#comemierda

[ruthimages]

[juskru]

Don't laugh; I didn't notice they had billboards with Clara until playing the game for the third time 🙈

In my defense, you don't find them everywhere in Yara 👀

So, naturally, my mind goes rampant 😌

.

"What the..."

.

"Did y'all see this?"

.

"That's not what she looks like"

.

"That's not her smile, that's not her chin 😒 Her lips are fuller than that 😑 Her eyes are so much warmer than that"

.

"They did get her boobs right, though... WHO THE FUCK LOOKED AT HER BOOBS LONG ENOUGH TO GET THEM RIGHT?! 😤"

.

"Comemierdas. If I ever find who did this... 😑 I should burn this shit up"

.

"Yeah, imma do it 😏"

.

"Fuck you, Castillo!"

Yes your honor, I'm still very much obsessed (◡‿◡✿)

[twny-cr0ws]

we coulda had silly sassy sleepy miguel....

[narrativedisorder]

Prosthetic communities

I read or heard some where that photography was prosthetic memory - so is writing, for that matter - and it's an imperfect metaphor (a coat is a prosthetic pelt) but maybe still a useful one. It extends, jogs, triggers memory, it can replace it where it doesn't exist (eg inability to remember faces), it may be deceptive but then again so can memory. it may lead to atrophying of unused memory, but most of us have come to a stasis of using both, sometimes separately, but often in tandem.

I've been thinking about social media as, in that same sense, prosthetic community. May replace community when community is inaccessible for whatever reason, but mainly extends it to places, timezones, languages where it would be impractical; extends it by reducing time costs and other frictions, and by easing connections difficult to make in the physical sphere. In some cases physical community may atrophy, but in many cases it's augmented.

And so of course it hurts when it is suddenly cut off. (I am also thinking, although I REALLY don't want to stretch the metaphor too far, of the recent pieces about neurological devices falling apart when the company that makes them dissolves or changes, cited here by @mostlysignssomeportents.) There is a whole range of functionality that you reach for and it's not there; a way of reaching people, asking questions, getting comforting interactions or intellectual stimulation or flirting or book recs, suddenly gone without any wind down or slowing. Not just one relationship, but many.

It's not a new risk; we all know social media sites that have disappeared before, we probably all know people who've been kicked off various social media sites for various reasons, real and imagined. Even if there's a social media ownership/management that we trust, the underlying infrastructure is a vulnerability. This iteration is a bit strange because the mismanagement is so obvious and so documented. But we know, we have known, that we have to find better ways to build and rebuild and protect the positive aspects of the enormous, multilingual, global, virtual, wonderful communities that we now know can exist.

[prospekt-mira]

boom little comemierda

[izartn]

Once again taking refuge into nihilism.

Nothing matters. Everything ends. Humans are puny beings product of evolution without any higher purpose than being another animal.

The universe is indifferent.

And because of that I'll be happy and do good for myself and fuck everyone else.

But I swear If Trump comes to Spain and I have the means I'm nailing that hijo de puta comemierda con una navaja a la garganta.

For myself. There.

[yuquiitas]

STAFF DE TUMBLR COMEMIERDAS!!!

[xjulixred45x]

Estaba viendo Coraline y de la nada se me ocurrió esta idea...

Yandere platónico! Kenjaku para el hijo de Geto.

por ejemplo, Geto tuvo un hijo con Reader (cualquiera) y todo era felicidad de cierta manera, Geto y Reader amaban y se preocupaban mucho por su bebé, y la familia los amaba, les enseñaron la forma "correcta" de ver el mundo. , todo estuvo bien hasta los eventos de la película JJK0. Geto muere, Reader puede incluso correr la misma suerte.

y el pobre (nombre del niño) está devastado, pero Mimiko y Nanako (sus queridas hermanas mayores) los cuidan y todo va BIEN, no genial, pero sí bien.

pero luego Kenjaku posee el cuerpo de Geto. En consecuencia, se entera de la existencia de (nombre del niño), y dado que el niño podría heredar el ritual maldito de Geto, decide ver si este es el caso para ver si vale la pena.

Lo que no esperaba era empezar a preocuparse de alguna manera por el niño, tal vez fuera por el cuerpo de Geto, pero definitivamente empezó a tener cierto interés por el niño a parte de su posible utilidad.

Acecharlos se convirtió en un ritual normal para él, en cierto modo tomando nota de ciertos "aspectos importantes" que, según él, lo ayudarían si el niño estuviera bajo su protección (que en realidad era simplemente asegurarse de que el niño comiera bien o si estuviera físicamente sano), cosas a las que eran alérgicos, busco en la memoria de Geto cosas que les gustaban y no les gustaban, todo para tener un perfil del niño.

Entonces, cuando Mimiko y Nanako se le aparecen, SABE que (nombre del niño) está cerca y decide arriesgarse. Desaparece delante de ellos y rápidamente se dan cuenta de lo que intentaba hacer y van a buscar a (nombre del niño). pero cuando los encuentran, El corren directamente hacia su "padre" y Kenjaku se despide de las gemelas con su sonrisa de comemierda.

Las niñas le gritan algo a (nombre del niño), pero él está muy feliz y contento de que de alguna manera su padre esté vivo después de un año de angustia, pero luego se da cuenta de algo, la forma en que los abraza, cómo se refiere a ellos y cuando lo miran y ve ESA cicatriz... se dan cuenta de que cometieron un gran error.

esa COSA no es su padre....

Kenjaku sigue sonriendo, pero está en "personaje" y les pregunta si no están contentos, pero ellos se dan la vuelta (o intentan hacerlo) y dicen lo OBVIO... él no es su padre.

Ahora bien, ¿qué tiene esto que ver con Coraline? bueno, precisamente la escena en la que la otra madre se transforma por primera vez.

Algo similar pasaría con (nombre del niño) y Kenjaku, que lo sigue tratando como si fueran padre e hijo, les presenta como tales a Mahito, Jogo, Hanami y Choso, les habla como solía hacerlo Geto, los hace participar en los juegos que tiene con sus compañeros, etc.

y (nombre del niño) ESTÁ HARTO. Harto de que este hombre los retenga contra su voluntad, usando el cuerpo de su PADRE REAL, arrancándolos de las gemelas y de la Familia que REALMENTE los amaba, y sienten que esto es un juego retorcido para Kenjaku.

Entonces va y le dice exactamente eso, que están hartos de él, que quieren que los deje ir, que quieren regresar con los gemelos y su verdadera familia.

Ahora, incluso después de todo, nunca fueron "malos" con Kenjaku, más que nada por miedo e incertidumbre de la situación, por lo que Kenjaku está un poco sorprendido por este cambio de actitud, pero definitivamente está un poco irritado porque lo hacen ver como el malo cuando fueron ELLOS quienes corrieron a sus brazos (manipulación ahí, eh, manipulación).

Entonces se pone más serio y le dice a (nombre del niño) que "esa no es manera de hablarle a tu PADRE".

Y (nombre del niño) es como "TÚ. NO..ERES.MI. PADRE"

(Mahito, Jogo y Hanami parecen un pikachu sorprendido)

Y KENJAKU " DISCULPATE INMEDIATAMENTE...(Nombre del niño)"

"NO"

Kenjaku está perdiendo la paciencia, y aunque ama mucho a (nombre del niño) (algo así) se detiene, se para frente a ellos y les da una ÚLTIMA OPORTUNIDAD para disculparse por su falta de respeto.

"Te voy a dar hasta la cuenta de TRES"

"UNO..."

"...DOS..."

"....TRES-"

y usando su manipulación de maldiciones, lanza a (nombre del niño) un montón de pequeñas maldiciones que, si bien son "inofensivas", son definitivamente aterradoras. El pobre niño grita y llora horrorizado y Kenjaku los deja así un rato para que "aprenda a ser un buen niño".

y cuando decide que ya han tenido suficiente, destruye las maldiciones que los atormentaban y regresa a su yo paciente normal. Cuando (nombre del niño) se acerca a él, todo asustado, deja escapar un "lo siento" casi inaudible y Kenjaku simplemente les da una palmadita en la cabeza y les dice que "todos tendemos a tener días de mal humor" y les da una galleta. .

(bastardo).

(También me imagino que usa la manipulación de la gravedad para hacer que (nombre del niño) vaya directamente hacia él, o lo obligue a acercarse y darle un abrazo).

Me imagino que Mimiko y Nanako están constantemente no solo tratando de matar a Kenjaku, sino también de descubrir dónde tiene cautivo a (nombre del niño) y salvarlos (supongamos que no mueren, por favor) junto con la familia.

Creo que solo tendrían una oportunidad en el arco de Shibuya, cuando los gemelos van a reclamarle por el cuerpo de Geto, también le reclaman por (Nombre del niño), pero obviamente Kenjaku no cumple con ninguno de los dos.

pero afortunadamente desde que matan a Dagon, (Nombre del niño) logra salir al mundo exterior, pidiendo ayuda a quien sea, es decir, Nanami, Maki y Naobito… hasta que Jogo los asa e intenta agarrarlos.

(Nombre del niño) huye, pero Jogo les pisa los talones, afortunadamente logran toparse con los gemelos y SUKUNA (no tienen tanta suerte, ¡las Gemelas sobreviven! Con horribles cicatrices que les dejó Sukuna, pero sobreviven).

Mientras Jogo y Sukuna pelean, las gemelas se llevan a (nombre del niño), felices de verlos sanos y salvos nuevamente.

aunque claro, cuando Kenjaku se dé cuenta no será nada feliz.....

[girlfailuresrants]

pinche comemierda ESTUPIDO!!!!!

[aguacatito]

@glintglimmergleam tumblr ate the ask so i'm posting here

ok, so, insults in spanish!

before starting i want to introduce you to my favorite curse word: pinche. it's kind of like fucking in that you can put it before any insult and increase it's power, or make a non-offensive word into an insult.

you can also add "la/el muy" before an insult or "de mierda" at the end for the same effect

also, bear in mind that i'm mexican. i'm slightly familiar with insults from other countries but this is mostly what i know.

now the main show!

culero - asshole

perra - bitch*, exclusively female

ojete - asshole

pendejo - idiot, but like really insulting

baboso - idiot. milder than pendejo imo but still a curse word.

maldito - damned or cursed. works on its own but it sounds very telenovela imo. you can also add it before words and it becomes a regular sounding insult

gilipollas - idiot. very common in spain

pelotudo & boludo - idiot. this time from argentina

comemierda - from cuba 👀! means idiot too i believe

for homophobic insults the most common around here are joto and puto for men. for women the ones i've heard are tortillera and lencha

*i forgot the word bitch existed and originally translated this as whore my bad 3gee 😂😂

[xthescarletbitch]

comemierdas.

[narrativedisorder]

A rant copied from twitter, alas, I knew it well

I've never understood why sports teams have owners (I think I've ranted about this on here before but can't be bothered to crash-test the search function right now). If you've already got a (team of) coach(es) doing the actual sports stuff + a manager dealing with all else...what is the owner for? what do they do? why, when the team wins, do they get congratulated and go all back-slappy and smug as if they have something to be proud of?

Of course I do understand, really, why we have sports team owners: it's so that someone who's already rich can siphon off excess profit. But it's such an egregious, obvious example of the stupidity of today's form of capitalism - taking these revered, supposedly pure passion cultural artifacts and slapping on another layer of organization that both ekes more money out of the very affective affinity people have for the idea of fun AND reinforces the pyramidal social order AND makes the rich feel good about themselves and pretend some sort of acumen - that I'm always amazed they get away with it and people act like it's perfectly normal to have someone "own" a "team" which is also supposed to represent a "place" even though it no longer really does that.

and yes, I also get that there are financial issues that allow this to happen, and those are also 100% bullshit. You cannot look at the pro-sports model, with its frankly unbelievable salaries, its boondoggle/liability stadiums, its "concession stands"<-right in the fucking name, its obsessive policing of video reproduction, its extraordinary merchandising, not to mention the pipeline from the absolute exploitative morass of college sports, and claim that it has anything to do with free markets or invisible hands or even fairness or "sports values". The "financial constraints" are there to take something people enjoyed and built up residual, nostalgic affection for and make more money off of it, and the owners are there because otherwise, who would be making all that excess money besides the people doing the actual work?

And I'm going to really hammer on this point, but one reason there's excess profit here is because people have an emotional attachment to the idea of sports in general & their "own" team in particular and pro sports exploits the very shit out of that affective relationship*

*thinking here of some ideas inspired by the beginning of Ben Anderson's new piece on attachment, tho I sadly haven't finished it yet so I may be completely misusing it - all errors my own.

That's why so many sports ads play on ideas family, fun, leisure. They're trying to sell you something they don't have, because that's where their profit is. (Yes, you might have fun at a ball game - I often have! But they can't control that & do little, frankly, to encourage it)

Which brings me to the real point of this rant: another cultural artifact without obvious monetization angle, in which a subset of the population has invested enough time, affection, and personality to make it more than the sum of its parts: Twitter.

Or, more generally, virtual locations where people come together to do stuff. This is not the first site people cared about tanked by comemierdas trying to make a profit (yes, google, I meant TANKED, nice narrative you're pushing there)

Doesn't it feel weird that someone can BUY something like twitter? Like, different if it's someone come up through the ranks or hired on qualifications (suspect as that latter so often is), but to buy control over something that is in large part collectively created?

Yes, it's something that happens to non-tech companies too - and frankly that's weird and awful as well, especially when it's done in order to sell for parts. Once you see how silly "ownership" of sports teams is, it's very easy to extend that to CEOship in general. But there is still a distinction between an organization that vends, say, toys, like the notably gutted and destroyed toys 'r' us, and a site built around the idea of human interaction.

Yes, there are obviously a lot of expenses to keeping a place like Twitter going, from the physical infrastructure to the paychecks. But some rich comemierda paying those bills with his ill-gotten pseudo-wealth is not the only answer - and may not even be one of the answers, given how it's

NOT ACTUALLY WORKING THAT WELL IN PRACTICE

I'm not saying that every twitter decision should be collectively made by everyone whose ever tweeted a tweet. I believe in general that it's useful for organizations to have people in positions to take broad views over time and over the organization. What I am saying, as is my job as a science fiction writer and sociologist and my responsibility as an engaged participation in society, is: it doesn't have to be the way it is, and it shouldn't be.

The choice is not limited to a publicly owned Twitter vs takeover by rich comemierda. A public Twitter would probably be very different from the Twitter we know (let's stipulate that public ownership includes strong regulation protecting speech critical of govt, altho, again we now have a clear demonstration that ownership by a private citizen does not protect free speech or prevent use for propaganda!) But there are so many other possibilities. I advocate for #InformationAsAPublicGood and argue for public ownership of information infrastructure that would allow for a variety of different types of sites to be built on top of it with less outlay (and, again, look at what is happening to the $$, time, and skill involved in building twitter's hard infrastructure right now! is capitalism protecting that investment?? nah.)

But even today we have examples of other social media sites that are built differently, from mastodon to Ao3. And we could go in other directions. Why are hostile takeovers allowed? Why don't we have a sophisticated suite of protections for companies with positive externalities? What if we capped CEO pay, or (my preference) tied it to a (low) multiplier of the lowest salary at the company? What if we reformed the stock market? What if we had universal basic income and a social safety net and it was less expensive to pay extra expert/skill salary? Any of these changes in how we run our society would change how companies are run and led and what they produce and how we live. None of them are impossible.

Movie producers! *audible growl* another absolutely predatory & anti-everything we supposedly love about the endeavor in question class. Academia also rife w these positions. This rant, in case you haven't noticed, is not only about sports or even twitter.

One of the issues particular to cyberspace, though, is that it's new, and there's a reluctance to think of social media sites as *real* public spaces, even though they clearly are, and powerful ones.

Look at how social media gets slammed as an echo chamber by, oh, large newspapers and cable news channels, the very echo chambers and profit centers that whose dominance it threatens.

social media isn't perfect; twitter DEFINITELY isn't perfect and never was. But NEITHER IS ANYTHING ELSE. the goal is not to find perfect, it's to keep making what we have better - which sometimes means making more versions of it, for different people's versions of "better"

and sometimes it means protecting what we have from predatory, egotistical, incompetent comemierdas who don't care about community or art or intellect or research or friendship or humor or civic engagement except insofar as they can profit by them

and sometimes it means figuring out how to build our own, even - especially - if we have to rebuild some of the society around it to make it possible.

[thesillydoll]

jealous? you don't even exist to me

Okey, este es Crowley siendo un comemierda.

+18, Crowley being a asshole. Jealous, cruelty, body shaming.

El demonio entró a sus anchas a la nueva cafetería que abrieron frente a la Bookshop de Aziraphale. Para alguien que vivía en su auto, con sus plantas y apenas logrando conseguir dinero, Crowley no le haría asco a una taza de café (con seis shots de expresso en él, gracias), o a pasar tiempor con Aziraphale.

Los demonios se reirían si alguna vez se enteraran de su necesidad por el ángel. No tenía otros amigos, no podía hacer otros amigos, y sin duda alguna, Aziraphale era uno de las pocas personas—seres, que lo entendía. Era su fiel amigo, su más antiguo vínculo.

— ¿Cómo está tu aman. . . amigo? El exhibicionista.

Crowley, quién no había prestado atención a la mujer, giró repentinamente su cabeza en dirección a Aziraphale.

— ¿Amigo exhibicionista? — preguntó en un siseo.

La boca del estómago comenzó a arderle. Sentía el fuego subiendo por el esófago humano de ese cuerpo, la bilis arremolinándose en la parte baja de su garganta, y la ponzoña cayendo de sus colmillos. Su lengua, se movía inquieta, esperando.

— Él no, no-quiero decir, él, Ga-Gabe no es. . . ¡Ya no está desnudo!

Gabe.

El nombre quemó como agua bendita en su boca. De sólo pensarlo, quería vomitar, quería generar caos y mandar a la mierda a todos los humanos. Pero en primer lugar, lo que más deseaba, era agarrar a su rubio compañero, bajarle los pantalones y cogérselo ahí, en medio de toda esa carne pecadora, para que recordara quien era y cuál era el trato.

El ángel era suyo, y de nadie más. Y jamás se atrevería a compartir algo tan preciado.

Cuando la mujer trajo de regreso sus platillos, Crowley, con la vena marcada en la sien, comenzó.

— ¿Gabe te coje tan bien como yo, ángel?

El rubio casi se atragantó con esos pastelitos de mierda.

— Te ahogas con esa mierda, y no con mi polla. ¿Qué sucede Aziraphale? ¿El Bentley no es lo suficiente cómodo para tu bonito culo?

— Querido, cuida tu lenguaje, por favor. Déjame explicarte.

¿Explicacoines? No, ya era tarde para eso.

— ¿Para qué, ángel? Yo también puedo cogerme al primer idiota que vea, ¿sabes? No necesito andar rogándote como una zorra en celo. Esa sueles ser tú.

Los ojos de Aziraphale se cristalizaron mientras dejaba el tenedor a un costado del platillo.

— Más que zorra, diría que eres una vaca. Lástima, — las lágrimas del ángel caían por sus mejillas, brillando cristalinamente. Crowley suspiró. — me gustaba tanto marcarte y amasarte. Pero parece que Gabe, puede hacerte mejor.

Se levantó de la mesa y tiró los últimos billetes que cargaba consigo.

— Adiós, ángel.

Crowley no se fue directo al Bentley, sino que entró a la librería.

Gabe, Gabe, Gabe. Ese idiota se lo pagaría. ¡Mostrarse frente a Aziraphale! Había que ser cabrón.

Se encargaría de él primero. Necesitaba calmarse si quería volver arrastrándose a su Ángel, como la serpiente asquerosa y cruel que era.

— Oh, Gabe. ¡Sal a jugar!

[fighting-and-drawing]

Heart of the Warrior Chapter 14: Shatter the Moon

Fandom: Cybird Ikemen Sengoku

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Yukimura Sanada x Male!OC

     Mitsuhide ran his slender finger across the bruised, dry skin on Thai's shoulder, his nails tracing alongside the intricate design of the tattooed surface. He hummed silently, intrigued by the weakened foreigner tied down below him. His narrow, golden eyes scanned Thai's features, each new design only serving to fuel his interest, each ticking second of silence only exasperating Mitsuhide's curiosity about what this foreigner knew inside his headstrong mind. His finger stopped on the bottom of Thai's trapezius, pressing down on his spine as he eyed the mythical serpent rising from the ocean and devouring what appeared to be a shattering moon, the serpent's coils snaking throughout his back and surrounded by more intricate tattoos resembling a star-filled night.

       "Hmmm~" Mitsuhide hummed. His hands placed themselves on Thai's shoulders, gently pushing the foreigner forward so that Mitsuhide can get a better look at it through the dimly lit jail cell. "And...what does this one mean?"

     Thai stayed silent, blood and saliva dripping down his lips, his eyes sullen. The foreigner did not know how long it had been since he was dragged back to Ueda and beaten to a bloody pulp. His eyes glanced at his beaten and cold body, splotches of dried blood and purple bruises dotting its surface. His clothes were stripped, leaving him bare with only his undergarments. The deathly cold of the jail cell chilled his body.      He let out a bloodcurdling scream. Mitsuhide had forcefully dug the nails of his thumbs under Thai's shoulder blades. "I asked you..." Mitsuhide calmly asked, a grin forming on his lips. "...what does this one mean?"

     Ever since the beatings had stopped and the silver kitsune walked inside Thai's jail cell, he had done nothing but ask about the tattoos on his shoulders and back. His heartbeat trembled in fear as he anticipated what was to come next. Mitsuhide relieved the stabbing pressure of his thumbs, nonchalantly rubbing Thai's shoulders. "...I don't know what you want, Arrombado...but you won't get nothing out of me," Thai coughed, "Meus amigos já escaparam. Você nunca os encontrará."

     Mitsuhide giggled deeply, his hands staying in place. "Vamos ver," Mitsuhide spoke softly into Thai's ears. Thai gasped, looking back at Mitsuhide. His tongue was stopped, a familiar clink and flash of light freezing him in place. Mitsuhide held up Thai's razor blade, his torturer seemingly admiring it. "What a beautiful blade you have," Mitsuhide cooed, gently rotating his wrist to examine all of its features. "I heard from a new friend you left to die that this was used for...'shaving', was it?" Thai stood silent, Mitsuhide bringing the blade's polished surface to his golden eyes and staring deeply into his reflection. "Well...it also seemed to have cut up some of Nobuyuki's men good during the ambush. I must say...you have some impressive cutlery. I wonder, though, does it really shave? I must see this for myself if you don't mind?"

     Thai clenched his teeth. "Comemierda!" he shouted. "Eres una—"

     Mitsuhide swiftly clenched his left hand around Thai's chin and lower throat, forcing him still while squeezing firmly around his lower jaw as he pressed the blade against his cheek. Thai once again fell silent, a chill running up his spine as his eyes looked frantically at the blade. "Fu-fu-fu," Mitsuhide giggled gleefully. "You should see the look on that scared, pitiful face." His placid tone contradicted his intentions, the blade slightly rotating so its edge rested dangerously across Thai's cheek. "Now, be a good boy...and stay still."

    Thai closed his eyes, his heartbeat elevating as Mitsuhide's left hand squeezing down on his lower jaw slid itself down, forcing Thai's head up. Thai grit his teeth, feeling the blade lift off his cheek and closer to the edge of his top lip.     "Now..." Mitsuhide calmly said, each word sending chills throughout Thai's body as the blade edge pressed down further against his top lip. "...what is a foreigner, such as yourself, doing with Yukimura Sanada...?"

    Thai could feel the blade start to scrape down. He quickly pursed his lips, feeling the blade slowly press down his upper lip. He could feel the individual hairs of his mustache start to "pop" off, the edge of his cold blade further chilling him with a sense of dread as it stopped just on the border of the top of his top lip. "...who?"

    There was a moment of silence. Thai shook under Mitsuhide's grip, feeling a warm, soft sigh blow across his ear. Suddenly, he felt something cold swiftly run across his right pectoral. A second later, both the feeling of warm liquid and a rush of pain made his eyes explode open. He nearly collapsed with a howl, yet Mitsuhide tightened his grip, nearly making Thai choke as he rested the blade once more further closer under his nose. "Tsk-tsk-tsk..." Mitsuhide sneered with the same collectiveness he held throughout the conversation. "Now-now, that's not the answer you were supposed to give me."

    Thai chokingly cried out, blood seeping down the gash on his body. His body trembled under the pain. Mitsuhide sarcastically awed in sympathy, taking the blade off of Thai as his left hand began to gracefully pet the top of Thai's head. His right hand, still gripping the razor lightly, held Thai up. "Aww...there-there..." Mitsuhide offered crocodile tears to the foreigner. "I promise the pain will go...but you need to help me."

    Thai coughed out a pained scoff. "Wh...why would...I help you?"

    "Hm?" Mitsuhide smirked. "Why, because you want to? Because...if you don't...I promise to make sure to acquaint myself with you for days until you tell me what I want to hear."

    Mitsuhide's finger clasped around Thai's hair, forcing his head up and straining his neck. He returned the blade back under Thai's nose, once again shaving down Thai's mustache as he forced Thai's eyes to stare at him. A grin reappeared between Mitsuhide's lips. The grueling smell of iron lofted into Thai's nose, the strain of his hair pulling on his scalp agonizing. "Now..." Mitsuhide asked gently once more. "Why were you in the company of one Yukimura Sanada?"

    "Urgh!" Thai grunted, the blade's edge now resting once more on the top of his lip. Mitsuhide's narrow eyes stared directly into Thai. "I...I'm...I'm an explorer from the West he hired!"

    "An explorer?!" Mitsuhide awed, taking the blade off of Thai's face. The foreigner sighed in relief, suddenly clenching up once more as he felt the blade rest once more across the last third of his mustache. "Are...are you sure?" Mitsuhide asked in disbelief, holding back laughter through his snarky demeanor. "I've never seen a Westerner like you before...and while you do speak Portuguese...you definitely don't look like one. Maybe...you...are one of their...exotic servants who thought it was a good idea to���"

    "I ain't no goddamn slave!”

    Mitsuhide smiled. He continued to run the knife down, the slow shaving of hair agonizing to the writhing foreigner. "So you say...but let us stay with your theory, then," he cooed. "What did Yukimura Sanada want to achieve?" He took the blade off of Thai, placing it directly across Thai's gaze. Thai shuddered at the sight. "Why did he kidnap his brother? Why did he return all of a sudden?"

    Thai stayed silent, gazing at the reflection in the blade.

    This was it.

    This was how Thai Bulan would die. Not from vaping, not from a car accident, not even from old age. He stared at his demise mere centimeters from his face. How ironic, he thought, the blade given by his ex when they...

    Shinobi who were caught were expected to kill themselves to avoid letting the enemy torture any information out of them. At worst, they would let themselves be tortured to death without giving information to their captors. It was drilled into his head ever since he started his training, but he never thought it would happen to him. His fight on the cliff was supposed to end with him giving Yukimura five more minutes to escape before he jumped off himself. He thought he could fight his way through everyone as he had done before, but he fell. This was never supposed to happen—Yukimura finding out, Thai being invited into Ueda Castle, abducting Nobuyuki—none of it. He should be cursing Yukimura out for making him fall into the enemy's hands like this—to be tortured for days until he died.     But, it didn't matter.

    He protected Yukimura.

    He didn't fail him as he had done with his ex. All that mattered was that Yukimura made it back. He gladly accepted his fate knowing that Yukimura would still have the chance to win this war and retake his home.

    "Temos um ditado que diz de onde venho. 'Você, senhor, é um hyaena'," Thai muttered, his eyes redirecting its gaze back to a listening Mitsuhide, "Não desejo falar consigo."

    Mitsuhide sighed softly, his lips raising to a smirk. He let go of Thai's hair, pushing his head back down as he closed the blade of the razor.

    "Por agora, estrangeiro," Mitsuhide snickered. "I will enjoy wringing you dry. Even if you don't...I'll still enjoy getting rid of lowlife scum, such as yourself."

    Mitsuhide stepped away from Thai, exiting the cell and leaving the injured foreigner to wallow in his thoughts. Awaiting Mitsuhide at the door of the jail was a visibly disturbed Nobuyuki. Upon his sight, Mitsuhide chuckled.     "What? Squeamish?" Mitsuhide asked, putting away the razor in the folds of his kimono.     Nobuyuki sneered. "You just happen to show up as my younger brother infiltrates my castle?" Nobuyuki addressed Mitsuhide sternly, the latter merely giving him a pointed, uninterested look. "What is your goal here, Lord Mitsuhide? Does Nobunaga not trust me enough to run my own fief?"     "Maybe if you didn't get caught so easily, then he would have nothing to worry about," Mitsuhide slyly remarked back. "You're lucky I rode by in time to witness Yukimura abduct you. I merely did my job and alerted your men to recover you before anything bad happens."     "Tsk!" Nobuyuki turned around and exited the jail, Mitsuhide following behind.     "Now-now," Mitsuhide said, placing his hands innocently behind his back. "I answered your question, so answer one of mine."     "Speak," Nobuyuki spat, not looking back.     Mitsuhide quickly walked around Nobuyuki, stopping the older Sanada brother in his tracks as he leaned in closer. "What did your dear younger brother want? To ransom you? To kill you?...to switch sides, maybe?"     Nobuyuki grunted. "That was four questions!" he angrily muttered, clearly annoyed by the persistent Secretive Schemer.     "Actually, that would be three variations of the initial question," Mitsuhide calmly explained, "Any information will be useful in wringing out what that little foreigner knows."

    Nobuyuki sighed frustratingly. He stared back at the smirking Mitsuhide. First, he was abducted, and now he was being questioned? How annoying! But, it seemed that Mitsuhide does not know anything much about what Yukimura had told him. He knew Mitsuhide would never stop torturing Thai, but he knew from Thai's crazy bravado to fight against an army alone that he would never rat Yukimura out.     "...he wanted to retake his position as daimyo of the Sanada," Nobuyuki answered, "He thought at first to torture me out of it, but then thought to kill me in a coup."     "And...that was it?" Mitsuhide asked. He extended his hand to Nobuyuki's face, the latter gasping suddenly as Mitsuhide's finger graze under Nobuyuki's healing black eye. "Hmm..."     Nobuyuki swatted Mitsuhide's hand away angrily. "Get off of me!" he roared.     "Sorry, Lord Nobuyuki!" Mitsuhide coyly responded, putting his hands up. "I meant no offense. But, it sure seems like he had his way with you."     Nobuyuki sighed, his fists clenching. "...if it wasn't for you, he would have had my head." Nobuyuki forced himself to bow to Mitsuhide. "...thank you, Lord Mitsuhide."     Mitsuhide giggled, bearing no response other than to turn and walk away.

    Nobuyuki sneered silently as Mitsuhide disappeared. He went to go back to his living quarters but stopped before exiting the hall. He stayed in place for a minute, turning back around before silently heading back to the jail. He silently closed the door behind him, sighing as he stared down the hallway leading to Thai's cell. He appeared in front of the beaten foreigner from across the bars of the cell, a tinge of remorse in his eyes as he stared at Thai's slumped body. It was badly bruised and bleeding, the fresh cut on his chest seeping with crimson blood. No doubt he had at least a broken rib.     "...are you gonna keep staring...or are you gonna beat me some more," Thai coughed up. His eyes remained glued to the ground.     Nobuyuki gulped, placing one hand on the jail cell bars. "...you knew we could easily intercept you down the river if everyone jumped. Even a minute would stop us from catching up to them so easily. Did you really think you could fight all of us alone? Or, was this your way of dying so that you wouldn't be captured?"     Thai looked up, his chest slowly heaving as his lungs pumped air in and out of his body. "Did...did you get him?" Thai asked.     Nobuyuki shook his head. "You may not believe a word I say, foreigner, but my younger brother escaped. Your plan worked."     Thai sighed, lowering his head. His entire body felt sick, his mind shaking as if being rocked by a boat in a turbulent sea, yet he was satisfied. "Graças aos deuses," Thai softly muttered. "Well...I guess the cat is out of the bag that Shingen Takeda and Kenshin Uesugi are still alive. I'm sure that your white-haired man with my blade is already going to tell everyone."

    Nobuyuki unlocked the cell door, closing it behind them before stepping toward the foreigner. He crouched down to meet his eyes, the foreigner waiting for Nobuyuki to throw a punch. But, all that came were words. "...he still doesn't know," Nobuyuki softly answered Thai. "None of my men know. Only me and you."     Thai looked at Nobuyuki in disbelief. "You're right...I don't believe you," Thai softly muttered.     Nobuyuki scoffed lightly. "...how has Nobushi—er, Yukimura been doing?"     Thai stayed silent. He merely glared at Nobuyuki, disregarding his question at first. Yet, as they looked at each other, Thai sensed that Yukimura must have gotten to him somehow during his abduction. He knew he could accidentally leak information, but he could see behind Nobuyuki's eyes that seeing Yukimura so desperate was torturing him. He would have to play his cards right. "...he's torn," Thai answered. "Just like all of you are. Can I ask you something?" Nobuyuki thought for a moment, nodding once. "Did...did you really think...splitting the clan like this was a good idea?" Thai asked. "I got Yuki's answer...but I wanna hear yours if you're willing to entertain a dying man's wish."     Nobuyuki kept his mouth shut. He remembered vividly the moment he and his younger brother were brought in by their father to discuss his biggest decision as daimyo. He remembered the shouting, the tears, the entire conversation that felt like days of reckoning compared to the few hours they actually spent. He remembered seeing the horrid look on Yukimura's face as he was sent off to be Tokugawa's hostage. He remembered saying to Yukimura to not worry about him—that they're "doing what is best for the clan." He did not dare question his father, and it worked—the Sanada lived.

    But...at what cost? Did they really flourish? Were they as prosperous and strong as they seemed? Or, were they merely allowed to live another day?

    "...I wished it didn't have to come to this," Nobuyuki answered.     Thai let out a pained exhale. "Me neither...one more thing, Lord Nobuyuki." Nobuyuki leaned closer to Thai, tears welling in the corners of the foreigner's eyes. "If you see Yuki again...can you tell him I died swiftly?"     Nobuyuki gasped softly, yet he remained composed. "You must have been close to Yuki," he said.     Thai shrugged. "Eh, something like that. I wish...I wish I could have spent more time with him. Would you tell him that, too?"

    Even Thai knew Mitsuhide wouldn't let him go so easily. Nobuyuki sighed, nodding. "I will."     Thai nodded back. "It was nice getting to know you, Lord Nobuyuki," Thai sarcastically muttered, "In another time...I feel like we coulda been friends."     Nobuyuki scoffed. "I doubt it."     Thai shrugged. "You...never know. Life's a mystery."

    They were safe. They were well outside the reach of Nobuyuki's forces. No one appeared to be following them. They were free to return back to Kasugayama. Thai's plan worked—they were all safe. So, why did no one start to leave immediately for Kasugayama?     Yukimura stood atop the hill of a plain of grass, his eyes full of regret as they gazed back towards the direction of Ueda. He felt the soft cotton surface of Thai's patuá, the amulet that he claimed granted the wearer protection and divinity. He looked down at it, the string snapped off. It was Thai's last gift to him—the gift of the protection he cherished dearly in this chaotic time—and Thai trusted it to him instead.     "Idiot..." Yukimura muttered to himself. He shut his eyes, squeezing the Patuá tightly within his grip. "Why...why did you do that?"

    He heard the soft steps of Saizou approaching behind him. Yukimura opened his red eyes, the light of the midday sun nearly blinding him as he turned to meet Saizou.     "Any sign of him?" Yukimura asked.     Saizou shook his head. "Yukimura, it's been enough time," he said. "We should leave."

    If they left in the first place, Thai would still be with them. They both knew this to be true, yet he chose to stay and abduct his brother. He chose to follow through with a suicidal plan, thinking everything would be fine. Yukimura slumped down on the ground, a shaky exhale leaving his strained throat. Saizou sat beside him, Sasuke joining the two.     "Yuki..." Sasuke asked softly. "Did he..."     Yukimura sighed, rubbing his brow. "...he stayed behind," he answered, his tone deep with regret. "He...he made sure we could escape."

    Sasuke fell silent, his gaze falling to the ground. The whole region fell silent. The breeze from the mountains flowed through the tall grass of the plains. The trees stood still, fallen leaves gliding through the wind before gently falling to the ground. Yukimura shuddered from the incoming breeze of the cold. His heart felt heavy, his knees coming closer to his face. It was his fault. He was supposed to be a leader, yet in his blind quest to convert his brother back to his cause, he couldn't hold his promise to protect Thai.

    "Thai knew the risks," Saizou said. "We should honor his wish...and return home."

    "How could you say that?" Yukimura growled, his face whipping around to meet Saizou. "If it was you trapped in there, I would go back for you!"

    Saizou stared at Yukimura, his mouth dropping slightly ajar. "....you...you can't be thinking of going back?" he gasped.

     Yukimura stood up. His eyes were plastered toward the direction of Ueda. Saizou stood up frantically to Yukimura as the latter stepped down the hill towards the others. "Lord Yukimura!" Saizou said as he followed closely behind Yukimura. "If what you said was true, then Thai is dead!"     "We don't know that," Yukimura grunted back.     "Going back is suicide!" Saizou continued to argue. "If he is alive, then he will have the entirety of Ueda locked down to prevent anything like that from ever happening! We have to go!"     "Yuki," Sasuke interjected, running up to his side. "I spied a village not far from here where we can get some horses. From there, we can form a plan and get Thai back."     Saizou guffawed in utter bewilderment. "You, too!?"

    Undeterred, Yukimura walked down to where the rest of his team was sitting and drying their clothes. All eyes darted to their lord as he made his way to the center of the group. He scanned each and every shinobi around him, a resolved streak across his gaze. His fist tightened around the cloth charm in his palm as his eyes narrowed.     "I promised every man here that they would come back from this mission alive," Yukimura began to say in a melancholic tone. "The same could not be said for Thai or Sasuke. But, in my eyes..." Yukimura turned to an intently listening Sasuke, "...you two were just as involved in this as everyone else." He sighed, looking back to his rising comrades. "I told everyone here I was planning to steal back my father's gunbai, but in reality, I went back to reclaim the Sanada Clan from my brother. I wanted to reason with him to come back to our cause. Against Lord Shingen's command and Thai's wishes, I foolishly thought I could do this. But, here we stand—Thai is missing...our lords' cover blown...everything I had done for this fool's errand could potentially be the downfall of the alliance. If I go back now...it may result in my execution."

    Everyone let out a silent gasp. A single tear shed down from Yukimura's eye and across his cheek. He suddenly shot his tear-filled eyes at Saizou, his brow furrowing as he stepped toward him. "If I have to die to make up for the mistakes I had done today, then so be it, but I promised everyone that they will make it back alive," Yukimura's voice strained. "I will go back to Ueda and rescue Thai. Come with me, or leave and return home. Blame everything on me—but, there is no way I'm returning without him. I cannot allow that."

    A deafening silence once again fell across the group. Yukimura merely glared at Saizou, the warm tears streaming down his cheeks. He soon walked towards his things, hoisting them up towards his shoulder before walking off. Sasuke took this cue to grab his things, following closely behind Yukimura on their second suicidal mission. Yukimura doubted anyone would follow after them, but he did not care. They made it out alive—that was what mattered—but, he would not leave Thai to an unknown fate.     "Our chances of survival are slim to none," Sasuke muttered. "To pull this off, we would need a miracle and a half."     Yukimura gulped, wiping the tears from his flushed cheeks with his sleeve, looking back down at the cloth pouch in his hand. "We have what we need," Yukimura answered softly.     "Understood," Sasuke said, pushing up his glasses.     "...Sasuke..."

    Sasuke looked back at Yukimura. His light hazelnut eyes were red, his hair disheveled and trodding exhausted. He looked at Sasuke whimsically. "I'm...sorry...about all of this." Yukimura's voice choked. "He was your friend. I should have listened to him."     "What's done is done," Sasuke said. He kept his stoic nature and calm demeanor, yet inside he grew frightened of what they may find waiting for them in Ueda. "I also promised Thai his safety. It is my responsibility to care for him."     Yukimura flashed a half smile at his friend. "Thanks." He looked back ahead, his expression tightening back to focus. "Now, let's go save him."

[lacolonia]

¡Ñangotada!

Esta mañana, González rehusó retirar su apoyo a Trump por el insulto a los puertorriqueños en el mitin del domingo pasado en Nueva York. Trump no se disculpó por los comentarios y chistes racistas que se dijeron esa noche en la tarima.

“Los puertorriqueños no tenemos congresistas, no tenemos senadores, nosotros no nos podemos dar el lujo de pelear con el que salga (presidente)… No podemos darnos el lujo de que en el Congreso, en Casa Blanca, le nieguen recursos a Puerto Rico.”

— JGo la Ñangotá

Los puertorriqueños no tenemos que soportar a una ñangotá que no se atreve dar a respetar los boricuas por miedo dizque a que no le tiren más migajas de la mesa al piso. No podemos darnos el lujo de tener a una pendanga como líder.

El respeto personal no se rinde, so comemierda. Se defiende sin tregua siempre.

¡Manda a esta bocabajo p'al carajo!

Date a respetar, boricua. Porque estos cobardes del PNP no lo harán por ti jamás. ¡Sácalos!

Y estos cuponeros son los que hablan de igualdad. ¡Malditos arrodillados!

Gobierno valiente para Puerto Rico

¡Date a respetar, boricua! Anda con la frente en alto.