is.

We’re set up to be fractured and wedged from each other in a cultural sense. (because obviously people are still bumpin hips & having kids but some are not raising em worth a crap or training them to be useful or struggling to give them something good, or raising them up right just to be corrupted as soon as they leave the house, sometimes even earlier. some sects of Society are not even hiding that they are “coming for your kids”)

 “Everyone knows  what sex is, a lot of people know how to fuck. Nobody ‘makes love’ anymore.”

SO point being, finally, again: Propaganda is POWER. Propaganda is control (Not a new concept, it’s been said before). It creates delusions/& apparently fetishism. It creates false realities, conflict, disconnect. Lies. Lies. Lies. Propaganda is CONTROL. 

“power & control“, two words macrocreeps obsess over in fantasyland- same two concepts that propaganda is meant to take away from you. That is NOT an accident.

Drive the American sexes apart, division makes for a weaker people, weaker people are easier to control, birthrates dropping since the 70s (Not an accident, look it up & it’s got nothing to do with women going to school and getting jobs) 

And now Biden or the powers above him are making up the difference with an influx of illegals to compensate for what Americans are not birthing because of the disconnect and all the various side-effects of that and the propaganda.

American Feds has always been lacking, but this level of incompetence is not accidental. It’s sabotage. And it’s not new, it’s no different from how dope is implanted in Black communities so the community eats itself alive, remaining behind and seemingly primal.

Think about it, why would we need a New World Order, if one of the most iconic Empires on the planet  is successful, healthy and thriving economically?

The answer is, you wouldn’t need a NWO if the U.S. is King or a threat or taken seriously. 

(Even if you’re not the biggest fan of American history, or the current reputation they have with their poor wokeness & political embarrassments. Do not underestimate just how many countries look to America for reinforcement and an example & always have.)

So to fix that, you prevent The United States of America from EVER becoming a threat again.

And instead of picking a fight on the outside- infiltrate their political parties, infiltrate their culture, their pop-culture, propagandize what they watch, what the masses internalize, break the family down, drive apart men & women, promote alternative lifestyles, make truth an “insensitivity”, speaking truth punishable by legal persecution or being banned from social media (which is akin to erasing your existence in the modern age), and plant agents in the Senate that will (by vote) prevent any progress for the American people:

(Think in Newspeak or be banned for ‘violating community guidelines’, you vulgar swine) aka 

“Social Media” aka 1984: The Prototype

“there is no war in ba sing se”

Pay off the leader to literally allow illegals (that coincidentally involve a good number of your own nationals) into their country and make the legal citizens who are already desperate for better healthcare to then pay for the toilet-paper the illegals wipe their ass with.

The illegals aren’t the problem, Americans are letting them in there. Look up what one of China’s border installations look like, it’s a FORTRESS out of a James Bond game. 

Russia’s border doesn’t play either so why is America expected to be the fool?

Blatant sabotage. It’s all connected. Biden himself in ‘07 said a great nation can’t have weak borders (paraphrasing), now he’s changed his tune when what he said was 100% true.

Birthrates resulting from the disconnect, the disconnect resulting from propaganda, the fetish being the manifestation of the culture’s declining climate & hostility toward men and boys & trivialization of women & girls, dehumanizing humanity; As well as a symptom that the propaganda is working way better than intended.  

OR? the scary part? It was calculated. (doubt it tho)

PROPAGANDA is power!!! Control how people perceive reality & themselves, you control the direction of that society. 

Stepping on cities doesn’t compare to making a NATION eat itself over 50 years or less, it’s not even close. The slow knife cuts deepest, always have. 

(Notice how i’ve belabored & repeated some points throughout, that’s a methodology of propaganda, bombard you with the same narrative so that the narrative sticks, I did that on purpose just so you get a sample of how this machine is operated. Repeat exposure is form of conditioning, hence fetishism, repeat exposure. Repeat the same message. Repeat the same message.)

And because it’s working, Americans are likely past the point of recovery, social media is a powerful tool as well as an effective distraction.

If it took this long to decline, imagine how long it will take to repair the damage, and Americas will never be allowed to fix anything, not before another tragedy conveniently strikes or another reason to fight each other conveniently arises, more distraction.

The problem starts where the solution does, in the home, in your culture.  In your mind.

America needs more people, but the world is rotting, the times are going in a direction not suitable for children, or even if having/affording children is smart. You have a newborn that needs formula, you can’t afford insurance but your taxes are feeding an illegal’s kids. 

Who in their right mind would reward a society with another mind to corrupt, another slave to bleed dry and it won’t even help you raise the child before trying to feed other people kids- who trespassed to begin with and our own homeless are being exiled from cities like the trash you walk on?! *ERROR404*

But we have 50MIL+ for trespassers.

 It’s lose- lose for the modern Americano.

And don’t think Trump is the answer- while it is convenient that his trial happened just at the right time for this election to pop off (ideal distraction from something else going on in the world) these people will fight & debate on TV then have orgies on islands while you’re arguing with people you don’t know online because you think your political tribe is the answer to the world’s problems. When it’s all just manufactured chaos.

Make promises about things you can see, like “build the wall”, but bringing the country together? Bringing men and women together? Better healthcare WITHOUT subtext loopholes to fund backdoor deals in other countries? 

These antagonist corporations causing this disconnect in advertisements & movies, will they be falling in line to help your people?

Do the bloodlines that OWN these corporate giants give a crap?

If that isn’t the argument in the Presidential debate, you’re voting for an agent. (And I keep saying “Agent”, because I repeat: WATCH THE MATRIX again. Hiding in plain sight baby, in plain sight.) 

They do not care, they’re reading scripts, on orders. They promise you policy, when what will save you is unity in the culture. Literally just people getting along.

Help the culture maturing, growing up (pun intended, headass) , it will never happen. 

Why would Americans want that, why would Americans ever want the only real progress that will save their country? Unity. Cooperation. Coexistence. 

Apparently everything’s going great in America, why would people want actual progress that would fix everything, why would you ever want an actual solution when you can keep being promised one by people who don’t live in your community and own Islands to hand down to their great great-grands and yours live off of tips.

But you have 50 million+ big ones to spare for illegals? Hm, you cats got yourselves a paradise eh? Ready to fight everyone’s wars & fix everyone’s problems but your own.

Let them all in to keep families together, and drive your own people apart through movies, ads, games, articles, etc.. 

Your Gov. (and the powers above them) are giving Palpatine a run for his money when it comes to this Chess game play, my lord.

Ya’ll have been getting played, and played hard. 

That’s the only “Domination” happening here, the powers playing on the uninitiated, broken, lonely & longing and above all: distracted. 

Subliminally training so many to submit, hunt for likes from the collective, obey TOS or be erased (prototype martial law), and ironically want subjugation ie. train people to want what’s coming anyway.

All “they” (the token “they”) prevailing party- had to do was slap a woman on it. Genius. And the resulting atmosphere is hurting men and women, genius. 

Life was not meant or designed to be like this. This is why there are problems. 

Reverend Mother from DUNE PART TWO said it best: 

“-there are no sides.“

[useless-catalanfacts]

Here's a clear example of what we mean when we speak of how Spain's occupation makes the lives of Catalan people worse in so many ways every day, including the lives of those who are against independence! It doesn't matter that anyone plays the role of the good exemplary Catalan, speaks only Spanish, cries against the independentists asking for too many things, say that voting is going too far, always defend that Spain is right and we don't have the ability to rule ourselves... It doesn't matter, because the Spanish system still always considers you a second-class citizen.

For decades, Catalonia and the Valencian Country have had a problem because Spain doesn't have a working railway system for transporting goods. Barcelona and València are two of the busiest ports in all the Mediterranean, and the goods have to be taken by trucks to their destinations or to France (to be taken to the rest of Europe). This means that there is a huge concentration of trucks on our highways, and they cause many accidents, traffic congestion, and damage the roads quicker.

Heatmap of the average daily amount of trucks in the highways in the state of Spain. You can see how Catalonia is 100% in red, and almost all the Valencian Country is too. The only other red areas are a part of Murcia (right under the Valencian Country), a part of the highways leading to Madrid, and a part going towards France via the Basque Country. This map is made with data published by the Spanish Government (source).

For this reason, the Governments of Catalonia and the Valencian Country have been asking for over a decade to build the Mediterranean Corridor, a train line for goods that would unite all the busiest harbours and main cities since Algeciras (tip of Southern Spain right in front of Morocco), with all Southern Spain, the Valencian Country, and Catalonia, to Southern France, where there are already railway lines connecting it to Northern Italy and Central Europe. The Gov of Catalonia has been begging for this for over a decade mainly to bring down the amount of accidents on the road, because the regional governments have very limited power and money and don't have the permission to do infrastructure works like this (it is only the Gov of Spain that has this power). The Spanish Gov's answer has always been the refusal to make any train lines through Catalonia and the Valencian Country, and that if they ever build a railway it would go through Madrid instead. They don't care that people die here on the roads because of their national pride and dismissal/hatred of Catalans.

Now they have decided to build the railway for goods. And, yep, it will go through Madrid. It will not affect the roads, because it still doesn't go near the busy harbours of València and Barcelona. So they will still need to drive trucks to take them to the train line. Spain's hatred reaches levels of stupidity.

Look again at the map of which roads need support, and now compare it to the map posted by Spain's railways official account of where the railway will go through:

(Source: Adif, July 10th 2024)

That's not useful. Also, notice how they have lied saying it stops in Barcelona but pointing at the map where Barcelona isn't. Barcelona is much further south and on the coast (that's why it's an important harbour! Most goods are transported internationally by ship!). The city that they have mislabelled as "Barcelona" is actually Girona. And the Spanish railways has also taken a very political choice of misspelling Figueres with the Spanish spelling that was imposed during the fascist dictatorship (since Catalan was forbidden, all Catalan names —towns/cities, areas, rivers, people's personal names, etc— had to be translated to Spanish, and when place names didn't mean anything and couldn't be translated they had to be spelled in the Spanish way), spelling it Figueras instead.

Direct instances of facing discrimination for being from our country, for speaking Catalan, or for having a Catalan name or accent aren't the only ways in which Spain makes our life worse. There are many things every day from waking up to going to sleep that are decided for us, against us. This is why people who live in a place should have the power to decide how their home is ruled, and not a government far away that doesn't know our problems and which in the best of cases doesn't care about us and in the worst cases actively wishes us the worst.

[lesinquietes]

Summary: You’re trying to recover from what happened, but it’s hard to forget; especially when you know he’ll be back for you one day. Your commutes home have never been so stressful.

Mean!Yandere!Shigaraki x Bimbo!Reader

⚠️ mdni. a splash of horror. dark content. degradation. exhibitionism. fingering. incel. misogyny. noncon. sexism. thoughts of death and dying. victim-blaming. voyeurism. yandere.

Previous l pls stop asking for a part 3 💕

You go straight to the cops upon fleeing from Shigaraki. You understand why he let you escape when the officers stifle chuckles. You don’t have anything but your word to support the bold accusation that the leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front is trying to rape you. Saying it aloud sounds more ridiculous than the way it echoes in your thoughts.

You check the forum. Crumbleking’s post was deleted days ago. The account he used is gone, too. Your Instagram yielded similar results.

At the very least, they believe that someone entered your apartment and assaulted you. His identity being Tomura Shigaraki is highly contested. They send someone over to investigate your home. Much to your chagrin, the officer returns with a clean report. According to his examination, nothing in the space was disturbed. There was no sign of a break and enter.

It’s funny. When you stumbled towards the window, desperate for safety, you recall knocking over a table and shattering the vase. If nothing was disturbed, did your assailant clean up the mess…?

You ration that he had to have, and your heart almost stops. He’s ballsy for that one. You suppose he’s confident in his plan to enact revenge on you. He considers himself invincible, and he damn well might be. But everyone has a weakness.

You’re not stupid enough to think this is over. You aren’t keen to relax now that you’ve alerted the authorities. Will the cops who laughed at you rush to your aid when he inevitably returns for a second try? Doubtful. You’re responsible for protecting yourself.

You submit a police report anyway. They don’t include a name for the suspect because they don’t buy your allegation. It’s enough to simply have the document on file.

You don’t return to your apartment that evening — at least, not by yourself. You explain what happened to a friend. She lives in a beautiful, isolated rural area, about an hour out of town; nevertheless, upon hearing your bad news she drives all the way to pick you up at the station. A stoic, shivering mess, she works to reassure you. Nothing works. Nothing is helpful. She takes you back to her house after grabbing some essentials at your place.

Entering your space felt foreign and uncomfortable. You found yourself jumping at the slightest creak. Nothing was familiar. And you were correct about the vase — someone cleaned it up.

The days following your attack involve negotiating a lease break with your landlord. Fortunately, you’ve lived here long enough to establish a solid rapport with him. He keeps your deposit for last month’s rent and permits you to leave by the end of the week. You do so discreetly.

Gradually, you transport your essentials into your car. On the last day of your lease, you hire movers to bring your larger furniture to a storage unit. You promise your friend it’ll only be for a few weeks, and you mean that — for her sake. Although she comprehends the risks, she still agreed to help you; nonetheless, you don’t believe she’ll be spared if Shigaraki discovers your location.

You quit your job. A new one isn’t difficult to find. It’s in a different city. If all goes well, you figure you’ll move into a nearby apartment and lay low.

The next week or so is quiet. You maintain awareness of your surroundings but nothing happens. It’s as though he’s biding his time… or maybe witnessing you walking on eggshells is precisely what he wants.

Shigaraki is a busy man. He doesn’t have the energy to spend haunting you, a civilian who once talked shit about him online. There are bigger fish to fry. According to him, he gets enough women at home, anyway. It’s likely that you’ll never see him again.

Oh, you poor, naive woman; so willing to believe the logical lies your nervous brain feeds you.

It’s six o’clock in the evening, two weeks after your encounter with the dust villain. You stand on the subway terminal and glare down the tracks. There are a few other people there with you. No one you recognize.

To get to your friend’s residence, you have to take the 2216 train to the very end, walk for fifteen minutes, and catch the bus. It’s a dreadful commute. You’re saving up to buy a used car. But until then, you’ll just have to deal with the time vampirism that comes with sneaking around.

Five minutes into your gruelling wait, the train squeals into the terminal, dim yellow lights flickering as it grinds to a jittery halt. Its doors jerk open with a soft ding. You enter the cabin. As usual, it’s crowded at this time of night. Everyone else is commuting home, too. They get on at the station right before yours, taking up all the seats and more than half the standing space.

You walk down a bit and stand between two men conversing with seated passengers. There’s a group of stylish women next to you, chattering eagerly about their evening plans, and a few scattered friends on the opposite side, dazed and distracted after a long work day. It’s compact, but not uncomfortable yet.

Your hand dips into your pocket. When your fingers don’t find what they’re looking for, you grimace. No earbuds. Great. You must have forgotten them at work.

The train stops at another terminal. More people shuffle on board. The trip commences.

You close your eyes and meditate. Honing in on your breathing, you feel the air entering and leaving your lungs. The sensation is serene. You sigh gingerly as the background noise lessens a bit. Sadly, your peace doesn’t last for long.

Something swipes across your butt. Your spine grows rigid. Accidents happen on packed subways, but that? That didn’t feel like a mistake. You hold your breath as you wait, positive your assailant will make a second move. He doesn’t keep you in suspense for long.

He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing the flesh tightly. You gasp. A swift, gloved hand covers your mouth. The textured fabric is rough against your skin.

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.”

Your assailant’s familiar, raspy voice sends a chill through your entire body. Without a doubt, Tomura Shigaraki is behind you. You were a fool to believe he was gone for good. He had to return, didn’t he? If only to put you in your place.

“If you overreact, I’ll dust this entire cabin.” He warns. “Let me do what I want, and maybe you’ll get to leave alive.”

Why wouldn’t he kill you and everyone on this train? It’s not like you’re special. Once you’re dead, he’ll simply find another person to harass. And the people around you? No one significant. He’d probably garner a lot of attention if he committed mass murder.

But all the same, it’s impossible for you to understand the sick feelings he harbours for you in his heart, and the way they grow every time he sees you. It isn’t love. It isn’t lust. It’s a sensation that’s incomprehensibly sinister in its somber nature; a volatile melange of emotions that frightens even him. You have no idea the lengths he would go to for the sake of preserving your life; he’s not finished toying with you yet.

He releases your ass and uncovers your mouth. Securing a palm firmly to your hip, he slithers his other hand up your skirt. Slipping your panties aside, he finds your clit. His index fingers massages slow circles over your twitching nub, eliciting a delicious exhale.

He dreamed of this moment for weeks. He fantasized about bearing claim to you in public, where anyone can watch. He’s about to be the God of this world, isn’t he? He can do as he pleases, and to hell with the consequences. When he possesses rule, he’ll have you cockwarm him on his throne all day long. By that time, you’ll surely know your place beneath his muddy boot.

He teases the lips of your cunt with his sharp fingernail, gliding it gently over the edge of your small hole. He pinches your thigh when you attempt to press your legs together. He won’t let you deny him entry to what’s his.

“I’m wearing gloves that cancel out my quirk.” He mutters darkly. “But if you don’t cooperate, I’ll take them off and activate it right here.”

He twists your clit between his thumb and index finger. The horrifying thoughts causes a stray tear to drip down your cheek. You don’t want to imagine how that would feel.

“Sorry,” you whisper pathetically. “I-I will.”

Picking up the tone of your voice, the man next to you turns around. Shigaraki removes his hand from beneath your skirt and wraps both arms around your waist. He lifts a brow when the stranger acknowledges both of you. To him, it looks like you’re a couple commuting home together. He has no concept of what’s truly going on; that if you don’t obey, him, and everyone else on this train, will die. Ignorant, he smiles and returns to his trivial conversation.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” The villain growls viciously. “Second strike, whore.”

You understand that the third strike will be your last.

You glance over your shoulder. He’s wearing a black face mask to match a large, baggy sweater. Crimson irises leer at you menacingly. He has his hood pulled over a head of shaggy, unkempt hair. It’s no wonder he hasn’t been recognized; his signature traits — like the hand covering his face, or his pastel tresses — are hidden from sight.

Just as you’re drinking in his appearance, he’s basking in yours. You look even better than the photos you put up on your social media account. He managed to save a few before you deleted it. He stares at them when he’s fucking his hand to the notion of capturing and taming you. He cums the hardest to porn where women are nothing more than brain dead sex slaves; that’s what he envisions for you.

Of course, submissive bitches aren’t born obedient; they need to be whipped into shape. He thinks the fight you put up is the best part about the training process. When you’re unruly, it forces him to be crueller. He wonders when you’ll pick up on that. It doesn’t have to hurt if you simply comply.

As much as he’s intrigued to witness you up close, he’s pissed at you for wearing a skirt today. Don’t you know the meaning of decency? Anyone could have molested you on the train. It’s practically a cultural norm for cute women to get harassed during their commute. He’s going to teach your pussy who it belongs to. Then, next time you go to work m, you might think twice before wearing a garment that’s easy access.

You face forward, when he grasps your shoulders. Slowly, his hands slide down to your hands, stopping to give them an affectionate squeeze, in case there are curious voyeurs. He wants to make this look as organic as possible.

From behind, he lifts up your skirt and pulls your panties aside. The fabric bites into your flesh, no doubt giving you a rash on the crease of your crotch. He’s careless with his motions; this is all about him. Discomfort is a sensation you should become dearly acquainted with.

“Did you miss me?”

You bite your lower lip when his digits discover your clit. Your back arches as they map out the nub, teasing your hooded flesh to see what your pussy needs to drip. It doesn’t take much. You can’t distract yourself from his touches. There’s nothing stimulating; merely the backs of strangers who couldn’t save you if they tried.

Inwardly, you sob. You have no control. Even your own body is betraying you.

He dips a finger between your folds and hums when he discovers how wet you are. Running the length of his index finger along your clit, he snickers. He knew you were in denial. You must want him. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get you to admit your desire by the end of your trip back to the Deika City.

“Feels like it.”

You frantically scope the sea of people. You’re between several, so you think you’re clear from view; then, you catch the eye of an older businessman. He’s staring directly at your crotch, where Shigaraki’s fingers are massaging your puffy clit. You bite the inside of your cheek. He knows what’s going on. You bet he’s been enjoying the show. You can’t count on a pig like him to save you.

You repress a sob, utterly humiliated. You haven’t felt this degraded in your life. You’re being groped by Japan’s most notorious villain while a lustful stranger observes.

“I bet you thought you got away from me, didn’t you?” He snarls. “Thought I’d forgotten about you.”

You’re too embarrassed to admit it. You fell right into his trap. Somehow, he knew you would lower your guard after a while. It’s precisely when you set it down completely that he struck. You’re either extremely predictable or he has incredible intuition.

He removes his hand from your underwear and brings it around to your chest. You feel your juices coat your skin and shudder. You can’t believe your body got wet for this disgusting motherfucker.

His nasty fingers claw at the buttons of your blouse. One of them pops off. It shoots diagonal, striking one of the windows. A passenger picks it up and glances around. You lock eyes with her. Instantly, she notices what’s going on. Unlike the businessman from earlier, however, you know she has the intention to act. It sparks a flame of hope in your heart.

A few men shift and shroud her from view. It’s probably for the best. Shigaraki’s digits locate your nipple soon after, dipping beneath your bra to pinch the responsive flesh. You stifle a shriek when his plucking becomes too much.

“I’m going to take you back with me and tie you up in the middle of our courtyard,” he whispers hoarsely, voice dripping with desire. “I’m sure some of our soldiers could use a bit of stress relief.”

You gag. You’ll die abused, beaten, starved, and dehydrated — a prisoner of war because you mouthed off on the Internet. This is so stupid.

Your captor groans softly as he withdraws his hand from your breast and slides a lithe finger past your folds, sheathing it up to his knuckle. He can tell it hurts. Your pain makes him enjoy it more. You stiffen and bite your lower lip.

The vehicle jolts to a halt again. The system announces that this is Jolicoeur Station, the second last stop on the line. That means you’re nearly there. He hums approvingly when the doors shut.

“Time’s almost up, whore.”

You don’t know what the fuck that means. Is he going to kill you or bring you to his base? Only time will tell, you suppose. For now, you want his sharp fingernail away from your cervix. You wriggle, praying he’ll at least stop jiggling it around. It isn’t long until he does, though he makes it clear he withdrew if his own volition; he can’t have you thinking you have a modicum of power over him, can he?

He’ll treat you like you’re nothing — a lifetime of serving him will drill that into your pretty head. He’ll never let you understand your real worth again when you’re under his brutal care. Beneath his boot is where you’ll remain.

The train lunges to another ungrateful stop. Your heart drops. This is it — the end of the line. Shigaraki touches you with both hands from behind, drumming his clothed fingers atop your shoulders.

“When the doors open, walk.” He instructs you. “We’ll pretend we’re a couple.”

You want to throw up. He’s forcing you to act like his lover after playing with you against your will. You’ll be damned if you go down without a fight. If you see an opening to ditch him, you’re going to take it; to hell with considering the consequences of being caught a third time.

He smooths your clothes out from how he rumpled them. He figures it’ll seem more natural if you appear relatively put together. He fixes your blouse and then moved to your skirt. To onlookers, it’s probably cute — a boyfriend tending to his girlfriend. They have no idea about the undertones of his treatment.

As if on cue, the woman from earlier coaxes your gaze back to hers. She licks her lips and reaches for the emergency switch. Your mouth opens. You know what she’s trying to do. It’s perfect. He won’t expect it because he thinks he’s in the clear.

You nod once. She takes that as your signal to proceed. With a visible grunt, she yanks the switch down. Reprieve floods your chest as soon as you hear the alarm.

You have to go.

Now.

The doors of the train freeze. In a panic, everyone races out of the car. You follow suit. The second you sense his grip slacken, you bolt. As you scurry off the car, you feel Shigaraki’s greedy hand reach for you — gloveless. You scream. Your voice blends in with the rest of the cacophony, shielding you from unwanted attention.

You glance over your shoulder. Everything around you slows down. He’s standing in the sea of people, still and glaring. His hood is pulled down and his mask is hanging off one ear. His scarred lips are contorted in a grimace.

For a brief moment, an understanding is met. Today, both of you learned that the other is not to be underestimated. After this little stunt, you’re his main priority. He hopes you’re prepared to take this game just as seriously, because he won’t stop pursuing you unless he’s killed. And he knows that won’t happen anytime soon.

You turn away from him and finish your flight. Like last time, he permits you to escape. He stays glued in place until nearly everyone else has left the terminal; then, he departs.

You have no idea the demons you’ve awakened inside him.

[ultracreativelywritten]

Descendants Headcanons

While all of the kingdoms are united, each of the smaller regions are still ruled by their respective royalty. In places like Charmington, I see it has multiple rulers that work together.

Out of all the royals, Kuzco and Snow White are taken the least seriously. They are seen how they were in their respective stories instead of how they are now, adults in their thirties.

I see Snow and her prince being divorced in the Descendants franchise. It’s not advertised, and Snow drives from her kingdom to Charmington for her reporting job. If it wasn’t for that job, she would rather not be there.

The Dwarves help run Snows kingdom. I see her turning to them after the divorce and they all have high ranking advising jobs in the kingdom.

Snow dose not hold Evie accountable for the Evil Queen’s actions, and gives her the biggest hug when Doug brings her home to meet the family. Snow sees how happy she makes Doug, and that’s all she needs to know about her to accept her.

Kuzco and Snow also have the most protected state forests in the kingdom. Snow wanted a place for all the magical animals to live without fear as the other kingdoms developed more and more while Kuzco knew that overdevelopment would destroy the beauty his kingdom. Both kingdoms have seen an influx of people who want to live simpler lives or lives that reflected what they used to do before the United States of Aurudon was created.

Kuzco was 100% against sending people to the isle. Like, some people only worked for the villains because they really needed a job. His best example would be Kronk, who is a sweet soul and could do no real evil.

For the heroes that didn’t come from royalty and then married into royalty had quite a hard time adjusting to being in a world of politics and royal courts. Most times they focus on being a voice for the people who have to deal with the fallout of their leader’s decisions.

Eugene and Aladdin are best friends when it comes to boring meetings and political parties. They like to steal each others stuff the entire time and by the end they give everything back. There are things that both have noted as off limits in their unspoken rules of the game. When the two were first starting the game Jasmine was mortified while Rapunzel was happy that Eugene is making friends.

Jay wants to play the game with Eugene and Aladdin but Evie won’t let him.

Eugene, Aladdin, and Cinderella are the most likely to take things from the hotel. Cindi will stick to things like soap or pens, but Eugene and Aladdin will take anything not nailed down that they can sneak past their wives.

Eugene has pens and paper pads on him at all time so Rapunzel can doodle whenever she wants. All of these items are off limits in the game, because they aren’t his they are his wife’s.

Rapunzel and Mal love talking about different types of art at royal events, and Rapunzel has invited Mal to Corona so they can work on a Mural together. Eugene has given Ben the wisest advice about always having art supplies on him.

For Mother’s Day, Eugene works hard on making Rapunzel duck tape and paper flower pens because he knows she would like them more than real flowers. Rapunzel refuses to throw any of them away. She stores them in a special vault. May their be mercy on any poor soul that tries to break in and try to steal any of them.

Dude is very protective of Carlos, and barks at any dogs that try to get near him. As a stray who found a loving boy, he would protect this boy to the very end. Even against things that are not a threat.

I see Rodger Radcliffe being Aurudon prep’s music teacher and brings some of the Dalmatians during midterms and finals as a way to help out kids that are stressed.

Anita Radcliffe sees how talented Evie is and would support her business as a fellow designer.

I do want to talk more about these Headcanons as well as develop some aus for this series. Feel free to ask me anything about these or the aus I want to develop.

[pocketramblr]

AU where Hisashi calls Izuku regularly while he works overseas and one day Hisashi tells Izuku about his new boyfriend who is very sweet to him and unfortunately got into a bad accident many years ago that left him disabled so Hisashi helps care for him.Izuku later finds out this boyfriend is AFO.

why would you leave inko for afo. 'hold on yeah i think i'll leave this priceless bahia emerald and skip town and then i found a broken piece of chalk instead.' my guy. you deserve all might stealing your son.

1- ok so. Hisashi is an accountant who moves to new york to make more money. He and inko officially divorce, which means Izuku takes the Midoriya name and Inko has sole custody, but while Hisashi does not have to pay child support or alimony, he does opt to send them some support and tries to stay in contact because i guess his taste in men was so bad that he and inko just work better as friends. good for them ig.

2- actually Hisashi is just straight up color-blind: he can't see any red flags. Its not just his personal tastes. this man has worked for four separate blatant money laundering schemes since he went abroad. he has no clue. this is how he ends up coming into contact with AfO, but AfO's job offering is too indirect and vague, and Hisashi is like 'are you... flirting with me?' instead, but AfO can work with that. And while Hisashi certainly isn't a genius with people or warning signs, i will give him (and inko) this: he's a great lay.

3- He's also a very caring boyfriend, which was part of the problem with inko, they ended up really inciting each other's anxieties, but AfO likes being pampered so he decides to keep Hisashi around even if he isn't a employee. even better really, that he doesn't have to pay, bribe, quirkify, dequirkify, or threaten him. Hisashi, as a bit of a doting boyfriend, also has a lot to say about the man to others, so Izuku ends up hearing a lot of gushing over the phone as he's training with weights and is a bit too out of breath to change the topic. plus, he doesn't want to bring up going to UA until its a sure thing, his dad will definitely freak out about it not being safe. finally he tells his dad he got in, and hisashi is like 'oh yeah, cuz they changed the rules, which track?' and izuku goes 'oh uh hero track and alsoihaveaquirknowitscalledsuperpower oh look at that moms calling me for dinner sorry bye.'

4. Dazed, Hisashi gushes about his son to his boyfriend later, dropping that izuku's going to become a hero at ua, what a surprise- but, well, he supposes his son has always loved to watch heroes...

AfO is like 'hm. being a hero isn't very safe...' ('i know...') 'why don't you try to push him to visit you? keep him safe. maybe in a safe. don't you just wanna keep a hold of him?' ("i do, but that'll only drive him away. he's growing up... besides, if i was busy only keeping watch over him, who'd take care of you?") 'mm, good point. keep prioritizing me, i will neither put a hit on the kid as competition nor do anything to keep him safer.'

5. Reveal... uh yeah so Hisashi does mention to Izuku when his boyfriend goes missing, sometimes he gets called to work suddenly but he's never been gone this long, he's worried, is he restocking his meds, where is he? oh yeah, he vanished around Kamino. unfortunate, but not incriminating on its own. What IS incriminating is rewound!AfO, looking at Izuku with a tilted head. "I can see bits of Hisashi in you, hm. Just the worst bits, luckily." Izuku starts realizing what this means. Bakugo distracts him and blasts him to the Shigaraki fight, because he also started to realize what it meant and simply did not want to deal with hearing anymore of that. Over at the ShigarAfO fight, AfO tries to keep throwing Izuku (and tomura) off their game by wondering if Hisashi will find this new, younger body nice as well- probably, its not like the man had the highest standards. Izuku and Tomura are united in such abosolute done-ness with AfO that he's immediately snuffed out of Tomura's head and nothing remains behind. Tomura is like 'uh, do you want a day's break and then a rematch because i need to bleach my brain' but izuku is like 'oh no i need to punch someone through a mountain rn, lets keep going while i reform you with the power of friendship and incredible violence.' (By unspoken agreement, neither Izuku, Bakugo, or Tomura ever breathe a word about it to anyone, much less to Hisashi.)

[sassyjoy]

missed you

genre: smut

word count: 727

⋆｡˚ ⋆ ☾

"did you missed me that much?" joy chuckled when she saw you hurriedly took off your clothes upon entering your bedroom. joy was just lying on your bed, naked, waiting to be fucked. you were the one who took off her clothes she was wearing. she wasn't even able to completely put her bag on the couch when you started kissing her as you both enter your unit earlier. if not only for joy wanting you to fuck her in your bed, you already had fucked her in your couch. you took your words seriously when you told joy that she just needs to show up and you're going to do the rest. 

you kept telling joy that you've been waiting for this day to come where you will meet again since your last hook up was three weeks ago. joy just had her finals week in her school and prior to that, she had to submit the final outputs for her major subjects. you, on the other hand, were also busy with your final exams. 

you immediately hovered on top of joy which made the latter excited about what's about to happen. she's finally getting laid after weeks of just using her fingers in pleasuring herself. 

you kissed her torridly, obvious that you've been wanting her for weeks but couldn't. having a friend that is willing to be your fuck buddy is great not until your schedules don't match and you don't get to meet and fuck to satisfy both of your sexual needs.

your mouth made its way to her neck, to her collarbone and down to her chest. you left few soft kisses on her rose-colored nipple before massaging her soft milky boobs and going back to her lips for a kiss. you nibbled her bottom lip that made her whimper lightly. you saw joy leaning forward for more when you pulled away from her. 

"did you miss me?" 

"hmm, not really." joy answered.

"really?" you questioned her as your hand made its way to her wet core. joy shut her eyes tightly when she felt your tongue on her center. she can't help but to moan, thank god for your skilled tongue. joy loves the way you're eating her out. 

"fuck!" joy moaned loudly. you stopped when you noticed that she was close. 

"why-" joy automatically rolled her eyes back when you inserted your long, hard, cock inside her in one go. 

"fuck, i missed this!" you cursed as you pull her body closer to you. you reached out for her face, wanting to kiss her lips as you started thrusting into her. you continued thrusting harder, your arms placed on each side of her body for support. 

joy missed this. her fingers weren't enough to give her the pleasure you were giving. she knew it was the right choice that she did not purchase the dildo she was planning to buy online. your performance cannot be compared to a sex toy. the way you're fucking her, the way you're pleasuring her, the way you're driving her insane— it's unmatched. 

"you're so tight!" you moaned. you whimpered when joy met your thrusts. 

"ahh, shit!" 

"fuck, i'm coming!" joy moaned loudly. you kissed her neck, leaving a mark on it. 

you pulled your cock away from her pussy only to thrust it harder. both of your hands are now on her waist, steadying her as you began moving your hips harder than before. 

you fucked her relentlessly and you're loving every bit of it. the image of joy and her perky breasts bounce because of the intensity of how she's getting pounded, her long dark hair getting messy, sweat forming on her forehead, and moans slipping past her lips just drives you more to fuck her cunt mercilessly. 

no one has ever seen her being a mess like this. it is truly a privilege for you to fuck her since you knew that there are lots of guys in her inbox in her social media accounts wanting to get close to her. 

“s-shit. i'm coming!” you whispered out of breath and with one hard thrust, joy felt your cum fill her inside. some even started dripping down her legs but she's too exhausted to care. 

your arms were wrapped around her and your cock was still inside her pussy and fuck, you're still hard. 

[sirfrogsworth]

Some of you may remember me mentioning my quest to get black cherry soda and several shipments ending in tragic bottle breakage. I have been seriously craving this soda for nearly a month now.

I contacted Boylan and accused them of shoddy shipping.

They very politely informed me it was not their shoddy shipping store on Amazon.

After some additional Amazon analysis, I felt foolish about my inaccurate accusations.

They informed me there were no local distributors of Boylan brand bottled black cherry beverages. They said they had no control over Amazon shipments and recommended I order directly from them. That would make this already pretty pricey pop about $15 more expensive after shipping and tax.

I had nearly given up.

After the $220 pizza and the $250 battery replacement and an almost assured account overdraw in my future, I'd have to wait at least until next month to satisfy my soda craving.

But when I went to my local Schnucks grocery store last night I decided to check the soda aisle to see if there were any alternatives.

My first find was Schnucks' own generic brand black cherry soda.

I have to say, that is a cute label for a generic store brand product.

After some research, I discovered this is a rebrand of a classic Vess soda. I like Vess soda! They make a wonderful cream soda concoction that my grandma used to buy whenever I would visit on the weekends. And I specifically told my mom never to buy cream soda for home because then it wouldn't be special when I had it at my grandma's house.

Sadly, I was unaware it was Vess-in-disguise and I was not trusting of a generic store-branded soda. Sometimes these low-cost rebranded items can be good, but it is always a crapshoot. I mean, their generic peas are 70 cents cheaper than Green Giant, but they are also mushy as heck. So based on my previous peas experience, there was a good chance it would taste more like black cherry cough syrup than soda.

I didn't know it was Vess, okay?

REMEMBER THE PEAS, PLEASE!

I fell into a soda research rabbit hole. Vess was acquired by a company called Cott Beverages in 1994. And Cott was then acquired by a company called Refresco in 2018. And Refresco partnered with Coca-Cola and is now their main manufacturer in the United States.

So I guess it is actually a Refresco Cott Vess Schnucks brand black cherry soda in partnership with Coca-Cola.

Capitalism is fucking weird, dude.

So the possible cough syrup RefresCoVesScnhucks was in my cart. I was considering taking the risk.

But then I noticed... the Fitz's section.

A locally owned and operated boutique soda bottler.

*heavenly music*

And do you know who owns Fitz's?

Mr. Alfred J. Fitz! (I don't actually know his first name or middle initial.)

Who founded Fitz's in 1947 as a drive-in restaurant based around his popular secret root beer recipe.

That's right. Fitz's was not enveloped by an incestuous line of conglomerates successively eating each other.

And because of that, they went out of business in 1976. The soda biz is rough if you don't have a multinational manufacturing and distribution network.

But then Fitz's was revived in 1993 by two plucky entrepreneurs who were determined to rebuild the brand using the original secret root beer recipe from Mr. Alfred J. Fitz.

Small business wins the day!

And then they sold out to The Westgate Group in late 1999.

Which then sold it again to Clayton Capital Partners in 2003.

Will capitalism please stop fucking with soda?

But then one of those plucky entrepreneurs thought the brand was being damaged by soulless investment firms and bought back Fitz's. He restored it to glory and I'm sure he will never sell it again*. He is intent on maintaining the Fitz's tradition and image as a beloved St. Louis small business that culturally enriches our famed Delmar Loop with vintage soda bottling techniques customers can watch when they visit the Fitz's restaurant. Neat!

*Unless RefresCoVesScnhucks offers him a bunch of money.

I can't believe I forgot about Fitz's. I used their root beer as a subject for one of my favorite product photos.

To make a long story as long as humanly possible my god why are you even still reading this...

...wouldn't you know it, Fitz's makes black cherry soda!

It is delicious.

Craving accomplished.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 21

word count: 966

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

May 17, 1989

Dear Will,

Today started out pretty rough, since one of my tires on my bike popped when I was halfway to your house. And given how quickly Hawkins has become a fucking sauna over the past few weeks (thanks, rural midwest), it was not a blast to push my bike the rest of the way on foot. Again, I could have taken my car to begin with, but I think in some way shape or form, we crave that element of our childhoods, riding bikes through the neighborhood like old times. Plus, Lucas and I are the only ones who have cars right now, so majority rules. Anyway, I still wound up at your house about half an hour early, and we spent that time trying to figure out how to patch up and refill my tire. No dice, unfortunately. But our hands brushed a few times, so it wasn’t too inconvenient.

Jonathan ended up coming into the garage at one point to grab a few tools (he’s been helping Hop out with some home projects, like a new shelving unit for your living room and a deck out back— but you already know that, why am I going on about this?) and suggested I just share your bike with you. You laughed so loudly that I thought I was gonna puke. I forced my anxiety back down and reminded Jon of how tall I am (last time I went to the doctor they said I was 6’3”– no, I’m not kidding), and he insisted that I, “just try and sit on the handlebars, or something.” I thought the idea was insane, but you seemed to be pretty entertained by it, so I shook my head with slight embarrassment before I motioned for you to mount the bike.

You swung your leg over the bar and rested your feet on either side, a huge grin on your face. “Do your worst, Wheeler,” you told me. I was so tempted to dramatically fling myself over the handlebars like a ragdoll, but then again, I didn’t feel like throwing out my back at the ripe age of eighteen. I turned so my back faced you, reached behind me to grip the handlebars, and hoisted myself up as best as I could, while you reached a hand out to hold my side and keep me steady. I must’ve looked like a fucking praying mantis or some shit, with my knees almost hitting my chin because of how I was balancing my toes on the front fender, but I didn’t care, because your reaction was fucking priceless. You were hysterically laughing, and I couldn’t help but begin to laugh as well.

Before I knew what was happening, Jonathan had disappeared and come back within record speed, and a bright flash hit my eyes as he clicked the button on his camera. I glanced back at you, and thankfully, you didn’t look fazed at all. In fact, you said to Jonathan, “please tell me I’ll get a copy of that,” while catching your breath from laughing so hard.

After that whole debacle, we actually tried riding the bike with me in front, but you couldn’t really see on account of the top of your head barely reaching my shoulders. So we eventually gave up on trying and just walked to Dustin’s to meet the rest of the Party, since his house isn’t too far away from yours, and Jon was still busy with his project and couldn’t drive us. Which I was totally fine with, because… duh, time alone with you is time well spent. We played D&D, and I kind of got a little too invested in your campaign. I think I just love seeing you so happy. I don’t think I could ever get tired of watching you in your element.

Once the session ended, Lucas gave us a ride home (I love how I just referred to your house as my home, I might’ve gotten a little emotional just now while writing it). We walked into your living room and saw Jonathan sitting on the couch with a bunch of photos spread out across the surface of the coffee table. Apparently, he’d gone and processed all of his films at Melvald’s while we were at Dustin’s; there were two copies of the photo he’d taken earlier.

He gave me one before asking if I wanted to stay for dinner. As much as I would’ve loved to, I actually did need to take care of Holly tonight, since our parents are in Ohio right now at some conference for my dad’s job. You offered to drive me back to my house, and I tried not to look too excited as I said yes.

Once we arrived in my driveway, I leaned over the center console and hugged you, telling you I had a great time with you today. You hugged me back (you hadn’t for the first few seconds and I nearly had a panic attack) and said you had a great time with me too. I went inside, holding the freshly printed photo of us in my hand.

So… I might have framed it. I know, it’s weird and frankly kind of stalker-y, but… deal with it. You’ll never actually know about this anyway. Not unless I leave the frame sitting in plain sight when you come into my room, or if I recklessly forget to hide these letters detailing where exactly my copy of the photo went, as well as the countless times I’ve talked about wanting to kiss you. For now, I’m keeping it under my pillow. 

Okay, I’m gonna stop writing now in order to stop myself from sounding like even more of a creep than I already am.

Love,

Mike

-

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[darkmaga-returns]

In just three and half short years, the Biden-Harris regime has bankrupted the nation -- not only devaluing the dollar and driving historic inflation -- but also massively corrupting or defunding federal agencies that were designed to help the American people. For example, FEMA exists to help Americans recover from natural disasters, but now they fund disasters instead. Much of the funds have been redirected by DHS to "resettle" illegal immigrants. Now, according to citizen reports on the ground, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) is currently confiscating rescue supplies, grounding personal rescue missions and trying to take control over private donations.

Suspicious government activities reported in hurricane-stricken areas

There is NO coordinated federal response to Hurricane Helene’s devastation across the southern United States and throughout the Appalachian Mountain region. Biden-Harris have intentionally ignored the natural disasters that have taken place in small towns throughout Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia and Florida. On the other hand, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis took the initiative and mobilized the Florida National Guard and a plethora of state agencies to help rescue people in other states, even after coordinating a strong rescue response in his own state, where the Hurricane initially hit.

Meanwhile, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) is not bringing in water, food, diapers, formula and other critical supplies and infrastructure because the Biden-Harris regime has intentionally crippled the agency. It appears that the agency (full of unqualified DEI left-wing hires) is being used as a political weapon to punish rural voters and set up the conditions for land seizures and mining operations. Plans have already been announced to keep important roads closed for an extended period of time and some reports claim that entire towns will be bulldozed. This is unthinkable, considering that previous emergency responses in hurricane-stricken cities in Florida have rebuilt bridges and roads in just a few weeks' time.

When pressed about the dire situation, Vice President Kamala Harris said that victims (who have lost their homes, family members, vehicles, farm animals, pets) can claim a check deposit of $750 to assist in their recovery. This is a pitiful gesture from the federal government, one that mocks victims in their time of greatest need. A few hundred dollars deposited in people's bank accounts isn't going to save them, as they are trapped without actual resources to live! The corrupt regime is more interested in foreign business dealings than helping Americans suffering a tragedy.

[militantinremission]

The Difference between The Black Agenda & The Reparations Movement

Reparations Commissions are popping up across the Country, but none of them come close to addressing the true spirit of Reparations. There are several reasons for this:

Neither Democrats nor Republicans in Congress have a real interest in discussing Reparations; let alone dispensing anything tangible.

Minorities involved in these Reparations Projects have either tried to include their demographic into the discussion, or they have been against it.

Infighting amongst members of the ADOS, FBA, Freemen, & Indigenous Community have weakened the overall message of Reparations. The Masses don't realize that they are All THE SAME LINEAGE GROUP. This division weakens Our collective argument, but has allowed some to eat well over the past few Yrs.

Organizations like The NAACP, The Urban League, The National Action Network, NCOBRA, NAARC, & other like minded Groups have promoted a Trans Atlantic Reparations Agenda that ignores CARICOM. In effect, it 'Centers' Black Immigrants (including Afro Latinos) in the Black American Experience. Most arrived at least 10Yrs after Jim Crow ended- how do they qualify for American Reparations?

The recent kerfuffle over San Francisco NAACP President Rev. Amos Brown's rejection of that City's Reparations Proposal spotlights the problem w/ letting Our (so called) 'Established Leaders' drive the Reparations Bus. They drove the Bus into Our current situation, why should We expect anything different from them? Many of these individuals chose Corporate Donations over Black Community Development. They arent 'Leaders', they're Corporate Lobbyists. These are the Same People that let HR- 40 rot on the 'Social Action vine' for over 30Yrs; If they REALLY wanted Reparations...

Another issue, are the individuals & Organizations narrating 'The Black Agenda' into the Reparations Argument. They are separate & distinct. The White Noise of their rhetoric has confused The Masses, which weakens the magnitude of Our Fight. For the sake of clarity, I want to point out the difference between The Black Agenda & The Reparations Movement.

The Black Agenda, is an All inclusive Program for Black & Afrikan Americans, regardless of their Country of Origin. This includes Africans, Caribbeans, Afro Latinos, & Afro Asians. All of Us share in the current experience of being Black in America. It is an experience that is unique to Us, & is also what unites Us.

The Black Agenda is about Equity. America loves to promote 'Equality', but equal measure doesn't guarantee that Everyone will somehow end up on equal ground. We have been collectively marginalized in America, so it's only fair that they level the playing field. 'Rising Tide' Programs, like those offered by The Democratic Party are on the right track, but NONE take into account the fact that Black America needs an extra scoop of whatever they propose.

The Black Agenda deals w/ the issues of Community Development: Residential & Commercial/ Business Property Ownership, Job Development, Training & Employment Opportunities, Health Care & Mental Health Solutions, School Reform, After School Programs, Youth Empowerment, Visual & Performing Arts Programs, Daycare & Pre- K Programs, along w/ the necessary Community Boards needed to present these & other Community related issues to Local & State Agencies. The goal, is to improve the overall Quality of Life in Black Communities- up to the level of Every Other Community.

The Reparations Movement, is a specific call for American Society to pay their long overdue debt to American Descendants of Chattel Slavery. This Movement is about Indemnification. While Black America collectively deserves legislation, American Descendants Of Slavery deserve much more. The problem w/ EVERY Reparations Program offered so far, is they All ignore the fact that Reparations is a debt owed. They All read like Politicians are giving Blackfolk a hand out. These Programs also fall short on what is really owed.

A lot of numbers have been thrown around over the years, but I have consistently said that Final Reparations numbers will depend on WHO is held liable. If the U.S. Government alone is held liable, Reparations will probably be in the $18 Trillion- $22 Trillion range. If Corporations & Individual families are included, that number could reach $64 Trillion. That should give a clue to the extent of Exploitation, Theft, Terrorism & Oppression that Black America endured over the last 246Yrs- 400Yrs. American History is a chronicle of Anti- Black sentiment. Reparations Naysayers point out the impossibility of dispensing Trillions of Dollars, but a Multigenerational Reparations Program is an easy solution.

The Republican Party's outright refusal of, & The Democratic Party's attempt to graft Feminist & LGBTQ... rhetoric to Critical Race Theory (CRT), are attempts by both Parties to keep Mainstream America away from Our Nation's cruel & bloody past. They obviously fear divulging this history, because it will quell the Argument 'Against', as it strengthens the National Argument 'For' Reparations. The Immigrant Argument of 'I wasnt Here' becomes embarrassing, when We consider 2 facts:

It was Black American Labor that built America up & made it attractive (i.e. The Land of Milk & Honey) to Europeans, Asians, Latinos, Caribbeans, & Afrikans looking to start a New Life.

Black America is responsible for motivating ALL of the Immigration Initatives over the last 150Yrs; especially those since 1965.

It's only fitting for Immigrants living their American Dream (at another's expense) to pay tribute to the people who made that dream possible. I like the analogy of 'Inheriting an Old House'. The New Occupant didn't cause the wear & tear on the house, but that doesn't change the fact that they will have to invest the Time, Work, & Money needed to restore & maintain it. THAT, is the price of Occupancy.

Another thing to consider, is the fact that most Black Americans are descendants of Indigenous Americans or American Indians (Coppertoned Aborigines); not to be confused w/ 'Native Americans', who migrated from Siberia. Less than 10% of Transatlantic Slaves landed in North America. Our Ancestors were Prisoners Of War, that were forced into Indentured Servitude, & later Chattel Slavery on their Own Land. Census Records reveal the effort to hide Our lineage.

Starting w/ the 1790 Census, Indigenous indentured servants were reclassified as Negro & Colored. By the 1900 Census, Indigenous People were being punished for identifying as 'Indian'. They were forced to identify as Negro, Colored, or Mulatto. By the 1970 Census, We were designated 'Black'; & on the 1990 Census, We were labeled 'Afrikan American'... Out Of Afrika Theory is not only Culturally false, it now appears to be a ploy to get Us off of Our Land. We're looking to Afrika, while the Blood & Bones of Our Ancestors fertilize This Land. Our success in agriculture isn't an accident- We were Here for millennia!... I guess that adds an extra wrinkle to the Reparations Discussion.

It's Time for Us to link the moving parts of Our Lineage into Black Voltron, so We can get on w/ The Work. -Just Saying

[caesthoffe]

Remembering and Fighting for Eden Knight

TW // Suicide, Transphobia, Forced Detransition

Eden Knight was a Saudi Arabic trans woman living in the United States, who on the morning of March 12th 2023, was discovered to have died by suicide after a twitlonger (which, upon reading, proved itself to be a suicide note) was posted to her Twitter account.

Her suicide note goes into detail, and explains the driving force behind her death. The manipulation by three people who lied to and betrayed the trust of Eden in order to force her into de-transitioning, all led by her influential religious conservative family.

Whether they want to admit it or not, they succeeded in what they did. As of March 13th 2023, her death has been confirmed.

(Note: This screenshot redacts her deadname, the original tweet both misgenders and deadnames Eden)

Eden gives the names of the people involved in, what is essentially her murder, so I will explain who they are and what they did to her.

Michael Pocalyko

Michael Pocalyko is the CEO of a company called “Special Investigations Limited." A business that claims they do “cyber security”, and “investigations."

Not only does Michael own this company, but he has also ran as a republican political candidate before, has sat on the boards of pharmaceutical companies, is tied to investment banking and equity firms, JP Morgan, as well as the Heritage Foundation.

He contacted Eden through one of her in-real-life friends, a self-proclaimed "fixer" who told Eden he could help mend her and her family's broken relationship. Michael, and his associate Ellen Cole, introduced Eden to (alleged) Saudi Arabian lawyer Bader Alomair.

Bader Alomair

Not much is known about Bader Alomairs background, but we do know his role with Eden. Bader told Eden he was a lawyer and got her an apartment in Washington D.C. He began to take care of her financially; Eden realized he was grooming her into de-transitioning, living in the closet, and she was now an illegal immigrant (her international scholarship, which she'd been using to go to school in America, had expired which meant she could be deported) who was financially dependent on him. Feeling she had no other option she caved to his demands and changed her physical appearance, along with discontinuing her hormone therapy. She even met with her father and got back into contact with her mother. At this point Michael and Ellen had ceased all communication with her, she had an emotional breakdown and “repented," as Bader booked her a flight to Saudi Arabia.

Final Notes and Thoughts

Eden Knight was failed by so many fucking people. Failed by her transphobic family who literally drove her to death because of their bigotry. Failed by the two American investigators who cared more about money than this poor girls life. Failed by the U.S. immigration system which should've provided her asylum and support.

Eden was a beloved member of the trans community. People knew her as a sharp, witty, thoughtful person who wanted to make the world a better place. She said,

"I hope that the world gets better for us. I hope our people get old. I hope we get to see our kids grow up to fight for us. I hope for trans rights world wide."

It's been eight years since Leelah Alcorn died by suicide, isn't it fucked how we're still fighting for the same things?

Eden deserved to be happy. All of us do.

[beardedmrbean]

A 39-year-old Los Angeles man has been sentenced to nearly 23 years in federal prison for dozens of felonies that involved extorting Koreatown karaoke businesses using methods seemingly ripped from gangster films.

Woodland Hills resident Daekun Cho, 39, was convicted in March on 57 charges: 55 counts of interference with commerce by extortion, one count of attempted interference with commerce by extortion and one count of carjacking.

Prosecutors say that from 2018 until his arrest in March 2023, Cho “demanded ‘protection’ money from karaoke businesses in Koreatown, as well as from drivers of ‘doumis’ – or hostesses – employed by patrons of the karaoke establishments,” the U.S. Department of Justice said in news release.

Using threats — and at least once, a baseball bat — Cho “physically attacked, threatened, and instilled fear in his victims to induce them to pay him” so-called “protection fees” that ranged between $100 and $1,000 per month either in person or via Venmo, prosecutors said.

In one instance in May 2021, a doumi driver refused to pay Cho, so Cho and an accomplice “beat the victim with baseball bats until knocking him unconscious and then stole his minivan,” prosecutors detailed.

“The victim suffered a broken arm and multiple cuts and bruises,” the release said. “In response, the victim and his business partner closed their karaoke driving company, and the business partner left California.”

In July 2022, a different victim that was dropping two doumis off at a Koreatown karaoke bar was approached by Cho, who appeared to have something in the pocket of his hoodie. Prosecutors say the 39-year-old opened the victim’s car door with his sleeve to not leave any fingerprints and threatened the victim, telling him he was not “permitted to drop off doumis at the establishment.”

“As the victim drove away, he heard gunshots, breaking the car’s glass, a shard of which hit a doumi in the neck,” the release stated.

Yet another karaoke driver who paid Cho in cash for years and then over Venmo, which Cho began accepting during the pandemic, according to the DOJ, was assaulted in Jan. 2023 after he stopped paying.

The 39-year-old violently assaulted the man, stole $1,000 from him and threatened to kill him.

“In text messages shown at trial, Cho threatened many victims that if they did not pay him, they would ‘see the real demon,’ ‘face the consequence,’ ‘get beat up,’ or be ‘punch[ed],’ or Cho would ‘come see u’ or ‘kick u out of ktown,’” the release noted. “One victim testified at trial that Cho pointed a gun at a victim’s head when he refused to comply with Cho’s orders.”

At the time of his arrest, Cho had a 9mm firearm, a Glock 17 firearm, a partially built ghost gun, multiple high-capacity magazines loaded and ammo for a revolver. Prosecutors added that one of the firearms was fully loaded with the safety disengaged.

Cho also had an illegal knife, two metal baseball bats and $20,733 in cash.

“For years, this defendant terrorized merchants in Koreatown with his violent, shake-down schemes and intimidated victims into remaining silent,” said United States Attorney Martin Estrada. “But working with our local partners, we were able to uncover and expose this incorrigible racketeer. Extortionists who seek to profit through violence are on notice that we will use federal tools to hold them accountable and the consequences will be severe.”

Cho was sentenced in August to 270 months in federal prison and ordered to pay $240,167 in restitution, as well as $5,700 in special assessments.

Homeland Security Investigations and the Los Angeles Police Department investigated the case.

[talesfromaurea]

Tales from Aurea - Session 0 Now Posted!

Hello everyone! I'm happy to say that the first chapter (Session 0 - Visions of Fire and Ice) of Tales from Aurea is now up on Royal Road 🎉

You can read the full chapter at this link here. Under the cut is a preview of the first section. Enjoy!

Taglist (ask to be +/-): @drippingmoon, @kainablue, @splashinkling, @space-writes

Curious what this story is about? Check out the WIP Introduction here

Sakrattars hunched forward, chin in his hands, and watched the sun disappear beneath the rooftops of Barsicum. It was a boring end to a disappointing day. He pulled the string of his purse closed and tucked it into an inner pocket of his robes, noting its lack of weight with a miserable sigh. With the help of a plain walking stick, he hauled himself to his feet with a crack and a groan.

The woman who owned the nearby dye shop had begun her evening sweeping. Sakrattars felt her eyes on him and recognized the increasing vigor with which she swept the dust of the day off her patio. She was itching to say something rude to him. He tried gathering his things faster but it was no use. It would begin in three more sweeps, two sweeps, one—

“Why’re you always outside my shop?” she finally said with a huff. “Go sit outside Joseph’s place for a change. Better yet, why don’t you go to the Temple of Nargo? Help you find an honest job instead of whatever charlatanry you’ve got going on here.”

Sakrattars had heard it all countless times before. “Sorry ma’am,” he said impassively.

“You make my respectable business look bad!” she complained further. “Drives away the customers! Stop folding that rag of yours and look at me when I speak to you. Aegis in Arcadia, lend me your strength . . . Hey, get back here!” But Sakrattars was already turning into the darkness of the nearest alley. He was eager to be home and knew he would be treated to the rest of her grievances in the morning.

Navigating the narrow stone path between the tall plaster and brick buildings, Sakrattars pulled off a gray wig, releasing a cascade of short black hair that betrayed his youth. He rubbed his ears and winced—the wig concealed their long, pointy tips well enough but not without some pinching. Distracted by the pain, he didn’t see the elderly woman pulling laundry off the line in front of him.

“Watch where you’re going, why don’t ya?” she cried out as Sakrattars crashed into her.

“Apologies.” Sakrattars bowed sheepishly, rebundling his blanket and checking to make sure his purse, pitiful as it was, was still secure in his pocket.

The woman eyed him dubiously—a young elf dressed in tatters and smudged with grime, holding a wig and an old man’s cane. “What are you, some kind of actor?” she asked contemptuously.

Sakrattars scoffed and continued on. Were the moons in shadow tonight? The Abyss’s proximity would certainly account for the foul mood everyone seemed to be suffering from. Wiping his face off as he walked, he was careful to avoid slick puddles of dubious origin and the occasional stray dog nosing through refuse. The only thing that could make his evening worse would be taking a tumble into something unsavory.

He was thankful when he reached the end of the alley without further incident. Pausing to tie his hair back into a messy ponytail, he took a quick look around the corner. There was a group of workers heading home, laughing at some shared joke, and a street cleaner scooping horse manure into a cart, but nobody who might recognize him. The way clear, he scurried across the road to his apartment building.

The landlord was in his usual spot: snoring under an open window in the foyer with an empty bottle by his side. Sakrattars wrinkled his nose as he passed by to get to the stairs. The walls were stained and waxy and the sconces burned out. Fortunately, Sakrattars could see quite well in dim light. 

He disarmed the locking spell on the door to his unit, too relieved to finally be home to notice the rat that scampered into a hole in the baseboards. Collapsing back onto the bed with a heavy exhale, he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the familiar patterns of greasy soot. His room was simply furnished: there was a desk and a chair, a shelf of neatly arranged books and spell components, and a small fireplace. It was the beginning of summer so there was no need for a fire. Quite the opposite, in fact. The air was already stuffy and oppressive. 

Sakrattars stripped off his robes in favor of a light shirt and trousers and threw open his only window. He didn’t know why he bothered, the window was nearly flush with the neighbor’s wall, but maybe that day would be the one where the wind blew at just the right angle to make it inside.

It was then that Sakrattars noticed a letter on the floor. His heart clenched as he recognized the thin paper and delicate wax seal. Tearing it open, he was greeted by the flowing, cursive Elvish that his sister was so fond of.

Sakrattars,

Please consider giving up this foolish pursuit of yours. I know Father would welcome you back if you apologized to him and agreed to study a subject more fitting of an elf lord like yourself. Think of how he must feel: his son gifted in magic and choosing to study divination? Divination is utterly devoid of culture, lacking in any foundation, and associated with scammers and thieves—how could you possibly be interested in such a thing? 

If you agree to switch, Father might even be able to get you in at the Academia Arcana in Aurea. I can certainly mention the idea to him (casually of course) if you wish. You know how he tends to listen to me.

It has been years and we haven’t heard from you. I know everyone here shares my sentiment when I say that we want you to come home. 

Sakrattars snorted skeptically. He continued:

Please write me back. Your behavior is an embarrassment to the family.

Your loving sister,

Mira

Sakrattars had barely finished reading when he crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the ashy fireplace. How did she even find out where he lived? The school must have told her. He made a mental note to speak to an administrator the next time he was in.

He opened a cage on the desk and took out a fat toad with bulging yellow eyes. “So how was your day, Bartholomew?” he asked. The toad blinked in response, his eyelids slightly out of sync. “Not too eventful, I suppose.” Sakrattars laid down on the bed, absently stroking Bartholomew’s warty skin as his thoughts took him down the long road south, towards home.

*

*

The next morning, Sakrattars watched the crowds pass by without truly seeing them. Maybe his sister was right, in a way. He had been attending the University for a decade now and didn’t have much to show for it. A majority of his time was spent making enough coin to scrape by and not on his studies. But since when did his hardships ever matter to his family? He let out a frustrated groan and a passerby started, clutching her purse nervously as she hurried along.

“Pardon, old sir.”

Forgetting that he was currently dressed as an old man, Sakrattars ignored the deep voice at first. A throat cleared, then a large hand waved slowly in his line of sight.

“Old sir?”

This time, Sakrattars looked up to the giant form of a natiuhan. He used to see them on a regular basis in his hometown of Arvisian Bay but they were a far less common sight this far into the Empire. “Yes, ma’am?” he croaked in his false voice, mildly irritated at being distracted from his brooding. “Can I interest you in your future?”

The natiuhan fished through the purse on her belt. “Not mine,” she said. Waiting for an elaboration, Sakrattars noticed that other shoppers in the area were beginning to stare. As well as being an unusual visitor in Barsicum, this natiuhan in particular cut quite an impressive figure. She was tall and burly, with dark tiger stripes tattooed across her tawny skin and a wild mass of dark red curls swooped to one side. The gold jewelry adorning her body chimed softly with every movement. She either didn’t notice all the attention she was drawing or didn’t care.

The natiuhan finally threw some coins into Sakrattars’ sack. “Not my future. Hers.” She gestured to a young girl peeking timidly out from behind her back. Sakrattars hadn’t even noticed the girl at first. She was dressed in a long cloak that looked to be little more than a tattered wool blanket, the hood drawn up far over her head. He couldn’t be sure since her features were so well-hidden but, based on her diminutive size, she didn’t appear to be a natiuhan herself. Natiuhans were known for being a secretive bunch and, despite living and working among other peoples, they tended to stick with their own and it was rare to see one alone. But it wasn’t this fact that made Sakrattars think that there must be something odd about the pair before him. No, there was something more intangible to it. Something he might one day describe as “fate”.

[rjzimmerman]

This is another of those "pick your poison" issues that emerge as we try to clean up decades of mess we deposited into our atmosphere, on the ground and in the water. Energy generated from nuclear plants is itself carbon-free, which is good. But nuclear energy requires mining and processing uranium and finding someplace to store the residue, as well as the cost, including carbon emissions, of manufacturing the bits and pieces that make up the nuclear energy facility. So which is preferred? From my perspective, I'll take the nuclear energy, with all its risks, because at least we can manage that a lot better than we can manage the greenhouse gases circulating in the atmosphere and harming us all. Are there better alternatives? Sure.....solar and wind, but the NIMBY people are hard at work, funded by fossil fuel interests, blocking the implementation.

Excerpt from this story from Nation of Change:

Nuclear power zealots are engaged in their biggest push in years in the United States and internationally. Headlines of recent pieces online about nuclear power include: “Japan’s top business lobby proposes maximum use of nuclear energy.” And, U.S. “looks to resurrect more nuclear power.” And, “European nations back nuclear power ahead of major climate summit.” And, “The super-rich are looking at nuclear power for emission-free yacht voyages.” And, “France plans to turn nuclear waste into forks, doorknobs and saucepans.”

Central to the drive: their trying to latch on to climate change as a new reason for nuclear power with the claim that it is “carbon-free” or “emissions-free.”

This is untrue especially when the “nuclear fuel chain” is taken into account. 

“The dirty secret is that nuclear power makes a substantial contribution to global warming. Nuclear power is actually a chain of highly energy-intense industrial processes,” Michel Lee, an attorney and chair of the Council on Intelligent Energy & Conservation Policy, has said. “These include uranium mining, conversion, enrichment and fabrication of nuclear fuel; construction and deconstruction of the massive nuclear facility structures; and the disposition of high-level nuclear waste.”

In a two-page fact sheet that is online titled “How Nuclear Power Worsens Climate Change,” the Sierra Club Nuclear Free Campaign says: “Nuclear power has a big carbon footprint. At the front end of nuclear power, carbon energy is used for uranium mining, milling, processing, conversion, and enrichment, as well as for formation of [fuel] rods and construction of nuclear…power plants….All along the nuclear fuel chain, radioactive contamination of air, land and water occurs. Uranium mine and mill cleanup demands large amounts of fossil fuel. Each year 2,000 metric tons of high-level radioactive waste and twelve million cubic feet of low-level radioactive waste are generated in the U.S. alone. None of this will magically disappear. Vast amounts of energy will be needed to isolate these dangerous wastes for generations to come.”

The main release of carbon occurs during this nuclear fuel cycle; however, nuclear plants themselves also emit carbon, a radioactive form, Carbon 14.